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Iafri had been up early, as always, preferring to start her day in the quieter, cooler hours of the morning before the sun rose.  She could make the walk from her hut on the beach to the Weyr proper to get a bite of something to eat before there was any kind of crowd, even if later she'd be eating breakfast with her wing as was expected; she tended not to eat much then, especially since the wings had been shuffled around, and she wasn't comfortable with the new assortment of people yet.  Any sort of social shifts like that took her a long and awkward time to adjust to.  She was sure they were all very nice or good people in their own ways, but she worried terribly about whether or not she actually belonged, or if any of them liked her, or just thought her a bother, or this, or that...  Her days were mostly a series of worries that her dragon was forever doing her best to soothe, and making slow progress on quieting them as much as possible, but they were too deeply ingrained to silence overnight, or even after four Turns.  It was often two steps forward and one back.

And today, it turned out, was going to be one of those days.  She'd been making her way through the corridors to head back outside when the gold went up, and somewhere between there and where she was going, the Flight had gotten ahold of her to the extent that it - that someone - had seemed like a good idea.  A barely-awake Girofleth had gently encouraged this notion, as it was particularly bold of Hers to not simply flee from the feeling, and then had turned in her wallow and gone back to sleep, uninterested in Killakeeth and her choice: goldflights were often violent, and she didn't care to pick at the leftovers once all was said and done.

It was reaching into afternoon when Iafri woke, and bless Faranth, it was at least in her own weyr.  Even then, a heap of post-Flight regret hit her immediately and hard, which, to be honest, had been inevitable, as anxious as she was about even clothed interactions with strangers.  And this was definitely a stranger.  Oh, dear.  She stayed safely mostly-covered and as still as possible, loathe to disturb the man whose name she didn't know, but fretted at the sheet with her fingers as she waited.

On second thought, maybe being in her own weyr wasn't actually for the best, not when if they'd ended up somewhere else, she would have at least had the option of slinking off. While she couldn't bring to mind any complaints about anything that had happened during the Flight, the after was...a struggle. Without the outside help of the flightlust, there was nothing to conveniently banish the worries that were so numerous they kept each other from even being fully-formed Just there, a background noise of internal panic that spiked when he moved, and again when he spoke.

Girofleth, at least, was awake and ever-attentive, and offered her a soothing wave of reassurance. It helped, in a small way, though Iafri still blinked wide-eyed at the man and ducked her head in apology. "S-sorry. Just...still waking up."

She was, if anything, quite awake and on high alert, but....a white lie was much better than anything even resembling the truth in this instance (and in any instance where the truth could be considered even the least bit bothersome). She lay there awkwardly for a moment longer before rolling to the side herself, glancing to see if any of her clothes were anywhere within reach.

Iafri flinched and mumbled a second "Sorry" as she leaned down to retrieve her shirt from the floor (thank Faranth it was close enough to reach). She slithered into it in a hurry before glancing at her companion and then away again, as unwilling to meet his eyes as she was anyone else's. "Oh, no, it's- You don't have to leave if you don't want to. I'm sorry." Another apology as she fidgeted and stared down at her hands, with Girofleth in the back of her mind encouraging her to be both hospitable and honest. "I just haven't d-done this in a long time."

And then he offered to share the wine, and her first instinct was to decline because it was his and she had no right to it, but at the same time, she didn't do well with choices presented to her by other people. What did they want her to do? Shards. "If...if you want to share."

Unfortunately, this was Iafri as calm as she was going to get under the circumstances - freaking out inside but at least trying to be normal. But clearly she didn't achieve normal enough, because all she could seem to do was annoy him. She shrank in on herself and forced down the next apology that wanted to bubble up, hands curling in the sheets instead as she kept her gaze fixed downward. She might have said nothing at all, if Girofleth hadn't been constantly encouraging her to 'use her words' for Turns.

"I know. It's just- I mean- if you want to stay or go or drink or whatever, it's fine. Anything's fine." If there was a problem in the scenario, it was obviously her, and she was certain he was already regretting that of all the people he could have ended up with, it had been her. It was perfectly understandable.

"Ia-Iafri," she answered guiltily, twisting her fingers together and continuing to stare down, "Of green Girofleth." As to whether she was new, well, her manner and the sparse state of her weyr, with little more than the provided basics in view, certainly supported that notion, but... "No, not really. "We've been here for more than t-two Turns now?"

Iafri really had nothing to say to the comment that he'd never heard of her; she would have been much more surprised if he had heard of her. It was a big Weyr, and she was just...who she was. She didn't expect anyone outside of her wingmates and immediate neighbors to know who she was, and even then, she would have understood if they had trouble remembering. "It's...nice to meet you, Nikal."

And she meant it, as terribly intimidating as he was. That he'd put up with her for this long, Flight or no, was very gracious of him, by her own estimation. As she tried to work out what else to say - or if she even should - the sudden squawk from the sheets gave her a start. Just a little twitch, quickly smoothed down, and when she saw that it was a flit, she actually smiled. "Oh. Hello, Phalanges."

She recognized that 'feed me or else' look, but unfortunately, had nothing to offer.

At the appearance of the little green, a trill went up from a high, mostly-empty shelf, and a blue scrabbled over the edge to swoop down and perch on the edge of the bed. He cheeped amiably at the visitor as he folded his wings, his own eyes a happy blue-green. "Th-that's Pocket."

"Okay," Iafri yielded, shrinking in on herself a little further. "It was nice to...to spend time with you, though." Faranth help her, she really was trying, for all that she seemed able to do little more than dig herself a deeper hole.

The unhappy, loud reaction of his flit to hers startled a squeak out of her, and she reached reflexively towards her blue out of concern, though he was nowhere near close enough for her to do anything.  Pocket was caught so off guard by the violence of the other flit's response that when he recoiled, he tumbled right back over the edge and onto the floor.  He sat there in stunned silence for a few seconds before he crawled to safety under the bed, creeling in despair.  No friend...

Iafri sent him soothing thoughts, but he continued to murmur sadly to himself, the sounds muffled by his chosen hiding spot. With Pocket safe, more or less, she relaxed - or sat back, anyway - and watched the green as she approached.  The movement from Nikal as he left the bed to get dresses drew her eyes for a moment, but they quickly returned to the testy firelizard.

Pocket's muttering quieted at the territorial vocalization from Phalanges - perhaps if he was silent, the angry green would forget about him, so the blue just backed himself up against the wall in his safe little haven and stared out. His tail twitched nervously as he watched what little he could see from under the bed, which waa mostly just Nikal's feet.

The anxiety humming across her bond with Pocket didn't help Iafri's nerves, to say the least. She watched Phalanges with some concern, but made no effort to keep the flit from her lap. After an outburst like that, it seemed unwise to deny her if she wanted something, and Iafri really was fond of the little creatures, even if some of them could be temperamental. Still, while she offered a small smile, she didn't presume to pet her, as she did value her fingers.

"Outside, in her wallow," she answered. "She didn't...go up after the Flight like some do." Girofleth rose maybe once a Turn, and was quite particular when she did.