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Jordan loped down the hall, his long legs making short work of the floor beneath him. He didn't have anywhere in particular to go, but he didn't want to sit around the Candidate Barracks and wait for someone to accost him either. Those conversations usually tended to fall flat and Jordan got bored quickly if there wasn't something to catch his interest. It always seemed like too much work to pretend to care, too. He glanced into the dining hall briefly on his way by, just to see if he recognized any of the people there-- Candidates, Weyrlings or otherwise-- and his eyes instead caught on a dark haired lad at a table near the door. An unfamiliar dark haired lad.

Hello, pretty pretty.

Jordan backed up and spent a moment looking over the boy before walking into the dining hall. He was noticably younger than Jordan's 19 Turns, but not too young. A few Turns difference wasn't very large and Jordan lately had been feeling... lonely. And not for conversation either. This might be his solution if the boy's build was any indication. Well, his arms were as muscled as such a young man's could be, but his skin was fair and his fingers were relatively fine-boned. A little muscle might be a benefit to his physique.

"Hi," he greeted, offering a brief half-smile when the brunette looked up. "You don't look familiar. New here?"

"There's nothing wrong with not being new," Jordan replied, leaning against the wall by the boy's table. If he wasn't new, then that meant he should have been a Candidate. All boys who were his age at the weyr were almost certainly Candidates. That meant that Jordan should have seen him before. And he hadn't. He couldn't be a Candidate, then. So who was this pretty-eyed lad?

"Mind if I join you?" He asked as he moved away from the wall, expecting the yes before it came. He knew he wasn't being particularly friendly-- more like a bit pushy-- but he had to figure this out and he wouldn't do that if he just walked away. Of course, he could just ask... but that would make it too easy. Where was the discovery? Where was the chase?

His eyes darted to the knots on the boy's arm, but he didn't recognize them. Not Candidate, not rider, not Weyrling. Who else wore knots?

Studying mining. Knots. Unfamiliar face. Ohhhhhh.

"You must be one of the wherhandlers," Jordan offered and saw a spark of recognition in the other's eyes when the boy actually looked back at him. Thaaat made sense. He had little to do with the whers or their human components. He wasn't a "people person" and what little interaction he had among his peers in Candidacy and the riders or weyrfolk he ran into during chores or times he was feeling amiable usually amounted to all he needed to worry about. Wherhandling was practically a craft more than a lifestyle, despite the whers and dragons supposedly being related the way firelizards and dragons were. Jordan wasn't sure about all that, but it didn't affect him, so what did it matter whether they were or weren't?

"I'm Jordan," he offered, holding out a hand for the other one to shake. "One of the Candidates."

Whers were, quite frankly, ugly. This boy, though, was not. Now that Jordan had gotten a better look-- and a handshake-- he could see why the boy was studying mining information. He wasn't as pretty as Jordan had thought at first, at least not in the way he had thought. Decidedly masculine features for the most part and calloused hands. That was still good news for him, though.

He'd ease into the conversation, in any case. Alianar might be in the closet and Jordan wasn't usually direct unless he needed to push a point. Younger men generally needed more finesse than his bullheaded stubborn pushing.

"I stood for a Clutch and didn't get a dragon, so I know the feeling. Where are you from?"

"No no, I was Searched for the last Clutch and decided to stick around and try my luck again. Weyr life suits me. You know what I mean?" Jordan asked, smiling at the other boy and receiving a smile in reply. He certainly did know what he meant, didn't he. He listened to the other boy reply, then leaned an elbow on the table and cradled his chin in his hand. A small smirk curved his lips as he met Alianar's hazel eyes with his own.

"You're very attractive. I hope you decide to stick around instead. It would be nice to get to know you better."

They just stared at each other for a moment before Jordan leaned back in his chair, his elbow sliding off the table. Whoops. Normally when heterosexual men thought he was coming on to them, it was a misunderstanding on their part. This time it seemed like the misunderstanding had been on his part and there was no way he could pretend he hadn't meant what he was offering.

Jordan automatically defaulted to his back-up setting.

"Oh, you're so funny!" He laughed and flapped a hand in an entirely too feminine manner at Alianar. "I'm sorry, you were fun to tease. Don't you worry, you're safe with me. You can't be more than 17 Turns, am I right?"

Well, at least he'd had his approximate age right. Pity.

"Well, you know, if you were ever interested..." His voice was slow and syrupy, his look coy, and his humor in full bloom at the look of horror and shock on Alianar's face. He was a sick, sick man for finding this so funny. "What's a little play among friends?"

Jordan broke into sharp, loud laughter as Alianar began to raise his hands in unspoken protest. He couldn't help himself. The boy was mortified. He'd probably never approach Jordan again, not that Jordan cared unless there was a repeat performance of this discussion. He'd never get tired of that look. If Alianar really did stay with the wherhandlers, maybe Jordan would have to start spending more time around them. One of them was bound to be interested and if not... well, Alianar's discomfort would be funny enough.

In his place, Jordan likely would be more mean than horrified. He teased women sometimes, but when they got clingy he shoved them off. Maybe he'd better stop making the boy want to escape. He was giving a very bad show of his character.

"I can take a hint like that. Really, though, you're safe." Jordan rubbed his wrist against the corner of one eye to wipe away the tears that had gathered there. "Most gay men don't actually try to attack you when it's obvious you're straight as a board."

Jordan had overstayed his welcome. Now seemed like the time for a strategic exit, especially since Alianar's continued discomfort was beginning to wax on the tired side of funny, and that told Jordan it was time for him to divorce himself from other people.

"Well, I have to get going." Alianar seemed taken aback by his abrupt standing, but did nothing to stop him. Jordan nodded cordially, though he refrained from smiling. Alianar might think he was hitting on him again. The thought was amusing enough to prompt a wink from him to the wherhandler.

"See you around, Alianar!" He said with a jovial wave, and walked out of the dining hall. He would, in fact, look Alianar up at a later date to see if their little misunderstanding was still bothering him. For now though, it was time for some alone time.