To Give a Flying Fork

A massive cavern in its own right, this one has been skillfully adapted for human habitation. The high ceilings have been painted a light, soft ivory, as have walls hung with numerous tapestries that provide brilliant color and insulation from the stone. The floor has been left in its natural state, pale pink granite speckled through with glittering mica and dark flecks of basalt. The stone is carefully leveled but kept sufficiently rough to avoid slips.
The cavern itself is loosely divided into areas, each one set up to be suitable for some segment of the Weyr's population. The most frequently occupied area is the one near the Kitchens, where tables of varying sizes provide a place to sit down and eat or chat and a buffet of consumables is almost always kept stocked. It's plain that on most days, this area wouldn't accommodate anywhere near the full population of the Weyr, instead feeding people in shifts as they come off duty. On occasions when a formal meal is laid out, tables are borrowed from all the other areas.
There's also a big fireplace set into the western wall, several comfortable chairs nearby providing haunts for elderly residents or riders who like a good view of all that happens. Rugs cover the floor in strategic spots, all of them abstract or geometric in design and most in the softly neutral colors of undyed wool.
Exits lead off in all directions, the largest an archway to the northeast that leads outside. Near it there's an alcove with hooks for coats and shelves for muddy boots. A tunnel to the east goes to the infirmary, and a set of stairs just a little south of that lead up to the offices and administration area. To the south, a long and sloping tunnel leads down to the hot springs. The kitchen is off to the southwest, while the residents' quarters are reached by tunnels going west, deeper into the cliff.

It's yet another day of this ridiculous summer, and as the day's temperatures slowly climb, a number of people seem to be taking an early lunch rather than deal with the heat. Among those claiming a table in the caverns is Nessalyn, who has relentlessly used her elbows to ensure that no one joins her at the small table. A pair of crutches rest up against the table's edge, and she has one leg propped up on a chair beside her. It makes for something of an awkward angle to sit at, but she's managing. The techcrafter sports a black eye from a bruise which blossoms over one side of her face, a split lip, and a visible line from a healing cut across her neck, so it probably doesn't take many elbows to keep people away. She looks a wreck, after all. She's also busy with a fork in hand, currently aiming it at someone's back, arm poised to chuck it in the woman's direction.

Is that Rhodelia's back with a big ol' target painting on it? She is a woman and is currently in the living caverns and blissfully unaware of any possible projectiles for the moment. And while that lunch plate should probably be loaded up with at least a couple vegetables, it's not. They'd get in the way of stacking as many desserts as possible on it and that's what's really important, even if she's yawning while perilously stacking the plate higher and higher.

The back doesn't actually belong to Rhodelia, but it belongs to the woman right next to her. When Nessalyn flings that fork and hits her intended target, the woman exclaims loudly and jumps, likely jostling everyone around her. She's confused, and apologizing, and OH LOOK, THERE'S A FORK ON THE FLOOR. Nessalyn, meanwhile, is the portrait of innocence, munching on her own supply of desserts provided by her favorite baker.

Rhody IS JOSTLED, SO JOSTLED. And unfortunately, that also means that the towering stack of desserts she was stacking is also jostled too. It's like time slows down as she tries to steady the plate but in reality, everything moved normally and gravity wins. Gravity always wins. But hey, not all is lost. She saved at least a third of the cookies and some of the pastry puffs that were on the base of dessert mountain. Although the fruit and the shortcake have tragically met the demise. "NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" She's not even phased by the fork. Random NPC woman is busy giving Nessalyn or at least Nessa's direction death glares as she picks up the fork and lectures the room at large about how somebody could have lost an eye. And Rhodelia is just broken. Standing there in front of a mess of food with her plate and looking down.

Like a fork, stabbing in the back! It's clearly a folksy description for something. Probably tragedy, because seriously, look at Rhody. D'lei certainly does, because he was just entering the caverns at about the time of that… incident. Now he's headed closer, because he'd like to know if anyone actually lost an eye this time.

Nessalyn has decided to handle trauma in the time-honored way: pushing it down and pretending it doesn't exist. But that doesn't mean she's above using said trauma to excuse any bad behavior, so she doesn't look the least bit concern that she just hurled a fork across a semi-busy dining area. LOOK AT HER, SHE'S A WRECK, SHE CAN'T BE HELD RESPONSIBLE. Or at least that's what the smug expression upon her face seems to say as the woman starts her lecture about fork-hurling safety. "SIT DOWN, YOU'RE MAKING MY FOOD TASTE BAD," she bellows, because there's nothing like yelling at a stranger you just threw something at to help a situation. Poor, poor Rhody. "Just pick it up, it'll be fine!"
*bit concerned

Do you really want to test Ms. Lecturer, Nessa? Well, at least the whole wreck look does give the woman second thoughts, but she picks up the fork and heads off in a huff. Probably going to tattle to the headwoman or something to make the techcrafter someone else's problem. Good thing she doesn't see D'lei as NPC woman hurries out in the exact opposite direction. Rhodelia finally starts to move after the advice first a sniff, then a glare and a few napkins are purloined from the dessert table to scoop up at least most of the dessert avalanche and set on another plate. And only then does she actually make her way to Nessa's table, unphased by the crutches, she takes a seat and slides over the floor food plate. "You broke it, you eat it."

At least it's probably not going to be an inter-Weyr incident. Yet, anyhow! And D'lei isn't going to have to deal with it immediately, so even better. He pauses to observe the tragedy that is tumbled dessert. "Mmm." D'lei drags a chair over the remnants of the mess before he snags a fruit cookie and follows in the wake of Rhodelia to find… Nessalyn. "Why am I not surprised?" he says by way of greeting.

Of course Ness wants to test Ms. Lecturer. In fact, she looks all the more satisfied when the woman storms off to report her for her terrible crime. She does briefly pick up a spoon when she spies the bartender making her way to her table, but the potential weapon goes unflung. That plate of floor-food is eyed, before Nessalyn picks up a piece which doesn't appear to be too dirty - nothing she can't brush off real quick - and then pops it into her mouth. "Still good." She doesn't move to eat any more of it, though. THAT'S ALL FOR YOU, RHODY. "I don't know, why are you not surprised?" she returns to D'lei, as though setting him up for the punchline of a joke.

Rhodelia may have been the one to dare her to eat the floor-cookies, but there's still a look of horror on the bartenders face when Nessa actually does it. "Gross. You're gross." She's going to stick to the non-floor-contaminated food plate, thank you very much, and keep an arm on the table as if to protect it from possible advances from her table mate. As for D'lei's entrance, Rhody gives a wave and offers out the good plate. "Want a cookie. Err, another cookie?"

"I've met you," D'lei answers Nessalyn. It's not a great punchline. Then again, he's not laughing. He does, however, nudge a chair aside from the table enough to take a seat for himself, then lean back into it. Rhodelia's offer brings a smile, but a slight wave off of further cookies with that one he's got. "Nah. You're the one who's already suffering." Dessert loss, yo. It's a real tragedy! Unlike anything that might have him glancing to Nessalyn.

"You forgot to add how much you regret it," Nessalyn corrects. It doesn't make the punchline any better, but she does seem to find some humor in it. "I told you they were stil edible." Never mind that she's not touching them beyond proving that initial point. "You should try one." Since it appears Rhodelia won't be offering the good cookies, Ness reaches over into her bag to pull out a little box that houses a few of Sylvarin's creations. Yes, she's just carrying a bag full of desserts with her everywhere, don't judge.

"If you end up in the infirmary with something ridiculous from eating floor cookies, you only have yourself to blame," Rhodelia's totally going to shrug off all responsibility for that. And as for D'lei not taking up the offer, she shrugs. MORE FOR HER. and also digs through the dessert pile to find a spoon. And also a cup of pudding as well. "Flying forks. What has this weyr come to?" She tries to give her best impression of Ms. Lecturer before rolling her eyes and turning full focus onto the klah pudding. Mmmm, caffeine and dessert.

"I did," D'lei agrees to Nessalyn, and there's an inward tug at the corner of his mouth that might almost pretend to be a smile. He breaks off a piece of his non-floor cookie and eats it… significantly more slowly than Rhodelia, that's for sure. He looks to her, then back to Nessalyn again… "See, here's the thing." No actual smile, now - though there's no frown, either. If anything, he just sounds… tired. "I don't care if you sass, or take things, or make a mess. I don't even care if you stab someone in the eye… as long as they agreed to play fork-darts. Okay?"

"I'm not going to catch something off the floor," Nessalyn retorts with a roll of her eyes. "Besides, I have a concussion, I can't be held responsible for my poor choices." She opens up the box, plucking out some kind of little dessert sandwich, one that's no doubt a mixture of complex flavors and deliciousness. "I was just trying to get her attention," she mutters to D'lei, incapable of admitting to her own wrongdoing. "No one was going to get hit in the eye."

"That's what they all say…" Rhodelia just rolls her eyes again as she continues to eat her pudding. "But if you can't be held responsible for your choices, shouldn't you still be in the infirmary you know, where people can watch you?" And maybe call for mindhealers if advance help is needed. You never know. But she's also zooming in on another part of the conversation. "Is fork-darts actually a thing? Cause judging from some of the regular dart games, we're going to need more eye patches."

So many things that Nessalyn will not do. So many. D'lei mmhs, with a shift of his head to Rhodelia and a slight nod, then a return of his gaze to Nessalyn. "No one was going to get a concussion, either," he says, and arches a brow at her with a moment of meaningful look… then breaks off another piece of his cookie. "If you can't be trusted… you won't be." He shifts one shoulder in a shrug, then pops the piece of cookie into his mouth. Om, nom, nom… and then a heh. "The more eye patches, the worse the overall depth perception… and then even more eye patches…"

"They released me." Did they, or is this a jailbreak? Nessalyn's capable of mobility and merely looks worse than she is, so it's very possible that she was released. A sharp look goes to D'lei, communicated mostly with a death-glare as the bruising across her cheek makes it difficult to move too many muscles. "The difference being that the fork was under my control, and whether or not to get a concussion was decidedly not." She plucks up another one of the little dessert sandwiches, stuffing her face rather than snap too hard to D'lei with her sudden burst of waspish anger. "Don't care." That's muttered flatly around a mouthful, her fingers already reaching for the next treat. "Start making eye patches now, you'll be able to sell them later."

Rhodelia eyes Nessa and all that bruising and the crutches. While dubious, she will at least accept that running isn't really in the techcrafter's wheelhouse at the moment unless it's a really slow run. "So what is it? You're in control of your actions or you're not because of the concussion? Fork darts should probably be an outside thing. Or in an abandoned tunnel." Places where random children might not be running into flying forks. As for the possible mercantile eye patch opportunity, she snorts. "You'll have to hit both eyes if someone's going to actually buy my sewing."

D'lei meets the glare from Nessalyn steadily, though his own expression is more stony than fiery. "You don't have to care," he replies to her. "But you don't get to be special, either." His tone's weary, almost flat. "If you attack someone in my Weyr… that's a problem. So either I don't deal with problems like that, or I do." Another broken-off bite of cookie, another slow nibble of it.

It would be more like a hop than a run, which might be amusing to watch from the outside but certainly isn't an effective escape method. "I'm not, but the healers let me go so it's on them." She can blame someone else and get out of trouble in one claim! She'd likely look more proud about that, except D'lei keeps talking, and her irritation keeps building. "Don't worry about your sewing, then, hire someone else for cheap." Poor, poor Rhodelia. She doesn't need to overhear this conversation, but Nessalyn doesn't care as she snaps, "I didn't attack anyone in your Weyr. I know how to throw a fork without injuring anyone, thanks. And if you were really worried about the safety of the people in your Weyr, you'd know who was living out in the woods."

Well, that turned real awkward real fast. Don't mind Rhodelia. She's just going to slink down into her chair and pretend to be somewhere else, even though she can't really slump down far enough to be unseen, but she's trying. Eyes flicker between Weyrleader and techcrafter and while she might not have popcorn, the bartender's hand does reach for another cookie…

The corner of D'lei's mouth tugs in and to the side, a sort of grimace. "I try," he says to Nessalyn. "I failed. I'm sorry for that." At least he's not looking at Rhodelia, because he's staring at Nessalyn instead. "If you're never going to screw up - ever - then go ahead." He makes a very small expansive gesture with his cookie-hand. "Have at."

The gossip hounds in the area are probably watching their table with glee, but Nessalyn doesn't seem to notice or care. "Don't apologize to me. I'm fine, and I don't care." The likelihood of that being true given the depth of her anger is slight, but she's maintaing that lie ferociously. "I just think it's a little pointless to try to tell me off for throwing one fork safely after what happened." She huffs and stuffs another sweet into her mouth, glaring at D'lei a moment longer before turning to Rhodelia. "So, eyepatches?"

The gossip hounds are the only ones who are gleeful as they have plenty of material to work with now. Rhodelia meanwhile isn't even her cookie. She's just nervously breaking off tiny piece by tiny piece and piling them into her napkin as she looks between D'lei and Nessa. "Maybe we shouldn't throw forks?" The question is just a hair louder than a whisper and she looks ready to dive under the table in case that spoon should go flying.

D'lei spreads his hands a bit, with a lopsided frown and a little bit of a shrug where he manages to use both shoulders and not actually wince while doing it. "I'm still sorry." But that's all he says about it, and he lets the rest of what she says pass without a comment - though he doesn't look away while she glares at him, gaze remaining on her until she's turned to Rhody, at which point he takes another bit of cookie… though pauses before it reaches his mouth, his own eyes shifting to Rhodelia as well. There's a slight nod, as of he is intrigued by this radical concept and curious to hear more.

"Next time I'll use a spoon." It sounds like a threat, but it's all some small measure of acknowledgement that maybe they're right. Possibly. It's likely as close to an agreement that anyone is likely to get from Nessalyn right now, given that her anger is still simmering just below the surface. A muscle in her jaw twitches when D'lei apologizes again, but she doesn't say anything.

Rhodelia considers the possible threat, possible acknowledgment and nods. "Spoons at least don't have tines." Which makes them infintely safer than their sharper cousins the fork. Or Farnath forbid the flying knife. And here is where Rhody is going to get really crazy here, but she has another suggestion. "Or you know, you can get people's attention without throwing things. Normally a pretty loud 'Hey' will get some folks looking although 'please' tends to be more effective. Why were you even trying to get her attention anyways?"

Spoons are also more suited to klah-pudding, which is another point in their favor. D'lei nods again to Rhodelia, his head tilted towards her as his watches, then slowly lifts that piece of cookie to his mouth to eat it as she explains her more exotic theories. His turn to have some not-exactly-popcorn!

Nessalyn can at least acknowledge that spoons are less likely to earn her a lecture, whether or not she agrees on their safety level. She makes a noise of agreement as she leans over her propped up leg to pull out another box of goodies. "There were too many people around to get her attention without a name." That mention of 'please' just goes entirely ignored. "I wanted to ask her to get me some food. I can't really carry things while I've got these," she reaches out to tap the crutches, "attached to me."

Rhodelia glances at Nessa, to the dessert table and back. "I was standing right in front of her. You could have yelled my name." And she probably would have been willing to bring the injured woman some non-floor cookies if asked nicely. "But it also looks like you already have some food as well?" She's totally eyeing the bag of snack-holding.

A certain baker has evidently been busy! D'lei takes another bite of his one cookie - he's been making that thing last - as he listens to the two of them. And then he breaks off another piece, because if he's going to do this popcorn thing, he's going to commit. "People can pass messages, too." Okay, so he didn't quite shut up, but at least he puts the cookie-bit in his mouth after and takes a bit to eat it.

"What's your name, again?" Has Nessalyn ever actually used it? She does know it, but she's also rude. Which is why that comment is followed by a small smirk which says she knows she's being a jerk. "I've got some tasters Sylvarin made me. Two baskets full." Which means she has even MORE back in her room, and she's spending all of her free time stuffing her face. "Maybe I tied a note to that fork, but no one bothered to check it."

Rhodelia rolls her eyes again, complete with a pained sigh. "Rhody. But I also tend to answer to bartender, a fact you know damn well. Unless you forgot who pours your drinks." And sometimes lights them on fire, but that's a situation where everyone around are adults and relatively consenting to shenanigans. Unlike the living caverns where most folks are just trying to mind their own business, except those gossips. And if D'lei should happen to be running out a cookie-popcorn, that 'plate' that Rhodelia had was really more of a platter. she probably wouldn't miss one or three.

"Admittedly, if you do forget who pours your drinks, it's a good sign they're strong," D'lei observes to Rhodelia, with a glance down to that plate of cookies, then off to the one of floor-cookies… then back to Rhody again. "You want another thing for people to call?" he asks her. "I mean, since the current two don't seem to quite be memorable enough." A slight tilt of his head to point out Nessalyn and her apparently-lacking recall, though his attention stays on Rhodelia.

"You're not the only one who pours my drinks, although I'm pretty sure you're the only one who doesn't spit in them." A scrutinizing look is given to Rhodelia, just in case. "You don't spit in my drinks, right?" Maybe they should all be lit on fire to burn off the germs, just in case. That's totally how that works. "But I've got it now. Bartender Rhody." Still, Nessalyn seems open to this idea that D'lei is floating of giving the bartender another name, and inquisitive look sent in his direction. "Are you thinking nicknames? I'm great with those."

The bartender verbally neither confirms or denies about spitting in drinks, although she does rear back and look a touch offended, but Rhodelia will shake off those baseless accusations. "Living your life so that folks might want to mess with your food for revenge probably isn't a sound life strategy. Although I will always pour the drinks strong." Unless the bossman is watching. Then she'll pour the prescribed amount. There's an eyebrow raised at D'lei's suggestion. "If people can't remember the first two or three… why would they remember another?"

"I'd certainly rather know when I'm eating something Sylvarin made," D'lei says in reply to Rhodelia's suggestion about life hacks, with a crooked smile sneaking back onto his face. He makes an equivocal gesture about Nessalyn's suggestion, his hand slipping by to steal another pop-cookie on the way back from it. "Sort of," he says, and shifts gaze back to Rhody. "This one would come with a visual aid."

Nessalyn shrugs. "It's not my fault they're thin-skinned and sensitive." Thank goodness for people like Rhody, who are willing to light things on fire with her. She appears offended on Sylvarin's account, proclaiming, "Everything he makes is delicious, unless you've done something to him. Then it's your own fault." To punctuate this point, she pops another of the treats from her special stash into her mouth. "Are you going to give her a sign to carry around? That'd probably help."

"The only way to know for sure is to make it yourself," Rhodelia just shrugs off the concerns and goes in for one of the teeny tiny fruit tarts that were hiding under the pile of cookies. And there's another dubious eyebrow raise towards D'lie. "I'm not going to tattoo my face." Because while that would certainly be memorable, it's definitely not the look she's going for if Rhody really was trying to put an effort into her look at all. "Maybe we should just all carry signs around. Nessa's should have a warning about flying objects."

"I never said otherwise," D'lei replies to Nessalyn's offense on Sylvarin's behalf, and half-smiles. "Just that I like to know." How much fortitude does he need per bite? It's an important calibration to make! D'lei hehs at the suggestion of a sign, at least, but then he puts a larger-than-most bite in so he can free up a hand and reach into his pocket. Om, nom… "What about a knot?" Forth from the pocket, a white one! "Keeps the hands free."

"You should absolutely tattoo your face." Nessalyn leans forward eagerly, blue eyes bright. Best idea EVER. "I don't like to warn people what they're getting into, it takes half the fun away." And speaking of taking the fun away, when D'lei sets that white knot on the table, Nessalyn's expression falls. Way less fun than a face tattoo, that. "You should still get the tattoo."

"I'm not tattooing my face," Rhodelia is ruling that idea out although full face-painting is not out of the realm of possiblity. Maybe she can be the most fearsome of creatures, a swan. As for D'lei's knot, she just stares at it like it might fly off the table and try and strangle her or something. "Is that what I think it is?" Still not taking her eyes off the possible deadly knot.

D'lei lives with Leirith. He's used to being a disappointment, and so he stays strong in the face of Nessalyn's. "If you change your mind," he says to Rhodelia, "I know a rider at Igen." Because, hey, bad ideas are fine as long as everyone agrees to them! As for that knot… "Depends on what you think it is," he says. "If you think it's a piece of cord, you're correct. If you think it comes with the name, 'Candidate' and the chance to stand on hot sand while featherless quadrupeds with wings come after you… you're also correct." D'lei is really selling this. Also extending the knot partway across the table as an offer to Rhody. It hasn't bitten him… yet.

Nessalyn seems unconvinced by Rhody's insistence that she's not interested in a face tattoo. "You just need to think about it some more. Trust me." Or don't, because she's already contemplating whether this rider at Igen would be willing to tattoo someon's face while they're asleep. One brow seems like it's attempting to lift skeptically, but the bruising across her face makes the expression near-impossible, so she settles for merely looking unimpressed instead. "Are you going to take it?" No pressure or anything, Rhody.

Despite that very stunning sales pitch, it's clearly convincing enough for Rhodelia as she does reach out to take the offered knot. "That's what I thought… well, maybe not the hatching part." Even though that's the BIGGEST THING, but she hadn't gotten to think that far ahead yet. "And good to know. In case I ever decide I don't like this face and need a new face, go to Igen and get tattooed up. Maybe if the whole candidacy thing doesn't work out."

D'lei nods, passing the knot over to Rhodelia - and then stealing one of those mini fruit-tarts on his hand's way back, which can definitely also be a contributor to his smile. "Absolutely. You can get a whole new face, start a new life for yourself. Nobody will have any idea it's you, you can just be… Dorhy. Completely different!"

"I think I like Dorhy better than Rhody. I'm going to call you Dorhy." At least it's a name, rather than 'bartender'? That's a step up in the world. "I bet Leirith would be happy to give you a ride to get your face tattooed, once those eggs hatch. That seems up her alley." Nessalyn's expression is unreadable as Rhody takes that knot, but then selfish logic kicks in, and she demands, "Who's going to pour me my drinks now?"

Rhody will need to remember to just keep swimming if she does decide to become Dorhy, although if that's in Igen it might be easier said than done. As for Nessa's drink plight, she shrugs. "Dunno. But I'd suggest you don't fling forks at them. Otherwise you might need to go become Dohry in Igen. Could always claim you were a…. card dealer from Bitra? Set up your own games?"

"If you want to keep doing shifts at the bar for some of your chores, you can," D'lei notes to Rhodelia. "It'll have to work around some things, but we don't think the presence of alcohol actually causes candidates to explode." Unlike some Weyrs. "Just so long as you stay capable of running." From dragons, of course. Or maybe swans.

Alcohol definitely won't cause candidates to explode, unless you light a bottle on fire and toss it at them. But that might be a slightly different scenario. "Flinging forks at them might help convince them to see things my way," Nessalyn suggests, a musing tone to her voice. There's only about a 50% chance she's actually going to test that hypothesis, don't worry. "But you should definitely do that. Work at the bar." Because Nessalyn's ability to get drinks sans spit is paramount! "Anyway, you probably have a few rules and schedules and whatever to teach her, so… I should go." She gathers up her things, shoving the boxes back into her bag and slinging that over her shoulder. Then she stands up, weight on one leg as the positions the crutches, shoving her chair back with one of them when it remains too close. "Keep working at the bar." And that's all she has to say about that, before Nessalyn beats it out of there.

"It's not like I want to be a bartender," Rhodelia confesses with a shrug. "It's just all I've known." She shifts a little in her seat as that's probably the most she's said about her past since coming to Xanadu and it was close enough. "So don't explode from alcohol, always keep running. I think I can do that." Although she's not the best at running, but she can get better. There's a wave to the departing Nessa although she doesn't promise to keep working at the bar. Maybe the headwoman will assign it anyways. "The barracks are kind of like apprentice dorms, right?"

If any of the candidates are named Molotov, D'lei should probably be worried. Until then… he'll still be worried, just about some slightly different things. He lets the current fork-based threats from Nessalyn pass without comment, though he does have an amused smile at her escape from regulation-tellings… even if they don't involve her. D'lei lifts a hand in farewell to Nessa, then nods to Rhodelia with amusement for her summary and a flicker of interest at that mention of apprentice-dorms there. "More or less, yeah. Closer to senior apprentice; we really don't care what you do in your free time as long as it won't render you unfit for duty or get guards involved." A crooked smile, and then a less lopsided one. "Some of the chores are good for exploring new options. Might be interesting." Though the headwoman may well suggest that the 'floor mopping' type chores get replaced with bartending, even if the more interesting ones stay.

Floor mopping is a very important part of bartending, which is a fact that Rhodelia knows very well. Maybe the headwoman does too. "That seems fair." The woman nods for the whole just don't get hurt or the guards. "But exploring could be nice…" She'll pay attention to whatever else the whole welcome-to-candidacy spiel has to say (never know what might be important), but the bartender-candidate will also be slowly turning the knot around and around while considering everything.

The rest of D'lei's spiel, is, honestly, pretty boring. It's mostly just a few names of who to ask questions, and then… a crooked smile. "Good luck… whatever that ends up meaning for you." D'lei shifts back from the table and stands up. "Be seeing you," he says, with a lift of his hand before he heads on out to leave Rhodelia with the space she needs for all those thoughts.

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