It had been a good evening of hunting. There were four rabbits, already gutted and skinned were in the oiled canvas sack slung over his shoulder that bounced lightly against his back as he walked up to the Dragon.

It was a nice feeling to be out stretching his legs such, but it was another clash of feelings. On one level it felt as if he had not done so in ages, but he very well did quite a bit of hunting over those previous years. He just couldn't remember doing so.

And while that hunting likely included any number of rabbits, he didn't think any would taste as good as these will once a stew was made of them.

A slight smile crept across his face as he entered the Inn and caught sight of S'jira seated near the hearth working on one of her sewing projects. She started to her feet as she spotted him entering.

He continued on towards the bar, giving a nod in greeting to Chryrie, and by the time he had deposited the sack on the back counter s'jira had come to the end of the bar. Stepping close to her, he leaned in close and nuzzled in to her neck, whispering a greeting to her and nipping lightly at her soft skin. Her hand reached to brush along his whiskers. He turned his head in to the touch and lingered there for a moment enjoying her scent before standing upright again.

"Rabbit stew will be on the menu for tomorrow..." he said. He had caught enough to make a large pot to be served in the Inn and feed the two of them for a few meals. He had kept the pelts, asking if she had a use for them as he had no immediate need.

After a moment of thinking she said she did. She was making a cloak for the woman called Tinker, and it they could be used with it. He would take them to the tanner and trade his raw hides for some finished ones so she would have them right away to work with. It was a visit he needed to make, an relationship to re-kindle after his absence.

A bit reluctantly he moved away from her to retrieve the sack off the back counter, pausing a moment to ask if she needed something to drink. While she went to fetch her mug from where it sat at the hearth, he moved in to the kitchen. Meat and pelts would need to be put on ice until they could be further dealt with the next day.

He returned to the common room and was fetching her some fresh, spiced cider when Anya had entered. The woman who had been so kind to the stranger, to him, a few days earlier. He noticed something right away. First it was the smell of dried blood about her, and then something in the way she walked....her mannerisms. He did not know her well at all, but there was just something....off. He noticed the source of the smell to be her knuckles. Deep scrapes were on them, scabbing over, but still fairly fresh. He watched her as she fetched herself a couple of bottles, leaving money for the till before taking a seat at the bar, keeping up a conversation with S'jira about the stew that would be made the next day.

After she was settled at the bar, he looked about for a familiar box kept under the bar. He was unsure it would still be there, and if it was if the contents would be of use. He was pleasantly surprised when he found it, but also discovered someone had kept the herbs inside freshly supplied. While the herbs and such inside were all edible, this was not a box for the kitchen, but one befitting the common room of the Inn. No, all of these herbs had some sort of healing qualities to them. From settling a stomach made queasy from too much ale to aiding in the healing of all manner of cuts, scrapes and burns.

He thought of something that would also help, but was not kept in the box. He glanced to S'jira. Between her baths and other uses, she had a number of scented oils.

"Do you have any lavender oil?"

As S'jira said she did and made to fetch it, Anya made as if she was preparing to depart. He looked back to her and with a point to her and then the stool he simply told her to "sit". It was more a command than request, one that set her a flurry, thinking it was over the bottles she had taken, getting all defensive and soon, fairly submissive. Ready to be shackled and drug away.

He managed to calm her, and explain. There were two pouches with powders in them and the small bottle of oil slid across the bar to Anya. They would help with healing of her wounds if she tended to them. A stick of cinnamon was also handed over. Together they would help fight infection, soothe itching, and maybe even reduce any scarring.

He felt her moving close, S'jira, as he finished speaking with Anya. Her arms found their way about his waist as she tucked herself under his arm. His tail seemed to find it's way about her legs of it's own accord as he put his arm over her shoulder. She was tired and wished to retire. He wanted to join her....but he was not quite ready for sleep, and as his gaze flitted across the room for a moment he let her know he had something he wanted to attend to first, but let her know he would soon follow.

A light kiss was left at the corner of his mouth, and a promise of finding a warm bed waiting was made before she turned and made her way up the stairs. It took no small amount of will to keep from following her as he watched her move up those stairs. As she disappeared down the hall, he moved out from behind the bar, snagging up the mug of cider she had left there and moved over towards the hearth.

Chryrie was laid out in comfort on one of the couches, he stepped up on to the other, taking a seat upon the back of it as to allow his tail to swing freely behind him. Leaning forward he rested elbows on knees, the mug had been shifted to his left hand, leaving his right free to toy with the strap of braided leather about his wrist.

Another round of greetings was exchanged between the two, she spoke of being glad to see him returned. It was something that even days later was something he was not used to hearing and said as much.

"From what I've heard, I can imagine so. You should have something done so that doesn't happen again." She was all smiles, but there was something more behind those words. An offer perhaps"

His response, be it a statement or a question, it didn't really matter, was just a single word.

"Magics."

"Perhaps. Although, if you were thinking of more mundane means, you'd likely be talking to someone else right now." Her voice was soft, soothing, almost seductive.

"The two of us do not get along so well."

He meant himself and magic. He did not know why, but things of magic when used upon him had rather unpredictable results - if any. The wards in the dueling rings were a good example. They just plain did not work on him, any injury sustained was one he would have to heal from on his own. It was not something he shared freely however, and as such Chryrie did not take his words as intended.

"You and I? I've never held issue with you. I rather like you....what little I know of you."

That earned a soft chuckle from him.

"No. Sorry. I meant magic and I. I have nothing against you or others who use it."

He tried to explain that any contact he has had with it has not gone as planned. He went on to tell her that he was not looking for her to use her skills on him directly.

It had not even crossed his mind actually, but after her words it was something he would have to think about. But no, for now he was thinking on a much smaller scale. The simple piece about his wrist, the braided leather. It was a gift, a symbol. It was important to him, and he had thought it lost.

"It has a tendency to fall off when I am not quite feeling myself." he stated, still not ready to speak too freely of the changes he goes through. He was simply (or maybe it was not so simple) looking for a way to keep it on him, no matter what form he is in. But before he could ask such, she spoke of adding something to it, something that should he lose it, S'jira would be alerted and that it could be used to help S'jira locate him.

The information was helpful, but gave him new things to think about. Other options to ponder. He thanked her and expressing his desire to get upstairs in time to bid S'jira a proper good night and rose from the couch.

The room was quiet when he entered, shadows from the single burning candle that rested on the beside table danced across the walls as he closed the door behind him. Her head was on the pillow, covers tucked up about her already sleeping form.

He smiled slightly as he looked to her, but wasted little time in watching before blowing out the candle. His clothing was shed before he lifted the edge of the quilt she was curled up under. Carefully as possible to keep from disturbing her too much he slid under them along side her. As his head hit the pillow he felt her wrapping herself about him. One leg over his, an arm across his chest and her head tucked under his arm to rest upon his shoulder. A soft greeting was murmured from that half-slumber she was in, he turned his head to brush a kiss across her forehead in response. Her breath was warm on his chest as he adjusted the arm under her, bringing his hand to rest on her side at the swell of her breast.

Sleep was still some time away for him, but that was fine. This was a moment, a feeling he wanted to savor for as long as possible.