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L'an enjoyed flights. Alcherath's or anyone else's. He wasn't the sort of fellow to go chasing down or wooing people on a normal day, but when they all but landed in his lap, well, he would never, ever refuse. It'd been a fun enough time, and Alcherath had given him play-by-play commentary on the flight. Battered old Blunderath had won, in the end, huh? He'd felt a small pulse of amusement for the mangled bronze, and then quickly lost interest as something else had consumed his evening.

But somehow he'd never really gotten used to the fact that some of his partners weren't gone by morning. He'd roused at some point, found an unfamiliar, and frankly a bit young, if you asked him (but he was starting to see everyone as too young these days, almost) man tucked up against him...He could have gotten up and left the bed if he'd wanted, but this was his own bed after all. And the morning after a gold flight, there'd be no drills or lessons. It was part of why he didn't bother to rouse the other just yet. No reason to launch into potential drama. He honestly didn't know who the guy was off the top of his still-drowsy head, or what his predilections were. It wouldn't be the first time he'd woken up with someone alarmed to realize they'd bedded down with a man.

But hopefully that wouldn't be the case today. They always yelled so very loud...

L'an watched the other man sit up, though he himself hadn't bothered. His bed was soft, his pillows were large and plush, and the furs were sleek. He had nowhere to be. Why worry about it? "Probably around eight, nine, maybe," He volunteered. "Hard to tell, though..." He trailed off, reaching out for Alcherath, who dreamily let him know that it was already almost ten, in fact. "Ten, actually, or almost." That at least did get him moving. He was fond of the hot almost gritty grain mush the kitchens offered most mornings, and it was often done by ten.

"Alright there? Not your first time, I hope." He'd hoped not. Poor guy looked beat though. He got that. Always hard to sleep in a new place. "Getcha some klah, if you want. Or if you've somewhere to be..." He wouldn't be offended. "Usually someone's got a mind to...ah, here, see? Bit of luck." He'd thrown the door open without a care or thought to his nudity, and found a tray set near the door to one side. Bless the kind hearts of those folks who had no interest in the flights. Fresh hot klah, a small pot, and two mugs. That bit always amused him—more than once he'd woken up with two partners, and then someone'd had to share. He retrieved the tray and shut the door, crossing back over to casually set it beside the young man.

"Fair t'say I didn't get your name. Fairly normal, in a gold flight. L'an, of green Alcherath." He thrust a hand out, the other resting casual as you please on his hip.

"Mmm, should do. The klah should help. Next time don't try to resist the flightlust if you don't want the pain. That or remember to get to a healer for something for the pain if it gets bad." He'd never bothered, himself, but he also had never had a reason to want to resist a flight. "Aye, goldflights are...something extra. Obviously a greenflight's less consuming, unless it's your green flying." He sipped at his own drink, savoring the lingering heat of the drink. "Good news about being late...all your instructors or candidatemasters," And shards, to find hismelf bedded down with someone that young...well. "...They'll have gone through the same thing. Most wings cancel drills the morning after. Some candidatemasters too, if they've gotten caught up. Y'should be fine." And he might as well have indulged, he reasoned. If the boy had a dragonet in the eggs that'd been made last night, he'd be getting no such attentions for a time.

He glanced down at his own bare, hair-covered chest. Beneath the layer of golden fur-like hair twisted veins of even more gold. "Back in Ista, I think. Benden? Some twenty turns gone now, at least." He hadn't thought back that far in a dragon's age. "The ink'd be more than a candidate could afford, I'd imagine, but if you impress..." He shrugged a shoulder. "Y'should talk to Wren, if you're interested. Another candidate, younger than you though." And his adopted son, but that was less important for the boy to know.

He settled back on the edge of the bed, idly watching steam waft off the klah for a few moments. Alcherath was awake, but already had a head full of dreamy wonderings about the flight and the future clutch and a million other things. It left L'an typically distracted, half-spaced-out almost. She was quite good at drawing him into her mental wanderings. "L'an, of green Alcherath," he offered again, having forgotten he'd said it already, and then shrugging when he remembered. Ah well. "Been standing long? Maybe last night they went and made the egg for you, hmm?" Perhaps he'd have two hopefuls to root for in the coming days, not just his own boy.

The other man was clearly distracted, though L'an couldn't really blame him. Alcehrath's wisp-like thoughts were always snagging his own, and before he knew it half a conversation had gone by. It wasn't easy to be the pair to such a distracting green...but he if no one else had the patience for it. And he loved her more than anything else on Pern. It was easy not to worry about what anyone else thought when your most beloved one thought you were wonderful.

"If y'can afford them, I'd suggest of course doing it after your hatching. Weyrling days, rather. Have enough on your plate without worrying about not getting this spot wet or sunburned or anything else, with a baby dragon." That was too true. It wasn't a good time to be distracted. If Migel had any worries about who he was being sussed out by a stray comment about wealth, he'd find he'd tumbled with the right man. Plenty of holders' sons had come and gone in his three weyrs over the turns, and some impressed, and some didn't, and some died, and some lived, and some ended up in his bed too. It didn't really alter the flow of L'an's life, and so he took no notice of it. So the kid had marks, so what?

"First time can be a little scary," He grunted, after another dram of the klah. "Everything's so fast and slow all at once. Can get bloody too, if you're dumb or in the way. My first was all it took, and plenty of others'll say the same. Who knows. Maybe a turn from now you'll be a few months shy of being a full-fledged rider." He smiled a bit, hands idly swirling the mug of brown warm drink. "No time for this sort of fun then though." He shrugged a shoulder at the bed. "I'd offer to help y'make use of the time now while you can but...Candidatemaster'll still want a headcount no doubt, at some point. Rather not catch anyone's eye I'd not otherwise have, if y'understand."

And the guy seemed a bit distracted too. It wouldn't be the first time his partner'd run off quickly come morning. And he took no offense ot it either.