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He turned the rock over in his palm and then tried to run it over his fingers. It was too big really, and he'd never mastered the trick in any case so he ended up nearly dropping it. As he tossed it into the air and caught it again he told himself he'd only fumbled it because he still only had the use of one eye; bandages covered the other. Scowling darkly he raised his head and looked out over the glimmering flat water of Trine's southernmost lake.

So this was it then.

With a flick of his wrist he sent the rock skipping away across the water's surface. One, two, three, and on the forth it disappeared below the surface, consumed by the smug hungry depths. The only evidence that it had ever been there at all were the four sets of ripples, and soon enough those would still and the lake would be as it had been before. The stone might as well never have been there. In all likelihood it would lie on the bottom in ignominious anonymity, cruelly displaced from its shoreside home, until the slow slow motions of the water rendered it to nothing more than a speck of grit and then even that would be gone.

Carltis watched the fading ripples for a few moments and then turned away to look for another stone.

Rochelle had bounced up to him - bounced being operative - from the side that currently lacked vision, and succeeded in making him startle slightly and spin around in a defensive posture before he registered who he was. When he did he subsided to a defensive scowl, arms crossing over his chest. "Oh. It's you."

Rochelle was... different than he remembered. He remembered a vaguely block shaped girl with pigtails. She was now... well... she Bounced, and had a pretty amazing smile. He wouldn't admit that he'd noticed either of course, and he wasn't sure he knew what to do about her enthusiasm. The weeks spent together trying to survive had... well he didn't know what they'd done. He didn't trust her, or at least not really, but he didn't think she was out to get him, but nobody was ever that happy to see him and so he was suspicious. Anyway, she liked Aleck didn't she? He wasn't sure, and why did it matter anyway? It didn't, that was why, and it didn't matter that that had been totally grammatically incorrect either.

"I'm feeling... better," he went on guardedly after a pause. "Bruises and scrapes are more or less healed, and the healers will be unbandaging me and taking the stitches out of my face probably tomorrow; looking forward to that - pun not intended - I've missed binocular vision."

He shifted his stance slightly then, silently having a raging debate with himself. He didn't know what to do about her; she was too nice to him. Was she planning something? Did she want something? Maybe she'd just decided he was useful muscle to have around? Maybe she thought her sweet talking and her sweet tits would have him like putty in her hands. Ha! Well she was wrong on that score, wasn't she? Too bad for her.

...But what if it wasn't that? What if she just liked him? He doubted that, he really did, but there was a chance and... he was a long way from home. There was no harm in being decent to her, and they had been through a lot together, but if he relaxed and let down his guard then she might hurt him, humiliate him, use him.

Or she might not.

Carltis unfolded his arms and stooped to pick up another flat stone. "And uh... how're you?" She'd been nice to him all through the horrible bloody mess of Malvern. Maybe it was okay to relax just a bit.

His answer to why he always said that was too complex to word properly, and too personal in any case. Instead of responding therefore he shrugged and skimmed his rock; just three hops this time. "Right. Rochelle." This was... this was difficult. He didn't know how to do this, why did it come so naturally to seemingly everyone else? Even that bookworm Aleck was more socially adept than he was... and he felt bad for calling the other weyrbrat that even inside his head, and found himself wondering where Aleck was and how he was doing.

Carltis cast around for another rock, because it was easier than looking at Rochelle.

"I'll be sure to show you," he said dryly, "and I'll even catch you if my visage proves either too ruggedly-handsome or too hideous for your nerves to stand.... It is weird here. It's too hot and humid too. I guess I'll get used to it though, what with all the ladies that will no doubt be clamoring for my attention I'll probably barely notice soon." If he sounded bitter and cynical when he said that, it was because he was. Malvren had been home, even if it had been a round hole and he'd been a belligerent spiky peg it had been his place to be a misfit in. He missed the marble halls, and the sound of the sea.

"I'm not going with anyone to the healers," he added with yet more bitter edged tones, glancing up for just a moment before his dark eyes returned to their hunt for his next stony victim to consign to the bed of the lake. "Just couldn't choose from the massive horde of willing volunteers, and also I'm not a weepy five turn old that needs their hand held and a sweetie afterwards."

Why did she want to come with him? It made every alarm bell in his head ring, but it also made him feel.... He wasn't sure how to put it. He wasn't good at analysing his own feelings, and that was like saying that gold dragons were slightly on the large side. On the whole however, he thought he rather liked the idea of her coming along.

Calrtis selected a rock and stood up again. "Well you can come if you want I suppose; can't see any harm in it. You can go and harass the healer at the same time if you're so inclined, of course." It would be nice not to go alone, because while he wasn't a weepy five turn old he really wasn't looking forward to having bits of thread tugged out of his face.

He felt awkward about accepting the offer though, and so he moved on quickly.

"Here, look." He moved a bit closer to Rochelle, rock in hand, and flicked his wrist a few times while keeping his grip on the skipper. "You have to move your wrist sort of like that, and make sure you let go smoothly or it can spin over and ruin the jump."

He had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, but apparently it was important; her cheerful tones faded out, and Carltis felt the sudden urge to go and punch the healer in the face. Under the circumstances however he decided that this was probably a bad plan; Aleck would be upset for one.

Damn.

When had he started getting violent/reframing from violence on behalf of these people? Probably somewhere around the time they were nice to him when he was bleeding everywhere, and not being useful to them. They could have just ignored him, or agreed with him when he'd said he should get back up and go find people to hit. They hadn't.

Carltis turned the stone over in his hand. "Five's my best," he said, though his mind wasn't really focused on that question. She'd looked subdued, but also like trying to pretend she wasn't. "And we can look for Aleck, sure. He's probably with Bereck, or not far off.... What was it that...." He paused, trying to pick his words carefully. He wasn't good at delicacy of feeling; finely crafted insults yes, but not trying to avoid upsetting or angering somebody. "What did he say? I'd offer to whack him for you, but I don't think that would please Aleck very much."

Carltis - who had been about to skim his rock - paused and looked sideways down at Rochelle. He didn't know what to say to that. "It's not pathetic." He was really s**t at this, he should have something nice and actually comforting to say, not just a dumb statement. "And he wasn't making a whole lot of sense anyway so... well just talk to him I guess. If he's making some sense by now of course."

Bonding. She was grinning at him again, which was good? Or was she faking it? She could be faking the whole thing to try to make him feel sorry for her, so that she could make him... do something. What that something might be he wasn't clear on, but there could well be something she wanted. Maybe she was faking it because she didn't want to look pathetic, or maybe she was genuine. Maybe.... He didn't know; there were a lot of half-formed maybes running around in his head. He was probably just being stupid but he couldn't push away that niggling fear that she meant him ill, or was just being nice for what she could get.

Carltis skimmed his rock; it hopped four times and he turned back to Rochelle, scowling because he felt he ought to but the expression lacked any real feeling. "So... go talk to him tomorrow, and then watch me having my face fiddled with. If he's an arse to you, maybe it'll make you feel better." If he was an arse to her maybe Aleck would have something to say about it? He wasn't sure whether the lanky weyrbrat might just take his father's side on principle, or if he liked Rochelle enough to get angry with his parent on her behalf.

Carltis watched the ripples of another displaced stone and wondered if he could write something poetic about it. He'd never been good at poetry, and poetry was sissy anyway, but something about the motion of the water and the vanished stones spoke to him of the dispassionate cruelty of Fate. Probably that made him a sissy, but oh well, nobody else needed to know about it.

"Yeah. Well. Alright, I promise," he turned to Rochelle and shrugged his broad shoulders. "You didn't laugh at me when I threw up everywhere, so I suppose that would make us even... not that I hope he makes you cry or anything, just... well, if he does." Shut up Carltis, you are making a fool of yourself. Again. He shouldn't have brought up the vomiting incident, he was still embarrassed about that so why the shards had he raised it?

Ugh, and now she was being nice again and he felt his stomach twist again. She wanted something, she must, even if it was just to get him on her side in case she needed his muscle in the future. Carltis pursed his lips and looked around for another rock. "Yeah. Well. I was an arsehole then and I'm an arsehole now; I've just become slightly more sophisticated in who I pick on and why, and my insults are more inventive than 'you're a poo-poo-head'. Here," he bent to grab a nice smooth flat stone and tossed it to (not at, notably) Rochelle, "try this one."

Well... so that was alright then? It didn't sound like she was holding it over his head or anything. Maybe she was lulling him into a false sense of security - trying to at any rate - or maybe he was just a paranoid idiot. Did he want to take the risk? He wasn't sure, but for now at least no trust was demanded of him; he could just get along with her and not give her anything too personal to work with, that would be alright wouldn't it?

As the stone skipped three times Carltis' scowl smoothed out, and a little smile tried to tug at his lips. While he resisted the expression as best he could, he did allow himself to give a little nod of satisfaction in Rochelle's success. "Much better. Ha, and we'll have plenty of time to practice here by these nice calm waters by the looks of it; people are talking about winning back Malvren but I can't see it happening, the revolutionists will be well dug in by now." He missed his home. He missed his harp. Part of him hoped that somebody else had found it and was playing it now so that it was still alive, but that conflicted with the part of him that snarled it was his and he would rather it was broken and dead than in somebody else's hands.

"So," Carltis shifted his stance, wanting to sit down but unwilling to be the first to do so, "Rough shaffing luck on your part, only just getting back to the Weyr and then it getting taken over and having to run away. Really bad timing." He didn't know where he was going with that, if anywhere. Smalltalk he supposed, and maybe bonding; she seemed happy enough to talk about herself so maybe he wouldn't have to say too much about him business.