The second bronze of the evening gets an appreciative murmur and a handful of openly pleased comments as he spills out of his shell, though there's a fair amount of scattered laughter as well - making an entrance via a full somersault, nose over tail, before being able to right oneself will do that. He's warmly rusty in coloration, tinged with hints of deepest almost orange, and one of the assistant weyrlingmasters makes reference to some of the very latest, last autumn-growing ornamental flowers up in Benden and Lemos turning those shades, but then that same assistant has to smother a chortle. Three startled, wary Holdbred girls standing together are sniffed around before the bronze moves on to a clump of boys, briefly considers the first, then nudges the second (a short, broad-shouldered and brown-skinned young man found among the crop tenders at Sadrid Hold) gently in the knees.