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Things hadn't been going so well for Okassis since the last Hatching. There were a few good moments, of course - Kyllae, for example, or the semi-successful business he'd began with S'van - but things just hadn't seemed to reach a point of normalcy yet, where they barely had before. Having failed to find a place in the Weyr, Okassis's routine varied daily as he went to work wherever he was needed, under whichever taskmaster couldn't find someone better for the job. Even as he began feeling run-down and exhausted, he felt supremely under-appreciated - he was a good, strong worker! Why wasn't he being taken seriously? But the worst of it was what he'd heard last night, about going-ons in Ista Hold....

And now today, he was being a genuinely bad worker, for one of the very few times in his life. Since it didn't seem like he was good for much else around the Weyr than moving things from point A to point B, he was supposed to be moving some tithe supplies to the Stores - but he was obviously unfocused, dragging his feet, making others pick up his slack while he made a show out of being grouchy and troubled. He needed to do something about his troubles, obviously - but with him here, and them there, it was hard to say what he could do.

And in the meantime, it seemed, everyone who had to work with him, suffered for it. It wasn't the way Okassis was raised, but maybe that was the problem....

Rudely interrupted from his ongoing self-involvement, Okassis snapped up his head to stare at Bevan. It almost seemed as though the youth hadn't realized there were others around him until this point, and confronted with the fact that he was, in fact, working with a group, he seemed further disgruntled. The fact that the boy who was confronting him was clearly younger than him, didn't do a thing to help him take the sour criticism well.

"Yeah, sure, I'll pick it up," Okassis answered noncommittally, his tone slipping into a nastier one than he'd intended. The trader proceeded to carry through on his promise by applying himself more seriously, gathering up the goods for his next load with all the clumsiness of a bad attitude - after which, he was either careless, thoughtless, or just trying to make trouble, as he began to slow down and drag his heels again, doing his job no better now than he had moments before.

It was lucky for Bevan that Okassis's hands were full, he thought. The ex-trader's eyes went immediately down to the hand on his arm, clearly disapproving. He didn't like nasty-voiced people putting their hands on him, thanks kindly.

"Well shards, I didn't realize you were the Candidatemaster today," Okassis answered back, pulling sharply away. This had the unintended side effect of jostling the things he was holding, enough so that the topmost of his stack nearly toppled over - through amazing skill or sheer luck, however, he managed to keep it together, and even held his composure well enough to sneer, "You're much shorter than usual, sir, sorry that I didn't recognize you!"

In all fairness, Bevan was right. Not only was he right, he had every reason to be upset. Every bit of work that Okassis slacked on, everyone else had to pick up for him; if he were replaced with someone else, even someone who wasn't as productive, but had a better attitude, the whole of the group would be the better for it. And on some level, Okassis knew all this.

But he couldn't admit it. In part because he'd never consider himself a bad worker - having a bad day, sure, but that didn't make him a bad worker! - and in part because he didn't want to suggest for one second that he was wrong, and Bevan was right. If it had been someone with a bit of a gentler tone, who knew how Okassis would have taken it; as was, though, he was fully prepared to match grouch with grump, and anything else could just go between.

"Might be easier to," the trader growled back, "if loudmouthed piece of wher filth didn't keep getting in my way!" If Bevan wanted to throw around insults, Okassis wouldn't hesitate to meet him. He didn't know who he hell this kid thought he was, but if he thought he could win a toe-to-toe mudslinging match with Okassis, the well-traveled trader's son, he was in for a shock!

Now Bevan really was in his way. The look of sheer annoyance on Okassis's face as he regarded the obstruction disparaged the younger boy more clearly than any lame insult could have, every bit of shown emotion contemptuous, lacking any respect at all for the whiner that was making Okassis's day even worse than it already was. But there was honestly little that could be done about it - not here, at least. Okassis wasn't yet convinced that this kid was worth more than spit, but by Faranth, if he didn't back off, the Trader boy would find a way to make him regret it!

So, swallowing down his anger, Okassis just muttered, "I got bigger things on my mind than you, runt," and shoved past Bevan forcefully, unafraid to throw his three years' bigger bulk around to get out of the losing situation. Some of them had work to do, after all!

Okassis was barely affected by the push - it jostled one shoulder, maybe altered one step. On an ordinary day, he might have ignored it and kept to his business. It wasn't that serious, after all. A slight insult at best, more telling of the perpetrator than the victim.

But this wasn't an ordinary day for Okassis. He was stressed, and hounded, and that thin, thin boundary that had kept the confrontation verbal had just been overstepped. Where he'd come from, you didn't walk away from challenges like that. You ran into them headlong and proved, beyond the shadow of a doubt, why it was people didn't cross those lines around you.

On his next step, he stooped. The motion was smooth enough that it might have looked like he'd stumbled, innocently, after being pushed. The box he was carrying was placed roughly on the ground, and still moving forward, Okassis abruptly turned to face Bevan, and reversed direction. "Not smart," he warned flatly as he went into action.

He wasn't going for damage yet. He was trying to grab the boy's arms, get him into a lock. Okassis didn't need to hurt him, but he did need to teach him a lesson - that Okassis was bigger, smarter, and able to defend himself, and that little brats like Bevan shouldn't be trying to push him around. If Bevan made a fuss, turned it into something bigger... well then, Okassis was still just defending himself, wasn't he?

Okassis, too, had a history of wrestling - but when he'd done so, it wasn't for play. He knew all the tricks of dirt-throwing, clothing-ripping, hair-pulling nail-digging. He knew where to hit to hurt someone; he knew where to hit to disable someone. And he, too, was strong - and angry.

But he also wasn't out of his mind yet. He was grappling with Bevan, trying to throw his weight around, but he wasn't shouting, wasn't making a big deal of it. It was hard to, when the younger boy didn't seem willing to put himself into it.

And then, Okassis let himself be forced back, grinning - playful even when he meant his opponent no good. He couldn't be fooled. This was exactly what Bevan had wanted. The boy couldn't change his mind, not after taking that first step. "What, too scared now?" he asked, jutting out his chin. "Don't like it when someone can shove back, huh?"

Now he was the one asking for it. He could use a fight, and if Bevan was itching for one too, what was the difference? Nobody'd peg them for it. It was a game, and they were willing players. Maybe it was what they both needed, who knew?