It was strange, perhaps. A man coming to the mines, asking for some work to do. But it was an escape. A comfort. The burn of muscle, the dust in his lungs. It was the burn that reminded him that he was alive, while taking away the voices that were trapped in his mind for a little while. The trip back to the Weyr was always a painful one to make when he was forced to, depending on how far he had to walk. But this one wasn't too terribly far away and he'd be able to stay an evening or two, maybe longer. Maybe they'd like him enough to keep him. That would be good. Good hard work, good hard labor. Never have to worry about a single voice in his mind until they actually came, and just one or two would be easy enough to block away.
Perhaps he was also trying to escape more than just the voices, and the reminders they brought with them, the pain, the ache that always dug at those empty parts of him. There was someone from his past at the Weyr always trying to slip in, and he figured here sh would never show up, never get in the way of things. Why would one of her type bother arriving at a mine of all things, and with a dragon that couldn't care to be seen in such a place of filth? He was safe here, from everything and it all.
Of course, he should have known better.
As he was going through stones, trying to sharpen his eye against the bright light and remind himself of the brief trianing he'd received, he felt a familiar crackle in his mind; it always seemed to happen when a dragon was coming out of between, Then came the voice, so loud and piercing that he dropped what he was holding, receiving several looks in response for his efforts. He grumbled an excuse and picked it up, mumbled something about forgetting something in the mineshafts, and left his tools aside.
No. She was not going to pin him down here of all places. That was not going to happen. No one was going to take away this place of peace and comfort from him. He grabbed a pickaxe and gear and settled himself into a purposeful stride towards the nearest, deepest shaft, twisting and turning through the tunnels until the sound of the dragon's voice muted itself somewhat, though maybe that was by the force he was using in his mind to push it away from his thoughts.
Certain he was safe, he finally stopped to pull things on, realizing only then that he didn't have a wheel barrel, but that didn't matter now. He would deal with the situation after she'd left, and he'd know that when the vibration beneath his skull went away, and he knew it was safe to finally leave the underground.