Ego and Arrogance

Characters Alexa, F'inn
Synopsis F'inn has a favor to ask of Alexa. The conversation doesn't go as planned when ego and misunderstanding get in the way. (Language warning)
Out-of-Character Date January 17, 2020

Igen Weyr - Record Room
The record room in Igen. Like a library but with stone walls and no windows. It has shelves and shelves of books that reach toward the ceiling, dark-wood tables and chairs to study at, soft light and a quiet, ancient, otherworldly atmosphere. It smells like dust and leather and paper, and is the sort of place Hermione Granger would adore. It also doesn't exist on the grid, so please use your imaginations! <3

It is a fairly typica day in Igen. The morning sun has burned away the chill of night, leaving an almost-pleasant mid-morning that will soon be dispelled by the desert heat. But that's fine, because Alexa is very much *not* outdoors. And will refuse to *be* outdoors, until the temperature goes back to something less ridiculous. For now, while Raaneth lounges on the ledge and soaks up as much sun as she can get, the human-half has tucked herself away in the record room, file this or perusing that, getting lost among books and paper and hides until it's a pretty fair bet that whatever she's currently doing (which is reading a book) is probably not what she was supposed to be doing (which is probably memorizing trade routes or something equally boring). But it's fine. She's got a table to herself, a pitcher of cool, mint water and some light snacks, and is perfectly happy to be a hermit book-worm.

F'inn has had a productive morning despite the fact that the milder mid-morning temperatures are already well beyond the range of what he is used to. Clad in weather appropriate gear, his stride is long as he steps into the room, the keffiyah drawn off his hair and draped loosely around his shoulders as he shakes sand off the robes. Thus far it has been a very productive day, he's found a kiln and wheel and porclain and all the colors he needs to match K'zre's pots. With the haul tucked neatly into the guest weyr, the next stop had been the living cavern, klah and a small basket of fruit and bread for a light repast. And, while he had intended to eat in the living cavern, the curious stares and whispers of far to many females has had him seeking shelter in the records room to eat. That he fully intends to search out Alexa and discuss a temporary labor trade for his weyrmate? Well, it's a fact that has a lopsided grin touching his lips as he pops a few berries into his mouth and raises one hand in greeting.

With her nose in a book, and her mind lightyears from Pern, it takes Alexa longer than it should to realize there is someone else in her space. A jerk of her head, a few rapid blinks, and she seems to reconcile that there are people (or at least, one person) also come to the record room. "Oh! Hey F'inn…" comes with a somewhat awkward smile to go along with the rather awkward greeting. She shoves a piece of scrap paper between the pages, closes the book and carefully sets it aside for later. "You look like you've made yourself at home," she decides after a moment, head tipped thoughtfully to the side as she considers his desert-appropriate attire.

F'inn winks, not because he's being flirtatious, but because he is in relatively high spirits after finding the things he needed to settle in with a bit of pottery. It is the comment on his garb that has him flashing a broader smile, his arms sweeping out as he turns in a slow circle. "I make it work for me," he points out before stepping over to the table and setting his basket down. "And for all practical purposes, I am home for at least a while." Slipping into a chair, he pulls a mug and thermos of klah out of his basket, filling the mug and sliding it toward her before taking a drink directly from the thermos. "Why are you hiding in the library?"

Alexa snorts and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, you and every other bronzerider in Igen," she declares dryly. The Klah is accepted, but there's an almost suspicious little squint at the bronzerider for bringing it. Cradling the mug, she settles back in her chair and considers what he's said. "I suppose you are," she says with a sigh. "That's got to be a bit rough." But her sympathy lasts only as long as it takes for him to ask his question, an indignant sort of look offered as she declares, "I am not hiding! I'm working," that is certainly amused and only a *little* defensive. She might have been accused of this before. "And what's your excuse?" For being in the record's room.

F'inn exhales a snort his grin turning lopsided as he sets the thermos down in favor of snagging a handful of fruit. "Every other bronzerider in Igen only wishes they could be me, Alexa. It's not arrogance if it is true." Settling back in a comfortable sprawl in his chair, he stretches out his legs, his boots thumping lightly as he crosses his ankles and watches her for a few moments in silence. "Escaping my new admirers," he admits in surprisingly frank tones. "It's sweet and I'm flattered, and don't misunderstand, Igen has some of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. But…." But women just don't do it for him and never will. "They get so very insulted when I am not leaping to my feet to whisk them off to some dark nook or crannie. I expect that will change once K'zre becomes more visible, but still." It gets old, fast. It's the defensiveness that has real amusement shining in his eyes, his head giving a slow shake as he waves it off. "Please, you talking to a master of the art of slacking. I get it, sometimes you just need a moment to breath without ten thousand people all demanding the impossible at the same time." Igen, after all, cannot be that much different from Fort.

"Oh, wow. Yeah, no, that's not arrogance at all," she agrees with undisguised sarcasm and a smirk. "You're clearly also the epitome of modesty and grace, to go along with being a paragon of a person." The strength of Alexa's eyeroll threatens to do physical damage to the girl, but she seems unconcerned. A sip of her Klah, and she seems perfectly inclined to go back to her not-working as F'inn makes himself comfortable across from her. "Mmhm. Now that I believe," she decides, arching an eyebrow at the Fortian Weyrsecond. "I'm sure all the girls who are into that sort of thing are falling over themselves to learn everything about you, and probably half the boys, too."A snort and she snags her book, flipping it back open to the page she marked so that she can read it while she sips her drink. "It won't," she tells him, happy to pop that delusional bubble for him. "You're a new face. You're 'mysterious'. Tall and handsome and you ride a bronze. If you think having someone on your arm is going to keep the admirers at bay…?" A slant of her eyes seeks him with a very unsympathetic smirk. "You're just going to inspire them to try harder. At least for a little while."

F'inn exhales a mellow sounding laugh, his smile broadening as he inclines his head in a teasingly regal gesture. "See? I knew you were a woman of keen intellect. You've proven in being able to recognize my grace and glory." It is the last that has his smile broadening, not so much as a hint of worry in his gaze. "You have yet to meet my weyrmate," he points out. "I assure you K'zre can be shockingly fiercesome with a simple look." F'inn is not at all worried about his greenrider's ability to chase off unwanted attention. "Speaking of that," he adds as he pushes up to fold his arms atop the table. "I wanted to talk to you about him working in Igen's infirmary while we are here. While he can reasonably travel back and forth to Fort alone? I would prefer not risk Yasminath rising while he is there. We do not," he admits. "Do well when we are seperated."

"If I didn't love books so much, I'd throw this one at you," threatens Alexa. As it is, she's not especially prone to violence, especially not toward unsuspecting works of fiction, even if F'inn's ego is threatening eyestrain. But there's a nugget of truth in there that will sober her just a little, eyerolls abated though she'll keep that little sarcastic smirk. "No," she agrees. "I haven't met him yet. And I doubt he wants to meet me." She's at least honest about that, though not especially bothered by it. Another sigh, and her scrap of paper goes back between the pages of her book, the weyrwoman apparently certain that she won't get much reading done while F'inn is here. It's the last that has an eyebrow lifting, and a somewhat guarded expression shifting across her features. "You want me to… what, exactly? Pull strings and get your weyrmate a spot in Igen's infirmary?" Just so she's understanding this. A sigh, and she sets the mug back down, pushing it across toward F'inn. "Sure. Why not," she declares, only a little sarcastic. "Anything /else/ I can do for you? Although, I gotta say, as far as bribery goes, Klah is kinda low on the list."

"Actually," F'inn corrects. "He does want to meet you. Granted, you should expect a bit of posturing and a very clear demonstration of territorial behavior, but other then that? I think the two of you would get along swimmingly. He's very… Matter of fact, my Kezresan. You shold be prepared though. He doesn't sugar coat things and tends to border on what a lot of people find as rude. It's not though," F'inn assures. "He just doesn't socialize like the rest of us do." It is her last that has him raising his shoulders in a slow shrug. "I do. Although, I cannot see that any weyr would be burdened by having another healer on hand. K'zre is very good at what he does. I prefer for things to go smoothly, Alexa. If K'zre is traveling back and forth I will be distracted and worried for his safety. If I am distracted and worried for his safety, Nymionth will be distracted and worried when his attention should be on Raaneth. In the long run, we will /all/ be happier with the arrangement. As for the two of you meeting?
I am also of the opinion that that will be better for everyone. Once K'zre sees that you could not be less disinterested in me then you already are? We'll all be more relaxed."

"Well. I can see why you wear the Weyrsecond knot," drawls Alexa, though she'll abstain from explaining. Her smile is forced but pleasant enough, her arms crossed comfortably over her chest as she leans back in her chair and arches a pale eyebrow at the bronzerider. "Another healer is another mouth to feed, and we're already feeding you," she points out. "Never mind your dragons. And don't bring Raaneth into this. She's nothing to do with your desire to have your weyrmate living with you and is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She does not need your bronze's attention. Please don't act like this is a selfless request that is for the betterment of all, because it isn't. It's a rather selfish request to have your weyrmate in your bed and by your side while you're stuck in Igen." A snort and an eyeroll. "But I already said I'd do it. So you can stop trying to convince me about how disinterested I am in you, and about how bringing your weyrmate to Igen will be rainbows and sunshine for everyone, and go about your day. Also, next time? You could just straight up ask me for what you want from the get-go. I hate playing games."

"I love playing games," F'inn admits without a hint of remorse. "And you are right, I want K'zre here for /me/. No, if we're going to be frank? I /need/ K'zre here for me. Otherwise, I will be impossible to deal with and more unpleasant then one can possibly imagine. But, do not, for a moment, think that Raaneth does not /need/ Nymionth. She does. Everyone does. There is no other dragon like Nymionth and there never will be again." The words, however, surprise even him and for a moment, he frowns and shakes his head before pushing to his feet. He's getting angry and while he knows that it is stress and worry, that does nothing to lessen the surge of adrenalin. "I am trying to make this as pleasant as it can be for the both of us, Alexa. You have made it abundantly clear that you view me as nothing more then a sperm doner, or the rider of one, as the case may be. Personally, I would prefer us to get along, particularly since Nymionth seems determined to chase Raaneth." Falling silent, he shakes his head, sweeping his basket off the table and starting for the door. "I don't what I did to you to earn this level of ire, but I shall make a point to stay out of your way. As for my food, Igen need not worry, I'll have my meals flown in from Fort."

"By pretending to be nice so you can get something from me? Yeah, that's a great way to make this pleasant for everyone!" Alexa might not be a teenager anymore, but she hasn't really left that part of herself behind yet, and the sass is definitely coming out. If he wants to get mad, she can get mad right along with him. Indignant is an understatement; the idea that Raaneth needs Nymionth has her on her feet and practically hissing. "You say that like it isn't true about every dragon in the world!" It's not quite a shriek, but it's definitely getting there. But whatever it is she's made abundantly clear to F'inn is apparently completely confusing to Alexa, who can only gape at him at his accusations. "How on Pern did I give you that impression at all?! UGH! You stupid sharding bronziders and your stupid egos and your stupid… everything!" will be what chases him out of the room, Alexa's voice several octaves above what is comfortable for anyone, but at least she's not throwing things? Probably because the only thing close at hand is her precious book, which she won't belittle by tossing at the retreating bronzerider's back.

F'inn stops on a mark, one brow arching as he twists around to regard Alexa like she's grown a second head. "Pretending to be nice?" Stepping back to the table, he sets the basket down and braces his hands on the edge of the table, his expression serious as he regards her. "I have not bothered you, Alexa, because you made it clear as soon as we woke up that you wanted me gone. How pleasant can I make for anything for you when I am immediately met with, you can go, or sleep, I don't care? Bronzes and /our/ egos? Says the gold rider who could not be more dismissive if she /tried/." Drawing in a shallow breath, he holds it for a moment, counting to ten before holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I don't want to fight with you, Alexa. I don't," he repeats in firmer tones. "I don't know why you are upset with me, but you are and we need to work that out. At the end of the day, our dragons have a tendancy to… well.. You know what they have a tendancy toward. I don't expect you to swoon at my feet when I walk past." Even there are women who do do that. "But it would be nice if we could work together and get along. Yes, I want my weyrmate here," he admits. "But that is not why I was talking to you. I could have arranged that through Nym," he points out.

"What else was I supposed to say?!" Alexa all but screams. "It was past midnight and I was tired! You have a weyrmate! What did you want me to do, invite you to tea? Discuss politics? I'm sure your weyrmate would have loved if you'd dallied in my bed a little longer." Fuming, she adopts a rather similar position, hands on the table so she can lean her weight on them and glower at F'inn over the top of it. "So yeah, I told you that you could go. Because I didn't need you there, and I didn't want you there. Because I was tired and wanted to go to sleep! Not every woman in Igen wants to fuck you, F'inn!" Ooh, swearing. That's how you *know* she's mad! Nostrils flared and eyes flashing, she does her damnedest to glare at the bronzerider who stands considerably taller than she does. It's much less effective when she has to scowl UP at him. "And I am mad at you because you came in here to chat with me because you wanted something from me. You wanted what I could do for you, which is fine. I get it. Really, I do," she insists. "I just don't want people to pretend to like me, if all they want is favors. I don't want to be charmed. And it's not an arrangement. It's a favor. You're not arranging for your weyrmate to work somewhere else, as if you can make it so. You're asking Igen to employ him, as a favor. You are asking me for a favor. And I already said I'd do it. So I don't know why you're still here." A grit of her teeth and a bit of rapid blinking seeks to keep the fury in her tiny frame from escalating into a thoroughly embarrassing show of emotion.

F'inn blinks a few times at the 'Not every woman wants to Fuck you' comment. After a moment, his head tilts to the side and his teeth flash in a broad smile. "Now see, that's just not true, Alexa. I'm pretty certain that you are the exception, not the rule." That he is laughing? Well, he just can't help it, it is his nature and the statement just struck him as hysterical. It is the rest, though, that has him sobering, his head dipping in a slow nod. "You are right." In the wake of the very serious statement, he raises his head and meets her eyes directly. "And I am sorry about that, Alexa. For what it is worth, I would prefer that we could be friends. I shouldn't have treated you like a woman who was addled over me. I shouldn't have tried to sway you with my so called charm. I /do/ appreciate you giving me my way. And I would very much appreciate it if we could try to start again." Because like it or not, they are going to be spending together and Nymionth has already established his pattern.

Alexa cannot help but bristle at the laughter, green eyes flashing in outrage even as she grinds her teeth and bites her tongue. For once. She's too furious to make a clever comeback, even a sarcastically self-deprecating one, and so she doesn't. She just fumes at him, looking five seconds away from bursting into flames. It's the 'you are right' that throws her off, eyes narrowed as she watches him suspiciously, lips pressed so tightly they're blanched white. Even after he's made his offer, she just watches him with squinty eyes and pressed lips and jutted chin; all fire and fury and deep suspicion. "Fine," she decides in the end, though it's clear her ire has not faded. "We can start again. Tomorrow," she insists. "If you want your weyrmate to join you in Igen, I need to write some letters." It's a paltry excuse, but she's just too pissed off to settle down and pretend like nothing happened. That, at least, is something she knows.

F'inn is good with that, his chin dipping in a firm nod as he straightens and scoops his basket back up. "Good." Stepping back from the table, he slants a glance at the fuming goldrider, resisting the urge to smile before affording a mild nod. "Thank you. Have a pleasant evening." In the wake of the words, he gets while the getting is good, one hand scrubbing over his face the moment he steps out of the room.

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