Igen Weyr - Inner Caverns
Igen's inner cavern is smaller than the main living cavern, but isn't small by any stretch of the imagination. Tables and comfortable chairs are placed about the room, clustered together, and often-occupied spinning wheels and a large loom sit in one corner. A small corner-table holds klah and various crudites and appetizers, refreshed constantly by the kitchen's staff. The walls and much of the floor are covered with a mosaic of colorful rugs, many handcrafted by Igen residents, dampening noises and giving the cavern a more intimate feel than its size immediately would suggest.

Poor Katailea, stuck in the desert with every lack inherent to the climate. She's deprived of the sight of the sea, deprived of the winter snows starting in Xanadu, deprived of the absurdities that are PUDDING PITS FOR WRESTLING and CANDY FESTIVALS. But listen, one thing Katailea is not deprived of today is a friend who considerately thought of her in the midst of ALL THAT NONSENSE. Thus, this hot Igen afternoon, F'yr, dressed in his brown riding leathers and with the new knot of a full-fledged bronzerider, a Quasar patch on his jacket, is in search of her in the inner caverns, carrying a backpack with the appropriate extra straps that means it can be secured to riding straps for a trip between. He probably should be carrying such a bag on his back, where it's designed to go, but there is a protective wrap of his arms around it as it hangs on his front, as though the contents were precious. To him, they just might be.

Katailea isn't terribly hard to find though she may blend in with the others that are sure to be spending what time they can of Igen's summer afternoon out of the sun. The trader is settled into one of the chairs off to one side of the cavern, feet curled up beneath her and boots tucked just beside the piece of furniture while notebook is balanced on the arm. Hair still damp with a recent trip to the baths is pulled into a loose braid. Pudding pits and candy festivals? Well those she doesn't know she's being deprived of (yet?) and with her eyes on the open page she hasn't managed to spot the Xanadoian rider either.

The big bronzerider's blue gaze sweeps across the afternoon's cavern contents. It's not quite as complex as certain pictographic books to find Katailea among the Igenites staying out of the sun, but it's not a quick process either. When F'yr spots her sitting in one of those charis off to the side of the cavern with her notebook balanced on the chair's arm, braided hair damp from a recent bath, he's navigating his way toward her, his arms wrapped around the backpack-slash-strap-sack that he's wearing like it's a baby (and holding NEARLY as tenderly), coming up behinde the blond to lean down and say, "Hungy?" in her ear, before he's coming around to claim a seat

The big bronzerider's blue gaze sweeps across the afternoon's cavern contents. It's not quite as complex as certain pictographic books to find Katailea among the Igenites staying out of the sun, but it's not a quick process either. When F'yr spots her sitting in one of those chairs off to the side of the cavern with her notebook balanced on the chair's arm, braided hair damp from a recent bath, he's navigating his way toward her, his arms wrapped around the backpack-slash-strap-sack that he's wearing like it's a baby (and holding NEARLY as tenderly), coming up behind the blond to lean down and say, "Hungry?" in her ear, before he's coming around to claim a seat, pulling his arms from the straps and unbuckling the top flap, loosening the choke hold of the leather strap that doubly secures it from mid-flight accidents, and reveals his treasure trove. There's dot candy, candy necklaces, paper wrapped taffy. There's klah flavored candies, lollipops, fireballs, lemon drops and jelly fruit slices, even gelatinized tunnelsnakes of oversized and vibrantly colored varieties. Really, use your imagination. If you can dream it, it was probably at the Xanadu candy festival in honor of the senior weyrlings' graduation to the wings, a fact that his brand new full bronzerider's knot and Quasar patch proudly proclaim on his brown riding leathers.

Startled by the sudden arrival and voice in her ear? Yes. It quickly settles into a smile as Katailea closes the notebook hiding the small straight lines of writing as she tucks it beside her in the chair. A curious look is turned on the newly minted bronzerider for his question however as he sets to revealing his treasure. "What," the blonde's inquiry is full of laughter at the sight of what's inside. "Did you raid the nursery?" Because really, where does one find so many sweets? That and she wouldn't put the idea past SOME people she knows from Xanadu.

K'zre was probably doing something useful with this time. Like working in the infirmary or reading a book or… tutoring apprentices? Who knows. Whatever it was he was doing, he's distinctly not doing that thing anymore. But it has him in the caverns all the same, traversing the Igen tunnels as though he knows them well (because maybe he does) and looking a little like he's had better days (because he has) and trying very hard to ignore just about everyone in his quest for freedom when, well… Candy. He doesn't know F'yr. He probably doesn't know Katailea (though certainly that white-knot would give her away) but he's heading their way like gravity suddenly changed directions and yanked him off track. Like he can't help but to move thataway. He is, at least, polite enough to stop short of actually invading personal space (though, really, that's up for debate given how very close he gets. He's not *touching* or anything. But he's definitely there. Hovering. Orbiting. Very much Involved), and manages to yank his gaze away from the treasure trove of candies and focus on the people instead. Because hello. People. Faces. Probably names. Eventually he manages to say something that might be intelligent, even if it ends up just being, "That's a lot of candy." So. Maybe not so intelligent. Really, he can do better. Usually.

"If you thought the cardboard carnival was ridiculous, you can't even dream of the new levels of ''wonder'' when I tell you about the ''candy festival.''" F'yr lets the words roll right off his tongue with the appropriate level of bro-ly appreciation for a collection of temptations he surely had no real cause not to yield to when put in proximity. Judging by his satchel, he helped himself to a sustaining supply, but obviously he also intends to share… with Katailea. K'zre is something of a surprise, but F'yr tends to handle surprises with aplomb. This is the man who lives with all the daily adventures of Glorioth, after all. A stranger that close doesn't really begin to enter what would be truly weird for him. In fact, for all that he intended to share with his candidate friend, he does offer broadly. "Help yourself," to both. "I'm sorry the spun sugar whiskey wouldn't keep, but I don't think you're allowed alcohol right now anyway," he squints a little toward Katailea before shifting his eyes toward K'zre with that same look like maybe he's not assured that the man standing before them, near them, should be having alcohol either. Note, too, that just because he invited them to help themselves, he did nothing to move the stuffed backpack from its spot on his thigh, and his hands are still loosely holding the straps so removing it from his possession seems unlikely.

"When you put it that way I don't know if I want to know," Katailea replies, amusement evident in the words. Carnivals. Xanadu. It deserves a headshake as entertaining as they are. "It is," follows with a questioning glance towards the greenrider who's put himself squarely in their bubble in response to his rather obvious statement. There's almost a pout at the mention of whiskey she she replies "No" even as she leans to reach for a piece. "This is new though," the woman notes giving the shoulder that bears that non-weyrling knot a light poke before plucking a lemon drop from the bag and settling back. It might have taken a bit but she did notice, and there were other distractions around.

No, K'zre probably shouldn't partake in alcohol. At least not in his current state. Being proddy is kind of like being drunk, right? Best not to be *actual* drunk, also. But for all his hovering in potentially too-close proximity, there's a hesitation that comes despite the offer to help himself to the candy held so enticingly close. Maybe it has something to do with strangers. Or maybe manners. Or maybe *both*. Whatever it is, it keeps the greenrider at bay and even prompts him to take a step or two away from the bag (and the bronzerider). To straighten up and look slightly contrite, though he won't go so far as to speak an apology. It's in his eyes, if not in his words. A sling of his gaze from Katailea to F'yr once again, and while there probably ought to be words, K'zre simply stands in silence. It might be an awkward silence. It might even be an uncomfortable silence. At least, the greenrider doesn't look terribly relaxed; his weight shifted from foot to foot and fingers tangling briefly with themselves as though to prevent him from doing something inappropriate (like snatching the candy?). "Actually, you are allowed to have alcohol," comes in lieu of something more polite; spouted off as simple facts in response to both the statement by F'yr and the pout of Katailea. "One or two glasses; nothing that would get you intoxicated." A beat. Two. Three. "My father's the weyrlingmaster." So maybe that explains his knowledge of candidate rules for a Weyr that is definitely not his own. "Are you sure it's alright if I have some?" His fingers might be twitching, and no longer content to tangle themselves up to prevent thievery.

On the a good day, F'yr is not always the brightest bulb in the glowbasket. However, there are certain things his brain is starting to recognize as 'important information'… when one is the kind of jerk to want to take the opportunities to be kind of a jerk to the unfortunately proddy. Maybe it's F'yr's silent due for having to put up with having to hare off after Glorioth's now perpetual whims to chase glowing greens. His attention on K'zre turns from casual to something slightly more focused as he hesitates and moves back, especially as it becomes apparent that Katailea and K'zre are not acquainted. Perhaps he thought the greenrider was simply one of Kate's new friends, for all the age difference. It's not like some of F'yr's best friends aren't K'zre's age, after all. His first conversation, however, it to Katailea. Purposefully making K'zre wait for an answer? Maybe. "Yes, they finally wrenched us from Ila'den's tender bosom and shoved us out to the mercies of the real wings. I'm back in the office." At the particularly untender mercies of Risali and R'hyn, he means, but he's grinning about it, so it must be what he wanted. Nerd. Only then does he look to K'zre, and smile broadly, "Well, I'm sure there's enough…" It's not quite permission because he adds, "But perhaps I ought to have a name to call you in case you take something I really wanted, or thought Katailea here might like especially." Is there really any such things? Maybe not. "I'm F'yr, by the way. From Xanadu." None of the duties given, but hey, he's just here visiting a friend.

Katailea blinks, "One or two…" she echoes the response from the mysteriously weird awkward greenrider in a way that almost says he might as well just confirmed her no. "Oh," the simple statement of acknowledge on his relation following a beat later. She nearly rolls her eyes at F'yr. Be nice. "Of course you can," she'll answer for him since F'yr already mostly said it and she's willing to share what's being shared with her. As for the office, of course that's where F'yr wanted to be. He told her that on more than on occasion and the news of it is met with a smile "Congratulations! I might have gotten you something for graduation…" before she pops that piece of candy in hand into her mouth.

At least Yasminath is the type of green that does not taunt the males with her glowing hide. Indeed, she is more the sort to be flattered (but completely puzzled) over any attention directed her way; as though perhaps she doesn't quite understand her appeal or why things have suddenly *changed*, despite having done this dance many times before. K'zre, however, is all too keenly aware of what is going on with his dragon, though perhaps slightly less aware of how he behaves because of it. At least, he's probably not aware that he's staring at F'yr and the candy bag like he might want to ripe the throat out of one and make off with the other. But whether he is being taunted or not, he seems not to notice. The question of candy though… He'll definitely be waiting for that answer with squinted eyes and suspicious looks and a tension that has him balling his hands and becoming increasingly less polite (despite that it is not his intention to be rude). And even with Katailea's assurance, it's F'yr he'll wait for. Because it's his bag of candy. And… it's sitting on his thigh. And Kez likes his fingers and hands and face and every other part of his body and does not want to invite violence should he intrude upon his personal space (again). When his answer finally comes, it is met with something like confusion; a little furrow between dark brows and a frown that tugs at his mouth. "Maybe you should just tell me which ones I should take, or not take, so there's no confusion?" Completely missing the point. Though after another beat or two he'll remember that F'yr asked for his name (and gave his own in return) and manage a polite enough, "K'zre. From Fort. Yasminath's rider." If there were duties to give or be gotten, he's certainly not going to mention it. And then another beat. Two. Three. And he tacks on a thoroughly unconvincing, "Congratulations," to follow Kate's.

All the inches and pounds of F'yr's 6'3" muscular frame are exactly zero percent worried about the looks that might imply imminent maiming in the quest for candy. He's probably been party to similar for the same level of this-for-that with Glorioth and his many (many, many, many) ridiculous quests. Blue eyes cut over to Katailea with amusement as she kindly resolves the problem between himself and the greenrider, but seeing as how K'zre waits for him anyway, the unfair roguish smile twitches into life on his lips. He gives the candidate that look because, look Katailea, the game isn't over yet! "Well," F'yr draws the word out as if he's considering. "There's really quite a lot of them. It might take some time to sort out…" He looks down at the bag, shifting his hands away from the straps to start carefully picking through the top layer of contents. "I mean, if you've the patience…" he starts, casting a sidelong look of such wicked innocence up at K'zre that one or the other of them really ought to slap him (or at least flick him). "I could show you each one by one," he suggest to Katailea, that same innocence being turned on her. Of course he doesn't comment on the gift, and the congratulatory words only get the most summary of nods. He's not worried about gifts or accolades, of course. There's candy, and a proddy greenrider, and Katailea. These things are all of much greater interest to the big bronzeriding buffoon.

Katailea might feel the same if she were in K'zre's position, but she knows F'yr so there's that. She's also caught onto his game and simply, for the moment, shakes her head while sending him a knowing grin. "I'm okay," she assures, rolling her once piece of candy into her cheek to speak. Yes, that whole bag, help yourself, and she takes one. "K'zre," that was his name, yes? "Is there a kind you like?" she asks all sweetness.

K'zre currently has zero patience. Legit, zero. Patience-bank has been thoroughly depleted (assuming he had much to begin with). But he's also… perhaps not quite as cognizant of F'yr's intentions as he *ought* to be. That offer to go one by one? Definitely taken entirely too seriously. "That's probably not necessary," he points out oh, so helpfully to the bronzerider. A heartbeat more and he's blinking at Katailea and wondering, "is it?" since she seems to have the same sort of stake in the matter. His eye just might start twitching, to accompany those fingers of his that are definitely unable to stay still, despite having crossed his arms in a very valiant (and very vain) effort to do so. At least he's not foot-tapping? But there is definitely a measure of irritation creeping into the mix, despite it being not his candy. (That he could go to the living caverns and get cookies does not seem to have crossed his mind.) Why hunt and gather, when there's a bag of treats right there within reach!. Even if it's not technically his. But, well. He did say to help himself. And Katailea said it was okay. And maybe there's a little internal debate going on; the wheels in his brain turning away as best they can when the entire rest of him is a twitching mass of NEED SUGAR NOW thanks to Yasminath. So MAYBE he can be forgive for stepping forward. And MAYBE he can be forgiven for reaching for the bag, despite a distinct lack of real permission granted. And MAYBE he can be forgiven for getting distracted during the process of candy grabbing. But he probably won't be forgiven when his handful turns into a sack full. When he yanks the bag right off of F'yr's thigh and out of his hands and hugs it to his chest instead, spins on his boot heals and literally runs from the cavern. In answer to Katailea's question about which kind he likes? The answer is clearly 'All of them'. SO LONG AND THANKS FOR ALL THE FISH CANDY!

F'yr probably has to go all the way back to Xanadu to find anyone whose job description includes "Candy Bounty Hunter" in black and white. (No, really, almost definitely someone has had that written beneath 'Bluerider' or something more practical on their dossier in the administrative offices.) So he can't simply shout for help as K'zre delivers F'yr with such a rich dose of comeuppance for all the teasing he's been doing to poor, proddy greenrider's lately. Will he learn a lesson from this? … no, probably not, if we're being honest, but at least he will also not be nomsing on the bag of candy he brought while he doesn't learn it. He will go slack-jawed as the THIEF OF JOY makes his well-intentioned take that turns into COMPLETE CRIMINAL CLEPTOMANIA. Perhaps it will be short-lived? But not short enough for F'yr and Katailea to benefit, surely. He manages to close his jaw but only because he needs it to close a little bit to laugh. He laughs, and laughs and ends up sprawled back in the chair, his head on its back, still laughing for some moments before he can manage to roll his face toward Katailea with a look of mild chagrin, reaching up to knuckle moisture from the corners of his eyes, and offer the very poor replacement for a treasure trove of sugar: a, "Sorry." BUT WHAT IS F'YR TO DO? "I hope you got what you wanted. If not, I can bring you more." He has more, don't worry. "That's not what I expected." What did he expect? He probably doesn't know, but not that.

Katailea shakes her head, her silent answer to the greenrider. No, no it's not necessary to go through one by one. She nearly looses what's left of that lemon drop with her laughter even as she tries to keep a straight face. That's just not working though so instead there's hand to cover her face. The fact that what just occurred was in no way F'yr's intended outcome making it all the funnier for her. "You kinda deserved that," the blonde points out for his apology, still snickering as her hand falls back to her lap. "I got mine," and that's okay, the idea that he has more however draws a look. Seriously F'yr just how many sacks full of candy do you have stored in that weyr of yours?

LISTEN. THERE ARE SOME QUESTIONS ONE SIMPLY DOES NOT ASK. BECAUSE IT'S RUDE AND SOME CHARACTERS ARE AFRAID TO PUT THE REAL ANSWERS OUT THERE, OKAY? So forget the details about how many bulging sacks of sugary heaven F'yr has squirreled away in his homestead where he rarely invites anyone and is therefore TOTALLY SAFE. Unless certain children-neighbors should happen by when he's not at home. It's probably fine. Glorioth could guard— well, no, the bronze has never recognized an ACTUAL THREAT when it's stared him in the face. RIP F'yr's candy stash, probably. Maybe he'll have to go after K'zre for more than just his bag, if there's anything left anywhere by then. For now, he's here with Katailea… judgmental Katailea. "Did I?" He challenges with a lift of a single brow, not lifting his head from the back of the seat, his arms now free of their candy burden left to wrap loosely across his torso. "Well." He'll give her the point after a moment, for all that his smile is incorrigible. "Maybe he deserved it too." The teasing or the candy or both. "Aside from your crushing disappointment by the theft of your candy by the weyrlingmaster's son- and you should use that as your excuse if you need to drink tonight, by the way-, how are you, Katailea?" He has a smile for her after all that, of course. Why wouldn't he? The candy theft has put him in an absurdly good mood. What a weirdo.

Katailea's still teasing when she replies "Sorta," for the bronzerider's deserving of the theft, "he probably did," added for the greenrider's side of it. "I eas thinking the same thing. I mean here my friend comes all the way from Xanadu and…" she leaves it at that with a smile. He was there, he' knows what happened. Completely reasonable reason for a drink. Right? "I'm alright, maybe better if I didn't have stables duty earlier," she shrugs. It is what it is and its done now, but still among at the bottom of the ranking as far as chores go for this blonde. "But you're here now so candy or no its still nice to see friend."

"I can't imagine how that rapscallion's father could hold a need to comfort yourself with drink against you." Someone has been with his dictionary again. F'yr's grin is also unrepentant for making this suggestion, though it may be wise for Katailea to remember that F'yr is also the one who spend most of candidacy with an actual ban on alcohol consumption because of that one time he drank too much on turnover and was caught giggling…. so he may not be the best person to take advice from in this particular quarter. "I always liked stables duty when I ended up having it," which wasn't often, given F'yr's several roles during his own, singular, candidacy. "But then, coming from the farm…" It was familiar work for him. He shrugs. Then there's a smile for her, "What are friends for?" If not to visit their friends in the desert. "Are you making friends here? With the other candidates? Or the eggs? I thought at first K'zre might be a friend of yours." His brow briefly furrows but he lets it go.

There's a smirk for his commentary but Katailea will forgo further comment on the idea of a drink. He might have been the one with the actual ban, but she is not always good about stopping at one. the trader nods pointedly when he mentions the farm. Exactly what she might have pointed out if he hadn't. A shake of her head first at the idea that K'zre is one of those friends (though he might be now!). "Yeah," she replies then for the question of making friends. "Evi's cousin, Oddisa," well they might not be friends exactly more the younger girl is trying to get her to let her teach her to ride but that she's not mentioning just now. "She's one of the candidates. And there's a harper from Xanadu, Tejra. Some of the riders too. Alexa's one of the weyrwomen, she's the one who asked if I'd stand. The clutch is her Raanath's," she goes on to explain, only to follow with a grin, "And Z'len said I could stay with him if I don't impress. And," she could name more from the sound of it. "But the eggs… There's one that reminds me a little of Glorioth." Don't worry F'yr. she's not attached to that one. "None of them are anything like the ones at Xanadu, there's one though that .. I don't know."

What to say to all this? F'yr's brows climb a little as he listens, smile spreading. He does, at some point, sit up so he can shift a little in his seat and listen better, even. It's not lost on him that this is one of the largest dispersals of information from Katailea in a single set of breaths that he's yet to receive, and he listens. "That's good. Good to have friends, especially if one of those eggs turns out to be your lifemate. Especially if that lifemate happens to be anything like Glorioth." He might move on QUITE QUICKLY from that comment, no need to SCARE THE POTENTIALS, but at least Katailea may escape all the things that come with bronze by the simple expedient of being the incorrect gender for that shade of beast. "I want to hear more about the candidates," he says finally, smiling soft encouragement, tilting his head and leaning a little toward her in a rocking motion, "but first I want to hear about the eggs. Which one? And what don't you know?" He pauses and adds, in case it helps, "I found talking about the eggs to be helpful when I wasn't sure about things." Not that helpful, because what can anyone do, really? It's going to be whatever it's going to be, in the end.

Perhaps its as much as it is because it's not about Katailea so much as other people she knows, friend or no. Shifting in her chair to restitute her feet in a different direction she nods, "Yeah," she agrees of having friends, a brow arching briefly at the comment on his own bronze but she doesn't pursue that line of questioning. She knows enough to have a slight inkling of what he might be implying. "The white one," she says of the egg. That one void of the flashy colors of the others have, the one that some might call plain. "You know how some of them are rough or textured?" Rhetorical question. "It's so smooth… and I don't know," she adds, herself a bit perplexed at how to describe it. "There's just something.. different? Does that make sense?"

Rhetorical question or no, there's a soft, "Mmhm," from the bronzerider to confirm his memory with the surfaces of shells and how they varied from egg to egg in some cases. Blue eyes study Katailea's face as she starts describing and when she finishes there's a slight squint to the look. He shifts a little more so he's facing her, one kneed drawn up into the seat, and then folds his arms on the arm rests between the chairs. Does it make sense? Maybe yes, but perhaps it's not enough for the bronzerider to really go on. F'yr leans a little onto his arms, a little toward the blonde candidate, and invites (because he's really bad at prying, y'all, really bad), "Tell me more."

"Like…" Katailea starts, trailing off again, lips twisting in thought as she searches for the right words to try and explain something that they just don't make words for. "For just a moment I'm not alone?" the blonde offers the explanation somewhat uncertainly. It might not make sense to anyone else, it might not really make sense to her either honestly. The smile she sends him one someone helpless with her loss for words.

There's a slow nod for the words Katailea manages, though the blonde's head tilts a bit more as if he's trying to hear nuances to the phrase offered him. "I felt like that, with some of the eggs at Xanadu. Different ones reached in different kinds of ways, it felt like, wanted to connect in different ways." He frowns slightly but the look clears almost immediately. "Is there anything particular about that one? Or is it the only one you feel that way with?"

"That's not even really right either. Part of it, but," Katailea shrugs a shoulder at a loss. "No, like you said, they all have something about them," way to state the obvious again, "But this one's just different from the others." She said it before, but that's just it and rather than try to explain it any further she asks, "But what about you? Graduation. Candy festivals. What else?"

"That's not even really right either. Part of it, but," Katailea shrugs a shoulder at a loss. "No, like you said, they all have something about them," way to state the obvious again, "But this one's just different from the others." She said it before, but that's just it and rather than try to explain it any further she asks, "But what about you? Graduation. Candy festivals. What else?"

The bronzerider cocks his head, blue eyes studying Katailea with a puzzlement that indicates… no, he's probably not really following. Then again, he's never been one of the brightest glows in the basket, so, these things sometimes happen, particularly with topics as complicated as the personal experiences with eggs. F'yr shifts, sitting back a little as he contemplates the question briefly. "Oh, just that, basically. Back to work with Quasar. Handling internal disputes," he means between Risali and R'hyn, "Glorioth's-" AWKWARD. A glance goes in the direction K'zre fled with the candy, "-still interested in greens after the first one." One hand moves to push through his blonde hair. "There seem to be a lot of them getting glowy," which he doesn't sound like he loves really. "Quasar seems to be a good fit for Glorioth, really, because unless I need him to go somewhere, his weird sleep patterns," that he never grew out of, "aren't really a problem."

It doesn't really matter if he's following or not since she's not really sure what she means either. The mention of Glorioth and greens along with that glance of his brings a flicker of a frown to Katailea's lips but she doesn't press on that any if he's not offering it. Maybe she'd rather not know. Whatever the reason the blonde shrugs, "They do that," get glowy. And there's nothing either of them can do about it. "Glad to hear it works out for you and you're where you wanted to be. You know," she switches thoughts. "Last time we sat like this was before he hatched…"

"We've sat since," F'yr protests, "just differently, in different places. Or walked. Or whatever." He flashes a smile. "I'll make sure I come, when the eggs here hatch. If I can convince my ride." There is that to consider. F'yr can't always get where F'yr wishes to be at the right times. In fact, "Speaking of." He sighs, shifting to rise. "I need to take him somewhere. He's getting impatient and…" He doesn't want to get banned from Igen, as he's mentioned before. "Are you sure you don't want me to bring you some replacement candy?" He checks with lifted brows, but one way or the other, he'll shortly be making his way toward the exit and not stopping to apprehend any candy thieves… this time.

"I don't know that I want you to." The words are past her lips before she can edit herself and Katailea flinches. If she could hide in that chair she might, but instead she moves to her feet with him. "If you can't make it I'll understand." That sounds better. Right? More like what she should have said in the first place. More like what she meant? As for the candy, she'll live without it if she has to. "Only if you want to," she says then offering up as smile of her own.

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