02.07.10 - Happy Being Meatheads

Location: Salamandastron Dining Chamber

Characters Involved: Blake, Thad, Tyree

Thad is sitting in the dining chamber. There's no meal going on right now, but there are remnants of a modest one had by the runner hare -- he's sitting in front of two small, empty plates, but also in front of a book, which he seems vaguely interested in.

There's always food to be had, and Blake's opted to come get some when it's not as crowded. Between meals is the best way, so she heads up to the buffet table to snag a plate and scrape together some of the leftovers - not that there are many to be had.

The runner glances up from his book as he hears a new entry. Watching her for a moment, he shrugs, going back to his book. Just then, a couple other privates walk by Thad. One of them trips -- fake trips, it seems like it -- into Thad, clanging his plates and tossing his book up in the air, as well as practically tackling the poor guy. "Hey what the-..."

"Sorry. Oh, hey Thad, right? Better luck next time..." As the two privates make their way out, soft snickering is heard. Thad just kind of starts cleaning up.

Blake turns away from the table of food, nibbling a bit of something as she looks around for seat. Her ears lay back at the sight of Thad being.. bumped into. Intentionally, it looks like. So that's where the doe goes, scowling a little, though it's directed at those two other privates as they wander off. With her plate in one hand, the doe snags up his book, brushes it off on her leg, and then offers it out to Thad. "Heah, mate."

"...Thanks." Thad actually makes rare eye contact with another non-officer hare, here! He even manages to smile. "Jerks." He shrugs, as if this is enough of an explanation or retaliation. "...Uh, I'm... Thad..." He places the book back down on the table, unopened. "I don't think we've met before." And there went that dang eye contact. Oh well, he tried.

Not even a patroller, by the looks of it. She doesn't have a uniform, anyway. The young doe nudges out a seat with her foot, and sits in it, across from Thad, without asking. Not like it's his table to dictate who comes and goes! "Blake." Her plate is set before her. "We haven't, 'm new heah."

"Oh, yeah?" Thad sits back down, clearing his throat. "Glad I could make such a good first impression on you. Don't mind them, stuff like that doesn't happen to every hare here." Besides, aren't they a little old for bullying? "Welcome to Salamandastron, I guess."

Blake moves her shoulders up and down in a shrug. "You made a bettah impression'n they did. And thanks." Her lips quirk in a momentary smile, before she takes a bite out of a roll, then asks after swallowing, "You'ah what, a private?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately." Thad rolls his shoulders. "It's not all that bad. I'm a runner, so I at least get a good variety of things instead of the healers and fighters focusing on their own stuff." He kind of makes eye contact once more. "...You thinking about signing up?"

"Thinking, yeah," Blake replies with another shrug, leaning back in her chair with that roll in her hand. Nibble nibble. "'s in the family, so, m' brother's already joined up. Cole, you met him yet?"

Thad thinks for a moment. "...I might have. Is he a recruit or a private or what?" Blake is managing to get conversation out of the runner buck!

"Recruit," Blake supplies. "He's m' age, we'ah twins. He's tall, though." Then again, Blake's tall too. Just not as tall as her brother, we'll assume.

Tyree finds his way into the dining chamber with the objective of, what else, dining. Hefting a perfectly proportioned plate of food, he wanders around the tables, trying to find one that is spotless and lacks any former stains of food or drink, or isn't too close any messy eaters, or has the right number of chairs, or any combination of the above. So far he isn't too successful and heaves a sigh of frustration. It seems Fate cursed him by being a hare; it's impossible to satsify his fastidious nature as one.

"Yeah, I don't really know. There are a lot of hares here." Thad manages to laugh quietly. "A lot of tall ones, even. I may have run into him a few times, though." He glances over at Tyree. "...Wonder what his deal is."

"Yeah, no kiddin'," Blake says with a low laugh, glancing around. "'m used t' tall, it runs in the family an' all, but this is ridiculous." She bites off another chunk of the roll, chewing it as she dips what she holds into a bit of jam on her plate. Her eyes wander over to Tyree, ears quirking forward with curiosity. "Don't know, nevah met 'im. Hey!" she aims at Tyree, a little louder to get his attention, and gestures the back over. "C'mon ovah, we've got room, mate."

"Oh," Tyree says in a breathy whisper. Someone was... inviting him. Maybe Rahier was right. He really *didn't* have an aura of unpleasantness. Well, shoot, he had thought he'd been cultivating that. With a resigned look on his face he comes their way and drops down next to them. "So I see. Hello," he says nodding to them in turn.

"Afternoon," Thad greets Tyree. "This, uh. This is Blake. She's thinking about joining." No eye contact for Tyree. Nothing personal!

Blake brings the jam-dipped roll to her mouth, biting off the jammy part of it, then gives Tyree a casual wave with the hand that holds the rest. "Hey. Who'ah you, then?" She gives him a mild smile.

"Tyree," the hare answers, sitting up straight. Like, /straight/ straight. "Tyree Wincello Tuddrunner. Pleasure t'meet you, Blake. Thad. I am in the Fighter's Corps of the Long Patrol. It is a good life full of purpose and responsibility; I do hope to see you join up. Vermin never seem to run out of pirates, but we always seem short of fresh recruits." Might as well be a walking brochure. He calmly begins partaking of his salad and pastry.

Thad's jaw sort of hangs open for a moment as he watches Tyree spout that off then start eating like it never happened. "...What... What he said," Thad remarks. "I wasn't /planning/ on trying to recruit you, but since it's been started... Well, it'd be nice to have one more friendly face around...?"

Blake blinks once, her mouth dropping slightly open, and she gives Thad a glance. Um? "... right. Well. Since I know all that already... how 'bout we nip the recruitin' attempt in the bud an' all, aye?" she asks with a vague quirk of a grin, and returns to her meal, finishing off the roll with a little snicker.

"I wasn't tryin' to recruit you," Tyree clarifies with a bit of a stare. "I was statin' the bally truth. 'Tis a good life, isn't it?" he asks Thad, expecting him to agree. "In any case, we're never short of good food," he supplies, sending a forkful of salad down the hatch.

"I'd be glad to," Thad admits with a grin. But okay, Tyree... Yeah, go Long Patrol! "...It's a better life than some," is what Thad is willing to go with. "And really, he is pretty right about the food. But I'm sure you know that already, too."

"Uh huh," is Blake's slightly grinning reply. "Yeah. Yeah I do. So - where'ah you from?" she changes the subject, turning her muzzle to direct the question over at Tyree.

Well, it's Tyree's only life right now. So he's going to *have* to like it! "I'm from here," he answers Blake. "Bred, born, an' grown a Long Patroller. My family's taken up residence in Southsward, though. I stayed behind ta' continue family tradition. Least one of us have always been Patrollers. After my father died, I'm fair certain I'm the only one doin' it, aside from a couple cousins an' a retired uncle."

"That's... Honorable of you." Thad kind of smiles at this, so he's either sincere or convincing. "I only joined up because I was tired of everything else. Didn't really /want/ to be a carpenter, and... Well, this was really my only other option."

... of course. Blake flicks her gaze over to Thad, licking a few crumbs from her fingers. "Carpentah, huh? You don' really look the sort - but guess you don' really look like the patrollah sort, eithah." She glances at his book.

"I imagine keepin' your specatacles on in the furor of combat is a skill itself," Tyree remarks, wryly raising his eyebrow. "So you gave up the life of peaceful craftin' ta' enjoy the military?" he asks. Somehow, that seems a little... odd to him. Saying the Long Patrol was an "only other" option even makes him feel a bit offended! "What did you /want/ to do?"

"...I didn't know what I wanted to do. I just knew that I /didn't/ want to be a carpenter, and the Long Patrol was kind of convenient." Thad shrugs unsurely. "I thought maybe I wanted to do something exciting, and you don't get much more exciting than laying your life out there. I wasn't a very good fighter, so the officers told me I should try out running. So here I am."

"Well, 's convenient," Blake agrees, "all you gotta do 's follow ordahs, an' you got it figured out." She makes a face.

"It's not /just/ that," Tyree retorts, taking a sip of tea. "Just, er... /mostly/ that..."

"Yeah. Can't say I particularly enjoy that part of it, either." Wistful sigh. Thad shrugs once more. "Can't say I gave my joining the military all that much thought at the time."

Blake retorts back with a grin, "'course it 's jus' that, 'til you make an officah promotion. So maybe in anothah ten seasons, you'll have some sorta choice in what you do." She plants her elbows on the table. "Then again - how many privates /evah/ actually end up 's anythin' else but a private, huh?"

"It's about bein' the best hare you can," Tyree exclaims, leaning forward earnestly. "There's no shame in followin' orders. Otherwise we wouldn't heroes ta' the rest of Mossflower, aye?" he asks. "Discipline an' willingness ta' sacrfice the self. We aren't mindless, you know," he says, especially to Blake. "I /choose/ every day ta' submit to my duty. S'not about rank, it's about bein' here when nobeast else will be. Though rank is nice."

"Well, a lot end up as /dead/ privates, if that counts..." Oh, Thad! Such the beacon of light and hope. "In the end, I just want to make officer so I have to worry /less/ about being shoved onto patrols with incompetent hares, further risking /my/ life because of it. That's why /I/ want to make officer... At least Lieutenant. Under a healer major, maybe."

Blake releases a short laugh, grinning between the two of them. One's an idealist, the other's a pessimist! Awesome! XD "Yeah, but see, 's a choice f' yourself, right? Some of th' patrollahs 'ah jus' happy bein' meatheads. Like m' brother Cole. But I don' figure 'm made out f' that, jus' 'cause 's in m' blood."

"Well. /I/ know I'm no 'incompetent meathead," Tyree huffs, settling back into his chair and raising his glass. "I'm here ta' make the land safe. Every dead private was a not dead innocent villager or Abbey dweller. If I'm a dead private, then so be it. Not that I want ta' die or anything..." Sip.

"Well here's hoping you don't die." Thad smirks towards Tyree. "Er, welcome to the mountain, Blake. I have to go report though, so... See you around." He scoots out his chair, standing up and grabbing his plates and his book, heading off towards the kitchen.

"See ya," Blake says with a grin at Thad as he goes, then turns her attention back to Tyree, leaned into the table still. "Meathead doesn' mean you'ah incompetent, mate. You'ah jus' a grunt soldiah. Good f' you, if 's what makes you feel good inside, aye?"

"Buh," Tyree says, taking another bite of salad. "I s'pose." Way to bring down his self-esteem! And here he thought he was doing good work. "So? 'Ave we successfully convinced you we're naught but haughty dreamers an' lazy grunts?" he asks Blake after a few more minutes of chewing.

Blake leans back and kicks her feet up on the edge of the table, rocking her chair so only two of its legs are on the floor. "I didn' say eithah of those things."

Ahh, but you were thinking it! his gaze seems to say. Unconvinced, Tyree just grunts and eats some more, peering at her footpaws. Bad posture. Dirty paws on table. Must. Stop eye-twitch. "Well, I won't be pressurin' you to join either way. Even for hares, the Patrol is a decision not made lightly. S'a pleasure to 'ave met you, either way." He says this with a bare modicum of sincerity, but hey, it's better than nothing!

Blake tilts her head over so she can see Tyree without her feet blocking the view. Her brows are raised. "'s that you'ah 'pleasant' way of tryin' to get me to buggah off?"

"Of course not," Tyree says with a tilt of his head. "Unless you want ta' take it that way. On the contrary, should you require anythin', I'm 'ere ta' help."

Blake drops her feet and stands up, picking up her plate from the table. "Kinda like how you'ah choosin' to take what I said a different way? Yeah." She shakes her head, patting Tyree's shoulder as she passes. "'ll let you know, mate. Latah!" And she heads away from the table to put her plate away.

Tyree watches her leave in silence, then turns back to his almost finished plate. "What queer creatures we get these days," he decides and begins to clean up.