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There had been quite a few new additions to the Candidate ranks. Jordan wasn't concerned. Dragon or not, he was living at the Weyr now and was quite happy with that situation. Not living in his home Hold suited him just fine, not to even mention that it saved him all kinds of trouble. His father was only the tip of the mountain.

Sitting on his bunk in the Candidate Barracks, Jordan looked over the few new bunks added to the boys' room. He thought he'd seen more girls than boys in the new additions, since many boys came from the creche at Benden, but any new boys drew his interest. That was another thing Benden Weyr had made easier for him to adjust to that he was now embracing with zeal. Boys. Of course, not all of them were of his persuasion, and after that disaster with the wherhandler apprentice, Alianar, he had decided to be a little more careful with who he approached, even if they appeared to assuredly be... his type.

He had turned the new Candidates into a game instead. Trying to pick out who might be and who wasn't, without making any advances. It helped that after Alianar he'd been more withdrawn than usual, and that he still had few acquaintances, despite having been at the Weyr for over a Turn now. It meant his interactions were kept to the superficial level. Sometimes Jordan reached out a bit more, but it was... unusual. People didn't really understand him, and why did he have to try three times as hard if they weren't bright enough to get it off the bat?

Jordan's eye had caught on one of the new male arrivals and he couldn't help the small smile that started on his face at the boy's palpable discomfort. Feeling in the mood to get involved in someone's business, Jordan stood and stretched languidly, then took his tall self over to the pair.

"What a beautiful firelizard!" He exclaimed to the younger girl, offering her one of his broad grins. "Congratulations. Have you had him long?"

He saw her look at him with surprise, but he continued to smile, inviting her to chat with him instead of the other boy. He listened to her for about a minute before he abruptly said, "I see. Well, congratulations again. I apologize for taking him away so soon, but we actually have work to hop to today. Candidate Master. You know how it is. I'm sure we'll see you around the Barracks. Best of luck with your flitter."

He looked expectantly at the dark boy, and tilted his head almost questioningly at the door. "Ready?"

Jordan completely ignored how brusquely he'd handled the girl, or how transparent his clear lack of caring may have been when he blew her off succinctly. He followed Pahlan out of the room, a hand in his pocket and a bounce in his step. He waited until the boy stopped out of sight of the barracks and thanked him to return a grin to his face. He shrugged.

"You're welcome. Jordan." He offered a hand for Pahlan to shake, taking the boy in. He, again, looked younger than Jordan, but he wasn't sure by how much. Then again, most Candidates were younger than him. Part of that could be the extreme difference in height between the two of them, though.

"Welcome to Benden, in case no one else has thought to say it yet."

Jordan snorted and shook his head. "No. I'm from Nabol. I was Searched for the last Clutch and decided to stick around to continue trying my luck." For the rest of his life, preferably, of course. Even if he aged out, he had no intention of returning to Nabol Hold or his family. He'd miss his grandmother and mother dearly, but he felt infinitely more comfortable here, especially when his currently private proclivities became slightly more public knowledge. He'd stand a better chance of survival here.

Speaking of... The handshake was firm, which was in the boy's favor, and Jordan's squeeze was equally firm without being challenging. No masculinity games needed here. His hand returned to his pocket when they dropped the shake and he leaned back a bit, further emphasizing his height.

"If you want to avoid her, we should take a walk before she needs to leave," he suggested, and just started walking without waiting for confirmation from his current companion. As long as it looked as if they were moving, it didn't matter where to, and was Pahlan really going to want to stick around when he might be subjected to being both a liar and a sounding board for the girl's needless chatter? No, that would be stupid.

"When's your chore shift today? Or have you finished?"

Jordan regarded Pahlan with a surprising amount of seriousness considering his mood so far.

"The Queen will lay when she's ready. Until then we sit back, do chores, and make the most of our free time. Once she's laid them, they harden for however long they need to before we're called in to start working our magic. The Candidate Master announces when the Touching will be." Jordan moved out of the way of a Lower Caverns woman who was carrying an armload of items. "We head over to the Hatching Sands, which I'm assuming someone showed you, and are allowed to mingle with the eggs. Touch their shells, get a feel for the dragon inside."

Suddenly his mood abruptly changed and his tone became more joking. "Of course, if you break it, you buy it. The farm, that is. The Gold will eat you on the spot."

He glanced over and gave Pahlan a wide grin. "The Touching is just the once, for a candlemark or so. It's supposed to keep the hatchlings from savaging you as badly as they used to when they first break through their shells. Minimum of deaths these days, though. Usually maulings are less severe, too, but we still get the occasional one from a sprightly dragon baby. Anyway, after the Touching it's again, a waiting game. We wait to see when the eggs are ready to hatch. On the plus side, that leaves plenty of time for Candidates to bet on what colors come from what eggs and potentially make a handy sum if their luck and guessing is good."

He was talking far too much, but who did he generally have to talk to? Aside from the odd conquest-- and, considering he'd only had a Turn to come to terms with himself fully and quietly pursue one or two avenues in the same vein, that was very odd-- he didn't socialize much beyond the occasional surface interactions with his fellow Candidates. Pahlan seemed to be taking it all relatively in stride, though.

Jordan kept his face absolutely serious when Pahlan questioned his statement about being eaten. "I'm not sure. No one's broken an egg yet, but there's always a first time. I think the Weyrwoman could stop her-- but she's got a pretty nasty temper from what I've seen, so I don't think she would." Jordan shrugged and then he was all smiles again. "Just don't be clumsy and you'll be fine."

His hesitancy over the betting pool was a bit odd, and Jordan bother trying to restrain the strange look he shot at Pahlan. Didn't they have chance games in Ista?

"It's tradition. I'm sure we aren't technically supposed to, but the Candidate Master always seems to "miss" us betting, so I think it's all right. I'll probably put a quarter-mark into the pool, see if I can earn some money. The one with the most correct guesses wins the pot, after all."

Jordan raised his eyebrows but smiled slightly. Was the boy nuts? Was the money stolen? Eh, Jordan didn't mind, because either way he had the potential to make a fair bit of money. "Fair."

Jordan wandered into the dining hall with Pahlan and began looking over the food left over from lunch, looking for a snack before all the trays were cleared away to make room for dinner in a few hours. He debated telling Pahlan he was kidding about the Queen, but either the boy knew or Jordan would just have some fun with him when the time for the Touching came.

"So, Ista," Jordan gave Pahlan a slightly coy smile and shrugged one shoulder, "You want to spend the afternoon with me?"

What could Jordan say? That was just how he was.

"Good." Jordan handed him a few lukewarm meatrolls and took a few for himself before gesturing at the door. "Come on, I'll show you the fastest way to get to the lake from here. You can quiz me on the way about other things you don't know about Benden."

And depending on what he asked, Jordan would be able to puzzle a little more out of his new acquaintance that might explain the extremes in his personality he'd shown (as if Jordan was one to talk), from uncomfortably withdrawn to confident enough to burst out with teasing over-acting.

"So," he began, already slipping into showing his careless nature, "Where'd you get the scars?"