January 20, 2004
Ainsley has a favour to ask of R'hyn.

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From afar, Ainsley sends a little messanger girl to find R'hyn and mention that Aisnley'd like to see him, if he has a moment. She's in the Council Room.

You follow a long tunnel back to where it meets the council room.

Ainsley stands just this side of the Weyrwoman's seat, as if she'd recently vacated it to pace a bit. A tea service sits on cart, complete with tripoli of finger sandwiches. The woman, absorbed by the sheaf of papers in her hands, absently reaches towards a cup on the cart's edge.

R'hyn's hair is wet, though he's tidily - if not formally - enough dressed, hesitating at the doorway of the Council Room, only a few minutes after the serving girl was dispatched. He rubs his hands down his shorts, then, after a pause during which he watches Ainsley hesitantly, he clears his throat. "Weyrwoman?"

Hand paused, Ainsley looks over her work towards the archway expectantly. "Oh, R'hyn. I'm glad you could come." She smiles broadly, forgetting her tea (and work - that she just tosses back onto the table), and comes around to offer him her hand. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything." She eyes his damp hair.

R'hyn smiles, though hesitantly - a little wide eyed, but not entirely overwhelmed, and takes a step forward as Ainsley approaches, so that he's actually within the room. He accepts the hand, holding it lightly within his calloused fingers, and lifts it, making a gesture of respect, his head bowed. Releasing it, he shakes his head, "No, Weyrwoman. I was just finishing my bath."

"Come in, please." Tilting her head, Ainsley openly regards the bronzerider before motioning him to take a seat. "Tea? It's still warm. And I've little, um..." She wiggles her fingers at the sandwiches. "Little thingies left, if you'd like a snack." Come around to the service cart, she halts a young man positioned at the back of the council room with a flick of her hand; no, she'll serve R'hyn herself.

R'hyn, though openly curious, accepts the offered seat, sitting tidily, his feet firmly upon the floor in front of him, his hands sitting upon the edge of the table. "Tea would be, uh, good," he says, quietly. "I've just eaten, but. Though, thank you. For the offer." His brows raise, and quickly he adds, "I could serve myself, it's no problem. You needn't... wait on me, Weyrwomen." He sounds uncomfortable.

Ainsley chuckles dissuasively, shaking her head as she fills a cup for R'hyn and refreshes her own. "Wait till you hear what I've to ask of you. Then we'll see how you feel about that." Handing over his saucer with cup, she takes a short cut and just leans against the table next to where he's sitting. It's more informal and intimate this way, see.

"Ah. I was wondering why--" R'hyn doesn't actually ask, though his head is tilted to the side, so that he can watch Ainsley with level interest. Cup and saucer in hand, he stiffens, slightly, at her more informal pose, brows raised once more.

Looking down into her own tea, Ainsley seems almost reluctant to begin. Contrite, even. "I've, uh. I've a very large favor I'd like to ask of you, R'hyn." She pauses again, taking a moment to cross her ankles as she chooses her next words carefully. "Serriena loathes me, and that's fine. I'm not asking her to be me bosom buddy. But she needs to be respectful -- and she's anything but." Chin tilted down but eyes tilting up, it graces her with a rather imploring nature. "Could you... talk to her? She's the most senior goldrider I have in my wing, and she acts like a child. She goes so far as to ball her little fists at me and tell me that I'm not 'the boss' of her. That's unacceptable, but... but if /I/ keep pressing the issue, it's only going to push her further down that path. And if she doesn't fall into line behind this Leadership quick..." Another pause, then a sigh. It'll be out of her hands at that point, her demeanor reads.

For once, R'hyn's expression is unreadable - not blank, just complex enough to defy categorisation. "I can try," he allows, quietly. "I can't promise that she'll listen, however. She's, uh-- we're-- I--" He breaks off, hesitates. "Our friendship has been cooler of late, is all, and I don't know if she'll allow herself to listen. She's not even much of a listener, usually." Shrugging helplessly, he concludes, "I can try, I suppose. You'll have to win her respect, though, somehow-- she, more than most, has issues with 'outsiders'." He lowers his head, burying it in his tea, which he sips carefully.

"I don't have to 'win' anything. I just want her to do her duty. Which," Ainsley emphasizes by pushing herself off the table and into a pace. "I'm afraid to say she's been rather negligent with. Again, I don't need her to be my best friend. But she's hoarding records, denouncing the Weyrleader in public, and essentially going out of her way to be a thorn to this administration's side." Pacing behind R'hyn, the ring Ainsley wears on her finger taps out her irritation against the fine china. "I'm not exactly sure what she thinks doing by this, but it's a destructive factor that needs to be stopped. And I'm -not- going to tolerate it. E'van may have put up with it, and Mechelle too intimidated to reign her in, but I'm neither of them. I'm trying to give her this chance to live up to her position here at Ista Weyr. If she can't, well... We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it."

Late afternoon arrives on this summer day. The air is still and the skies are overcast, mildly humid with a loose promise of coming precipitation. Being summertime, it's humid and uncomfortable. (81F, 27C)

R'hyn nods, apologetically. "I just mean-- she's easier to deal with, if she believes you're doing the right thing. But I accept, you shouldn't need to. Respect ought to go where it is owed. I hadn't known how-- bad the situation was. Serriena never means harm, but she's..." He shrugs, as though unable to find a word properly descriptive. "I'll do what I can, Weyrwoman, though she won't thank me for it. I am sorry, for the trouble she's causing. She's worse with you than the Weyrleader, it seems, and that's... impressive."

"He considers her a flaky child and has learned to ignore her at every opportunity," Ainsley says quite frankly, coming back around to drop her cup and saucer off near R'hyn. She turns again to the bronzerider, her smile hopeful and appreciative as she folds her arms across herself. "I know I'm kind of asking a lot, but everyone I asked said if anyone could do this for me - it'd be you. I need to know I can count on her, and right now I can't. And that weakens the weyr as a whole; the fact a Senior cannot count on one of her Juniors is simply terrible. Just... anything you could do at all. I'd be very grateful." Is she coming on to him? It's difficult to say. Really, it could be going either way: she's coming on to him, or she's just really appreciates his effort. Her eyes drop down once, as if embarrassed, before coming back up again.

"She was better, when I was Weyrleader," R'hyn insists, quietly, though without conviction. There's a blush, now, pressing pink upon his cheeks, as, slowly, he nods his head. "I will try, Weyrwoman. Ista has been divided far too long." His posture straightens, shoulders sliding back, and his gaze, for a moment, is lost in space, as if he is imagining something great and heroic. He hesitates, looking a little silly. "Uh. It's, you know, my duty. To do what is requested of me."

Ainsley smiles softly, head tilting to the left again. Reaching out, she brushes just her fingertips against the man's shoulder. "And you're a good man, R'hyn, duty aside. I'll let E'van know that you're going to take a shot at it; I made him give me that. Thank you for your time." Pulling her hand back, she refolds it into the crook of her elbow, just watching him for a moment. She shrugs and asks, "Was there anything /you/ needed? On the off chance I could start to repay my debt early."

R'hyn stiffens slightly, very slightly, at Ainsley's touch, though he smiles warmly. "I try, Weyrwoman. You're most welcome." He sets his half-drunk tea back upon the table, spilling only a little into the saucer - little enough that he doesn't actually notice. As he begins to draw himself to his feet, he stops, head shaking quickly. "Oh, no, Weyrwoman." He's blushing. "There's no debt." His distrust of E'van aside, Ainsley seems to have charmed him into allegiance. "Just doing my duty."

"Well," Ainsley intones softly, her expression gentle. "If you -do- come across anything, let me know. You're doing me an immeasurable favor."

R'hyn, shaking his head quickly, manages to get to his feet. "I will keep it in mind, Weyrwoman, though I can't see of any occasion in which I would ask. I'm excused?"

"Of course." Dropping her folded arms, Ainsley pulls her shoulders back and laces her fingers together, presenting herself for R'hyn's departure. "Thank you again for coming by on such extreme short notice. We should make time for a proper tea some day soon."

"I meant of course," R'hyn says hastily, "that I ought to leave you to your work - and do some of my own." He bobs forward - not a bow, but a gesture of respect, nonetheless. "It's my pleasure, Weyrwoman. We-- should? Er, yes. If that would please you." A quick smile, if somewhat embarrassed, and then the bronzerider is on his way out the door.

You head out the tunnel to emerge in the bowl.

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