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I Wanna Dance With Somebody


Date:  August 26, 2008
Place:  Igen Weyr's Living Cavern
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  He's lucky!  She's lucky!  They're all lucky!  (The 
mop's lucky!)  There'd been some sort of knot joke about 'Somewhere Out 
There' and that's to blame for Kassi's first pose, somewhat, but after 
that--I have no explanation for the rest.  Beyond that Kassi, A'deth, 
Tannusen, and maybe Sylotra too are more than slightly eccentric. ;)

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The Log:

You amble out into the Weyr's Living Caverns.

Sylotra smiles and nods at Tannu, making short, swift strokes with her
charcoal. She glances up ath A'deth when he gives Tannu the cup of
medicine, "Minty goodness with an aftertaste that'll make you grimace like
an old aunty when her acky joints act up."

"Sounds like just what I need," Tannusen comments with amusement, eyeing
his three -- three! -- different beverages now before picking up and trying
the willowbark.

"And even though I know how very far apart we are, it helps t'think we
might be wishing on the same bright star," Kassima sings, not so much
walking into the room as waltzing in--with a mop. Perhaps because the mop
has no feet for her to step on she manages some grace. "And when the night
wind starts to sing its lonesome lullaby, it helps t'think we're sleeping
underneath the same big skyyyyyy! Thankee for loaning me this," she says,
not sings, to a young resident on night shift with hair of about the same
consistency as the mop, who clearly doesn't know whether to be amused or
embarrassed by the show. Kassi's not embarrassed at all. She's too tired,
rubbing at her eyes as she leaves her dance partner behind.

[Editor's Note:  'Somewhere Out There' is originally from the
Bluth film 'An American Tale.']

A'deth nods agreeably to Sylotra. "Probably because she's taking it for her
achy joints act up." And he adds sweetly to Tannusen as the candidate tries
the medicine, "Bottoms up, lad." And to Kassima, at that entrance, "I see a
dancer. And I see tables. But I do not see a dancer on a table."

IGEN-> Sylotra says, "Nice, Kassima. lol"

Sylotra blinks as the greenrider enters with a song...and a mop
partner...and she stiffles a giggle behind her sketchbook. Once controlled,
the page is turned and she begins sketching quickly, bent to her task with
a smile.

Tannu winces a little into the cup, and finally decides to do as one should
always do with medicine -- chug. Thus, he doesn't get to say much in
response to Kassima's grand entrance, glugging down the painkiller tea as
he is!

Kassima perks up a little to hear the Dragonhealer's voice, dropping her
hand to see him--smiling when she does--and changing course to join him
where he stands. "I'd nay whisk that mop over a tabletop when I'd just been
using it t'clean up a Candidate's pee. Very unsanitary." She claims a kiss,
if A'deth will permit. "If'n there's t'be tabledancing, you're infinitely
better at it than me. Sylotra, do I want t'know what you're drawing? Or
what Tannusen's glugging."

A'deth permits, and kisses her back, but his perplexed expression remains
throughout, and when his mouth is free he inquires, "...A Candidate's pee?"
Blink blink.

Sylotra winces a bit at the thought of moping up pee. But she keeps
drawing. She does, however address Kassima's question, "Nothing at all
important. Just an addition to my 'Days of Our Weyr' sketch gallery."

IGEN-> R'din says, "That sounds like a soap opera."

IGEN-> Sylotra says, "Reaaally? No..."

IGEN-> Tannusen snerks

IGEN-> Desdinova says, "What does?"

IGEN-> Kazara peers.

IGEN-> R'din says, "Days of Our Weyr."

IGEN-> R'din says, "It hasn't won any Emmys lately, and I only know that
because my mother forced me to watch part of it. *throwsup*"

IGEN-> Sylotra says, "I'm creating an expose. The harpers will publish it
and all the old Lady Holder's will pay me massive royalties."

Tannusen blinks up at Kassima once he can set down his now-empty mug next
to the other two mostly full ones, one of klah and one of wine. Interesting
mix he has going on here. "Willowbark," he says, "and I'll second that
question while noting that it certainly wouldn't be mine." Ew.

IGEN-> Kazara says, "Right..."

IGEN-> Tannusen hehs. My 98 year old grandmother liked her soap operas, I
have no idea why. Back in her day someone would have gotten hung for those
hijinks. :P

IGEN-> Desdinova prefers as the weyr turns.:)

Kassima's nod is rueful. As well it ought to be. "Aye. Someone, I'm nay
saying who, went to the latrines and met with a tunnelsnake surprise.
Asking the person t'be sticking around t'mop the puddle in their wet
nightshirt instead of running off t'bathe as they devoutly wished t'do felt
too cruel. Since the only options were t'try and find humor in it or weep
at the sad nest of indignity m'life has become--" She gives A'deth the big,
sad eyes; for good measure, turns them on everyone. "I dance. I want t'see
this gallery, Sylotra! If'n there aren't peeing Candidates in it, one of
those in a night is enough." Klah, wine, medicine; Kassi glances over the
array, and her thought too is, "Ew."

IGEN-> Kassima always liked Days of Our Knives.

IGEN-> Desdinova says, "The young and the weyrless?"

IGEN-> Desdinova says, "Or that one about the Iesia-like surgeon. Hold.
Weyr. Whatever it is. ;)"

IGEN-> Sylotra says, "General Infirmary?"

IGEN-> A'deth gets to be the sexy graying doctor.

IGEN-> Kassima thinks A'deth stars in that one, and for some reason
mystifying to the Pernese, it's called Penthouse. ;)

IGEN-> Desdinova rofl.

IGEN-> Kazara says, "Good grief."

IGEN-> A'deth says, "As long as I can have my disco glowball, I'm happy."

IGEN-> Desdinova says, "And a cane with flames painted on it?"

IGEN-> A'deth beams.

IGEN-> Kassima cuddles her cranky doctor. Oh, yes, and your plush purple
velvet too!

IGEN-> R'din says, "What, no Dragon's Anatomy?"

IGEN-> A'deth purrs. It's good to be me.

Sylotra chuckles at Kassima and shakes her head, "I'll let you know when
it's done. Its better in groupings of several sevendays at a time." Sketch,
sketch, smudge smudge.

A'deth nods approvingly to Kassima. "It's always time to dance." And, to
Sylotra, "Gallery? You draw the others, too, then?"

"A tunnelsnake did that to someone?" Tannusen's eyebrows go way up, but he
wisely doesn't ask /who/. Not his business! "I hope it was at least a big
one?"

Sylotra stops abruptly and looks up, a blush under her igen tan. "Define
others? Oh, crackdust. I forgot. Um, Kassima, do you mind if I draw you?"
Yes, she's trying to learn good manners and the laws of privacy. "Certain
someones took offense to my drawing them, so I'm trying to remember to ask
before I draw. At least the drawings I might show someone else."

"I didn't see it," Kassima admits. "The location makes me wonder if'n it
could possibly be one of the great-great-grandsons of Slithereth, stalking
me all the way t'Igen for revenge. Making me clean up pee is pretty good
revenge." Don't get mad; get incontinent. Kassi twirls once for A'deth, but
almost manages to bang into the table. "Did they? Who? I don't mind if'n
'tis the mop-dancing. That's naught too embarrassing or too personal."

"One should not pee when one encounters a big one in a dark place," A'deth
opines. "One should instead grasp opportunity by the tail, and give a good
accounting of oneself. Beat that snake right back from whence it came." And
he lifts his glass at them all, and drains it, and then sets it down to
clap for Kassima's twirl. "Still better on a table, though. Could you draw
her on one, Sylotra? With the broom?"

Tannusen chuckles faintly, amused. "That would be one determined bloodline
of tunnel-snakes, what did you /do/ to them?"

Sylotra smiles, relieved. "Yes, tis mop dancing." She continues drawing,
humming a tune that sounds eerily similar to Kassima's earlier rendition of
some poor love sick harper's Master composition. She is listening to the
conversation, however. A'deth's comments about beating tunnelsnakes slides
past, but the request for a drawing makes her perk up, "Table dancing with
a broom? As a partner, dance prop or stick dragon riding toy?"

Kassima pantomimes removing a piece of hide and charcoal stick from her
pockets and making a note. "Big 'snakes encountered in the dark: use
violence. 'Twill keep this in mind," she assures. Her expression is very
grave. "What I now want t'know is if'n you're wishing me t'make a fool of
m'self on a table with a broom, what's m'incentive? I do usually get paid
for that sort of thing." Turning to Tannusen now, she explains, "I killed
Slithereth. 'Twas a glorious and noble fight and all that, but... I guess
they're slow t'be forgiving, regardless."

A'deth holds a hand out for the mop. "I'm saving my marks. What if I do it
first? You can't possibly look more foolish. I can demonstrate." He looks
amusedly long-suffering.

"Blood debt," Tannusen chuckles, though faintly for the sake of his aching
head. "Even tunnelsnakes have them, I guess." To Sylotra, he suggests,
"Maybe as a partner that's also a dragon riding toy?" See? He's helpful!

Sylotra snorts, "I have the foundation for the drawing here." She taps the
page she's working on now. "Just give me an idea what kind of pose you want
and I can whip something up." She grins wryly and sits back, quite ready to
get a show to go with the song from earlier.

For this, Kassima will go and retrieve--no, not that mop. It's still been
used to clean pee. But mops aren't all that hard to come by, and soon she's
back with one whose recent activities are a merciful mystery. "'Twill
absolutely do it if'n you do. But if'n you draw it," she asides to Sylotra,
"I'd really, really like a copy." Kassi takes another look at all those
cups in front of Tannusen. "Mixing klah and wine would certes give me
a--nay, that's stomachache, nay headache. Are you all right?"

A'deth takes the clean mop, and then steps onto a chair, and then onto the
table. He doesn't wobble. Yet. "Come, my beauty," he purrs to his new
partner, sliding fingertips down the wood. "We will be immortalised
forever... in a drawing of someone else in which we shall not appear. Now--
how /shall/ we dance? A pose, Kassima, if you please!"

"Oh, no, I assure you," Tannusen's voice is dry, "it's not the drinks that
gave me the headache." But then A'deth's doing his thing, so the younger
dragonhealer of course has to turn to watch! And takes a sip of his
preferred of the two drinks -- the klah.

Sylotra is already sketching lazily. She glances over at Kassima, "You want
a copy? Or yourself or of A'deth?" she asks with a grin. She looks over at
Tannu and smiles, "Head not any better?"

IGEN-> Sylotra says, "Obviously I'm getting sleepy...my typos are showing."

IGEN-> A'deth z.z Same, a'deth would've asked for a different mop.

IGEN-> Sylotra says, "Well, it makes things interesting. Heh."

Oh, the options. Shall Kassi direct him to jig with the mop? Shall she
suggest a toss dance? But neither of those suit A'deth's particular elan.
Kassima gives this all the serious consideration it deserves and then
strikes a tango pose--one leg high and bent, an arm curved around an
invisible partner and the other stretched gracefully behind. She just needs
a rose between her teeth! "Of A'deth," she answers Sylotra at once. "Of
A'deth. He's the master of this art, as he'll show you." Black brows arch,
and she looks at Tannusen half in question, half in concern, though seems
inclined to leave interrogation until after they've enjoyed the show.

But A'deth points to Kassima. "Of her. She's far more lovely on paper. Or
canvas. I'm a carcass some two centuries old. Or three. Wasn't that what
Desdinova said?" He strikes the same pose as she, with the mop cradled
lovingly in his arm. And then he begins to dance-- dun-dun-dun-dun-dun,
dun-dun-dun-dun-dun, twirl! Whilst proceeding down the long table at a
happy prowl. And lets the Candidate and the Coordinator sort things out.

"If you did one of A'deth, I might want a copy too," Tannusen chuckles. And
to the not-so-senile one in question he comments, "Something like that, yes."

Sylotra is sketching in earnest now, eyes flicking between the dance and
the paper. To Kassima, she offers a nod and a smile, head tilted towards
A'deth. She has her legs pulled up, heels hooked on the edge of the seat,
sketchbook cradled on her knees. "I'll just sketch you so I have good
reference for Kassima's drawing." She says that in a distracted voice as
she smudges a line to shade a shadowed curve.

Kassima repeats, "Desdinova," as if now things may make a little more
sense. "Pay him nay mind in this, Sylotra. He is perfectly beautiful, and
if'n he's a three-centuries-old carcass, well. Guess I'm insanely attracted
t'dead men. Who knew?" Such a prowl, she claps in approximation of the beat
he strikes with his steps and laughter chases the weariness from her eyes.
"They don't get on," she mentions to Tannusen. "A'deth and Desdinova. Or
she doesn't get on with him. Personality clash, I suppose."

A'deth stops in another pose, dramatically silly, and yet he does manage to
be graceful. Not bad for an old(er!) man, right? "As long as it's her in
the end. I don't need to be drawn to be immortalised. I intend to die a
legend. Somehow. And--" And he considers Kassima, "I don't understand it
either. Didn't I introduce her to you and Lanisa? But she took offense. I
suppose I'm too much of a tramp. And she takes exception to my age. I'll
never measure up, alas."

"She doesn't get on with me either, apparently," says Tannusen, cradling
his klah. He watches A'deth's dancing and posing while speaking. "I'm not
sure, it's hard to tell when one's not a speck on the horizon to another.
Honestly that's the case with a lot of the candidates," and then he does
actually look up at Kassima, and asks quietly, "are you -sure- I'm supposed
to be one?"

Sylotra nods, "Oh, Kassima will be in the final drawing." She says this and
then she smiles as if she's had an idea. She chuckles softly and flips the
page to start another rough sketch. Talk about Desdinova is listened too,
and she looks mildly confused but is too caught up in her work to linger
over the interaction issues between candidates. When A'deth strikes his
comical pose she sighs softly, "Humor and grace are hard to wed in a single
form, you know. I don't think anyone near t'death could pull that off so
well."

Judging by Kassima's enthusiastic whistling and the thirty-second that
clatters at his feet, not bad at all! "You're a legend in your own time,
A'deth. 'Tis beyond all doubting." Another person might say that in
mockery. She... no. She teases him; there's also sincerity in it, a warmth
that says that in him, to her, there is something worthy of legend. "You
did... and you did provoke her a bit, later, after she started t'prickle.
Faranth helps us all if'n age becomes an offense," she says dryly. Her
attention then refocuses on Tannusen. "A lot of the Candidates don't get on
with you? *Aye*, I'm sure. Lysseth's sure. You--" Kassi points a finger
straight at Tannusen. "Are a Candidate i'truth and deed. Whatever anyone
else thinks about it. Only you and the Weyrleaders could gainsay Lyss's
Searching."

A'deth chuckles softly to Sylotra. "Being near /A'deth/ is a far better
place, I daresay." Still holding the pose, he carefully turns his head to
eye Tannu and Kassima. "It's perhaps overstated. You're rather like me,
lad... and I don't get on well with certain others, either. Some women just
don't care for men of our, ah. Calibre."

"More than two," Tannusen shrugs, "less than six? I'm not very good with
most of those my own age." And his eyebrows go up a little at A'deth's
statement, but he doesn't comment on it.

Sylotra smiles and taps her sketchbook, "I think I have enough to do a
couple of good sketches and a colored drawing or three. Plenty of good
poses here." She has sketched two pages of several rough poses and one not
so rough drawing of A'deth. "I can use my mop dance drawing of Kassima to
get my body proportions and reference points for your final drawing,
A'deth." She covers a yawn with her hand.

"They might be your Wingmates someday. You might still nay get on with 'em.
There's a use in figuring out how t'work with 'em anyway--if'n you can't
make friends or at least neutral parties of 'em, and sometimes you can't."
Kassima rolls her shoulder. It's not a lack of sympathy; distress, however,
is not present either. She takes it in stride. "If'n you Impress you'll
learn t'value each other as fighters and contributors if'n nay as people. I
haven't heard of aught you've done t'be earning dislike, so I'm nay worried
a whit about your continued presence in the Barracks." She turns a beam on
Sylotra: "Colored! I'd love a colored drawing if'n 'twouldn't be too much
trouble t'you, t'be hanging on a weyr wall."

A'deth straightens. "As long as it's of her, I am pleased to have
sacrificed my dignity for the cause." He drops down, with some stiffness,
to sit on the edge of the table, his long legs dangling casually.
"Everyone's from different places, with different notions, and different
mores. Be yourself, Tannusen. You'll find your friends and your place." And
he offers the mop to Kassima, though it's redundant by now.

Tannusen takes in what the two riders say even as he tries to steal a peek
at Sylotra's sketches. He just nods after all of it, however. "It's good
that I haven't done anything without knowing it, or something like that,"
he says, "for all I know /I'm/ the horrible snorer now and that's got
everyone annoyed." And he beams, because he knows that wouldn't be it anyway.

Sylotra nods, "I'll work on them between keeping the smith's happy." She
smiles and stands, gathering her box in her arms and yawning again. She
lifts the box to cover it since her hands are full. "G'night, weyrfolk. I
need to get a smidgen of sleep. I hope your head gets better, Tannu."

Kassima accepts the mop. She made a bargain with him--whether Sylotra's
still sketching is irrelevant. She climbs up onto the table without yet
striking her pose. "Exactly so," she agrees first. "If'n a person can't
accept who you are, 'tis better t'know it quickly, aye? On both sides."
After that... rather than asking A'deth for a pose, she decides her own; in
order to dance *properly* with a mop, she at least needs a song. So: "I was
made for loving you, baby, you were made for loving me!" she croons to her
wood-and-cotton partner, holding the mopstick in a clutch one hopes she
wouldn't use on a real person, swaying both it and herself back and forth.
"I can't get enough of you, baby; can you get enough of me?" She and the
mop spin down the table, shaking hips or stick as appropriate, hitting the
surface with heels and head in time with the all-too-catchy beat.

[Editor's Note:  That is indeed a KISS song Kassi's singing,
although I blame http://www.spoonyexperiment.com -- check out
the Dirty Dancing review in the Games section and you'll see
why.]

IGEN-> A'deth XD song

IGEN-> Kassima says, "This pose brought to you by the Spoony Experiment and
Dirty Dynasty Warriors Dancing. ;)"

IGEN-> Tannusen dies

IGEN-> Tannusen says, "Dirty DYNASTY WARRIORS Dancing, rather. ;) Must have
the caps."

IGEN-> Sylotra laughs and poofs for sleep. Laterz, my peeps.

IGEN-> Tannusen says, "night!"

IGEN-> Kassima zhaiwaffles! :)

A'deth stares after her, impressed, and claps out the beat. He belts out
the verse in a respectable baritone, "'Tonight I wanna see it in your eyes,
feel the magic--'" And he pauses. "Is that like fortune-telling? Harpers
come up with such weird songs sometimes..." And then resumes, "'There's
something that drives me wild / and tonight were gonna make it all come
true / cause girl, you were made for me / And girl I was made for yoooou...'"

IGEN-> A'deth puts on his evil clown makeup and stompy platforms.

A'deth adds, sotto-voce, to Tannusen, "I've never heard you snore. Can't be
it."

"Thank you, it's sort of starting to," Tannu replies, and waves at the
retreating Sylotra, "good night!" He then claps along with A'deth, though
he doesn't sing! as Kassima does her thing on the table. It's a good thing
this youth is already pretty corrupt, with these two around! At A'deth's
extra comment, he just chuckles. "There you have it then."

"Tonight I want to give it all t'you. In the darkness, so much I want t'do.
And tonight I want t'lay it at your feet--'cause man, I was made for you,
and man, you were made for me." Kassima's voice is a mezzo soprano of
respectably wide range, and to sing this she chooses her lower register and
something breathier than a solid belt. She throws out her arm, holding the
mop! She draws it back in! She twirls it above her head! It manages somehow
not to vomit on her as a proper partner would do! With such an audience she
can give into impulse and revel in the absurdity.

A'deth beams at Tannusen, and then Kassima. Unfortunately, he's an artist,
too, so she might just find this pose immortalised. "I think my legend's
been eclipsed. Would you like to give it a go, Tannusen?"

"After both of your performances?" Tannusen chuckles, raising both hands
helplessly. "I wouldn't dream of trying to cap them."

Kassima sinks to a neat cross-legged seat on the tabletop, the mop lying
across her lap. Lucky mop. (The bannister's lucky!) "You could change the
mood," she suggests, "do a romantic slow dance. We could sing something
appropriate." She slides a smile A'deth's way; she liked singing with him,
that's plain. "I know one about hearts going on that might suit the occasion."

A'deth snorts softly. "My falsetto's not up to it. Ask my
grand...somethingnephew."

"Near," Kassima flutters, "far, whereeeeeverrrr you are," and somewhere in
the universe, a star goes out for pure shame.

[Editor's Note:  Celine Dion and 'Titanic' are to blame for
'My Heart Will Go On,' natch.]

Tannusen grins, amused, and holds out his hand for the mop. "Only if you
promise not to sing /that/ one," he says.

A'deth clutches at his chest and falls over; since he's on the table, some
dishes rattle. He nonetheless sings, in a hoarse falsetto because it's just
too far out of his range, "I believe that the heart does go on. Once more
you open the door / And you're here in my heart / And my heart will go on
and oooooooon--" But hopefully his singing will not. Tannu's words kill the
rest of it, fortunately.

Kassima sighs in mock disappointment, but hands the mop over and scootches
down to leave the table's stage free for a new power couple. "I begin t'see
his point," she teases A'deth. "All right, what song then?"

Tannusen takes it and stands, though he doesn't climb immediately up onto
the table. He twirls the almost-staff in one hand, end over floppy end in
nimble fingers. "I haven't a clue," he chirps helpfully, "something that
won't make his voice do /that/?" Grin.

A'deth considers them both, and then straightens up. And then sings in a
nice mellow baritone, much more pleasantly and softly, "There's such a sad
love deep in your eyes, a kind of pale jewel open and closed within your
eyes; I'll place the sky within your eyes." An actual real waltz!

[Editor's Note:  And that's David Bowie's 'As the World Falls
Down,' from 'Labyrinth.]

"There's such a fooled heart," Kassima sings next, again in the lower half
of her range but without that breathiness--certainly without the horrible
warbling. Thank Faranth. "Beating so fast in search of new dreams, a love
that will last. Within your heart, I'll place the moon within your heart."

Tannu eyes them both with obvious amusement, then goes to climb up onto the
table. He's either familiar with the song or is good at picking out where
the beat would be, because he manages to start a relatively decent waltz
with the mop! So there!

A'deth sings the chorus after Kassima finishes the verse, and as Tannusen
makes sweet, sweet loving dance to that mop, "As the pain sweeps through,
makes no sense for you, every thrill has gone, wasn't too much fun at all..."

Can mops swoon and melt in a man's arms? Alas, no. Or maybe not alas. Would
be rather disconcerting, if it happened when you were cleaning Candidate
puddles with it. "But I'll be there for you-oo-oo," Kassima joins in, with
a moment's wry flicker to her smile. "As the world falls down... falling...
falling down... falling in love."

And Tannu gives the mop a final twirl at that, and then stops and moves to
hop down! "There," he says, amused and possibly a touch embarassed though
his hadn't been nearly so... ah, flashy as theirs, "the mop has been
thoroughly danced with now."

"Superb." A'deth golf claps. Or he would, if Pern had golf. He /applauds/!
"We've but to put it to bed, and it'll have had an evening well-spent."

Kassima doesn't throw any marks or whistle this time, perhaps proving that
she does after all have some mercy. "Most mops should only be so lucky,"
she agrees, grinning at Tannusen, then at A'deth. "Imagine the envy when it
tells all the others? They might refuse t'work tomorrow in a grand huff.
All the Candidates will *try* and clean floors with 'em, but they won't
work, and nay anyone will know why."

"I certainly won't tell," Tannu just smiles, handing the mop off to whoever
it had been taken from for the performances.

"As long as there's no more peeing," A'deth drawls, "It shouldn't be too bad."

"If'n there's more peeing, they can clean it up *themselves*." Kassi's firm
about this.

"I should hope not," Tannu ews, and goes to retrieve his klah, which
mercifully managed to not be kicked over during all this table dancing!
"Whoever it was is going to have fun with infirmary duty, I'll bet."

"Remind me to nail tunnelsnake heads to the wall. Surprise!" A'deth slides
off the table, and fetches himself another glass of wine.

Kassima fixes A'deth with an attempt at a chiding look that fails
miserably, because while chide and affection might be able to coexist,
chide and admiration, not so well. "If'n he does that," she suggests,
"mayhaps A'deth should mop the pee?"

"Definitely," Tannusen agrees, "if I'm there I'll be much too busy laughing
and hiding under furniture to avoid getting blamed." And he smiles at
A'deth, "You don't have to live with them post-peeing."

"That's what /aides/ are for." A'deth waves his hand vaguely. "And
Candidacy. I am fortunately neither, and am therefore a tyrant. I love
being me."

Something about Candidates in the Infirmary getting stuck with this
particular chore entertains Kassi more than it should. "That's very
reassuring," she says once she's strangled her amusement enough. "I can't
believe this conversation."

"If they're only there on infirmary duty, they're the aides' aides," opines
Tannusen, who's only not an aide now because /someone/ searched him! Is
there such a thing as a senior aide? He'd be liable to make the active
aides do it, having climbed up their ranks in that very infirmary!

"We could discuss the logistics of having unruly candidates rub my
bunions," A'deth remarks blandly, "Since I am elderly -- or so I have been
informed -- and that would qualify under their chores. Of course, I would
need to acquire bunions, but I am /ever/ glad to be of service."

Kassima snorts softly at A'deth. "You don't have--exactly. You *aren't*
elderly. You certes aren't so ancient you can't get around on your own,
just ask the mop. If'n there's been unruliness I can have a word with the
Candidate in question."

Tannusen just snorts, amused but unable to comment!

"I shouldn't have to argue with anyone to get respect," A'deth says
plainly, and with sudden frustration. "Not nowadays. Not after fifty Turns
of service. But it seems to be a certain theme of late. And it's getting
tiresome. I'm not senile. I'm not a cruel sadist. And I am not, contrary to
all appearances, a slut. Nor a slut who'll commit depredations upon nubile
young candidates."

"You're none of those things. Although you encourage the assumption you're
a slut," Kassima returns as plainly, but more quietly. "You've said
it--that may make it nay fair t'blame 'em for thinking that one. People who
know Weyrlife tend t'respect what's worth respecting here, I find.
Candidates only believe they know what deserves respect. They believe they
know many things. Some Candidates," quickly amended, with a glance to
Tannusen. "'Twill talk with her, but, A'deth, get mad at 'em all you like,
but if'n you let 'em affect how you see yourself 'twill kick you lovingly
across a river."

Tannusen's already mostly ranted his piece to A'deth, so he just waves off
the amendment and switches back to the wine he accepted /after/ that whole
encounter. Just hearing it rehashed is making his head hurt again, and
spinning around with the mop did not!

A'deth finds that he's filled his glass, and that he's staring at its
contents. "I'm not that foolish anymore. But I'd've thought that Holders
and Crafters were taught to respect their elders. If this nonsense
continues into Weyrlinghood, I swear, I'll..."

Casting a sympathetic half-grimace Tannusen's way for his headache, Kassima
crosses the distance between herself and A'deth; her hand finds his
shoulder. "Elders, perhaps," she murmurs. "Elder *riders*? I get it too,
for what 'tis worth," and here, her voice is too neutral to give away
whether it bothers her... beyond what the neutrality itself suggests. "Once
they're Weyrlings, they're Igen's t'hammer into shape and they'll learn
t'*understand*."

Tannusen watches, frowning a little at the conversation. "Like you and I
were saying earlier," he comments quietly, "I'm not a typical enough case
to be able to say what /they've/ been taught."

"Licentiousness outweighs decades, Kassima, decades of fighting Thread on
their behalf? Their parents' and grandparents'? Jozell was angry -- it's
not just Candidates, not all of them, either -- when I threw it in his
face, but by Faranth, it's true. It's not even all about the sex, there's
this... resentment of authority, a combativeness..." A'deth doesn't shrug
off her touch, though he's tense; he takes a deep breath, and looks away.
And another breath, and another. "And I know you do. I know. It's not just
about me. I shouldn't be angry at all." And he says to both of them, "I
apologise for the fuss."

"T'some Holders, some Crafters? They take what we do more for granted than
this slight or that. We're going t'live t'see the tithes decrease," Kassima
says, reaching for a glass and the wine herself, "they'll forget quickly.
What they resent's probably being dependent on us; they *are*, and they
don't *like* it, and they don't understand there are reasons for Weyr ways,
or care t'be understanding." She keeps her other hand on his shoulder. A
very light touch. "Be angry if'n you're angry. Don't apologize."

Tannusen can't do much more than nod in agreement with Kassima from his own
chair. "You were the ones telling me to just be myself," he says to A'deth,
which is all he can really do. "The same has to go for you, I'm not going
to go off whining that you let your anger show, you know that, and
Kassima's not exactly going to be offended either."

A'deth tries a little smile for both of them. "Thank you, both of you. If I
decide to completely unretire, either of you have permission to sit on me.
Or tie me up." For once, there's no innuendo in his tone at all. He finally
reaches up to squeeze her hand, before dropping his own back to his side.

"Nay hardly," Kassima agrees, as dry as an Igen wind. She squeezes A'deth's
shoulder in turn. It's several heartbeats before she traces the fingers
down his arm, finally breaking contact when they reach his elbow. "'Twill
do worse than that. 'Twill sing that song at you. All of it. Over and over
until you cry for mercy."

"/While/ sitting on you," Tannu chimes in helpfully.

A'deth shudders, and knocks the wine back. "Tease and torture both? I'll be
sure to remain out to pasture, then."

Kassima's glance at Tannusen is not entirely easy; but there and gone, and
her wry grin is real enough. "You'll find ways t'occupy your time there,"
she says. "Call it a hunch. For example, you should try tabledancing with
all *sorts* of cleaning supplies."

Tannusen blinks, then finishes the drink in his hand in one go. "...Well,
it's late enough that I should go," he says on cue, cheerfully enough as he
gets back to his feet. "I'll let you two sort out how old A'deth isn't in
privacy. Good night to both of you."

A'deth looks from one to the other. Softly, he says to both of them, "We'll
sort this out, I'm sure, when it's more appropriate to do so. Given the
circumstances. Awkward as it all is, and I apologise to both of you for that."

Oddly--or not so oddly--such words don't reassure Kassi much. The furrow
appears between her brows. "If'n circumstances haven't changed," she
murmurs, nevertheless, "there may nay be so much t'sort with me. Mayhaps
should talk about it, though. G'night, Tannusen--take care of that
headache. Aye?"

"I'm fairly certain of how things will sort," is all Tannusen says,
quietly, before he inclines his head and leaves to go back to the barracks
full of candidates.

A'deth reaches up to rub at his forehead. "Nothing has changed." Despite
the crease in his brow, his tone is soft, and quite sincere. "Goodnight,
Tannusen."

Kassima doesn't argue Tannusen's comment; the eyes that follow him out are
thoughtful, and maybe not happy. "Talking may still be an idea," she says
as softly to A'deth, "but naught has changed here, either, between you and
me."

A'deth reaches up to carefully set a hand to her cheek, if she allows.
"Thank you," he says, still very soft.

Kassima allows; more than allows. She turns her face lightly into the
touch. Even as her eyes close, she raises a hand to cover his. "You're
welcome," she says, barely above a whisper--and then, eyes open to just
look at him, wry perhaps, but the warmth is just the same.

A'deth's smile is a little complicated-- wry, too, warm, melancholy
somehow, but not because of her. "I'm going to take a late shift tonight,"
he states quietly. "Work, not pleasure, I assure you. You are welcome to
sleep on a cot if you like."

Kassima opens her mouth to give the usual assurance she'll wait in the weyr
for him, but hesitates before it's spoken. "I may," she says, "if'n you
don't think the aides would put numbweed in m'hair as I slept." With a
thumb she caresses the back of his hand. His thumb, she finds with a gentle
kiss. "I don't want t'miss it if'n you make any Candidates wet themselves."

A'deth inclines his head, and gently takes her elbow, and steers her toward
the infirmary. "Tell me about your day. I'll personally nail whoever
approaches you to the wall alongside the heads."

"Ooh, d'you think *they'll* wet themselves?" Kassi asks a little too
hopefully for the peace of mind of any Infirmary worker. As they leave, her
opposite hand comes to rest over his on her arm, now, and the fingers
squeeze a silent message of love and gratitude.