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The chore probably served a couple purposes, firstly, it was a boon to one of the more antisocial members of the Weyr, (which was arguably just as well.), second, the one who had put Az up to the task had probably been assuming that forcing him to go face to face, however briefly, with one of the closest things the human population had to a watch-wher that could talk.

Wherkeeper Kazvar.

Wherkeeper Kazvar apparently needed a new glow-basket, and a change of bed-linens, and since he kept similar hours to his charge, that meant anyone shafted with the duty of trying to change them needed to stay up to do so. This was made somewhat less pleasant by the handful of rumors about candidates disappearing on such duties;( most of which had actually been spread by Kazvar himself.) or not disappearing so much as being fed to watch-wher Kazvask, who was at least as hard to predict as his blooded partner.

Even more 'fun'. Rumor also had it that Kazvar might actually not like dragons, ((Clear insanity, by any argument)), and by direct connection, not like candidates.

Technically it was more that Kazvar just didn't like much of anyone, though Candidates made him uncomfortable, and uncomfortable made him prickly... so it sort of amounted to similar behavior in a convoluted way.

At the moment, he was waiting impatiently and slowly sipping a cup of Klah that had gone to room temperature, stroking the thick neck of an deep blue Wher who had curled up near by, eyes squeezed tightly shut while he enjoyed the company of his blooded partner, if not the brighter lights in the room.

Kazvar was silent for a beat or two, his own cold gray eyes following Azuran's eyes in a slow line to the resting Wher, and he took another sip of Klah before answering as the stocky, powerful animal, without opening it's eyes, slowly flared it's dramatically patterned wings in a stretch.
"Over there." He noted, indicating the dying glow basket off to one side. His tone was curt, but he seemed quietly pleased about something, like a feline that had actually eaten before it spotted you in it's lair.

He looked back to the young man deliberately, eyeing the flit now and added. "Bought, or caught?" He didn't make much study of flits, though they were a curiosity, but they were more diurnal than he was, and he'd never been quite interested enough to try and find out how badly they'd wreck his weyr while he was asleep. Still it was interesting to see one.

"...Hm." Kazvar blinked, taking another sip of cold Klah and then put the cup down with a clunk on the nearest surface. "I didn't know that was possible."
Learn something new every day apparently, he'd always thought that they needed to be impressed as hatchlings, or they'd be wild, like Whers. "How's that work anyway? Never tried to get one."

This was surprising volumes of conversation, especially for Kazvar, who would have been just as happy giving the occasional grunt and keeping the Weyr grounds safe, but other humans tended to require a bit more deliberate, vocal conversation, and anyway he was curious.

And the boy hadn't even bolted for the door yet. Did he need to drop a few more rumors? Or was he just actually not spooked?

Kazvask, as it happened, did happen to like tunnel snakes, though they could have been considerably more filling. He cracked an eyelid open, flashing colors of interest, as bright as colored sparks on the hearth, as he observed the two, boy and flit, and then slammed the eyelid shut again with an air of finality. Too bright. Seen enough, though he ran his tongue over his chops at the image, imaging the taste and texture of a nice juicy tunnel snake. Not quite as good as Wherry. Not as risky to take a bite out of as feline, but tasty.

"He hasn't tried to eat him yet." Kazvar pointed out, as though this were supposed to be calming. Especially the word 'yet'. "Unlike his mother he's probably going to let you know if he's got a problem."

This was more than he tended to reveal about his experience with getting Kazvask's egg, but he was curious, and throwing out a little bait. "His name is Kazvask."

Welcoming thoughts huh? He'd probably never get one if he wanted one then. He wasn't sure his thoughts came across as any more welcoming than his face.

The where snorted softly, flaring it's nostrils as the flit fluttered about, and shook it's head briefly, before nudging Kazvar with it's nose a little roughly, and resting it's chin on his foot. The images it sent back were... different. Strange spectrums of color and senses, most of them revolving around Kazvar, hunting, and soothing cool dark places. He couldn't understand the appeal of the beach in daylight, and found the smaller creatures interest in it strange at best.

Kazvar's eyes flashed in what could have been taken by a casual observer to mean almost anything, most of it hostile, but it was actually interest.
Shame almost that human eyes weren't as revealing as Dragons, flits and Whers, you had to do your damnedest to follow other clues. He was pleased as hell to see a candidate, who was accustomed to the sleek curves of a dragon, not plastered against the furthest wall and trying to creep out the door at the first opportunity, or worse, saying anything about Wher's that involved the word 'mistake'.

"A few years now." He noted after a short pause for debate, tracking backward in his mind. "I chose to learn to work with Whers over trying to impress."

He seemed to feel this was an important bit of groundwork to lay, apparently having been asked before why he'd gone with his choice of profession.

Cool and Dark were comfortable. Cool and dark were...right. Heat was nice, but not day time heat and brightness, which made him uncomfortable and feel blinded. Daytime was for other creatures, but not for him. Besides, hunting was good at night, and he and his partner worked well then. Trust was established, since his partner could not see in the dark with his eyes. It was not a dragon bond but was their bond.

"There are risks to learning to training Wher's." Kazvar noted, deciding to neglect to mention that the chances of impression had nothing to do with him deciding to pursue a career with the Wher's. "...Queen dragons don't attack the candidates they don't approve of." He added. "But they can re-bond. They aren't as frail as dragons in that regard." He studied the Wher for a few moments, who heaved out a deep, throaty sigh. "I wouldn't trade him for any dragon."

Kazvask listened to the list of interesting foods, responding with flashes of interest or his own thoughts on certain delicacies... though he was less impressed by delicacies that came cooked instead of bleeding.

"Can't think of anything." Kazvar shrugged, watching the boy with those predatory eyes. He'd only scratched the surface of his discomfort with the dragon-bond, and he'd already disturbed him.

It wouldn't be the first time that he'd wondered if maybe there was really something wrong with him, but then he felt the faint nudge from Kazvask, and felt reassured. Whatever others might think, Kazvask didn't judge him for that, though he probably felt it, and maybe even understood it, better than any human in the Weyr.

"I wish you... luck. In the next standing." He noted, very gruffly, not sure even himself if he felt that it would be luckier for the boy to impress or not, given his own feelings on the matter. Maybe there were those who actually felt it was worth the potential agony, the actual longing for death if your partner was lost, but he couldn't picture it, or hear about it in the Harper tales without shuddering. It still seemed so... so desperate. Terrifying the level of -need- it implied.