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Nemmol started cleaning out the storeroom on his own as soon as he arrived. The obviously flaky Candidate partner he had wasn't making a good showing of their character by being late. His mind provided her name for him, recalling the one that had been on the Candidate chores chart for the day. Did Persephone really expect to Impress if she couldn't be bothered to show up where she needed to?

He had just set the next box down and straightened when someone ran almost full tilt into him. He grabbed at the wall to keep himself from falling over, then turned to see who was being so reckless. The girl met his gaze for a moment and immediately started laughing, although he could tell from the flush in her cheeks that she was probably laughing from embarrassment. He opened his mouth to ask if she was all right after her fall, but before he could get a word out the girl was already off apologizing. He closed his mouth and, as she chattered at him without seeming to take a breath, the boy immediately sized up the smaller girl. Her use of his name told him this was his partner for the day, most likely, or a Candidate familiar with her peers. Probably the former. As a female, that already limited her choice of colors, and she certainly wasn't going to get the Gold on the Sands unless there was something he wasn't seeing about her. Nemmol smiled, already adjusting his attitude to deal with her without noticing he was doing it.

"It's all right. You haven't missed much and it isn't as if we're being supervised." The storeroom they had to clean out was half-full at best, showing that another set of Candidates had likely been working on it the day before. Nemmol had several boxes already set out in the hallway for them to look into later and organize as they went. The drudges needed to know where to take the items once the Candidates were done for the day, after all.

Still, she had stopped to watch a dragon? For a weyrbrat like Nemmol, that made no sense to him at all. She must be from a Hold or Hall, with a reaction like that, and must not have been here for very long. No wonder he didn't recognize her. He tried to guess at her age, but although she looked older than him, she didn't act like it. Maybe... 16, then?

"Why don't I hand you bags and you can set them against the wall there?" He offered as he moved back to the storeroom, instinctively taking charge. The continued conversation also might do something to help soothe her tears away if they were, as he guessed, over her being late. "How long have you been at the Weyr, Persephone?"

"Ah! Helping prepare our local Benden wines!" Nemmol smiled at her as he handed her the next bag. He wasn't going to comment on her particular choice of nickname, but since he wanted her to feel at ease with him, he would use it all the same when he addressed her. "Interesting Craft to be in. Prestigious one, too."

He turned to hand her another sack and found himself quickly moving it aside so she wouldn't run into it as she had his back when she went to hug him. He stared at her for a moment, glad that even if he was younger by a Turn or two he was at least taller than her, and smiled when she pulled back. Some women were just the touching kind, though his experience with them hugging him randomly had been sparse.

He set the sack he'd been holding on the ground for her when she got back, knowing they'd have to switch to boxes soon and he'd likely be doing a majority of that lifting. "I've been here my whole life. I was born here in the Weyr. My parents are both riders, my father a Brownrider and my mother a Greenrider." That was part of his pursuit of riding, after all. He lifted a box and moved it into the hallway while Priss was occupied with the other sack. "I chose to wait to Stand, though, so this will be my first Hatching as well."

The talk of her craft seemed to lift up her spirits, and his revelation of his parentage was also remarkable. Well, to someone not born in the Weyrs, that made some sense. They tended to be a little more dragon-crazy than those who had grown up with them. The sudden hug, so soon after the first, was a little bit much, but Nemmol kept his face clear of anything but a smile. Unlike the first one, where he had simply stood there and let her hug him, he slid one arm around her and gave her a small squeeze back. Perhaps that was what she needed to prevent another outburst. The girl seemed inclined to fluctuate wildly between being upset one minute to being overjoyed the next.

"I don't know what color I'll get; no one does. The dragon picks the rider for a reason after all." He looked down at the top of her head as she essentially snuggled into his chest like a child. He wasn't sure if she realized what she was asking when she suggested he take her riding with him should he Impress a high color, but he had no intention of making any promises when he didn't even know what color he was going to get (despite his goals in that area).

"It would be great if we Impressed at our first Hatching." Some people stood more than once, but to Impress the first time through would be useful for him. The sooner he knew his lifepartner, the sooner they could begin making their names known in the Weyr as a riding pair. "We really should get back to work, though," he pointed out after a moment, releasing his hold on her and carefully extracting himself from her clinging grip. He smiled to ease the detachment, since she was clearly one of those people who needed an overabundance of physical contact and hefted a box of his own, moving to place it by the walls. "Once we're done moving the boxed and bagged things, we will need to sort them out so the drudges can take them to where they need to go next. Why don't you start going through the sacks and determining what's in them while I get these heavier boxes out into the hallway?"

He looked up and smiled as one of the Lower Cavern women walked by, picking her way over a bag, and received a smile in return. As a weyrbrat who made his face known among the Weyr residents, it was hard for there to be a long-time Weyr resident who hadn't met him or at least learned his name and penchant for being helpful. As an upper level rider and potentially a Wingleader or 'Second, it was important for the Weyr to know they could look to you.

The nuzzling was getting a bit... uncomfortable. Nemmol was more than pleased when Persephone finally stepped away of her own accord without him needing to guide her to the decision and returned to her work. It was easier to listen to her talk about herself than to suffer through her overly-familiar displays of affection-- not that he would ever make her feel bad for them.

"No, you don't have to handpick through everything, though that might unearth something interesting. You just need to see what's in them. For example, that sack is cloth for the Weavers. We put it aside to be moved to a Weaver's storeroom. This box is..." He checked inside. "Old cooking utensils. It'll get moved over here and the kitchen drudges can decide what's useful and what isn't." He hefted the box with all of his 15-Turn-old strength and moved it to a separate area down the wall. "Though, actually, with cloth, we could probably make a bag of good cloth and cloth that's been eaten by bugs. Scraps. We may want to do it once we're done with the task at hand though."

And then, as his working companion practically breathed his name and peeked at him from under her eyelashes, Nemmol got the distinct impression that Persephone was coming on to him, rather than just being clingy. He felt his face beginning to flush with embarrassment and turned his back so that he could move another box and compose himself.

"Uh, I have to meet up with another mate of mine." He smiled apologetically. "I'm very sorry. What I can do," he added animatedly, thinking of a solution to both of their problems, "Is introduce you to Halley in the kitchens. She's one of the assistants to the Headwoman. If you need to find something, she can point you in the right direction. I wouldn't want you to get lost in here."