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As far as T'rus was concerned, 'I'll do my best' was a perfectly reasonable response to his statements. With Akerth not mentioning the comment, he remained unaware and focused on the task at hand. He was, in fact, slipping into something like a good mood. Or, more to the point, he was in the sort of mood that usually came with success.

His plan was working. Here was Shark, looking much less terrified of Akerth than he had when the brown had approached him earlier. There was a firelizard egg on his person, the dam of which was the charming gold that was doing her best to assist. If his bronze was even half so biddable, it would be a great improvement on the sleeping green nested in his bunk. Maybe the bronze would even have a calming effect.

And then Shark started talking. T'rus didn't interrupt, allowing the silence to continue even after Shark had finished. He didn't even look at Shark, except in brief glances, the first time he hadn't attempted to force eye contact. Instead he watched his own hands at their task, while deep beneath something sizzled. It was probably best that he wasn't looking up. His expression was, for a rare moment, uncontrolled. Anger was open and evident.

At least, when he spoke, it wasn't anger that saturated his tone. "If I were Weyrleader-" he said his voice so low it might as well have been a whisper, "things would be different. I would--"

He trailed off, words fading into abrupt silence as if, in hearing himself speak, he'd realized he shouldn't be speaking.

"I'm sorry, Shark. I won't hurt you." He spoke in his usual tone again, firm and just a little forceful. "But, I know why you wince."

Unsaid, the fact that he'd done the same once. He'd learned to stop. A confession he wasn't ready to make.

"Shark--" Almost, there was affection there. Almost, there was sadness. Oh, T'rus was almost so many things.

Almost, a good leader.

Almost.

"It doesn't work that way. It doesn't matter what I'd do, what I'd be good at. Maybe, wingsecond, someday. Maybe." It used to be he was so sure of things. He had been so sure. Now, well, it wasn't that he didn't know what he wanted. It just didn't matter. "Va'en is our next Weyrleader. That beast Morgath? There's no hope of Akerth outflying him. He's big now, for a brown, but when they grow? He'll not have a chance."

He stroked Akerth's oily hide and there was love in it. But sadness too. Regret. "And maybe that's--" He cut himself off as years of want rebelled against honesty. "Maybe that's how it's supposed to be."

So much bitterness there, layers that never showed, that might never show again, "If I were meant to be Weyrleader, Akerth would have hatched bronze."

Even there, in that bit of hurt, there was no rejection of the dragon. He didn't say, for example, that he would have impressed a bronze instead of Akerth. There was only Akerth. Could only ever be.

As if only then hearing himself, or more to the point, realizing his audience was still listening he looked to Shark and smiled wanly, "Nevermind. I shouldn't-- It doesn't matter. I just have to find, some, well, some other way to make things better."

Given on a plate. When had he ever expected anything handed to him? He had worked so hard. He had made himself likable. He had learned to be strong, to be clever, learned to shut down emotion. Learned to lie while smiling.

It hadn't been easy. It wasn't like he'd been born as he was now. Sometimes, he wasn't even entirely sure he was the same person he'd been as a child. There were memories, yes, but they were memories of someone he couldn't quite comprehend.

But there had been the issue of the dragon.

There had been the... issue. And the dragon.

He stared at Sharkal, blankly. There was no negative reaction to the other's hostility, there was barely any reaction at all. It was almost as if he was seeing him for the first time, or not seeing him at all.

Not going to give it to you. And what did you do, when they didn't? Say the impossible happened. Say Va'en died in an accident Between. Say Akerth turned out to be an expert at flights. It wouldn't matter. Hidebound Telgar would never allow a brownrider the position of Weyrleader. They would find a reason, or send him away.

No, there would be none of that now, and here was Shark, still looking at him.

"There are some things that can't be taken." He glanced upward, where a green was circling. "Her rider will never be Weyrleader, and maybe he's the best man for it. Sometimes, sometimes I think there's something wrong with how we do things."

It was then that Akerth finally reacted, turning his head and butting T'rus in the arm. I have left my clutchmates unsupervised for long enough.

And T'rus still distracted, still barely present where Shark was, managed something like his usual smile. "Akerth wants to check on his clutchmates, and I need to get this egg settled. Thank you again for," a pause, "your friendship."

He stood then, not, for once, thumping Shark as he departed. Perhaps he had actually decided to listen to the other boy on that front. Perhaps he was just not thinking. Heading into the barracks, he showed no sign of glancing back. Neither, for that matter, did Akerth.

But it was Akerth, who, without any sign of doing so, spoke again to Sharkal. I allow him you. As we are, we can afford more than he realizes. A Weyrleader, that is different. The Weyr is not generous. Push him if you will, but think on what you will lose. And you will.