Yokohama - Cryosleep
There is an unsettling darkness here as nothing but the faint flicker of auxiliary power lights small consoles spread throughout what is left of the Cryosleep Chamber. In turn, small sections of cold and uncaring steel are cast in an eerie blue glow, and somewhere in the above exposed wiring something electrical can be heard buzzing occasionally. Many vessels are empty and left shut down to conserve energy and to provide further power to more heavily trafficked areas. Stairs descend from the doorway down onto a grated metal walkway that spans across the length of the room with more darkened vessels lining down the sides. The heating elements here have been disabled, leaving noses and fingertips numb with cold as they inspect this historic area as well as the final vessel at the far end.
Left closed and sealed due to malfunction, this ancient and solitary pod ultimately prevents those that wish to open it from doing so. Shadows conceal the contents, even while lights of green and a single red beside a read out screen displays vitals.

Space. The final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship…wait. No, that?s not it. It?s night, it?s the Yokohama, and the weyrleadership has abandoned the candidates to the cold and unfeeling depths of space. Except it?s warm and comfortable, and there?s plenty to explore. So, yeah, maybe it wasn?t that bad. Mathis didn?t seem to think so, at least with no one on board to tell them what to do, where to go, when to sleep. Paradise really. He had no idea where anyone else was, only that he?d been wandering for some time now, a heavy looking satchel slung around his torso by its solitary strap and making the sound that one would expect to hear when one was carrying various junk whenever he moved. Junk he probably could have left back in the barracks but ?couldn?t live without?. You know, that sort of junk. ANYWAY, somehow the boy had found himself in a place that lights up like a proverbial Christmas tree the second he enters past the doors that go WHOOSH the moment he got near them. ?Cryo…sleep?? Well it wasn?t like the place came with an instruction manual, so why not step inside and see what the dealio was. Tiptoe, tiptoe, all was quiet. Except for that droning hum coming from somewhere. Hmmm…hazel eyes narrowing, Mathis beings heading the direction the sound was coming from. Cautiously of course.

Well, the Candidates and one silent bovine-tender, anyway. A bovine-tender who has been spending the time since the party ended wandering the station. At first with the hopes of finding some hidden way home, and then just… because it was a thing to do. So it is that as Mathis approaches the lone pod, a tousled head appears, wearing a stereotypical Renegade headband and eyepatch. The patch has been pushed up over his forehead, but…. still. Eyepatch! He makes a two-tone whistle, smiles self-consciously, and waggles his fingers at the familiar face.

Sylvarin doesn't seem to mind the fact that they've just been abandoned on the space station. Why? The answer's quite simple to be honest…there are no bugs. There are no plants. There is no nature. It's just empty…and clean. The tall baker is dressed in his usual clothes, the sleeves of his button down shirt rolled up to his elbows and his pants tapering down to frame his legs before ending at the ankles. His wavy locks have been pushed back and somehow manage to stay in place instead of falling in front of his eyes. With nothing else to do, he's taken to exploring and eventually finds his way to cryosleep…only to blink in surprise at finding other people there. "Well, I guess this /is/ the floor with the most interesting name." There's an easy grin on his face as he looks over at the unfamiliar faces and lifts a hand to wave.

Okay. Yikes all around because he thought that this place was completely empty, seeing as nothing but the maintenance lights were on before he'd walked in here. Teinon leaping outta nowhere from behind one of the cryochambers? You know that thing that a prepubescent boy's voice does when it hasn't quite decided if it wants to change or not, well, it does that thing. WHILE, Mathis jumps back and out of his skin at the same time. Hand to heart, he clutches it and pants raggedly, glaring and quickly red-cheeked before the beastcrafter. Without even thinking, he punches Teinon in the arm with his tiny and ineffectual fist. Yeah, no, that doesn't even sting. Really, it's embarrassing. "Don't do that!" the boy says simultaneously, stiffening and turning at the WHOOSH of the doors and the figure that stands on the other side. Nope, not someone he recognizes, but awkwardly he does lift a hand and wave back at Sylvarin. Oh, of note, Mathis was sans costume and had been since they'd all been brought up. He was wearing just his regular clothes.

Teinon didn't exactly /leap/, buuuut it certainly could have seemed that way! Some of the embarrassment might be relieved by the fact that he flinches back in alarm, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. He gestures wildly… And then he remembers that Rin isn't present to translate, so he gives an embarrassed, apologetic grin and just scratches the back of his neck. The doors whoosh, and he looks up to see… Sylvarin. For a moment, he looks kind of dumb-struck, then the embarrassment comes back and he waves awkwardly.

"Sylvarin." The baker provides his introduction with another easy grin before moving forward to take a glance around. A curious glance is shot towards Mathis and Teinon in turn and his head tilts just slightly, "Found anything interesting in hear yet?" Those strange sounds seem to be picked up by Sylv's ears at long last and his blue-green eyes abruptly shift in the at direction. The corners of his lips pull downwards, more contemplative than frowning really. He's already stepping in that direction. He doesn't go very far though, for he's certainly no brave adventurer.

It was all reflex and truthfully Mathis had no idea why he'd gone and struck Teinon, why his face felt all hot, and his stomach was doing that weird flip-floppy thing. It wasn't the first time either and so there is a very long and suspicious sort of look given to the man, scanning him from head to toe and back again and suddenly his ears were red to boot. What the actually heck? Ugh, that was weird, why did he feel like doing…something? Running sounded good, just to put some distance between himself and whatever was going on right then. Brows twist into a knot for all the wild hand gestures, taking an apprehensive half-step back because he was a kid that was just strange. Pot meet kettle honestly, but then suddenly, he pauses in mid-retreat and peers over at the notably silent man, "You can't talk can you?" Then there's Sylvarin, over there all introducing himself like a genuine and polite human being, hazel eyes sent the baker's way, "Mathis." It's followed up with gentle shake of his head, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, "Uh uh. I was trying to figure out where that hum was coming from, but this guy came out of no where and scared the crap out of me." Turning back an accusing eye upon Tenion, something in the look the muted faux-renegade gave the investigative newcomer made him feel…sad? What was THAT all about?

Teinon stares at the baker for maybe a little longer than he should, before looking away again, on the pretense of scanning around the room for something interesting. His eyes land on the still-occupied pod, and his brows leap up. He looks back to Sylvarin, a gentle whistle to get his attention, then taps on the pod, and raises an expressively questioning eyebrow. He must be at least a /little/ brave because he stands on his toes and cups his hands to reduce glare and try to see what might be inside. He must not be able to make anything out, because he finally steps back and shrugs again. Through all that, he's been pointedly ignoring Mathis's examination, probably assuming it has something to do with the fact that the kid ran away from him the other day like a mouse running away from a creepy mutant cat. But when Mathis finally figures out the obvious, he actually rolls his eyes a little as though to say 'about time', then grins, winks at the kid, and taps his nose. Bingo.

"Can's speak?" Sylvarin pauses, half-turning as he overhears some of that one-sided conversation, eyes settling on Mathis first because he said those words. And for a moment that gaze stays because honestly the kid is turning all kinds of colors with so many different expressions…and it's kind of entertaining. Poor boy. "He does look alarmingly terrifying," the baker gestures over towards Teinon, but again there's a upward lilt to his voice that clearly indicates he's joking. Perhaps he notices that stare from the pretend renegade, but he certainly doesn't comment on it. Full attention does shift to him however when the whistle is sent in his direction. Long strides from the tall baker place him next to Teinon and he too arches his neck as if to try and see what's inside the pod. He exhales softly on the glass before wiping away the fog with a sleeve as if that might help…but it doesn't. Maybe Mathis will have some luck? Though after a moment he's doing it again only to point Teinon towards it with a slight smile, "Care to introduce yourself?" It's kind of like a writing board! Though maybe Mathis has the answer already!

Oh, Mathis noticed the long look given Sylvarin alright, even if Sylvarin hadn't. He didn't have to know why his heart had sunk to know that he didn't like it, effectively erasing all interest he might have had in the source of that hum. The expression on his face was rather telling in that moment, if anyone cared to pay attention to it, remaining in place as Teinon wanders off and standing there like a total creeper all by his lonesome just watching as the two men check out the active cryochamber. At least it had the added benefit of returning him to a somewhat normal shade of pale, well, up until the beastcrafter turns back and winks at him. WHOOSH! Instant blush and wide eyes right before tension finds its way into his shoulders and spine, bringing a frown to his mouth. "Hmf." The boy crosses his arms over his chest without thinking about the reason behind it. It just seemed, appropriate just then. "I'm not scared of him," he grumps, looking off at one of the colorful control panels.

Teinon gives another of those self-conscious grins when he's accused of being 'alarmingly terrifying'. It could be true, of course… The world is a big, wide place, and somewhere in it, there must be at least /one/ person with a phobia of adorable puppies. The writing board idea seems to be pretty appealing to this one, because he nods quickly, and steps forward to write his name: "Teinon". Then, after a moment to consider, he grins and breathes on the glass again to write, "You're a genius!" He beams at Sylvarin. That bit of business made him miss all of Mathis's angst, alas, but his attention is drawn back that way when Mathis claims he's not afraid. He smirks, pulls the eyepatch down over his eye, and makes a faux snarling face at the boy, then laughs a weird, near-silent, air-whooshing laugh. Yep, so terrifying.

"Of course you're not," the words don't any hint of sarcasm but there's some unidentifiable tone that implies something else altogether. Smugness? Sympathy? It's quite hard to tell, just as hard as it is to tell what Sylvarin's making out of all of Mathis' reactions. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Teinon move up to the glass and he moves to read the words, "I like it. Teinon…?" He says the name as a slow drawl, pronouncing it as 'Tay-non' experimentally and then looking towards the man for confirmation. The next written words? Those earn a soft chuckle from the young man, "Usually people only say that /after/ they've tried my desserts, but I'll certainly take the compliment."It's now that curious eyes turn to the rest of the chamber to see if there are any other pods around, "Well Terrifying Treinon and Macho Mathis…seen inside any of these others ones? I can't tell if anyone's actually inside."

Sure, Mathis was overly focused on the steady and blinking lights on that panel but he totally hears what's going on outside of his eyeline. That was one way to find out someone's name without having to be the one that asked, leaning into the foot closest to the grown ups and undoubtedly straining to pick up whatever was being spoken those few feet away. It's Sylvarin's tone that pulls his gaze back there but only via the corner of his eyes, stubbornly refusing to offer more than a passing glance. It was as if Mathis was trying to figure out in what secret meaning it gave to words - that on their own - would have been reassuring, but ultimately does nothing to erase the frown he had in place rather, it amplifies it. Or maybe it was all that buddying up other there, shoulders beginning to hunch minutely. Sure enough though, the second that Teinon's attention was back on the him, color blossoms across the boy's cheeks, and it seems as if he's reached his limit. Without a word to either of them, maybe even while Sylvarin was talking about desserts, Mathis makes for the door. As stealth as he would have liked that to be, the pronounced WHOOSH of them opening betrays him in an instant, and after a wince and breath he leaves them to explore on their own. WHOOSH. He's gone.

Teinon is starting to shake his head at the question of whether anything is in the other pods, but then he catches sight of Mathis, just as the kid is leaving. He watches him go, and he seems stricken. Embarrassed, he pushes the eyepatch back up his forehead, which accidentally causes his hair to stick up in a new, fascinating pattern of messiness. Something seems to have made him deeply unhappy for a moment, but then he covers it with a little smile and waves a hand vaguely. Remembering himself, he goes back to the makeshift 'writing board' and writes, "Empty." After a second, he adds, "Cold." Then he rubs his arms and gives a melodramatic shiver, to demonstrate what he means.

It takes a moment for Sylvarin to notice that Mathis isn't near them anymore and he turns his head just in time to see Mathis disappearing through the doors. Another hint of amusement touches his features as the baker shakes his head, "Cute kid." Though when his gaze shifts back to Treinon and one eyebrow lifts slightly at the expression, "Not that I know what you're thinking but…I don't think he /dis/likes you." The baker's got his own running theories on this. "I have to admit, I was hoping a couple had someone in them…just for the sake of curiosity." Sylvarin's next interpretation of the words may be wrong, or it could be right. Is he referring to the pods being cold? Or himself? Apparently the baker assumes the latter because he's reaching into his pocket and retrieving a….piece of cloth. "Maybe you can wrap up your hands?" It's not going to be /that/ effective, but better than nothing if the man's hands are cold! "I usually keep it on hand in case I need to wipe my hands while I'm working, but that one's clean." Of course he could have misinterpreted the whole thing! "So what do you do?"

Teinon shakes his head in disagreement with the assessment of Mathis's feelings, but he doesn't offer an alternative explanation. Before things can get too awkward about /that/, though, Sylvarin is offering a piece of cloth. Tein's brows shoot up. Looking a little stunned, he accepts it, holding it up for a moment before wrapping it around one hand. Then he just sort of… cracks up. Yes, that is /very/ funny. In fact, the silent laugh eventually ends on a noise that… might be a laugh, if that laugh came from a frog, maybe? The croak startles even him, and he presses his lips together, looking to the side with a kind of embarrassed look. He's happy for the change of subject, and returns to the glass to write, "Beastcraft. Snuck up with Candidates for the party." Then he gestures to Sylvarin's Candidate knot and raises a questioning eyebrow.

Sylvarin watches intently as the cloth gets wrapped around Teinon's hand….and then promptly frowns at all the laughing. Long fingers slide throw his hair, pushing it back farther as he bristles slightly. "Well, I don't just carry around oven mitts for people to wear, it's the best thing I had!" Though honestly he doesn't seem /that/ upset. His wallowing in (very slightly) wounded pride ends up abruptly at that croak of laughter and his gaze abruptly shifts from his boots back up to Teinon. Curiosity sparks in his eyes once more and perhaps even a moment of intrigue at the beast crafter's embarrassment. But the right words to say at the moment? They kind of fail him. Instead he looks to the written words and nods while reaching up to flick his knot, "One of the ones you snuck up with, also with the baker craft. Can's say I'm /that/ unhappy to be stuck up here, but can't quite as experiment much…I'll have to find something else to entertain myself other than pastry making." Which can only bode well. Perhaps the next question is off topic, but the baker is intent on asking anyways. "Do you always just write on something? Or can you use your hands to talk…or?" He's looking quite intently at Teinon, perhaps too much so. He'll have to tone it down a bit!

Even though he laughed at it, Teinon doesn't return the cloth. In fact, it's still wrapped around his non-writing hand, and he has apparently decided to keep it there. The question of using his hands to talk is met with a beaming smile and a demonstration of sign language. He keeps it short, though, before giving an expressive, 'what can you do?' shrug on the assumption that Sylvarin doesn't know how to read those signs. The intent look, after a moment, leaves him seeming flustered again, so he turns back to the glass. After using the cloth to clean it off, he writes another message. "Why did they leave us?"

Sylvarin stares at the signed language without comprehension, those permanently knitted brows drawing together even more now with slight frustration…though not at Teinon. "Could you…teach me to say hello? Though if that's just waving maybe something basic?" It seems like he'd at least try to learn a bit. His gaze shifts to the glass once more and the baker's gaze turns contemplative. Silence falls briefly and in the quiet his foot taps idly against the floor once…twice…and then the's shaking his head. "I don't know, I never thought about it much but it's rather unnerving to think about, isn't it?" His fingers idly trace against one of the pods and some unspoken thought sends a shiver down the pastry maker's spine.

Teinon watches Sylvarin, and when he picks up on that energy, he frowns deeply. He removes the eyepatch and headband, tucks them into his pocket, and then tabs Sylvarin's shoulder to get his attention. He brings his flat hands together in front of his face a couple of times, in a kind of pyramid shape. Then, he writes on the glass: "Trouble." He looks back at Sylvarin, solemnly.

"Trouble indeed…Imagine abandoning everything you've known to wander into space. Terrible things have to drive you that far, and permanently." Sylvarin shivers again, briefly glancing back to the pod before turning to Teion and attempting (semi-successfully) to copy Teinon's hand movements. "Does this mean trouble, then?" The hand sign. Curiosity about sign language is present, but also an obvious departure from the more solemn topic. It may come to mind once more later though, especially with the already cool air and the slight eeriness that comes with the location they're in.

Teinon nods to confirm that the understanding is correct. He makes another gesture, cupping his hand into a 'C' shape and then touching it to the shoulder where a knot would be. Back to the writing board: "Candidate." Just in case that didn't make it clear, he touches Sylvarin's knot, then makes the sign again. He waits, watching Sylvarin expectantly.

Sylvarin watches closely, making the 'C' with his hand and tapping it to his knot-carrying shoulder before glancing back at Teinon. "Like that?" There's a hint of a smile starting to appear on the baker's features again and he bites his bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment. "How about, good morning?" For all that thinking it's rather a lame question. Though perhaps that /wasn't/ what he was about to ask. Perhaps he's still trying to think over something he wants to learn in sign language. But between the lessons, apparently Sylvarin is going to keep talking. Is it out of curiosity? Most definitely. But also, perhaps, trying to fill a silence he's not used to with either written, spoken, or signed words. "So what do you do with the beastcraft?" Because it is the exact /last/ thing Sylv would ever want to do. He's got real issues with dealing with the outdoors, and animals!

Teinon nods a confirmation that Sylvarin has it correct. He seems pretty pleased with himself, because then he combines the two words. "Candidate trouble." He beams, apparently expecting Sylvarin to catch the meaning of what he's trying to say. The question about what he does leaves him stumped for a minute. He scans the glass, considering, and finally seems to decide that it's not going to suit his needs. Instead, he mimes shoveling something, then holds his nose as though the thing he's shoveling is stinky. Then he shrugs with another of those 'what can you do?' expressions.

Upon the two words combining Sylvarin throws his head back in an amused laugh. This lasts for a few moments before he repeats the signs while glancing over to Teinon, "Definitely trouble, well they are…not me." There's a sleekness to his voice and a slight drawl that may indicate otherwise. Even his eyes now glint with something akin to well contained mischief. The expression morphs into something less pleasant at what can only be indicative of what Sylvarin /assumes/ is mucking stalls and such. His shivers from earlier? They don't nearly compare to the pure shudder that courses through him now. "That sounds absolutely fucking nightmarish." There's even a pained expression on his face. "I don't know how you do it. Nature and…all."

There's something in Teinon's expression… A kind of resigned frustration. Whatever he was trying to get across, that probably wasn't it, but he seems to be used to that sort of thing. He gives it up for now, because the last bit is also something he's kind of used to, and he seems to find it mildly unpleasant. He smiles, uncomfortably, and lifts a shoulder. After looking down at the floor for a minute, he goes back to the glass and writes, "We feed dragons." That seems to be the only explanation he needs as to how he does it.

"Ah…not it?" Sylvarin's brows knit slightly and he glances around to find some larger glass before pointing towards it. "If you want to write out an explanation, I'll wait." A pause. "Actually, I'd like for you to explain." He's not particularly happy with the previously happy expression from Teinon turning to frustration. But perhaps more alarming is what comes after this from Teinon and Sylvarin sucks in a breath through his teeth. "Sorry…I truly didn't mean it like that." He'll lift a hand as if to touch the beast crafter's shoulders only to shift course and run fingers through his own hair again. "I'm just…not a fan of animals. Or plants. Or anything involving the outdoors. Seriously, ask anyone up here." A pause. "I don't even like walking through grass." He's also not usually prone to rambling but…at this moment? He kind of is. "It's a noble career, just…not meant for me, you know?"

Teinon gives Sylvarin a bit of an odd look, but at least it's accompanied by a very small smile, which eventually grows to something a little closer to his previous good humor. He chews on his lip for a moment, then goes over to a large pane of glass, what was once a darkened window into another room but is now dark. It takes some work to fog it up, but he gets to writing. "There's trouble for the Candidates. It's something to do with the one everyone is afraid of. I don't believe the dragons make mistakes, but the Candidates do. Now you're all up here alone. No dragonriders. It could mean trouble." He thinks a minute, then adds, "Or the dragonriders want to force you to work as a team. Could be some sort of training thing?" Then he smiles, a kind of goofy, self-mocking grin, and he adds some more. "Or they just forgot us. I'm not even supposed to be here." He finishes and steps back to let Syl read, with a shrug. He repeats the trouble sign.

"The one everyone is afraid of….Leirith? Or Risali?" Confusion cooers on the baker's face before he's frowning thoughtfully at those words. "Nessalyn?" Because now he's realizing Teinon seems to be indicating candidates. His thumbs hook on the belts of his pants, leaning forward to stare at the words as if they might suddenly make more sense if he stares harder. It's when Teinon adds the last bit that some of the tension finally disappears from Sylv's shoulders and he gives a quiet chuckle. "Or that….but honestly, this has to be the most unique team building exercise on Pern if /that/ is what this is." No matter what it is, there's a nod in agreement with the repeated trouble sign. "All of this is going to be rather difficult regardless. We have no directions or anything. Just…existence. In space."

Teinon waves and shakes his head to dismiss the idea of Leirith, Risali, or Nessalyn being scary. Well… Leirith and Nessalyn, anyway. When Sylvarin makes his way to the last observation, Tein sighs quietly, and suddenly looks a little glum. He wipes the glass clean, and then writes, "And so many extra chores when I get home." After a moment to consider, he underlines 'so many' and then gives a wry grin.

Sylvarin laughs again at that last bit, "Well…at least you won't get into too much trouble? Just blame Risali and D'lei, right?" The baker crafter leans against the wall next to the window falling silent again. This whole trouble thing is certainly in the back of his mind, but instead he's pushing it aside. "So…how do you sign….do you want to go eat with me?" The words are another slow drawl, but it appears to be a genuine questions from the baker as he looks towards the other man expectantly.

Teinon lifts a shoulder, skeptically. He doesn't seem convinced about the not getting into trouble part, but he lets it go. Probably because the next question catches him so much by surprise. His mouth opens. Shuts. He turns a bit red, glances to the floor, then up again. After a short hesitation, he demonstrates a quick series of signs. It ends with a sign that Sylvarin will probably eventually pick up as denoting questions.

Sylvarin watches those signs intently, blue-green eyes working to memorize them as best he can in this short time. It's clearly something he'll have to practice but he does eventually repeat them, albeit slowly and with some definite mistakes. He might actually be signing 'would you like to go bungee jumping with me' or 'would you like cheese with your tea' but it's of course /meant/ to be a question about going to eat. Only Teinon's reaction will really indicate what he asked! Sylv will wait for an answer though he'll start stepping away, back towards the exit but still facing Teinon. He'll even repeat the 'question' sign again, one eyebrow raised. There's a kitchen or something on deck /somewhere/ right?

Teinon gives a silent outgust of air that is a laugh, of sorts, but this time it's more… embarrassed, and maybe a little pleased. There may be a touch of amusement at whatever mistake was made, but he doesn't try to correct it. Instead, he just nods quickly, and steps to follow Sylvarin. He doesn't know where the kitchen is, but presumably it can't be /that/ difficult to find.

There are some mishaps along the way and general getting lost because Sylv is /not/ familiar with where anything is up here, but /eventually/ they'll make their way to the kitchens and cafeteria. Somewhere along the way the baker stops to find a notebook and writing utensils for Teinon's sake. Making his way into the unfamiliar kitchens, Sylvarin begins to glance around and decidedly frowns. "Well…this certainly isn't what I'm used to." Does he sound a touch snobbish? Perhaps. But then again, he /does/ make desserts for a living. Given the late time of night it's no surprise the area is fairly deserted. Still, he's hungry because the ball was quite some time ago, so he promptly begins rummaging around for whatever might be available. His bounty? Some meatrolls, juice, and bread. Not the /fanciest/ of meals…but it's something at least! "Anything you don't like to eat?"

Teinon doesn't seem to mind the getting lost, so much. As they wander around in search of the kitchens, he covertly watches the other young man, whenever he thinks he can get away without being noticed. By the time they reach the kitchens, he's clutching the notebook to his chest, and in a fairly good mood. He makes a face and a wave of his hand to dismiss the idea that there's anything he wouldn't eat. Then he remembers he has a notebook and pauses to write in it quickly. "Meatrolls are good."

"Then good sir, the midnight snack is served…" Sylvarin slides the plates of meatballs and bread onto the island counter followed by a couple of glasses of juice. "How about dessert wise? Anything you like? Or don't." He hops up onto the counter, legs hanging off the edge a few inches off the ground. Fingers are already closing around a meatball before he pulls a piece off and pops it into his mouth. "Where are you from?" The question suddenly pours out into the silence in the air as Sylvarin's gaze comes to rest on Teinon once more, studying more now that they're in a better lit area.

Teinon shakes his head on the question of dessert. Either he has no preference or he's afraid to offend Sylvarin by suggesting something too common and revealing that he has a terrible palate. The question of where he's from seems less loaded, so he leans against the counter, takes a meatball for himself in one hand, and starts writing with the other. As he writes, he takes very small bites of his food. He swallows strangely, as though it's kind of difficult, but it doesn't seem to alarm him, so probably that's normal. When he's done writing, he turns the notebook around so Sylvarin can read it. "Southern Hannista Hold, originally. I moved to the weyr when I was 13. My uncle and his family live there. And you?" He watches Sylvarin read, studying him while nibbling at his snack.

Sylvarin leans over as if to get a glance at Teinon's notebook as he writes, though it's honestly hard to read, eat, and hold that position all at the same time. So…he doesn't seem to register the words. At least not until Teinon's holding up the notebook. "Xanadu for that long then? I just moved from Fort actually, been a few months now at least…maybe longer." It seems like the baker's starting to lose track of the days now. "Maybe half a turn?" There's a pensive look on his features before that turns to something more sly as he glances sideways at the herder. "Nothing you dislike and nothing you particularly like, hm? Clearly I'll just have to experiment until I find the answer for myself then." Apparently he's volunteering Teinon for taste-testing, though it'd be easy enough to get out of!

Teinon adds another question to the notebook, and turns it back so Sylvarin can read it. "So you didn't move because you were Searched." As for the taste-testing threat… He gives an almost bashful sort of smile, and lifts a shoulder. Apparently he has no problem with being experimented on.

Sylvarin shakes his head and takes another bite of his meatball before shoving the plate closer to Teinon, as if encouraging him to eat. "No, but I figure they got sick of all my experiments at Fort and sent me to Xanadu because of that." It's a likely reason. "Is there something you want to specialize in working with the beasts and all?" Again he's looking over to the herder curiously, his gaze lingering just slightly longer than usually socially acceptable before attention turns to his juice. It's swirled around for a moment before the glass is brought to his lips.

The lingering nature of that look makes Teinon grow a little self conscious again. He looks down at the plate to pick at the remainders of a meatball. He shakes his head a little, then shrugs. On a second thought, he reaches for the pen again. "No one ever asks that. But I'm happy keeping the dragons fed. They're beautiful." He sneaks a glance up again to watch Sylvarin as he reads, but he's reached a point of near permanent embarrassment. He chews on his lip, and then pulls the notebook back to add something. He almost changes his mind about showing it, his face turning a darker shade of pink, but then he passes it back and inspects a dissected meatball with more interest than it really deserves. "I'm glad they sent you to Xanadu. You are beautiful."

"They don't?" Sylvarin asks, brows furrowed slightly as he reads this bit. "That's unfortunate, because clearly you've got a lot to say. Though I guess if I get to monopolize your conversations for a bit then it isn't the worst thing in the world." His gaze flashes briefly in the herder's direction and he watches closely as something is written, only to be scribbled away…and written again. Is that a hint of amusement playing on his lips now? It certainly is. But then the notebook is handed to him and he takes it with both hands, taking in the words written on the paper as a smile appears on his features. The plates between them are moved aside and he reaches over to pluck the pen/pencil from Teinon. How own hands goes about scribbling on the notebook before he's holding it up in Teinon's direction. "You are too, you know." It's all handed back, but soon Sylvarin's speaking again. "You know, I really would like to learn more signing…if you'd be up for it. I don't know how long we'll be up here but…maybe I could keep stealing bits of your time?"

Teinon looks confused when /Syl/ starts writing something. When he gets to read the words, he blinks hard several times, and shakes his head. He's not, but he appreciates the compliment. With exaggerated care, he tears out that sheet of paper, folds it up, and tucks it into a pocket of his tunic for safekeeping. Then, he starts writing again. "You need a sign-name." Then, he taps each phrase he's written, while demonstrating a sign. "Letter S" is a held up fist. "Beautiful" is a hand swept across the face. "Sylvarin" is the fist moved in a circle in front of the face, in much the same gesture as 'beautiful.' He glances to the side, bashfully. It seems likely he's okay with having bits of his time stolen.

"You don't think you're good looking?" Sylvarin seems to be the type that needles on certain things when it's both unnecessary and unappreciated, but such is his personality. With the question are knitted-eyebrows shot in Teinon's direction though his scrutiny will pause at the new words on the paper. "I'm not /that/ beautiful, but….I like it. Simple and something I can definitely remember." A wide grin appears on the baker's face now before he's giving a quick jut of his chin in Teinon's direction. "But how about your name?" There's a fluid movement as he speaks, and unless someone's been paying very close attention they may not notice Sylvarin's moved closer to the other young man. Not /too/ close, but closer. Enough so that it may be surprising the next time Teinon looks up.

Teinon just shrugs at the question, and plucks at his tunic. He focuses on his name, instead. Much like the letter S, he holds up his fist, except this time his thumb is between the first and middle fingers. Then, he taps the back of his fist against his throat. Apparently that's his name. He smiles, again kind of wryly, and glances up… just in time to find Sylvarin rather close. He's a little stunned, but he doesn't retreat. He just kind of studies Sylvarin, sweeping a gaze over his face.

Sylvarin stays where he is, making no moves to pull back as he watches Teinon sign his name. Again the baker lifts his hands to repeat it, once…and then again. His movements this time are precise, and certainly more confident than when he was asking the other to go eat earlier. Is he suddenly closer again? It seems that for several moments only inches separate the two before suddenly Sylvarin is hopping off the counter and standing a bit aways. "Then," here he signs Teinon's name, "care to meet for lessons tomorrow? And perhaps whatever desserts I can make with the modest ingredients we have up here?" Is that a hint of red just at the tip of Sylvarin's ears? It is. But now his grin seems almost wolfish. He'll wait for an answer, but after that? He'll quickly retreat to find his sleeping quarters for the rest of their stay up here!

Teinon is kind of mesmerized for a moment, and so when Sylvarin hops away, he's left standing kind of gap-mouthed and lost. He recovers with a visible show of will, and a little half-grin. He nods quickly, and signs Sylvarin's name again, followed by another sign that from context clues could be interpreted to mean 'tomorrow.'

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