Welcome to the club

[S'yal]

(We have t-shirts)

Z's office was no where near as nice as Warden's, mostly meaning it was usually in a fairly disorganized state. Today it was doing fairly well- there wasn't anything that shouldn't be there. The room itself was clean, but the desk was in a sorry state. The only light in the room was a fairly dim glow situated on the desk, surrounded by mountains of paper that had to do with the squads and individual handlers in the prison. The lack of light itself did not hinder the inhabitants of the room- living in darkness for a god portion of his life had left Z with fairly good night vision. Cally was busy sleeping on a catbed in the corner of the room, Zalmask was a wher... the only ones truly suffering would be Warden Jr and Alina, who mostly rested on Z's shoulders but occasionally rose to shift positions or roost on Zalmask. At the moment Warden Jr was nursing a bruised head- he'd flown head first into the wall. Poor little guy.

The inhabitant of the room was currently sitting at the desk, hunched over the much dreaded paper work. Honestly, there usually wasn't so much. It just so happened that a goldhandler had recently arrived, and he'd been procrastinating the horrible paper work that followed the arrival of a gold. There were other things to be done to prepare for a gold, and those had taken up time. Making sure there was enough room, for one. Trying to dig up the goldhandlers past... which hadn't gone well for Z. He hadn't found anything, had pouted for a bit, and then went to nag Warden. Except Warden had been busy. So instead Z had organized the squads and intimidated some prisoners.

A good days work. But now his failure was starting to kick him in the ass. Zalmask wasn't happy, for one, but Z knew she'd get over it. So long as Busk didn't try to chase the new gold, at least. (Z didn't think it was very fair that she got angry at him for chasing golds when she never let him win.) Z was procastinating another thing now, though- talking to the new gold. Usually Zalmask got him to do it anyway but the fact the new handler was a goldhandler had her metaphorical panties in a bunch. Still, might as well do it now. Things had to be organized. A squad for the new guy. Making sure his quarters were to his liking. Explaining the rules. Allowing Claresk to claim a portion of the hatching sands. Fun stuff.

Mama? Call Claresk, please and thank you.

Zalmask's go screw wherry. Zalmask not talking to gold. Z groaned at his stubborn Wher, glaring at the huge gold for a moment.

Please, baby? I'm sure she's no where NEAR as pretty as you, or as smart. Why are you worried? The second the last part escaped his thoughts he knew it was the wrong and right thing to say at the same time. Zalmask puffed up, pulling her head back as if she'd touched fire. Slinking over to the desk and pressing up against his chair (and threatening to break it with her bulk), she growled.

Zalmask not WORRIED. Zalmask know bronzes not chase smelly new wher. Only chase Zalmask. The jealous queen grumbled for a bit, before sighing. Claresk? Please bring Claresk's to Zalmask's office. She paused, before sending heat image based directions to the other gold. Talk about important things.

[giftwrapped]

Zalmask's want.

Boy groaned at the words, flipping over on his cot and hauling a pillow over his head. They couldn't leave him alone for his few candlemarks of peace? Faranth, he had shown up at this sharding weyr, gone right to work chasing their fardling prisoners into lines like ducklings, and he'd only just gotten off shift and been given a chance to pass out. And now the wherleader wanted him. Well, he could sod off! Boy was trying to sleep. And some jackass with a gold wasn't going to tell him what to do; Claresk was just as mean as any of the whers in this fardling place and -

The rest of the train of thought was curtailed as the entire mattress, furs, Boy, and all, was yanked off the cot frame and dumped on the floor. Boy was on his feet in an instant, squalling like an offended cat while his wher spat the corner of the mattress out and cocked her head, regarding Boy with a single, glistening red eye. Zalmask's want, she repeated, acid in her voice. Zalmask's want and Claresk's not boss enough fight Zalmask. Claresk not boss Zalmask. She gave a dismissive snort at the end of the sentence, an indication that it was not fear of the other gold, but disinterest that prevented her from challenging the wherleaders.

Early to boss Zalmask. Zalmask territory. Claresk not. Not yet, the gold concurred, rumbling and then headbutting Boy hard, toward the door. Now Claresk and Claresk’s to Zalmask’s, she remarked, again almost dismissively. She would have sent Boy alone, but it was easier to simply lead him to the office than it was for her to send him the directions—translating from infrared was just too much work at the moment. And so it was with a wher leading the way that Boy and the gold finally did show up. Claresk strode through the door boldly, ignoring Zalmask entirely and casing the room.

Big, she remarked privately to Boy, as she stared curiously at the cat in the corner. Too big. Ugly big.

That’s nice, dear. And while Claresk might have been casing the room and, in a roundabout way, the other wher, Boy was blatantly inspecting the wherhandler. The room was in disarray. That was his first thought, and the goldhandler made an immediate assumption. Herewas someone who didn’t care enough to get anything done. Well. That was interesting, wasn’t it? And perhaps something to use in the future.

His second thought was that Zalman was tall. It didn’t bother Boy the way it might have for others; being small was important for his old job, and a benefit at his new one. Nobody expected anything from someone of Boy’s stature. Made his life easier when it came to the messes he got into and out of.

[S'yal]

Zalmask bristled as she was ignored, though a hand briefly resting on her hand reassured the gold. Other golds put Zalmask on edge, and Z knew it enough to try and avoid forcing her to interact with them if he could help it. But today he needed to talk to the other junior handler, and Zalmask would deal with it. It won’t be so bad, Mama. Z assured the wher, earning a snort of derision. Don’t worry. The big bad Claresk isn’t here to steal your bronzes.

{Not worried about that.} Zalmask lied, her tail twitching. Lately the gold had become more jealous then before, though Z couldn’t fathom why. It was likely because of the sudden appearance of two golds on her territory, one of which was her upstart daughter. The older gold was simply having trouble accepting that she wasn’t the only golden girl for the bronzes and browns to eye anymore.

“Hello.” Z tried to look at friendly as possible, compared to his sulking wher. A smile graced the mans features as he straightened in his seat, tapping the surface of the desk. “I’m Zalman, the wherleader.” Z would have offered a handshake, but right now he didn’t feel like touching a guy he barely knew. “You can call me Z. Actually, I’d prefer that. I’m sorry to disturb you…” He trailed off, trying to think of something to say that’d make him appear friendly. He needed to make a good impression. Usually Zalmask enforced that, but today she was in a bad mood and he had no hope of help from her. “I wanted to make sure everything was to your liking and discuss your duties with you.”

{Zalmask not like new gold.} Zalmask whispered to her handler in the mean time. {She think she all that. She think she so special. Hmph.}

Love, you’re supposed to be the nice one. Z had to resist the urge to grin at Zalmask, knowing that the gold wouldn’t have acted this way if not for Claresk’s color. Once the two golds had time to get to know each other, Z was sure Zalmask would calm down. As it was, Zalmask was feeling jealous and possessive. He couldn’t really blame her, considering how things had been going for the pair as of yet. You don’t know her. Give her a chance. He hated it when he had to be reasonable.

Z hated work. Sometimes he didn’t know why in the world he bothered. Especially when Zalmask was being grumpy in his head.

[giftwrapped]

"No trouble at all, Zal - Z," Boy answered gruffly, but in the closest thing he could come to a genial tone of voice. Like Z, he was doing what he could to make up for his wher's manners, though in a man with no class or geniality to speak of, there wasn't all that much he could to do counteract Claresk's bad attitude. Except, well, he could introduce himself, he supposed. "She's Claresk," he said, pointing at the gold, who had sat down behind him and slightly to the side and was leaning over so she could press her entire flank against him. "And y'all can call me Boy," he went on, not even bothering to give his full name.

Let Z wonder how strong the bond between himself and his wher was - or barring that, he was sure the name was written somewhere in the roll of hides Big Bay had sent with him. But he hadn't used his real name in something like two decades, and he wasn't planning on changing that any time soon.

His gaze traveled to the feline in the corner, and then over to Zalmask (he noted with something like amusement paired with grudging respect that the female was just plain huge, and that only accentuated a wher's ugliness) before returning to Z. Shards and shells, but this place was a piece of work, wasn't it? "Ain't been here long enough 'at things'd start goin' sour, but th'room's well enough, an' I like th'way all th'halls're wide enough for the beasts," he answered Z with something bordering on genuine appreciation. "An' th'work seems easy enough. Leastaways in terms of routine. Can't say nuthin' about th'prisoners 'emselves."

He shrugged. "Room's jus' fine. I ain't picky long's I got a bed t'sleep on, an' Claresk sleeps anywhere. Really not a bad place. Not what I expected." And the last bit was said with a bit of mild admonishment to himself. Boy ought to have expected a top-of-the-line facility, in hindsight. This was the most important prison on Pern. They couldn't precisely afford to skimp on the important details. Like keeping the guards happy and more or less healthy and well-rested.

"So duties, then, eh?" he went on. "What-all's'm I gonna be doin'?"

Claresk's stupid. Guarding. Bossing not-golds. Wherwork, Claresk cut in acidly.

Thanks for that, precious. Never woulda guessed, otherwise. Be polite to Zalmask, he added. Last thing he needed was his bitch of a queen getting into fights at the very beginning of his stint at the Weyr. He was already under suspicion for things...he really didn't need anyone more snooping into his business. So the better a facade he put on, and the more convincingly he and Claresk played the part of normal wherhandlers, the better. But he fully intended to get a good hand on the joint; a prison this size? Dust was bound to be circulating underground. Just needed to find it and then you had an in to the best.

Claresk rumbled, but did as she was told. Claresk thank Zalmask for sharing her Weyr, she grunted, looking over at the large gold while she spoke. Claresk's stupid wherryhead, almost sleep through meeting. Zalmask's need to keep a good eye on him.

Shardit, Claresk!