An Offer He Can't Refuse?

Xanadu Weyr - Weyrleaders' Office

Office and retreat, this is the domain of Xanadu's Weyrleaders. The door is in the eastern wall, quite close to the southern end while the northern wall is dominated by big, expansive windows, framed by sumptuous deep blue drapes edged with a brilliant gold braid and tied back with a thick rope of braided gold and blue cord. In between, the eastern wall is covered floor to ceiling with shelves that house all sorts of records, manuals and supplies that are used on a day-to-day basis. The southern wall has the Weyrleader's desk — plain fellis wood, well polished and masculine. From behind his desk, the Weyrleader can look straight through the windows and out onto the main airspace of Xanadu. The western wall is where the Weyrwoman's desk resides: a lovely piece of furniture made of warm cherry wood. From her seat, a glance sideways gives her an equally good prospect out the window. There are a few other seats, some comfortably arranged around a low round table for small, informal meetings while there also some that can be drawn up to one of the desks.
On the south side of the door, the space is occupied by a low oblong table where refreshments can be set without someone needing to intrude. There is also an 'incoming' tray where incoming correspondence or similar items can be left.

Fl'ynn walks past the open once. He walks right on past, booted feet making a haphazard pattering upon the flooring as if not quite sure where they are supposed to be going. A breath or two later and the teen is appearing again, first a dusky hand upon the edge of the doorframe to widen it, then the rest of his slight figure. "Sir." Salute is smart, hand brushing against a flop of straight, dark hair.

Xe'ter pauses a little, as he looks at the page in front of him, and then puts the pen down beside the paper. He gestures again, "Come in…an', ah, shut th'door if ye don't mind. Thanks for comin' on such short notice…but…I've a need to talk t'ye. I'd've asked sooner…but with the eggs hardenin' and all, it slipped m'mind." He rises up, though, from behind his monolithic desk, and gestures to the less formal seating area…but he takes a sheet of paper with him, with a copious amount of notes upon it.

Fl'ynn continues within. Those fingers that did the saluting comb back through his hair, pulling it away from his eyes briefly. "Sure, sir," is the reply, bringing his form deeper into the office after closing that door. The farmboy-turned-rider approaches the desk, hands unsure where to go now. Arms cross. That won't work, too warm. Arms drop to his sides. Awkward. A thumb dips into a front pocket of his pants, leaving the other arm to just sorta dangle as he kinda-sorta follows to that other area.

Xe'ter settles into one of the comfortable chairs…and gestures, "I've been takin' stock of your wing, Fl'ynn…takin' a lot of stock."

"My wing?" he rather lamely echoes. Fl'ynn drops into a chair with about as much grace as a crippled wherry. Ker-plop. "Comet? I've been doing all my runs. I mean, after that miss-between incident, which really isn't as big of a deal at first glance, I've been really sure to be where I need to be, when I need to be there."

The young Weyrleader nods a bit, "Aye, I know. You, in fact, are one of the best in the wing. The only incident I have here for ye, is that … incident." He lays the list down…and there are notes. Lots and lots of notes. A brief, recent history, if you will, of each of them, "An I understand why R'owan…needed t'step down. But the fact is…D'mon's nae interested in the least, and R'lie…well." He names off the two bronzeriders still in the wing. "Nae. It finally hit upon me the other night, that I /am/ the Weyrleader…an Xanadu…could use a bit of a makeover."

Fl'ynn's mahogany-dark eyes slide away from Xe'ter's face and down to those notes. His chin comes up just a little bit, posture straightens some, all in an attempt to try to spy out exactly what is wrote down upon them. You know, because this seems to be pertinent to his interests. He is still busy trying to sneak a peak as he hears Xe'ter's last. "R'owan is a good guy. Hrm? Like a new haircut?"

Xe'ter agrees, "R'owan's a very good man. An I'm both glad and sad to see him go, a'cause the Weyrlings will benefit from his experience…but. It does leave me with only an Acting Wingleader..and though D'mon's done it afore…this is apparently what's HAPPENED before. Missing shipments, people nae showing up for their shifts, paperwork a shambles." He taps the page again, "I know yer young yet, and so is yer blue….but I'd like t'make ye an offer. Yer older than I were when I became Weyrleader…I'd like ye to take the reins as the Wingleader…give it six months, eh? We'll put D'mon in as your 'second to give you a boost up…and in six months, if ye still want the position, ye can pick your own wingsecond. D'mon wants to retire after that anyway…he and Saetanth are getting up in Turns as it is…"

Fl'ynn is still trying to sneak a peek at those notes when Xe'ter brings up that Wingleader thing. "Wait, what?" In a flash, those dark eyes are focusing upon Xe'ter. "Wingleader, sir?" His head tilts a hair to the side, eyebrows coming together in thought, "I… uhm… Wingleader? Sir?" Pretty sure he already said that. "I would, uhm… be honored." His voice lowers a tad, as if about to share a conspiring secret, "You really didn't have anyone else that would take it, did you?"

The Weyrleader's bright eyes consider the bluerider for a moment, before he agrees in a conspiratorial tone, "No one I wanted, anyway. An' why not…s'm of the best, most reliable 'riders I know are blueriders…an' ye come well recommended. No one's got a cross word about ye…and ye /are/ reliable." And the young, well organized bronzerider? He likes organized.

Fl'ynn straightens back up. That's really all he needed to know. He gives the Weyrleader the slightest of smiles, not quite enough to bring out his dimples, but just enough that'll crinkle in the corners of his eyes, "I understand completely, sir. And yes, I would be honored. I'd do my very best, sir."

Xe'ter snorts a little, and notes, "And it'd be nice t'have someone my age…that isnae Ers'lan. Bless the man, but." Yeah. The bronzerider and brownrider have had … silence matches before this! "I'll have Thea order ye a knot from Ierne…but it's official as of t'day. Congratulations. It will be m'honor to fly with ye, Fl'ynn. An if ye'll come with me, will show ye yer desk in the Wingleader's office."

Fl'ynn's mouth first opens to defend his much beloved clutchmate, but immediately snaps right on back shut. Silence indeed. "Yes, sir." Mmmm, a far, far better response. "Thank you, sir-" Wait. "I get a desk? Does it come with an executive assistant?" He's heard about those. A boy can dream.

Xe'ter snorts a bit, "Nae…I don't even get one of those. Ye might ask Thea…apparently something about a woman named Vivian." He shrugs, and moves to head out of the door…to lead the way to the desk.

Fl'ynn is quickly up and scurrying to follow. "We could ask about getting some…." And so goes the suggesting as he follows Xe'ter out.

Alright…maybe 'desk' is a generous description…but there /are/ individual tables and storage cubbies along the walls. He points to one that's gathering a bit of dust, "That one'll be yers…and yer welcome to use the Council room too, if ye need more space to meet with yer wing and don't want to do it in the caverns below."

Fl'ynn follows along, scampering to keep up. Yes, behaving far more as a minion as yet than any kind of 'leader'. It'll come, in time. Hopefully. He looks to the spot pointed to, nodding his head in understanding. "I… think it is more a question of organization, sir, with this wing. Lots of assignments, and being timely, and knowing when and where to be at places. Is there, possibly… a large slate I can use for assignments? Other than that, I think this is more than fine." Other than that executive assistant.

Xe'ter chuckles, just a touch, "Ye can use the whiteboard there on the wall…" He points, "An' if that's not enough…let me know as soon as possible. We'll get one up from the stores."

Fl'ynn's eyes move up and over to the unused board. "Oh good. Yes." The teen eases around the Weyrleader, moving right to the table area to start pulling things out, causing dust to sift through the air, possibly sending something scurrying off; he pretty much well gets into things. "Absolutely, sir."

Xe'ter chuckles a little, and then makes an odd promise, "It's nae so bad, y'know…an if ye need help, holler for me. I were a transport rider before Romth took a shine to Seryth. Was making a delivery the night he caught her. I can give ye a hand if ye want it…and as long as he's not the wingleader, D'mon's not a bad guy about it all…he has more experience than we have turns, put together."

Fl'ynn turns back to Xe'ter before he digs any further into the stuff in his new spot. "Yes, I will do so, sir. I… understand that you are taking a chance with me."

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