01.24.09 - The Dress

Location: Redwall Great Hall

Characters Involved: Tameus, Harper, Sivaine, Marupa, Layne, Pedat, Jove, Darcy

Big doors are difficult for Tam to open anyway - add splints and snow blockage, it's near impossible. So he's been going in and out through the breezeway, and he's now doing the former - shivering a little, drenched in snow, pulling off his cloak as he wanders toward the fire with a scone in his hand and a slight limp still present.

Coming in from outside or going out from inside seem to be the two prevalent states of Sivaine right now. Except now - now is that window she allows herself for eating and unthawing, possibly only /slightly/ longer than it would be with Zade around. Right, who are we kidding. She's taking her time relaxing, although 'relaxing' in this case means sprawled over a few pillows near the fire, drafting a letter.

Siv isn't the only one training. Harper is just coming back in from his morning run. One might wonder how the Brother justifies these, with all of his other responsibilities. Well! He spends the run thinking out his lesson plans, of course! So when he comes in, feeling crisp and energized from the run, the first thing he does is head for the fire, pulling out parchment and charcoal to mark down his thought-out notes. Tameus and Sivaine get a, "'Llo, you two!" as he goes.

"Oh, Harper." Sivaine looks up, quill poised over her inkwell. It is, in fact, her midwinter gift from Tameus. "Remind me how you spell 'debiliating?"

Harper quirks a brow as he quickly scrawls out his notes.

Apparently Darcy's hat was indeed chucked off somewhere nearby the fireplace, because just before getting onto a chair Tam spies it, and picks it up. Hmm. He tugs this onto his own head, breaks the scone in half, and offers out the larger portion in a slight arm-wave motion toward his father. "So y' ne'er tol' me.." Pause, distraction. His eyes wander over to Sivaine. "What's d'bilitatin'?"

"You mean... debilitating?" Harper pauses. "D e b i l i t a t i n g." He spells it out. And takes Tam's offered scone. "What?"

"Kara was a fox who lived at the Abbey for a while," Harper answers truthfully. "But you need to learn not to eavesdrop." He takes a bite of scone and gives Tam a nodding look.

"Well I wasn' doin' 't til y' sent me downstairs," the kid points out, peering at Harper. "B'fore that they's w' jus' talkin' in front'a me. She died, didn' she?"

"So you were eavesdroppin' and disobeyin' me at the same time. You're not helpin' your case here, Tammy." Brow-quirk.

"Debili/tat/ing, yes. Mmph." Sivaine looks down at her paper, twitches her nose, and crosses out something she's written. Then looks over at Tam and his newfound piece of flotsam. "It means.. is that Darcy's? It means not being able to do anything. Debilitated. Debilitate," she defines. Pause. "And the female version of 'paramour' is 'inamorata.'" She may as well be the right gender.

"'m jus' /curious/. Why won' y' tell me?" Tam responds to Harper. Aaand, glances over at Sivaine. "'s what Darcy's?"

"You're jus' curious about whethah somebeast died?" That gets /another/ brow quirk. "I think you've had enough of death t'last the rest of your dibbunhood. I sent you downstairs because it was adult talk."

"Well 't seemed awful importan'," Tam points out. "'s not like I /knew/ 'er, righ'? So's 'm not gonn' get upset 'bout 't."

"You should be upset when anyone dies," Harper points out.

Look! It's the wood delivery mouse! The abbey goes through a lot of logs in the winter, and they don't levitate around by themselves. As Layne's back can attest to. She staggers in under the yoke of several split logs and begins wobbling like a drunken parakeet towards the fireplace.

"E'en bad'ns?" Tam asks.

A brief shadow crosses Harper's face, but he nods. "Even them," Harper agrees.

Sivaine looks from big buck to little buck, then adds another line to her letter. Harper is parenting; time to fade into the background. Or better yet, help with heavy lifting. "Layne?" the mousemaid asks. She sets her quill down and gets to her feet, crossing over to relieve some of the load. "That you under there?"

Marupa hmmphs as he steps down the stairs again, stretching his back. The big cat yawns, and makes his way toward one of the larger chairs further from the fire, and for the moment, listens to the conversation.

Ulp! Harper's up as soon as he spies Layne, but Sivaine beats him to the punch. So he sits back down.

"That doesn' make n' sense though," Tam mutters, shaking his head. "Why w'd I get upset 'bout /evil/ beasts dyin'? 'r ones that tried t' 'urt m' fam'ly, 'r summat?"

"It was," confirms Layne. "I think I'm about half-a-head shorter now than when I started..." Flecks of bark and at least one very confused sleeping tree-beetle drift to the floor as Layne moves past. When, or if, Siv takes some of the logs, the change in weight is enough to make the ebon mousemaid stagger all the more.

"Where d'you think those vermin came from? They have family who love 'em, just like you 'n' me." Harper shrugs lightly.

One eyebrow peaks under Layne's bangs as she overhears that part of the conversation. She thought the whole point was that vermin didn't have anyone who loved them. Isn't that how they turned out to be vermin?

Tameus blinks, and shakes his head. "'m not gonn' be upset 'bout some'n dyin' who .. who wanted t' kill /me/ 'r summat. 'r if some'n wanted t' kill /y'/. 'm s'posed t' feel bad f' them?" He has his eyes narrowed skeptically at Harper.

Sivaine bundles a little more than half the logs into her arms and hefts them with a soft grunt, the cut edges pressing against the inside of her forearms. "Oh- careful." Her ears swivel to the sound of conversation as she approaches the hearth, not quite yet having noticed the wildcat lurking in the stairwell.

Layne bobs up and down like a marionette as most of the weight of the logs vanishes. Siv works out, Layne rarely lifts anything heavier than iron pots. Which are hardly lightweight, but, still. "I got-- got it, oof..." There's a hollow and clunking sort of sound, branches in a far-off wood, as she drops the bundle by the wood bin. The smell of mixed sap, pine and sweet resins, is sharp and aromatic.

Marupa reaches up to his forehead and rubs it with both paws as he sits, heaving a big sigh, and looking up when he hears that crash of wood into the bin. He sets his chin into a paw, wishing. Wishing something that he wished he didn't need to wish for.

Sivaine avoids the Igor-walk and lowers herself to one knee by the bin, shoulders squared under the weigh of wood until she lets the stuff tumble in an orderly way to the flagstones and straightens, rotating her shoulders for a moment. "Good to see you around. Ardice said you'd been holed up in the gatehouse," she comments to her friend, and begins to stack logs once by one into the wood box. Marupa is eyed, and given a nod of greeting.

Layne is too busy fumbling logs from the floor to the bin to greet anyone, though she confirms Siv's inquiry with a murmured, "didn't seem to be much point an'more. Everybody's gett'ng better." After a few minutes of stooping and clattering, she wipes her paws down the front of her vest and straightens up with much exaggeration of motion, making back-stretching gestures.

Marupa offers a nod back to Sivaine, watching, listening. If he's going to stay here for any extended period, he should probably learn what /to/ do, and what /not/ to do.

Layne would offer this advice, were Marupa to ask: Rule Number One-- drink tea and eat sugary things. Rule Number Two-- funny accents are all the rage.

"Well, let's put it this way..." Harper says with a sigh. "I would worry about /anyone/ who felt nothing." He ruffles Tam's headfur.

"Mm," Sivaine agrees, over the uneven tattoo of logs and a glance to the library. "The goldenwort's working, especially for the fevers, thank goodness." She brings her knuckles up to her muzzle, peering closely at her ring, then works it off her finger to look at it through the light with a critical little frown. Hrm.

Tameus continues with the skeptical look. ".. but they's evil, da'. 'm not gonn' be sad 'bout evil beasts dyin' ... they's jus' gettin' what they d'serve."

"There's no such thing as evil beasts, Tam," Sivaine says over her shoulder. "Just evil deeds."

"Well. When 'ey do evil /deeds/ then," Tam amends, "'m not gonn' feel bad 'bout them dyin'."

This is definitely a conversation Layne doesn't want to get mixed up in. She dusts her paws on one another with many smacking noises and notices-- or perhaps attends is a better choice-- to the wildcat for the first time. Gna. They don't make those in a portable size, do they? o.o She nods, but it's a cautious thing.

Harper sighs. His eyes shift to Sivaine, rest there for a few seconds, and then shift away. "Then that's one we're different, Tammy." He rubs a paw over his face. "I should check in at the infirmary. I'll be back."

"Harper?" Sivaine makes a questioning noise as she slips her ring back on.

Tameus blinks a little, and leans, reaching to grasp at Harper's arm. "Y'r mad 't me."

Harper shakes his head at Tammy. "No, Tammy. I'm mad at me." He pats Tam's paw. "I'll be back down in a few." And he makes for the stairs. And for added insurance. "Stay. I'll be back." He starts up.

Marupa offers a simple nod back to Layne, leaning a bit further over, lifting one leg to cross it at the knee, watching. He's like many cats in that respect. Gather information before acting upon it.

If he's in the abbey and behaving himself, then it shouldn't be anything to worry Layne. It shouldn't, but, worry is like second nature to her, so, she takes a seat rather farther away from Marupa than is strictly necessary, closer to Tam and Siv. She forms around the armrest like iron filings on a magnet, elbows curled and cheek to the upholstery, looking very snug and determined to be comfortable.

Tameus's ears wilt back and he chuffs at Harper, confused, worried. "Da'. .. d'ddy." He gets down off the chair.

Tameus asks, "D'ddy what's wron'?"

Harper pauses on the foot of the stairs. He glances back, flashes Tam a smile. Shakes his head. "Nothin', kiddo. I just have t'check in upstairs, see if they need anything. They prolly won't, though. Everyone's gettin' better." And with that he heads on up!

Sivaine's brow furrows and she bites her lip, traces of concern and hesitation showing in her expression as she absently dusts wood flakes off her sleeves. "Tam. Why don't you help me write my letter until he gets back?" she suggests, a sort of low background murmur.

Tameus gets to the bottom of the steps and falters there, looking up at Harper as he goes. "But..." Trail off.

Marupa looks over at the other three. That's what he's gotten since he got here. Space. Beasts seem to be afraid of him, and except for one beast, he doesn't know why. Why should he be held responsible for something one of his kind did? He sits up, clearing his throat as he repositions himself in his chair.

"Come on," Sivaine encourages with a little gesture, taking up her position on the pillows again. "He'll be back down in a moment."

Tameus glances at Sivaine. He just sits down on the bottom step, looking up toward the second floor.

Layne stays quietly in the chair, curled like a black bolster, with her tail trailing over the armrest. It twitches once as the wildcat clears his throat, but, that's a purely involuntary thing.

Sivaine huffs softly, frowning in a vaguely unhappy way. "So. I didn't learn your name yesterday, did I?" she asks Marupa, dippin her quill back into the inkwell and pressing it against the inside rim to bleed off some excess.

Tameus just waits on the stairs.

Layne listens to the scratch and trickle of Sivaine's quill, and winces mentally. Yes. Work. There are skeps to be woven, and many a pot to be scrubbed. But... chair! Fireplace! Comfy! All compelling arguments, those.

Marupa shakes his head. "No, ma'am." He offers, "My name is Marupa. I'm just here to rest up to continue my journey northward soon. That is, unless someone needs me to stay."

"Do you clean? Y'r hired," muffles Layne, speaking more to the armrest than to the feline.

"No 'ma'am,' please." Sivaine smiles crookedly at the wildcat. "I feel old enough as is. I'm Sivaine - and the doe you met yesterday was Darcy. ..and that's Layne. She speaks to the bees." The mousemaid looks over to the stairs, lets her quill slip back into the inkwell, and stands. A little 'excuse me' nod. She pads over to the leveret.

Marupa nods to Sivaine, and quirks an ear to Layne. "Uhh...Well, I guess if you need me to." He offers, leaning back up in his chair.

Tameus doesn't notice Sivaine's approach. His gaze is turned steadily upward, ears a little perked.

Layne is the Laynax. She speaks to the bees. Who sometimes will listen whenever they please. (Apologies to Mr. Geisel.) She sits up, now, blinking away a lingering drowsiness. "I was kidd'ng. Uh, not that anyone would mind the help."

Sivaine seats herself next to the leveret with a rustle of cloth, resting her paws on her knees. Her arm comes around in a brief, tentative shoulder-hug. Squeeze?

Tameus glances up at Sivaine. He blinks at her momentarily and smiles a little. ".. what'd I do?"

Marupa shrugs. "I may as well help. I'm here and I'm taking space. I hate to take without giving in return."

Taking up a lot of space, Layne thinks, but that's probably not a polite thing to say. She looks taken aback for a moment-- it's not often someone takes her up on her offer to clean-- but then she recovers and starts ticking things off on one paw. "Well, uh, you could wash pots, or sweep... mop the entryway, it gets all muddy from the slush... the library always needs dust'ng... or maybe Dulce would like someone to carry laundry..." Oh, dear, she's out of fingers.

Marupa nods to each. "If you wish for me to, I will." He doesn't yet know who's in charge around here, so if someone tells him what to do, he'd likely do it. His ears swivel, "If you wish me to, certainly." He straightens his tunic, "I'd rather not squander my allowed time here."

Harper, AKA Sneaky McSneaky Pants, doesn't come back down the stairs. He comes in... from outside! Ahaha. He seems as if the funk never happened! He surveys the room, spies Tam and Sivaine by the stairwell, and starts that way. Though not without pausing on his way to add to Layne's list. "... Or clearing the snow from the walkways, or chopping 'n' carrying wood. Repairin' furniture, sewing clothes..." He grins.

"I think you just got him thinking about some things, Tam," Sivaine replies, looking up the stairwell. Her arm stays around his shoulders, and gives another little snug. "It's-" Hrm. "Grown up things."

Sivaine quirks a little smile. "See? And now he's back."

Not so easy for Tam to act like it didn't happen. His ears perk at Harper's voice and he twists around, watching his father come over, then venturing a cautious little smile. "'m s'rry da'..."

Layne was actually just listing the things they normally ask -her- to do. What, you thought she was being altruistic when she could get someone else to help with her chores? The snow shoveling and wood-chopping and... furniture repair? She doesn't normally have to do any of that. And sewing, um. Yeah, you don't want Layne sewing. She couldn't keep a seam straight with an iron bar.

Marupa hmms. "Which shall I begin on?" He seems totally unconvinced they may be joking. He stands, and imposing as he may be, he pads over to Layne, and leans on the wall. "I may as well do all it. I have caused enough grief just by being here. Maybe having others see me helping out will help them see I'm not here to hurt anyone."

Harper ruffles Tam's headfur and shakes his head. He shifts his focus between Tam and Sivaine, then. "So... I haven't heard any more about a second play. I kinda think somethin's in order now the illness has been beat, don't you?"

Tameus feels bad! He's hard to distract. "Oh," he mumbles, and shrugs.

Layne's head tilts back, and then back some more. She's already used to looking up to Lucas, but this is a whole new class of tall. Bell-tower tall. "Uh, well, the kitch'n stuff, you'd have to talk to, umf... Sister Beverly." The name is spoken with the shadowed reverence of invoking an unholy spirit. She actually pauses to wait for the lightening crash outside, which thankfully does not occur. "So, maybe, starting with something less stressful. Dusting the library?"

Sivaine gives Harper a sort of 'you deal with this, I don't know how' look, but seeing how much effect the dismissal-distract strategy had, looks down at the leveret. "Hey," she says softly. "Another funny play, or a happy one? If we write fast we might get it done for the.. when is that returning celebration? Two days from now? And Darklett could see it this time."

Marupa nods, "I suppose I could handle that."

"You won't even need a ladder," smirks Layne. "Right, uh. I'll just get a few dustrags and some beeswax for shelf-polish. Won't be more than a minute or ten." She scrambles out of the chair, going over the armrest in a maneuver calculated to trip her up and which succeeds admirably. For a moment she's all elbows and flailing limbs, and then she's headed for the kitchen to nab cleaning supplies.

Harper's eyes shift to Sivaine, and there's a shadow of that unease there, but it's covered with a smile. "It can't be funny and happy?"

Tameus moves his hands up to rub at his muzzle with the heels of them, making a snuffling noise. "I d'nno."

Tammy is suddenly lifted and swung up into the air. And deposited on Harper's shoulders! "So. Will be seein' a reprise of your famous role, Colonel?"

Sivaine raises a slightly worried, questioning brow at Harper. "They're usually both. But there's 'funny witticisms' and 'funny getting hit with a fish.'" At the snuffle, her attention is back on Tam.. who flies up through the air! She follows this trajectory, and blinks.

Tameus grunts. He leans over once he's on Harper's shoulders, and hugs the buck around the top of his head. "I d'nno," he says again.

Marupa nods to Layne, rubbing his backagainst the wall to relieve an itch.

"Hmmmm. Well mayhaps /I'll/ just have t'play the Colonel this time, then,.." Harper coaxingly teases. Grin.

Tameus's muzzle twitches. It's ducked down against Harper's hair. "Guess so."

Sivaine's ears twitch; she looks at the two speculatively. "So. Something funny and happy. Comedic romance usually fits that bill. How Wameus met Delilah the delightful doe?"

"Except," Harper adds with a stifled chuckle, "Colonel Wameus has seen the error of ways and decides t'join the Order 'n' spend the rest of his life studyin' how best t'sweep floors." That's righ. Siv, ahem. Oh. Right. "We could do that, too."

Harper says, "Of course."

Tameus blinks a little, head lifting. "Wameus makes a lot'a err'rs," he points out.

For whatever reason, Sivaine winces ever so slightly, nigh on imperceptible, and scoots to the side on the step.

Speaking of sweeping floors, here comes Layne, rather less burdened than the last time she entered the room. This time, all she carries is a couple of thick old rags, gray and speckled white from countless seasons as dustrags. There's also a small flat-looking crucible of softened beeswax, for rubbing into the wooden shelves. These, and an encouraging smirk, are offered up to the wildcat. "Know where the library is?"

Marupa shakes his head as he takes the tools, laying the rags over his shoulder, "No, ma'am." He rolls his shoulders, and moves closer to Layne.

Harper seems determined to return "Wammy" to a good mood. "So how /did/ Wameus meet Delilah?"

Tameus sets his muzzle down on Harper's head again. "I d'nno. They's not e'en /real/."

Harper says, "That's not true. They're real t'everyone who saw yer play."

"Uh, it's Layne," she gently corrects, no more comfortable with 'ma'am' than Sivaine is. She takes a step back as he moves closer, but that doesn't seem to be out of fear-- she's short and she doesn't want to be staring into his navel. With a grand and imperious gesture and much flourish-- one might think she was unveiling a prize-- she wriggles her arms towards the library door.

Tameus mutters, "Don' be stupid, da', they's not real."

Harper quirks a brow, cocking his head to peer up at Tameus. "Real t'me."

Peering at Tam will be difficult because his head is directly on top of Harper's. "Then y' do 'nother play."

Scoot. Scoot scoot scoot. Stand! Sivaine rises in a fall of blue folds, looking askance at the father-son play.

Marupa nods, "Any particular order in which you wish me to follow?"

"Mayhaps I will," Harper agrees. He can see /parts/ of Tam, anyway.

Like his hands. Because they're on Harper's forehead, thin arms wrapped around. Headband leveret. "Then do 't," he mumbles.

Sivaine is hovering. Her feet are firmly on the floor, but she has that hesitant boundary-skimming air about her, brow faintly creased.

Blink. "Um. Lift the books before you try and dust under them? And... don't wax the books?" The question seems to have Layne puzzled. It's... dusting. >.> The wildcat seems sincere but not entirely there...

Harper nods. "Okay. I will." And Sivaine is given a glance of - permission? To leave or stay, that's up to her. "I want tea. Does anyone else want some tea?" He raises his voice to the last, asking the room at large.

Tameus makes a little grumpy noise and moves his head, nipping at one of Harper's ears. "Why'd y' get mad?" he now asks, quietly.

Marupa laughs, shaking his head. "Top shelf to bottom shelf, fromm what end of the shelf? What was done last, I mean."

Marupa laughs, shaking his head. "Top shelf to bottom shelf, fromm what end of the shelf? What was done last, I mean."

Layne ohs. "I have no idea. If you can write your name in it, consider it dusty." She nods amiably. Let's face it, it's hard to -over- dust something. Unless you polish it to a frictionless surface. She'll listen for the sounds of books -sliding- off the shelves.

Marupa nods, "I see. Well, I suppose I better start, then." He moves toward the library. He'll likely get distracted and start reading, however.

"I didn't get mad. And I got sad because I think too much." He chuckles, as lightly as he can. "Tea?" He goes to lift Tam free of his shoulders and set him on his feet in front of him.

She nods, just slightly. "I'll get tea," Sivaine offers. It's the one thing in the kitchen she can do with any high level of skill. "Layne. Marupa. A drink before you go?"

"Y' said y' were mad at y'self," Tam points out.

Layne wasn't planning on going anywhere. >.> She's management, today! She has someone to deputize! Do you realize how rare that is? Let her have this one... O.O (Please?)

"Sometimes they're close t'the same thing," Harper says with a shrug. And then scoots Tam towards the fireplace with a pat to the back. "Thanks, Siv. It was a cold run this mornin'."

Tameus just looks /more/ confused and. This does nothing for his mood. He grumps at Harper and doesn't take well to being scooted, and shuffles back over to hold onto the front of his dad's habit.

Well, Harper's walking towards the fireplace too, so Tam better start scootin'!

Marupa shrugs. "If you wish. I'm all right if it's too much trouble."

"I wouldn't mind some tea, Siv. Hot enough to scald, 'kay?" Layne is moving back towards the comfy comfy chair.

"N, no trouble. Siege-quality," Sivaine promises with a wry little smirk, and heads into the kitchen.

Tameus nearly gets trod on but he doesn't let go. Or, tries not to, but it's hard to hold onto Harper with splinted fingers. He loses his grip and stands, looking perplexed, as Harper goes toward the fire. "... d' y' really wann' be in th' play da'?"

Harper glances back, slowing his pace but not stopping. He grins a fraction. "... Well I have t'admit the thought o' bein' up on a stage in front of a bunch of folks kinda scares me. But I'd do it if you wanted me to, Tammy."

Tameus follows belatedly. He tugs off Darcy's hat to rub at one of his ears, then tugs it back on - and catches Harper by the scut. Haha. "I do. 's not scary, either. I migh' make y' play Wameus this time."

Sivaine room-pages, "It's a good way to be horribly embarassed for an hour or two without committing any personal gaffes.".

Harper takes a seat, patting the cushion beside him. "But Wameus is your role, Tammy. You were great."

"Well if 's gonn' be r'mance," Tam reasons, getting up onto Harper's lap instead of the chair, "I don' wann' be th' one kissin' an' stuff. Y'r an 'dult. Y' sh'd be Wameus."

Harper's expression suggests he doesn't really want to be the one kissing "and stuff" either, but he doesn't say so. "I think there's got t'be a rule against a Brother kissin' a Novice."

Tameus shrugs. "I didn' say Bradge w'd b' playin' D'lilah either. Don' 'ssume things." He taps Harper on on hand, playfully scolding.

At this point Sivaine emerges from the kitchen, bearing a neatly laid out tray of tea, cups, saucers, and she's even managed to find some of those arrowroot cookies. She jumps back into the conversation with a casual "Tell that to Brother Sedge and Novice Aster," as she sets the tray down. "Who's kissing who?"

Harper's muzzle twitches. He glances at Siv, smirking briefly. Abbey gossip, tsk-tsk. He waggles a finger at her. "I don't know. Hopefully no one!"

Tameus leeeans over to snag two cookies. One is offered to Harper, isn't he nice. "I haven' figured 't ou' yet. I think da's gonn' be Wameus this time. 'r maybe 'll make /'im/ D'lilah."

Not as if those two aren't practically public knowledge, the way they go about giggling and holding hands. Not to mention the suspicious flour prints on their habits. So Sivaine just snorts lightly. "He can't be both. You'll need a doe or a buck. Hm." She glances at Layne as she pours begins pouring tea into cups with a practiced hand. Those two, on stage? No. "There's Jove. Or Darcy."

Because Jove and Darcy are the only does around here. Tam considers this, and nods. "One'a them f' D'lilah? 'r Wameus? I don' think we 'ave a dress that c'n fit y'," he says to Harper, "so I guess y' /haft'/ be Wameus."

Quietly, as usual, Pedat the squirrel slips in and makes his way to his favorite chair, his dark red and black fur making him almost invisable in the shadows.

Harper looks suddenly very, very alarmed. Jove will eat him and Darcy will... eat him. Harper grimaces. "Maybe, um. Maybe I could play a vermin instead." Heeeeeh.

"No, y' gotta be th' 'ero," Tam says matter-of-factly. He cocks his head at Harper and Sivaine. "Jove 'r Darc'?"

"I'm pretty sure Bradge will be sad if he doesn't get t'be Delilah again!" Because even that is preferable. "It'll be, um. Funnier! Anyway. With Bradge.

Layne is fortunately oblivious to her narrow escape at being cast in this off-off-off-off-(etc.)-Broadway production.

Tameus lifts his brows. "Siva? What'a y' think?"

"..well." Sivaine considers both of these choices with a little far-off squint while she slips an arrowroot biscuit into the saucer before passing the steaming cup of tea to Harper. "I thought you didn't want to kiss a Novice, Harper."

Tameus says, "Bradge 's t' young f' y' an'way."

Sivaine stifles a snicker. Badly.

Tameus amends, "Y'r t' ol', I mean."

Harper takes the tea cup, staring at them both like they are some rare form of bug that begs to be squished. SQUISH! SQUISH ALREADY, dang it! "Then Lucas!"

"He's taller than you," Sivaine points out.

Sivaine says, "This isn't a /farce./"

"I'm the only one who gets to kiss Lucas," supplies Layne. "Paws off."

"He can /kneel/," Harper objects, but. Layne. LAYNE! "What about HER!" He jabs a finger towards the offending mousemaid. XD

Tameus smirks. "'nless y' wann' play D'lilah an' .. we c'n get /Zade/ t' play Wameus."

Sivaine makes a little gesture towards Layne. There, you see? She pours another two cups, slips biscuits, and pads over to Layne. "Lucas is the only one who gets to kiss /her,/" she replies mildl- PFFT. A bit of tea sloshes over the saucer.

Layne withers under the finger of death, trying to slip out the back of the chair cushion. "Uhhhh..."

"And again, Lucas is bigger than you," Sivaine adds, with a little half-smirk.

Layne exclaims, "And he has garden shears!"

Pedat is never able to figure what the heck is going on with these Abbey dwellers so he just leans back in his seat and closes his eyes until they are just slits, allowing himself to be amused by their antics.

"'r Zade c'n play D'lilah, an' /'e/ c'n kneel." Tam rubs his muzzle thoughtfully, then his ears perk up. "Darklett! 'e c'n be D'lilah! ... 'e's shorter'n y'!"

"Oh, but we c'n just have anyone that bally well wants to kiss Harper, all of a sudden, huh?" Harper sounds well on his way to exasperated. "Fine. Zade. Zade. /NOT/," Harper objects, "Darklett."

"Not a farce, Tam. They have to take it /semi/ seriously. We need a hare who's a girl this time," Sivaine considers. "I don't think Jove would fit that dress."

Tameus snorts out a little laugh, shaking his head. "We can' use Zade. 'e'd scare th' kids." And half the adults. He looks at Siv, and nods. "I thiiiiink. Th' dress has t' d'cide."

Layne's eyebrows form a terrible scowl. "Zade? You'd will'ngly... uh... hey, knock y'rself out, there."

Tameus says, "Make Jove an' Darc' try 't on, an' whoe'er looks better in 't."

Stifling a chuckle and unable to hold it back any longer, Pedat speaks out: "What are you doing? Some sort of skit?"

"Where's a glass slipper when you need one," mumbles Layne, punctuated by a sip of tea.

Not Darcy not Darcy not Darcy. If the force of the chant in his head has anything to say about it, they'll hear it and honor it. "It doesn't have t'be a romance, y'know!"

Harper's eyes shift to Pedat. He looks harried. "Torture, actually."

"Yes 't does. Siva. C'n y' go fin' Darc'?" Tam aims at Sivaine. "'ll fin' Jove an' th' dress."

Harper is mouthing very quickly at Sivaine, over Tam's head. 'I will /NOT/ kiss /Darcy/!'

"Entertainment," Sivaine supplies. She glances at Harper. "All right, that's not entirely fair." And she quirks a brow at him. '/Stage/ /kiss./'

Pedat apparently can read lips and he helps out Harper: "Yeah, Siv, that goes against the rules of....Anything, including war."

Tameus beams at Harper! And gets up out of the chair. "Y' stay 'ere! We'll b' righ' back!" He heads for the stairs.

Sivaine raises a brow at Pedat. "War doesn't have rules." And she looks down at Harper as Tameus trots off. "You really want to say no to that face? Remember, /I/ was Nerdez."

He sits back again and sighs, "Now if we needed someone interrogated..."

"/Still/ a kiss," he speaks aloud once Tam's out of earshot. He looks adamant. "I'll play in his play, but I'm not kissin' someone I have t'work with every day."

Harper glances at Pedat. "Would /you/ kiss Darcy? No."

Pedat sings not so quietly under his breath: "Darcy and Harper, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g..."

Sivaine is very good at interrogations. And exterrogations, though she only does those on weekends and by appointment. "Well. You could kiss Jove," she suggests. "Anyway, you're talking like she's a gorgon or something."

• kaff* Layne seems to have had a crumb go down the wrong pipe. Probably from trying not to snicker while she nibbles at a cookie.

Harper gives Sivaine a look. "She's /Darcy/." As if that explains everything. "She delights in shoving frozen water in my face."

Getting up and walking over, snatching a cookie Pedat frowns: "Her idea of stopping bleeded is pouring oil in the wound and flicking a match in after it, trust me I know."

Layne clears her throat and says, voice still husky from coughing, "So you say you'd rather kiss her after Spring thaw?"

"When she's able to reach it, which prompts questions." Sivaine just.. gets a particular kind of smile. "Sure you don't want to learn about those mysteries of women?" She glances at the stairs, then the kitchen. Where would Miss Emerson beee. Hmm.

Harper gestures emphatically at Pedat. /He/ understands! But then, as both Layne and Sivaine jump in, he throws up his arms in exasperation. "You're all crazy."

Layne eyerolls. Oh, like /that's/ news. She even has that printed on her hallucinatory business cards.

Pedat raises an eyebrow at Harper, hiding a smile: "Would you rather kiss our dear Sivaine, Brother Harper?"

And back down the stairs comes Tam! With Jove following, and a red dress bunched up in his arms. He hears Pedat and scowls. "They's a'ready tried 't. She likes N'than better."

".........." Harper just got three shades redder all of a sudden. "No."

Layne stays /out/ of that neighborhood of awkward. Look, see her nicely sipping tea like a good mouse?

Harper takes Layne's cue. Buries muzzle in his tea!

Tameus wanders back toward the group, scrunching up his nose at them. Siv in particular. "Y' were s'posed t' be findin' Darc'."

"She was in the infirmary," Harper mutters.

Tameus makes a shooing motion at Siv.

Sivaine glances at Pedat. "She did nothing of the sort. This whole plague has all the healers overwor- uh. No. I'm not available. And I am not your dear anything, thank you. Where's Darcy." She turns and leaves, passing Tam and Jove on the stairs.

Pedat glances after her and grins cheerfully at Harper: "Well mate, that got rid of that one."

Harper sighs. Buries head in paws. "Oh, she'll be back."

Only to be replaced by a rather short, stubby-eared doe in Long Patrol uniform. "So wha's this about, Brothah?" she asks, waggling her ears. It is a fun-loving grin she wears.

Another double X remains, and Layne's not about to budge while there's still a show in progress.

Tameus shoots a quick grin at Jove, then snickers. "We's gotta wait f' Siv an' Darc'. Then 'll tell y' all 'ow this 's gonn' go."

"Ahah, riiiiigh'." Jove nods, all too knowingly. Beams. Bounces slightly on her toes.

Tameus shakes out the dress he holds. It's slinky and red and was not made for a.. large woman.

For fear of being asked to act in whatever this was, Pedat slowly backs up, stealing another cookie.

Layne watches as the hare quotient rises again. Hmm. She gulps down a bit of tea, pleasingly vulcanizing her throat. One eyebrow shifts at the sight of the handkerchief, I mean, dress.

Jove would call herself 'petite,' thank you. She peers at it curiously. Gives the fabric an experimental poke. "Who's this li'l numbah for, then? Heh."

"P'dat! Stay. We need y'," Tam says to the squirrel.

Sivaine isn't too long. "Yes, yes, you'll see," her voice comes from stairwell. She's got Darcy by the paw, leading her along.

Tameus then grins at Jove. "Y'll see." Oh! They're here! His grin just about splits his face in half.

Pedat makes a quick bolt for the door but...-

Darcy is led down the steps, eyeing the group as they come into view. "Uhh. ... what."

Harper is attempting to drown himself in his tea, don't mind him.

"You know your idea for the next play? A romance?" Sivaine is. Almost grinning. Trying to look completely serious. Oh, this is /payback./ What for, she's not too clear on. Perhaps it's payback in advance. "Well. How would you like to be /part/ of it."

Darcy blanches. "... I am very very concerned all of a sudden." Her ears are pinned back.

Glug-glug-glug. That's Harper. Drowning himself in a teacup.

"Okay!" Tam says, getting up on a chair with the dress. "What we's gonn' do 's, send 'um one 't a time int' cavern 'ole t' try on th' dress. An' th' rest'a us d'cide who looks best in 't!"

"'Ey," Jove grins amiably at Darcy. She's just having fun with all this.

Darcy quirks up a brow at Jove. Heyyy. "Tam is that my-- ... what."

Sivaine mutters something in Darcy's ear.

Darcy blinks mildly at Sivaine. And .. nods. "Well okay then. Me first?" She eyes the dress.

Sivaine eyes Jove. Eyes the dress. "You first," she agrees, giving the doe a little nudge.

Tameus is already holding the dress out to Jove though. He pauses, shrugs, and shoves it at the Long Patroller. "Jove firs'," he decides.

"Hmm." Jove is assaulted by fashion. She shakes the thing out, peers at it, slings it over her shoulder jacket style and trots off for Cavern Hole.

Pedat is convinced this could be funny, so he stays. And eats his third cookie.

noise of protest comes shortly after from the stairs. "Bloodeh r'diculous gahment! Oops."

Darcy watches Jove go, and tilts her muzzle at Tameus. "My .. hat. Give me my hat back?" Her hand is held out, and she gives the leveret a vague smile.

Layne leans across to Harper. "Y'know, you could always knock some logs out of the fireplace for a distraction? The smoke would cover y'r escape..."

"Better to meet fate head-on?" Sivaine suggests, watching Jove bobble off with a look of.. something.

Tameus tugs the hat off, and hands it over to Darcy with a smirk. He then goes to deposit himself in Harper's lap, when he hears Layne's suggestion. "No, 'e hast' stay."

So let it be written, so let it be done. Layne subsides into the chair, lest she fall under the wrathful gaze of Emperor Tam the Naughty.

Darcy dusts the hat on and pulls it on. Harper gets a smirking, inquisitive glance, then her attention flicks to the others. "... you know. Maybe next time auditions should be based on something other than who looks better in a dress, right?"

And back Jove comes! Red.. is not really her color. Well. Not /that/ much red; it's like being hit by a fire truck. "Bit 'f ah squeeze," she huffs, most of the skirts bunched up in one fist. For the sake of the seams, it's turned into an off-the-shoulder number. The doe blinks her big pretty eyes at the group to the tune of straining stitches - that dress was made for a dainty sprintime lass, not a Patroller with serious muscle mass in her arms. The doe gives them her winningest smile, a snicker threatening to break through.

Tameus looks up eagerly when Jove comes back out. And! He bursts into laughter.

Sivaine suddenly becomes very interested in pouring herself a cup of tea.

Hare. Little red dress. Layne spraying tea like a fire hydrant. Need we say more?

"Needs ah couple flowahs b'hind th'ear, aye?" Jove suggests, eyes dancing with mirth.

The squirrel is coughing his lungs out to cover up laughter.

"Oh, a-aye, per, perfect," stammers Layne, wiping at the tea she's dribbling.

Tameus sprawls backward across Harper's lap, cackling. "Aheheh! Heh, heh! /Jove/! /Jove/ y' look .. like ... an o'erstuffed apple pie!"

Tam's comment doesn't help Layne's composure. *pfffffft* X/

Darcy swallows, snorts, and brings down her hat, pushing it against her muzzle, which at least somewhat muffles her own laughter.

"Oh, aye? Could do wi' some pie," Jove considers, glancing toward the kitchen. She eyes Tameus sternly then. "Now tha' kind 'f comment won't get y'anehwhere, young sah. Insubohdination, wot."

Tameus stares at Jove for a second. And then the hilarity resumes. His laughter is more or less the dominant force in the room right now.

Harper is staring, rather grimly, at the fire. Nope! Not looking. Not laughing. Not /anything/! Booooooo. Just call him the Grinch.

Tameus reaches up to tap Harper's muzzle, trying to make him look. "Y' need t' look 't 'um both."

Layne's got her own braying under control, though her paw trembles as she tries to take some more tea.

"Hmph!" Jove turns her nose up with a dainty sniff.

Sivaine just. Buries her muzzle in her teacup. He eyes sliiiide over to Harper. C'mon, reaction.

Pedat glances at Harper, a cruel gleam in his eyes: "What, Harper?! You're not going to look at all the pretty maids?"

"P'haps 'e prefahs othah things, aye?" Oh, Jove. You're terrible.

Harper flicks a glance at Jove. Like he needed to look. Eeeeveryone knew it wouldn't fit /her/. He grimaces at the Long Patroller.

Jove simpers. In fact, she nearly pouts.

Coughs slightly, cursing his trained-in good manners as he says to the long patroller: "You look lovely, miss."

Darcy snorts! She shakes her head and makes a shooing motion at the other doe. "Please. Please just ... back in uniform. Please."

Harper lifts Tam off his lap and sets him down on the cushion beside him. Stands up. Fully intending to walk out. "Work. Have t'. Go." Mutter mutter mutter.

/Jove/ simpers. In fact, she nearly pouts. Then she straightens up. "Well. Guess thah ansahs- /thank you./" And the doe does an elaborate little curtsy to Pedat that would threaten to elbow the groin of any unwise male in close proximity, and trots back to Cavern Hole with a cackle of laughter.

Tameus grabs ahold of Harper. "'ey! No! Y' haft' see 'ow Darc' looks in 't too!"

"So you've.. decided on Jove, then?" Sivaine asks, raising a brow.

Darcy just lifts her brows. So, so amused.

Tameus hangs onto Harper's arm, pouting at him. "Daaa'. Stay."

"Obviously what I decide has nothing t'do with this," Harper responds. And to Tam, "I'm sure she'll look jus' lovely. /I/ don't have t'see it."

Tameus scowls. "If y' got 'm gonn' be mad 't y'. F' ruinin' th' fun."

Harper won't even loooook at Darcy. Nope.

Pedat smiles, "Oh, right, you hear that ladies? We need a female badger 'ere, Harper already said she'll look lovely."

Back Jove comes, buttoning up her jacket! That was quick. She slings the dress over to Darcy with a grin. "Yah turn."

Sivaine just.. raises a brow at Harper. Very, very slowly. Siiiip.

Darcy casually inserts, "Come on, Harp, be a man." She snatches the dress out of the air, and heads into the other room.

Grumble grumble grumble. Pretty sure there's a not nice word in there somewhere. He sits.

Tameus perches himself on Harper's lap, and taps his face. "Why're y' so cranky?"

"I'm not." Riiiiiight. Harper covers his eyes with his paws. Preeeeess. Maybe they won't make him if he's blind! XD

"Yes y' 're, don' lie," Tam scolds his dad, and takes Harper's hands to pull them away.

"Harper. It's a /dress,/ not the blood of the fallen," Sivaine points out.

Layne says, "Not yet, anyway."

"Then you kiss her," Harper grooooans. That's for Siv. And Layne! One paw is priiiiied slowly away.

"S' jus' /Darc'/," Tam says with a snicker. "She's not s' scary. Will y' stop actin' like y'r /my/ age."

"Nathan would have some questions about that," Sivaine observes, eyes half-lidded. "One of them being why I wasn't in the dress."

Pedat pipes up: "He doesn't want...." He trails off, apparently thinking better of not finishing the comment, either that or was again his good manners kicked in. They never let him have any fun.

Darcy has considerably less difficulty with the dress, so it doesn't take her long. It's maybe a little longer on the petite doe than it's meant to be, but it fits her. Well, actually, slightly trailing at the back as she comes up the stairs. She lifts the skirt a little as she enters the hall, copper bangs ruffled into her face, ears back. The red. It actually rather compliments the tawny tone of her pelt. The doe says nothing, eyes half-shut, waiting for reactions.

Oh Tam, if only you knew! "You'll understand when you're older, Tammy. Trust me on this." Pedat just gets a look of misery.

Darcy asks dryly, "Understand what."

Well, she carries herself better than Jove, at least, and Layne's not doing much more than smirking as she watches and sips. Actually, her cup is completely empty, but it's better if she's got a way to pretend to cover her mouth.

"Women. He's lying, by the way." Sivaine glances at Darcy and pours herself some more tea.

Tameus's ears stick up as he looks at Darcy. His muzzle tugs into more of satisfied smile. "Twirl," he directs the doe.

Darcy's brows lift. "Twirl?"

The squirrel actually raises an eyebrow in suprise at seeing the doe in the dress but, learning from Layne, dives across the table for a cup of tea and quickly holds it to cover most of his face.

Ok, /that/ gets a shallow snort from Layne. Where's the catwalk?

Darcy mutters, "Jove didn't have to twirl."

Harper glances rather grudgingly at Darcy, and the fact she /doesn't/ look bad just makes him grimace all the more. What a buck.

"Jove was smiling," Sivaine points out calmly.

"Jove could barely walk as it was," murmurs Layne.

Darcy glares at Sivaine. And ... smiles.

Tameus peers at Harper's expression. "So what d' y' think?"

"..that's not a smile. That's the last thing an unfortunate soul sees before death," Sivaine says.

"She looks like a doe is supposed t'look in a dress," Harper answers stiffly.

Layne says, "The term is 'ghastly rictus."

Pedat gets up and walks over to Harper, whispering into his ear quietly: "Better than Jove, mate. Maybe you should take the lesser of two evils."

Darcy chuckles, and an /actual/ smile steals across her face. "Oh Harper." Muttered.

Oh Pedat. Harper gives the squirrel a look. "Why don't /you/ play Wameus, then." It's also muttered, not for Darcy to overhear.

Tameus squints at Darcy, then at his father again. "Well we haft' pick one 'r th' other."

Okay! Fine. Harper is going to take this by the horns. Harper sets his eyes on Darcy. "Do you want t'have t' kiss ME? No. So this is stupid. There are dozens of other creatures you could pick from! Ones who /don't/ work together most every day of their lives."

Sivaine sips from her teacup. Siiii- /snort./

Sitting down and reaching for his cup, Pedat chuckles. "Like Zoe Lang, Harp?"

Harper is, of course, speaking to the two casting the roles - Sivaine and Tameus. For that last part, anyway. And - and - and. Pedat!!!! "NO."

Further snorting. Sivaine seems to be choking on something.

Darcy gets a very strange expression. She blinks slowly. "... wait. Waaait." The decked-out doe makes a gesture at Tam. "Isn't /he/ .. Wameus..?"

"It's a /play/ Harper. Nobody expects you to kiss her for real." Layne's tone is eminently reasonable and sure to be ignored in this crowd.

"NO. I AM!" Harper throws his arms up in exasperation.

Tameus looks much too pleased with himself.

Pedat begins to hum the wedding song, a heartless smirk on his face.

Layne flicks a cookie at Pedat's head.

A look passes from Sivaine to Tameus, and it is amused. Another one passes from her to Pedat, and it is not so amused.

Darcy's eyes shut. Then they open, and she gives Harper a long look, saying nothing.

Tameus leans over toward Sivaine to say, "Y' think Darc'?"

"I did say 'Harper, and it's important,'" Sivaine murmurs mildly.

Sivaine glances sideways, purses her lips, and nods. Oh, definitely. Definitely.

Harper looks back at Darcy, in the way of asking, /what are you looking at/? "I didn't plan this."

Darcy's gaze flicks at Sivaine. Scowl. "Oh did you." Her fingers clench at the part of the dress's skirt that she holds. "... welllll. If it's such a horrid notion, Harp, I can just decline the offer."

Tameus shakes his head. "Y' can' d'cline."

Layne isn't even an accomplice, she's just a spectator. >.> She stands and goes to add another log to the grey and red ashes in the fireplace.

"Yes she can," Harper objects!

Tameus says, "C'n not."

Darcy's brows lift. "So that's a 'yes it's a horrid notion'?"

Harper looks back at her. "Like you /don't/ think it is?"

One of Darcy's brows is now higher than the other. She crosses her arms.

Sivaine just sips her tea. Siiiip. "Layne had a point. It's a play, not the real thing."

Sivaine asks, "So with that in mind, answer her question?"

"If it's a play and not the real thing, it wouldn't matter if it was a farce. And it wouldn't matter if Tammy played Wameus or if Bradge played Delilah," Harper objects. He's not answering.

"It's a play and not the real thing and that's /why/ it matters it's not a farce," Sivaine reasons. "Fiction has to be believable. Reality doesn't."

Tameus reaches up to bap at Harper's muzzle. "Why y' bein' so /diff'cult/?"

Sivaine says, "So. Just answer the question. I thought you had work to do."

Darcy rolls her eyes upward a little. "Harper. I kind of want to get out of this .. thing. Will you stop being a child please."

The log clonks into the hearth, and ashes spring to life, and the room warms a notch. Physically. Layne can't do anything about the chill between the two adult hares.

Darcy's tone is just the tiniest bit playful. Itty-bitty. "Come on, mister."

"I'll just go get Jove?" Sivaine suggests.

Harper is eyeing Darcy kind of oddly, now. And his eyes shift to Sivaine. And he frowns. Sheeeee is responsible. He doesn't say anything. He might be considering chewing through his leg.

Darcy's shoulders lift, and fall. "Well apparently he thinks I'm a hag, sooo. Jove, looks like you got the part." She gives the other doe a smug little smirk.

"You're not a hag," Harper finally speaks up. Mutters, really.

One of Darcy's ears flicks. "'scuse me, what?"

"You're not. A /hag/," Harper enunciates.

Tameus just watches this with a curious expression.

Harper sighs, lowering his head. We repeat so many things in life. He rubs at his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm an arse. Fine. Darcy's fine. Go with Darcy."

Darcy's eyes narrow at the buck a little. "I think I'd rather be 'hag' than 'fine'. At least 'hag' has character."

"..uh." Sivaine quirks a brow. Is that a flicker of guilt on her face? Just a little?

See that dark smudge in the corner by the fireplace? No? Good, Layne's coloration is useful for something, at least.

Jove has long since left! She is not one to stick around; she has Patroller Business to attend to. And pies to eat.

Tameus leans up, one little hand against the side of Harper's face. "Da'?"

Darcy eyes Harper for another moment, then shrugs again. "Right." And she heads back toward the cavern hole steps.

Harper's looks at Tam. "Yeah?"

Tameus glances over his shoulder. Darcy is gone. He narrows his eyes questioningly at Harper again. "Y' didn' haft' t' be like that. We w' jus' 'avin' fun."

Harper says, "You're righ'. I'm sorry."

Tameus shrugs. "Y' don' haft' be in th' play. I know y' really don' wann' be, so..."

And he looks it, too. But he also looks boxed in. "I think who I do or don't kiss," and his eyes shift briefly to Siv, "Has been the talk o' the abbey enough lately."

Up from the cavern hole comes Darcy again, back in her usual clothes, the dress in hand. She tosses this onto a chair and aims /away/ from the group, back up the stairs.

Tameus glances at Darcy as she arrives .. and heads off to leave again. He looks puzzled and not best pleased.

Sivaine crosses her arms. "You know," she considers, tapping a finger thoughtfully against her scars, "there doesn't have to-" She pauses as Darcy enters, watches her leave. "-doesn't have to be a kiss," she points out in a quieter tone, meeting Harper's gaze. "And I don't think anyone's been paying much attention to your side. /I'm/ the one who up and dropped you for someone else."

And the doe is gone again. Tam is more concerned for his father, anyway. "'s jus' s'posed t' be fun," he mutters, shaking his head. "'s not like y' /like/ 'er. I kissed /Bradge/, remember?"

"I kissed /Colonel Lang./ Nearly," Sivaine adds to this.

"And tittered. And fopped."

"And wore a ridiculous hat."

Harper doesn't appear to know quite what to say to Sivaine. He rubs at his face. "I need t'go apologize. Sorry, I- sorry." Harper shifts Tam, stands.

Tameus shifts over to the side as Harper rises, blinking at him and frowning.

Harper looks back at Siv and Tam long enough to shrug. "You guys c'n plan whatever you want. I'll do it. M'sorry, Tam." Pause. A little heh and a shrug. "I /said/ I'm an arse..." He /did/. "'Scuse me for a bit." And he turns, going after Darcy.

"Harper," says Sivaine.

Harper pauses at the foot of the stairs, glancing back. "What?"

Tameus rubs at his face with his hands, saying nothing.

Sivaine looks at him. "I'm not writing for a Wameus who winces."

Sivaine lowers her head slightly. Gives him a Look. "Because the audience won't believe /that/ at all."

Harper looks back at Sivaine. Nods. Shrugs. Waves a paw. Brief frustration wrinkles his brow. "... I'm not stupid, Siv. Me kissin' her only for a /farce/...?" He shrugs. "I don't love her but I don't hate her, either." And with that he turns, jogging up the steps.

Tameus gives Sivaine a questioning look. ".. what's that e'en /mean/..?"

"..hm." Sivaine looks down to the plate of cookies. Two left; she picks them up, deposits herself in a chair, and pats her lap. Up-up. "They- Well, your da' at least - is making the kiss a bit more than it really is, I think. If there even is a kiss."

Tameus crosses over onto Sivaine's lap, and takes one of the cookies. "... 's not like 'd 'ave 'im kiss someone 'e /likes/. 'm not that dumb."

"Hm," goes Sivaine again, nibbling at the scalloped edge of her cookie. She loops an arm around the leveret's waist. Snug. "You don't think he likes her?"

Sivaine says, "Well. That's a bit of a silly question."

"'e doesn' /like/ 'er. I mean.." Tam nips off the edge of the cookie thoughtfully. "Not th' way 'e liked /y'/."

"'e's mean t' 'er," the leveret points out. Gestures. What just happened? Example A.

"Heh." Sivaine just quirks a funny little sad smile at that, invisible from Tam's angle. "'Mean' doesn't always mean anything. Did I ever tell you about Ardice and the book?"

Tameus shakes his head - but he's not distracted by this either. "E'erything means /summat/, Siva," he points out.

"/That./ Is more or less true." Sivaine takes a bite from her cookie and gestures with the remaining crescent while she chews, then swallows. "So I should have said meanings are tricky. Double and hidden and inverted. Hard to get hold of."

"S' what's /this/ mean?" Tam asks, again with that gesture. 'This' of course means the nonsense that just happened.

"..I have some theories, but. Nothing I'm going to rely on. Ever heard a story you were sure you knew the ending of, but it turned out differently?" Sivaine her chin on the back of her hand, cookie clipped between two fingers and elbow on the armrest. "Maybe it's not him he's worried about, but Darcy?"

"I .. don' understan'," Tam mutters.

"Neither do I," Sivaine mutters. She gives Tam a snug. "He could just be worried about what it looks like. Either he decides to do it, or he doesn't."

Sivaine says, "I worried about the hat, remember."

Tameus rubs his hands at his face again. ".. I don' e'en wann' do another play. S' jus' gettin' e'eryone all ... unhappy."

Sivaine rests her chin atop the leveret's head now. Snuuug. "It's not your fault when Harper's an idiot, Tam."

".. well 'e's an idiot a lot," Tam mumbles, and shakes his head. "I don' wann' do 't. S'posed t' be fun but 't ain'."