Which explained why he'd claimed a section of the the climbing bowl wall to perch on, with a tin of leather soap beside him, a handful of rags half-tucked under the opposite leg, and his riding straps piled into and across his lap as he worked them clean.
Orthoth sprawled beside him, solidly on the ground in case the big bronze dozed off in the warmth of the sun. There was nothing delicate or graceful about a beast his size crashing off a perch, no matter how much it might make his rider chuckle. Best to avoid it, then.
No reason to avoid being friendly, though, he reasoned, as he offered a smile and a friendly, "M-Morning, weyrwoman," to Jahzli as she passed by.
Uta
Tadaaaa!