A Rose By Any Other Name (Cath)

[Kiran]

Milord was beyond new to the Weyr. Having only transferred the day before, he was still settling in and the last thing he had done was actually introduce himself to anyone that wasn't the Candidatemaster and the Harper that taught him lessons.

Those had been interesting encounters, that was for certain. A scowl crossed his features. Or, more accurately, the scowl on his face deepened. He glared fiercely at the scrolls in front of him with new information about the Weyr that he had to catch up on. At least back in his other Weyr everyone knew what his name was, had gotten over their laughter and titters and mockery or even just outright surprise. At least, the ones who had been there for the turns he had been had gotten over it. The new Candidates were always the worst. And now, here at Dalibor, he had to relive the humiliation that he had encountered when he first had gotten to Ista.

If he was able to even think about being in the same Weyr with his brother, he would have transferred back immediately. But as it was, with his brother's Impression of a Bronze, Milord couldn't bear to think about it. He would rather choke on his own spit.

His expression relaxed into something a bit more... Relaxed. Less tense, at least. After all, he didn't want to make any enemies or stand out. Not until he Impressed his own dragon (he fever entry hoped for a bronze to shove at his brother and prove that he was just as capable and worthy). Until then he would get by with being in the background like always.

He fingered through the hides in front of him, looking for some information he was missing on firestone. His brow creased. Not here. Milord looked up and glance around the common area, looking for it. Ah! After a few moments he spotted someone with it. He stood up and headed over.

"Excuse me, you seem to have a hide I was looking for. Might I borrow it for a few minutes?" His tone was unerringly polite if distant and detached. After all, Milord didn't exactly wish to associate with anyone here. Hopefully this person wouldn't want to bother with him, either.

[Cathaline]

Newt was almost never in the background, obviously. It just wasn't his style. Usually when he got his hands on a piece of information he talked about it, loudly, to anyone who would listen. Today, however, he was still recovering from a minor nervous breakdown, so he was quieter than normal. If anyone had noticed Milord approaching him, they might very well have leaped to his rescue and warned him, hey, don't talk to that guy, he might actually be insane, and we're very much enjoying the unexpected peace right now -

Too late for that.

Polite, distant, and detached. Only one of these words described Newt in any way, and he was only detached from reality a little bit, okay, he was just going through some things. He glanced up at the new candidate who had appeared in front of him and totally missed out on reading his body language.

"Call me Newt," he said, sticking his hand out in an offer to shake. "Which one? This one here?" His fingers curled protectively against the hide. "Or is this about the illicit not-archive I am absolutely not running out of my room, if anyone asks, which they wouldn't. I've got all kinds of information, but if anyone asks, I keep it in here." He tapped the side of his head and settled back in his chair, picking up the hide.

"So you're a science man, huh? Or at least not a stupid man, I like that in a man. You don't know how many people come here and they just have no curiosity, whatsoever, they want it all to be fed to them with a silver spoon. Do you know how many Candidates have never even set foot in the records room? I mean," he allowed. "Technically we're not allowed in there without supervision and a good reason, that's why the 'Masters checked these out for us. What do they think we're going to do, start a fire? Frankly, that's offensive to me. Does that offend you? I mean, we're supposed to be candidates, and yet we're so clumsy we can't be trusted near an open flame. And who would even take an open flame into the archives in the first place, is my other question, when there are glows everywhere? It doesn't make sense."

Vaguely fretful, Newt held out the hide, but didn't quite let it go. "So. Is it? About this particular hide. Are you interested in firestone? Under the circumstances, pyromania is not the way to go. Just say no."

[Kiran]

Milord's lips pursed when the young man he was talking to proceeded to introduce himself, assuming that Milord wished to do the same. A soft hmph escaped him as the man - Newt, as he called himself - continued to speak, babbling on about anything and everything and after a few words Milord simply tuned him out.

The glazed look in his eyes didn't deter Newt from speaking, obviously, and as his lips finally stopped moving Milord caught the last few words that fell from them. His lips quirked down for just a moment before his expression smoothed out into something more pleasant. "No, I am not interested in pyromania. I simply wish to get more information on firestone. It will undoubtedly come in handy when I Impress a dragon, and as it is also necessary for the current lessons I feel that I should study up on it. Now, might I borrow that hide? It would be quite helpful."

The disdain that he had in him for the overly-friendly man was well-hidden. No need to make enemies. He would be a rider soon enough. That was the mantra that milord said to himself over and over, keeping his spirits strong and determination firm. If Milord gave into the niggle of doubt that was in the back of his mind he would most certainly snarl and snap at him and anyone else that crossed his path.

But... A wondering thought did cross his mind and for the sake of knowing, Milord had to voice it. "But why on Pern did you think I wanted to burn anything down?" He was struggling to keep his expression as neutral as possible, hoping that the explanation and answer would be as brief and painless as possible. Hoping. But not really expecting, given the man's propensity for blather.