Of Humour And Loss


Maura.jpg P'sec.jpg

Date: 6/1/2011
Location: Living Cavern - Eastern Weyr
Synopsis: Unintentionally funny conversation turns unintentionally serious.
Rating: If above PG-13, please note here.
Logger: Maura

Late to breakfast so that she can avoid the crowd, Maura seems to have gathered up quite a selection for her meal. There’s a mug of some sort of tea beside her, and a plate piled with eggs, bacon, fried up tubers… a pastry, a few slices of fruit. What? She has one of those metabolisms that people cheerfully kill for. That’s all. And, of course, she is oblivious to the stares of those who pass by and eyeball her plate wonderingly. You know what some of them are thinking.

P'sec is on the other end of the breakfast hour himself, but coming in as he does wearing flight gear and carrying his goggles and gloves, it's suggestive of a sickening work ethic instead of a late morning. He passes Maura to see if he can steal a pastry on his way to collect his own breakfast. "Hey kid," he says as he swings by. "Got enough for two there."

That’s ok, cause men in uniform are hawt! Not hot enough to prevent their hand from being smacked away from a hungry woman’s plate though. “Mine.” She protests, swatting at the bronzerider. “Come sit with me when you get your dish filled.” She suggests, as if she didn’t just guard her food like an angry mother-feline. “Ain’t nearly enough for two people on this plate. Sure you don’t need your eyes checked?”

"Someone's got an appetite," P'sec observes with a grin, hardly fazed although denied a pastry. He doesn't try again in case the claws come out. "Right-o," the man agrees, dropping his jacket into an empty spot to save it and leaving the goggles and gloves alongside. "I'd hate to see what your plate would look like if you were eating for two." He beats a hasty retreat to the food station before he really gets smacked for his comment.

“Gotta drown the taste of this drink somehow.” Maura mutters, though P’sec is already long gone to get his food. That would be when his comment really sinks in and there’s a suspicious choking sound coming from her table. She solves this by gulping the ‘Vile Brew’ ™ but that makes her cough more and actually swear a little under her breath. Yes, /her/. Swearing. She’s picked up a bad habit from someone. But just one! So far. Never fear, though, for when he does return to the table she is ready to verbally pounce. “You better not have been talking to the healer. Were you talking to the healer P’sexxxxxxx…sir. P’sec. Sir.” Table, meet forehead.

P'sec has an appetite too, stocking his plate with bacon, eggs, tomatoes, the works. He carries the lot back to join his young wingmate along with a mug of klah so full it sloshes when he sets it down. Maura's faux pas upon his return makes the bronzerider's eyebrows lift; he looks startled. His surprise carries amusement, however, particularly given the girl's embarrassed reaction. "Do I even want to know what you and the healer were talking about?"

Maura does not look up. No, no, no she doesn’t! Instead, her hand reaches for her own mug and shoves it unceremoniously towards the other renegade. “Go on, try that. I dare you.” The words are a bit muffled since her face is still buried against the table. But, she’s far too hungry to sustain that position for long. Instead, the girl just refuses to meet the eyes of her tablemate and instead shovels a forkful of food into her mouth. Waiting. He doesn’t quite get an answer to his question yet.

Once dared P'sec can hardly refuse. He slides into the seat across from Maura and obligingly picks up her mug. After taking a swallow of the brew inside, the bronzerider's face twists into a grimace. "Ugh, that's disgusting. What is it?" He passes the mug back over, adding, "Better you than me." Given the reference to the healer, he can only assume this is something that's been prescribed.

“Disgusting herbs that make a vile painkilling tea.” Maura replies, imbueing her voice with mock cheerfulness when she picks the cup back up and takes a much smaller drink then last time. “He had other suggestions too.” She adds sourly, figuring that P’sec(x) is smart enough to read between the lines there. Because she has no intention of repeating the conversation. “But, you know, since Rikath made me leave my ‘For a good time, come on in’ sign back at Igen…” her gaze is pinned on the mug. “Well, tea. I think I’d prefer fellis.” Sarcasm is unusual for her, so we all know where the comment about the sign came from. He’s surly and blue and has wings.

"Better disgusting than those headaches, right?" P'sec focuses on the positive as he digs into his food, for all the world looking like he's trying to set a record for how fast he can work through it. "Uh huh," he says indistinctly, not touching those suggestions of Maura's healer with a ten-foot pole. "Least it won't make you woozy like fellis will." P'sec's gone through enough injuries to know all about the various degrees of analgesics. "Didn't know you had a sign like that," The older bronzerider's completely straight-faced as he teases her.

“I’m sorry – who is eating for two here?” Look at him go! Maura almost looks jealous of the way he’s packing away that pile of food. “Sometimes woozy is kinda nice though. I’m not supposed to go near the wine either. “ She does make a sadface at that, because she’s certainly not above enjoying a glass or two of the stuff now and then. Not that she ever tells anyone. It’s P’sec’s last comment that makes her grin because she just knows when she’s being teased. “I knew it’d never work on you, so I hid it whenever I knew you’d be flying past. A shame that it apparently never worked on /anyone/. Since then maybe Rikath’d actually chase something once in awhile. I bet he wouldn’t be so crabby if /he/ got some action. Or so I’ve been told.”

"Boy," P'sec says, pointing his fork at himself. "Girl." He turns the fork on Maura. "In case you missed it." He drinks his klah at a slower pace because the stuff's still steaming hot. "Well, sure," he admits to woozy, "long as you don't pass out on your dragon. And you know healers - why give you the stuff you want when they could give you something that tastes terrible instead." He looks amused when Maura teases him back although he doesn't actually crack a full smile. "Lots of riders wish their dragons would settle down a bit and here you are wishing he'd have at it. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

“What? I’m a –girl-!?” Maura looks down at herself in utter shock, and then breaks off a piece of pastry to fling at P’sec’s forehead. “And here I was /sure/ everyone thought I was a boy. You sure know how to set it straight.” She will agree with him about healers, however, a scowl replacing whatever evil words Rikath has conjured up to describe one in particular. “No I’m not alright, I have to drink this crap with every meal!” she retorts, rolling her eyes. “And that /isn’t/ what I meant. I’m sure you know that. Besides, he hasn’t chased even once. I think that’s a little odd. I mean, the rest of them are always up there – ok, Wyncroth is just lazy so I don’t count him. Maybe it’s me.” That gives her something to think about, expression suddenly sobering.

Now P'sec grins, picking up the pastry bit when it falls into his plate and popping it in his mouth. "Eh, every dragon's got its quirks," he says, shrugging and not terribly concerned about Rikath's behaviour. "And he's young yet." Now halfway through his food, the bronzerider forces himself to slow down, sets down the fork to ensure a pause. "You're feeling better though? How's the headaches?"

“And what’s Abydoth’s big quirk?” Maura wonders then, guileless in her curiousity. She’s not talking about flights there, but given their conversation it wouldn’t be surprising if it were taken that way. “Least the pastry didn’t go to waste. Open wide – I wanna see if my aim is improving.” She jokes, as if there’s been no uncomfortable topics going on at all. “They’re manageable, but not gone. You know how things get all scrambled. And then with all our losses, and having to transfer, and…” shrug. “S’probably just stress. That’s what I told the healer, anyway." Pause. “I miss them, P’sec.”

P'sec toys with his remaining eggs, mushing them into the juices running off his tomatoes. "Abydoth doesn't say much." He doesn't sound upset by it, doesn't equate quirk with fault. He doesn't have any pastries to throw back at Maura so settles for shaking his fork at her. Then he settles into a less humourous mien, picking at his food but not eating. "Yeah, I miss them too."

Watching the bronzerider make an unappealing mess of his breakfast causes Maura to lose her appetite about as much as their new topic does. So she too starts moving things around on her plate uneasily. “I..” Pause. “Until the others are here and I can see with my own eyes that they’re better, I hope you and D’lan are prepared to see my girly little face every single day.” She has no intention of letting the two men out of her sight for entire days. “Checking in, keeping tabs. Losing someone else would be – too much.” Not even Rikath can argue with that, even if he has a habit of flinging headlong into danger.

"That's fine, Maura." P'sec looks up as he uses the younger rider's name, a smile on his lips. "Check in all you like." He doesn't have to say that he completely understands the way she feels after losing so many of their wingmates. "And you do what the healers tell you, you hear? Don't need you disappearing between because a headache makes you lose concentration." Having made his point, he applies himself to finishing his plate, no matter how unappealing it may be to Maura. Food is food.

“Yes sir.” Maura replies automatically, a smile curling her lips upwards at the thinly veiled warning to follow healers decree. For a renegade, she sure has a rough time not following orders! And since there isn’t much left on her plate anyway she slides off the chair to walk it over to the appropriate table. But, before she’s completely gone the little bluerider leans over to give P’sec a kiss on the cheek. /Then/ she sails away, figuring that pretty much says it all.

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