12.01.08 - It's Called a Kilt

Location: Redwall Cavern Hole

Characters Involved: Zade, Sivaine

Sivaine is right where Demmer left her.. almost. The mousemaid is in the process of standing, a series of slow, gradual movements suited to a creature twenty seasons older. "Frrf," she mutters, puffing a long strand of headfur out of her face. Have to get Ardice to tie it back properly.

Zade has just returned inside from, of all things, swimming in the half-frozen pond - something he has found most enjoyable. Crazy otter. He's wet and bare-chested, using the plaid tartan as a towel while he aims into the Cavern Hole. His destination is the fireplace, but he makes it only about two steps in that direction before pausing as he sees Sivaine. The dog's eyebrows lift and he just looks at her, saying nothing.

Sivaine straightens up with one rolling motion of her back, jaw set as she does - it's uncomfortable, but not as much as quick, jerky movements. Another mutter escapes her lips, more headfur is brushed back, and then she turns and spots Zade. "..yes?" she asks, raising a brow at him. Raising both brows, really, when she realizes what he's wearing. What.

There's a pair of pants in one hand. They got a little damp, which explains the kilt. The tartan is wound around his hips and knotted, and as he watches her he tugs his belt out of the belt loops of his pants, flicks the wettish garment over his shoulder, and cinches the belt around his hips - hugging the top of the kilt to keep it in place better. He continues to eye her for a moment, then just says, "I see you're walkin'." Or, trying to.

"I was walking the last time you saw me," Sivaine retorts, rather irritably even for her, but, well. It's not visible from a distance, but her ears are starting to color ever-so-slightly. She pinches the bridge of her muzzle, rubbing the hollows at the corners of her eyes, which are closed. Avert your gaze, children. "The usual sequence is bathe, dry, dress, and _then_ come downstairs."

"That's.. not what I'd call walkin'," the big otter responds. "Y' were.. wobblin'." Like a duckling. Zade smirks a little, glancing over his shoulder as if contemplating leaving. "I was in th' pond," he gruffs at her, "an' I /am/ dressed. s' called a kilt."

One eye sliiits open and promptly squinches shut again. "I'm working on it," Sivaine replies. As if for emphasis, she pushes her chair to and takes a few steps. Much less wobbly, now, though it doesn't look very pleasurable. "You're still dripping wet," she points out. "How's the lip?"

"Y' bit it," Zade gruffs. "How's it supposed t' be? Full an' soft an' a delicate shade o' rose?"

"Of course I bit it." ..yes, she's definitely a little pink now. "You- mrrmf." Siv bites down on her words, pointedly not looking at the otter. At all. Nope.

"Then th' only reason y' have t' ask how it is.. is t' try t' rub in m' face that I got bit," Zade says pointedly. He moves toward Sivaine, coming within a few feet and crossing his arms over his chest, eyeing her face. "If you're gonna be smug, go 'head an' be it."

Sivaine glares. Not at Zade, or anything in particular, but that spider crawling up the far wall might feel a moment's discomfort. The mousemaid crosses her own arms - well, arm - and angles her ears back. "Why would I have anything to be smug about?"

"'cause y' bit me," the otter responds. "Isn't that summat t' gloat 'bout? Aren't y' /proud/ o' yourself, Sivaine? Doesn't it jus' make y' feel all warm an' fuzzy?"

Sivaine's ears angle back further. "Not particularly," she remarks, trying for a light tone. "Is your manly pride dented now? I was going to _apologize._"

"Right. In th' same breath as mockin' me," the otter chuckles, muzzle pulling in a wide, fangy grin. "You're jus' th' most charmin' girl I've ever met, y' know that?"

Sivaine gives Zade an old look, keeping her eyes squarely on his face. "I try." You could get a pound of salt from the sea with her tone. "Excuse me for still being rather disgruntled."

"I prefer y' disgruntled," is the dog's response, with just a slight growl present. The grin in still there. Obviously he hasn't learned his lesson.

Scowl. "Don't even think about it." Sivaine warns, shying a step away. "I've got a perfectly good set of knees."

Zade snorts. "Apparently I've been misled," he says in a darkly ironic tone. "'til now I've been called.. attractive. Good-lookin', even rather 'andsome if y' disregard th' scars. But /obviously/ you're th' one seein' clearly. Can't imagine I'm good-lookin' at all if you'd sooner knee me than kiss me."

"Pff. So you think your appearance gives you license to kiss whoever you please, whenever you please, whether you've asked or not, because you've got it in your head you're 'oh so irresistible?' Not everyone lives in your story, Zade."

Zade lifts one eyebrow higher than the other. "Why th' hell would I spoil th' romance by /askin'/ first?"

"_That's_ your idea of romance? Seasons." Sivaine shuts her eyes briefly.

"Usually, the girl shows a scrap of interest first," Sivaine adds.

"Aye?" the otter snickers, and makes a light gesture to brush some hair from her face. "What would y' rather? Should I go trek an' ask your daddy's permission? Get down on knee?"

"Y' were showin' interest. Put on whatever airs y' want, Siv, I /know/ y' like me," the otter retorts with a grin.

"There you go again. You're delusional." Sivaine winces faintly - why, why do her ribs have to act up now? Her incisors peek out from her lip as Zade's paw gets close. "You're not even serious."

"Th' girl who won't admit 'er feelin's accuses me o' not bein' serious," Zade teases. "What a perfect pair we'd make."

"Did you take too many whacks to the head when you were training?" Sivaine asks incredulously.

"No," Zade snickers, shaking his head as he turns away. "But I got bit somewhere along th' way, an' I jus'.. I jus' /haven't/ been right.. since then..." This is delivered in a tone of faux weakness and then he wanders away back toward the exit.

Foot tapping and a scowl on her face, Sivaine watches him go. Not for her own enjoyment, but just in case he tries something. Mhmm. Then she rolls her eyes ceilingward, uncrossing her arms. "Arse," she mutters.