Foreign Shores, part 1
Helston Pier, Dockside, 7/23, Dusk

The last little flare of orange glow was hanging on stubbornly, diligently to the edge of the horizon, lighting the remaining twilight sky in a slowly darkening cascade of deep blues until you were unable to pinpoint the spot where one hue ended and another began. It was Fin's favorite time of day, when he took a moment to reflect and started to wind himself down from the day or gear up for evening plans. The latter were not too numerous these days, his social calendar a veritable ghost town but that was alright with him. For the first time since his arrival in Rhydin just over a year ago, the Scot finally felt like he was able to mend some of his tattered edges. It was a slow and painstaking process but he had whole weeks, large spans of time, when he wasn't spiraling downward into a sinkhole of regret. Today was such a day and he stepped out of the convenience store with a feeling of lightness in his chest. He was looking forward to some weekend plans and had taken a detour to stock up on lighters and Slim Jims; funny how a man so far out of his time could grow used to things like Slim Jims and convenience stores. Stopping at the corner of the street to scan the western sky, there was a taunting flicker of orange on the ground and then it was gone, down nearer to the water's edge. Curious and ever impulsive, Fin changed direction and headed toward it, wondering if it was Fox or a will-o-the-wisp come to lead him astray. Only one way to find out.

As the weeks had gone by, the number of sailors who didn't know the fox on sight had decreased. Some gave him a wide berth, some made signs against evil. Others entreated the creature with bits of fish or meat. Common had become the sight of him prowling around the weigh stations and prep tables for the catch of the day. Now and then his tail would be sticking out of a nest of rope. One thing was constant, no one, not even those who looked at him as if he were evil incarnate, dared harm the creature. Such was the case now. The canid sat on his haunches, staring at a particularly nervous looking sailor. Parked as he was in the middle of the pier, the man would have to pass close by him to get to the boardwalk beyond. This potential passage didn't seem to be a favorable option to the sailor. In fact, he might well be eyeing the water as an alternate means of passage. Fox, for his part, was grinning like a jackass.

Fin jogged around the corner, needing to double time it if he was going to keep visual contact with his target. It took a moment but he spied the canid sitting immobile, seeming as if he might be waiting for someone. The Scot barely noticed the man that hovered, eyeing the fox with clear disfavor; he was too busy digging a hand into the plastic bag to pull out a tasty jerky treat. The plastic tabs were peeled apart and he tore off a third of the meat stick while approaching the fox and the sailor. "I though' tha' was ye," looking to the canid with a smile, dropping to a knee when he was close enough to offer the jerky with outstretched fingers. "Wha' are ye doin' down here by the waters?" not knowing of Shae's work with ships. "Is Shae wit' ye?" raising his head to glance around, not even stopping to question why he was asking these questions out loud, as if the animal would answer him back.

Lucky for that sailor that Fin came along, in truth. The reynard had been prepared to play chicken for a good while longer just for his own amusement, but the smell of jerky trumped behaving like a fuzzy jerk. Truly, Fox's heart was in his stomach. So it was that with a wagging tail Fox turned eagerly towards the Scot. His former victim used the deviation in the creature's attention to make his escape, signing charms of protection and shooting Fin a look that blended gratitude and judgment into something approaching constipation. What bit of jerky Fin had offered was taken with care and quickly disappearing. Intelligent eyes assessed the sandy haired smith before nodding further down the pier towards a docked ship. The tied sails and deserted looking stretch of boards were at odds with the other ships still teeming with activity at this hour.

Fin didn't see the witchy woman immediately within the vicinity and so he looked back to the fox in time to notice the nod down toward the end of the pier. With his usual oblivious ignorance, the Scot ignored the constipated sailor that skirted them slowly then scurried off hastily as if Fox might change his mind and go snap at the man's heels. Staring down toward the moored ship pensively, Fin struggled an internal debate before he took a breath and pushed to his feet. "Well, it would be rude no' to say hello, aye?" The mechanics of magic still eluded him, mainly because he didn't trust it and had no magical abilities himself so one might as well try to teach a frog to fly with wings it did not have; however, the Scot had a fanciful imagination, being born to a people that were steeped in ancient lore, and it wasn't a far leap for him to think that Fox would somehow communicate to Shae that he had passed by. The rest of the jerky was fed to Fox, the empty wrapper shoved back into the plastic shopping bag while he walked. The ship seemed to loom above him when he was standing in front of it and a memory flickered at the edge of his consciousness, brushed away for now. "Hello?" he called out. "Shae?"

Another nod from the fox, though whether it was aimed to coax him down the sun bleached and salt stained boards towards the ship at anchor or encouragement for the man to pass on the remains of the jerky was anyone's guess. Fox munched happily while trotting after the man who brought food. Fin's imagination might not have been too far from reality where the threads that linked woman and animal were concerned. No sooner had he called out was it that Shae's face appeared above. Black hair pulled back, what looked to be a chisel in hand. Fingertips stained with oil. Her shirt a loose plaid of white and blue, sleeves rolled to the elbows. "Hello!" The flash of her teeth read as friendly, even from this distance. "The gangplank is just a little further along, you can follow Fox." And just like that she was gone from view again. No real opportunity given for reply. The ship had two masts and the size to match, Fox was already covering the distance at an easy lope.

Any hesitation he might have felt was trumped by curiosity the moment he saw the tool in her hand. Shae...was a shipbuilder? That didn't match what he remembered but then again, Fin could never really trust his memory. It was getting a little better but was nowhere near infallible. "When did she start doin' tha'?" murmuring his question to Fox, only to find that the canid had moved ahead of him toward the gangplank that rested against the pier. Jogging to catch up, the plastic bag rustled noisily at his side, bouncing off his thigh with each step until he was striding up the plank of wood that allowed him access to the ship. Once on board, he paused to look up to the top of the masts, spying the crow's nest topping the taller of the pair - what did the world look like from up there? Was it anything like being at the top of the lighthouse? Curiosity was tucked away when he spied Shae, moving in her direction. "Good eve, I hope I no' be intrudin' upon ye," waiting until he was close enough that he didn't have to shout.

The deck of the ship was almost entirely empty. Ropes stowed and tied neatly, doors and hatches shut tight. There was a sheen to the deck that suggested the wood had been recently treated. In the expanse of wood it was therefore not difficult to spy Shae. Even without the aid of the russet streak to guide the way, the solitary lights near the base of the main mast were a large clue. The artist might recognize his own handiwork in the simple lanterns that cast light on her work space. In addition to the lanterns, there was a bucket of what looked like oil and smelled like herbs. Hammer and chisel. The woman, herself, was seated with crossed legs before the pillar and drinking from a bottle of water. Closing in on her position, he might notice the lift of air and the cooling of temperature by a few degrees. "No intrusion. Nice of you to be polite and come say hello. How have you been?"

The Scot didn't know a terrible lot about sailing but he was pretty sure that ships weren't usually this...tidy. Sailors did have a rather slovenly reputation, after all. Was Shae a sailor? Again, that didn't seem to fit in with his recollection, nor were there memories of her being a carpenter. The lanterns did catch his eye and he smiled fondly for them, for the work that went into them (a pang of missing the forge) and he stepped close to examine one closely as if to make sure that it still worked properly before blue eyes moved to the woman. Her greeting confirmed his earlier thoughts about his presence being relayed and there was a brief squint sent in Fox's direction before he responded. "I am well, thank ye. How are ye?" A breeze touched upon the back of his neck, the cooler air giving birth to a shiver that chased the touch of wind. "Eh...wha' are ye doin'?"

Not usually this tidy, not usually this empty. She certainly didn't look like a sailor. The clothes she had on were the sort of faded and fraying jeans that one might do work in, but they weren't hardy enough for seafaring ventures. Fox did his level best to project innocence and apathy. The Scot had run out of jerky and there was a coil of rope nearby that was calling to him. "I'm well. Keeping busy." There was a moment of confusion at the question that followed his shiver. The reaction she had no answer for, but the inquiry was something she could aid with. "Oh I'm filling a contract I have with Horam. You remember Horam? Big fellow, horns, gave your lantern to him. He may not have gotten around to thank you for it, but he did like it. His manners aren't always the best." One brief moment later she realized this perhaps wasn't quite enough in the way of detail. "Ah, anyway, he's contracted me to provide enhancements for the ships under his purview. So, one at a time they come to port and I get to work."

People didn't look like a lot of things in RhyDin, or they did look like a lot of things all at once but all of those things were usually misleading. Either way, Fin had learned to ignore appearances more than he used to and just ask if he didn't understand something. Rather than loom over her while they spoke, which seemed rather inconsiderate, Fin dropped down to the deck, sitting on top of one folded leg, the other curled so that his knee was in front of his chest. Brows flicked together a moment while he followed the trail of Horam descriptions, wondering how they would meander toward an answer and...ah. Sidetrack. "I am glad he liked it," even if he didn't strictly remember Horam, uncertain if he truly did remember the minotaur or was confusing those memories with Andu. One would think it would be hard to mistake a minotaur but apparently it was easy! " 'Twas a beautiful bit o' work they did wit' the glass," smiling softly. "Wha' sort of enhancements d'ye provide?"

With the man on her level she didn't have to crane her neck, but she just as easily could have stirred her lazy bones to stand. Some manners escaped her despite her teasing of Horam for the same. Chalk it up to holes in her social knowledge. "It really was lovely. I know he was a bit gruff in the bookstore, but he enjoys it. Even asked about your forge." No, Shae was not aware of any change in status regarding the Scot and his work environment. You'd think she might have caught wind of the change from somewhere, but no such luck. "I've been thinking of hiring you again, truth be told, but that can wait for another time." The bottle met her lips again. Even in the cooler cocoon of air, there was the evidence of labor on her forehead, causing wisps of her hair to cling to damp skin. "Mm. Mostly the sort that grant resistances to wear and weathering. Be it treating the sails to prevent tearing or..." A gesture at the mast. Near the base one could see a line of notched runes amongst a coating of oil. Older ones were no longer notched, but existed as faint ghosts of the same, catching the light when the candle flickered in her breeze.

He was the one that interrupted her, it was no imposition at all. Besides, he was more comfortable sitting and conversing than standing and not knowing what to do with his hands. In this position, they seemed to find natural resting places of their own volition without additional conscious direction. Ah, the bookstore! Now he did remember meeting Horam because the only environment in which Fin had ever seen Andu was at the inn. That cleared that up. His smile became rueful, glancing down at his bent knee a moment and picking a bit of fuzz from the fabric before he met her gaze once more. "Well, I am sorry t'say tha' I will no' be able to offer ye any services in the future. The forge burnt down some weeks ago, I have had to find another line o' work." He let himself be distracted with a description of what she was doing, leaning forward a bit and squinting at the runes carved into the wood. "I did no' know tha' ye could do such work." Fingertips itched to be run over the carvings, wanting to feel them as if that would help him to understand what they meant or the metaphysics of how they worked. "How long does it take ye to finish one ship?"

Confusion at first when he turned down her offer of business. An expression that rapidly fell to sympathetic regret. "Hells, Fin. I'm sorry. I hadn't heard. Was there an accident? I hope no one was injured." Licking her lips, she continued. "What line of work have you been pursuing, if I may ask?" The way he spoke of it made her believe he had deviated from smithing entirely. Then came a satisfied half-smile. "It's an adaptation of knowledge, one that's proved lucrative. It took some time before I was able to figure out how to apply my skills in a manner that would allow me to make a decent living." Setting the bottle of water aside, Shae picked up the chisel and turned it over in her hands idly. "Working alone, it takes several weeks for a single ship. The sailors clear out to enjoy extended shore leave and give me the run of the vessel in the interim."

Foreign Shores, part 3

There was no flash of guilt in the wake of her surprise - it wasn't a secret, Ketch just didn't advertise his likes and dislikes as others did. Shoulders hitched in a shrug. "I do no' think he would call it such but aye, he be talented wit' them." Did any artist think of themselves in such terms? Maybe a few but Fin didn't know them. ?Haps Lucy's gallery would help him find like-minded individuals and he made a mental note to look up Senna because it had been a long time since he saw her around. "I will tell him to send ye a message the next time we be headin' out." Others had been brought along before, he knew the shifter wouldn't mind. "Mm, aye, acclimatin' here has been...difficult, at times. Still it?s when I be learnin' somethin' new. I would no' think tendin' to drink would be one o' those things but Ketch took me to a friend who showed me how to work one o' the machines tha' holds money," making a face as he recalled his showdown with a cash register. "It took me a moment to read the buttons before I could remember which to press," the tips of his ears growing warm as he flushed slightly, his tone a little sheepish. It still stung, every once in awhile, to be reminded just how ignorant he was. His gaze lingered on her jeans, where darker streaks of oil were slowly absorbed into the fabric. "So it be like yer pushin' the oil into the empty space?" flicking his gaze back up to her to see if he'd gotten the main gist of her comparison. "But wit' yer...mind?"

"That's kind of you to extend me the invitation, thank you." Hammer strikes fell like punctuation, but not the angry variety one might assume. The ring of metal sounded somehow cheerful. "I console myself with the probability that many of these people who stare at me with wide eyes when I don't recognize this or that thing would be equally lost in the world I came from. I'd be concerned for the survival of some of them, even." Eyes on her work, she managed a slanted smile. "I'd say that's a more substantially problematic knowledge gap than not knowing which button to press on what machine. It's just that this is the world we are in." Leaning back, Shae admired her final marking for the evening with a critical eye. "At the end of it all, moving past those difficulties will grant you a wider base of knowledge than those that come to certain skills culturally. I'd think a different perspective on said disconnects could lead to new applications, or even improvements. But now I'm just letting myself ramble, you had a question and it wasn't about my opinions on adaptation." Tools set aside with an apologetic tilt of her head. "Yes," as fingers dipped in the bucket, "it's a lot like that. Willing the oil to fill the gap." Spoken as she shifted forward again to do just that. "And willing some other things in there too."

The ring of metal on metal was something that was happy, to him, reminded him of simpler times when he could lose himself in heat and movement, the rhythm of the hammer as it hit against metal, the noise and even the sweat and grime. He missed all of it. Sheepishness was lost in the wake of her response, chuckling softly as he nodded. "Aye, I do no' think some o' these people would know how to live withou' their...things." The technology, the conveniences. Life was a lot harder when you didn't take anything for granted but maybe it was better that way? Fin had no answer. "Wha' was it like, the world ye came from?" Her rambling was taken in, listening contentedly until she stopped herself. "Wha' else be in the oil?" Herbs could be scented on the cool air that surrounded them but he couldn't pinpoint the separate flavors.

"To be fair, some of their...things...are quite handy. Tricksome, but useful. And the foods." Small groan of delight before she was laughing at not only herself but at how quickly Fox's head popped up from his bed of rope at the mention of 'food'. "We didn't have ice cream or pizza or Chinese where I came from, I can tell you that much." Describing the world in which she was born felt like a monumental task for the space of that conversation, so she sought a narrower definition. "What would you like to know about it?" Oil clung to the marking she had made in defiance of gravity, filling the void as it had before and restoring the surface of the mast so that only the hint of the glyph remained behind. "Vetiver and lemongrass, for starters, to deter insects from taking advantage of the briefly exposed wood grain, but the 'other things' I referred to were the arcane enhancements. The mark and oil serve as mediums and help define my intent."

A grin cracked wide at her moan of delight over food and he couldn't help but agree. "Tacos, aye pizza, every kind o' chocolate ye can imagine. The sweets...I canno' even describe some o' them, they be so good. An' telephones can be bloody handy," even the antiquated Scot had to admit. "But computers still make me nervous." That kind of access to knowledge still seemed a trick of some kind to him, one that could only serve to do harm to the public at large. Brows rose some as he considered her question - what did he want to know about her world? Everything, really; how it was similar, how it was dissimilar, the smells and scenes he might experience were he to go there. But how to prioritize? "Wha' d'ye miss most about it?" Silently, Fin applauded her pragmatism in including herbs that kept bugs out of the wood as well as sealing the enchantments.

"Tacos? I'll have to add that to my list of things to try. Was just introduced to something that was called a hot dog today. Thankfully not made of dog, sort of like fake sausages." Shae's nose wrinkled dismissively as once again her jeans were used as a rag to wipe her hands upon. "Telephones, yes. I've a friend that's meant to be teaching me about computers, but so far he has just showed me games that seem to be based on stories I do not know with rules that are a bit baffling." Amphibians that died in water and leaves that made flying raccoon men in lands of giant myconids. It was bizarre to her, but she was probably over-analyzing both Frogger and Mario. "Mm. That's a fine question." While she deliberated, she shifted the square of canvas she'd been laying the tools on over the bucket like a lid and balanced the hammer and chisel on top with the support of the bucket rim. Fetching her water bottle, Shae pushed herself to her feet. She might have easily answered with 'some of the people', yet she felt compelled to offer another example. "I suspect that which I miss the most is the parts of that world I never got to see."

"Ye've no' had tacos?" he asked incredulously, eyes wide. "Ketch has been quite remiss," shaking his head. "Ye must come wit' me some time to the taco truck in the West End. Do no' eat any others until ye've had these," slicing the air with his hand to emphasize his point because...there was just no comparison and why have crap while waiting for the best? There was a snort and then a laugh for her description of video games, making a face. "Sabine has tried to have me play some o' those games wit' her. Some are fun but aye, I do no' understand the rules o' some. I keep askin' why until they grow weary or do no' know the answer an' tell me to shut m'gob," offering a crooked smile as he, too, rose to his feet. He glanced around to see if she needed help carrying anything. "How can ye miss parts ye ne'er saw? Or d'ye miss tha' ye will ne'er have the chance?"

"Ah, see!" Of course, he couldn't without a mirror. Shae pointed at his head as he made that incredulous face at her. "That's the one I keep seeing, with the whites showing." Small chuckle before she drained the rest of her water and dabbed her mouth against her sleeve. Then she gave up the game. "I'm afraid it's too late for me to follow that directive. I've actually had tacos, once about two months ago. I was just proving a point. Everyone has their turn at being shocked that another doesn't know something. Ketch has been remiss, though, we should have had them again by now, they were delicious." Fox properly extracted himself from his temporary bed and was now staring expectantly at Shae. The woman didn't seem to intend on taking anything with her and was now gesturing him towards the side of the deck and the gangplank. Lanterns and bucket were left behind. Assuming he followed along, the candles would have conveniently fluttered out by the time they reached the rail. "That it is unlikely I will have the chance to experience certain things that were there."

The tips of his ears became hot as he flushed a bit, trying to school his expression into something other than a vaguely embarrassed smirk. "Well, they be so delicious, I would no' want ye to miss out on them," he muttered, sliding hands into his pockets. It wasn't the shock of not having tacos so much as what he'd said, his true reasoning. Sharing was caring and if Fin found a good thing, he liked to share it with everyone he knew. "At least ye've had them," and she wouldn't have to take an extra trip again if she didn't want. Allowing himself to be herded, he did look askance at the lanterns because it would be a shame to put in all that work and have it burn down; but he saw them wink out and just assumed...well, if it wasn't the wind, it must be Shae. "Ye do no' have a way back to yer home from here?" he asked as he gestured for her and Fox to go first down the gangplank.

"Perhaps we could add them to the itinerary for that proposed paint spraying outing? I don't know where said taco truck is to be found and I wouldn't mind an insider's tour of the neighborhood." Fox was first, taking an early lead down both the plank and along the pier. "I have not as yet found one." She answered as she began to descend. "Further, after some thought I deemed it prudent to not explore that particular possibility at this time, for reasons that are in equal parts selfish and altruistic. While there seem to be higher concentrations of certain planetary visitors from locations like, say, Earth, I haven't found any others from my home. I may well be the first and last. There are those where I am from who I believe would take advantage of such a place as this, and I would keep the door closed rather than see them gain a foothold here."

"Aye, if ye like," he murmured while shuffling down the narrow plank of wood that led to the dock where the ship was moored. Blue eyes moved over the inky surface of the water, able to hear it lapping against the hull. It took only two long steps to catch up to Shae's side once they were both on the docks, adjusting to fall in step with her, letting her set the pace. The plastic bag rustled as it bounced off his leg. Her reasoning was sound for not wanting to open a portal to her world but it was still a little sad, in his estimation, to knowingly isolate yourself in such a manner. "Tha' be verra noble o' ye but I am sorry tha' ye canno' go back. This place..." casting his gaze ahead to the city that lay before them. "It has a way o' makin' ye feel more alone amidst a sea o' strangers."

Shae moved along the dark expanse of boards with a pace that was purposeful but not hasty. Grinning as she looked after the rapidly disappearing reynard. "Fox didn't get a chance to try the tacos before and I am informed that he is quite hungry. I suspect if I talk much more about food he'll take revenge at a later date." At being called noble, the woman couldn't help but be amused. She'd only mentioned the altruistic half, after all. His sympathy was kind, and it made her wonder. Considering her reply, her expression shifted to one of polite curiosity. "What about you? Are you capable of travel to and from familiar waters?"

He chuckled and looked to Fox as he trotted ahead of the pair. "I will order two extra tacos just for him to try when we show ye how to find the truck." The truck only ever circulated a two block radius so it wasn't too hard to locate on the odd night when Fin had that hankering. Which was usually about twice a week, at the very least. He didn't even have to place an order anymore, just show up and they knew what he wanted. The Scot was wondering about her selfish reasons but was soon distracted by talk of his own home. There was a hint of a rueful smile and he shook his head, glancing ahead of them once more. "No, Dair told me tha' he tried but...the timin' is no' reliable. He was as a ghost, no' able to be seen." And it appeared he ended up at some time when their parents were younger, not back in their own time, if that made any sense. Time travel gave Fin a headache.

"You will earn his favor with such gestures. The creature's affection is quite easily manipulated by food if you are a decent sort to begin with." The woman hooked her thumbs into the back pockets of the jeans. "Huh. I suppose I should have assumed that you and Dair shared a place of origin. I've heard the accent, but then I've heard accents that sound remarkably similar to those from my lands and yet ascertained that it was just some grand coincidence." Polite curiosity turned intent. "A ghost...how odd. So it takes a special sort of timing to travel there physically?"

Fin was much the same way when it came to people - if you were a decent sort, you could rise up in Fin's estimation with free food. He and Fox were on the same wavelength and he had the presence of mind to chuckle over it, lips twitching as he studied the reynard's tail, watched it sway as Fox moved. "Well, it no' be merely tha' we are from the same place. Aoife is also from Scotland, though I do no' know where or...when." Thinking four-dimensionally still threw him for a loop, took effort and felt alien. "But Dair an' I were lads together, wit' m'cousin, Calum. I followed them here." An overly simplistic and understated retelling of the facts but that was the long and short of it. "Eh...I canno' say, ye'd have to ask Dair those questions." He hadn't been there and he really couldn't carry on a knowledgeable discourse on the quantum mechanics behind magic. "I do no' truly understand the how or why of it."

Something to ponder on, and ponder she would. For not the first time, Shae made the mental note to find out more about Lucy?s Dair and the land he came from. The name Calum was filed away for future examination as well. ?I may just. It?s quite alright. There are easily more questions than answers where travel to and from this city is concerned. I?m not the least bit surprised that it is so for another.? On they went until their paths through the city diverged.

Storm Watching, Part 2

It wasn't quite bitterness but something related to it though the distinction mattered to no one but him. " 'Haps there be too much of it?" He had no idea how large her scarf was supposed to be, admittedly, and it was a guess. Even completely ignorant of the circumstances under which she normally danced or the requirements, he still tried to be helpful to the best of his ability. A failing in a place like this, it so often seemed. "D'ye normally dance wit' a bit o' cloth like tha'?" More plumes of smoke joined the first, flicking the ash just to the side, making sure not to land them on the satchel. Brows rose high and higher as she listed the things she thought he might have in there, ending with a laugh that tipped his head back, had one arm crossing his chest, hand wrapping under the opposite arm. "Sounds a wee bit foolish in tha' way but no, I do no' carry such things wit' me." Nothing more than the few blades he always carried with him, mostly for utility but could be used in self defense if need be. "The satchel be handy, aye. I was goin' up," pointing in that same direction. "To sit on the roof, see if I might watch a storm over the water. I brough? somethin' to drink," water and other libation. "A wee bite to eat." Three burgers that were cold by now and some hash browns along with four Slim Jims. And a bag of pretzels. Small snack. "Well I be glad tha' I was able to see it. D'ye think...tha' I migh? come sketch ye some time? Dancin'?"

"Hmm? Hmm." A duo of noises to signal her consideration of his suggestion. Most likely she'd make the attempt with a lighter fabric before attempting to shorten it, but that was an option. "Mayhaps, indeed. I have in the past, but not in some time. The most recent props I danced with were a balanced blade and a blindfold, and that was by special request a few weeks ago." His laughter earned a wrinkling of her nose in his direction. "I ought to tell Cris you think his training excursions with a bag of knives are foolish." Mock threat, one she had no intention of following through with. "Sounds like a nice, quiet evening." Nodding along to his plan to storm watch from a higher vantage point. The click of paws announced Fox's lazy arrival to their vicinity. With the bag open, the smell of burgers was drawing him near. If Fin wasn't mindful, he might come up one short. "Well. You might sketch at one of my performances. Such as Izumi's arrangement." Shift of her weight. "I don't tend to practice in my performance clothes, if that's what you're after. I suppose, if that doesn't matter, we might schedule something for that." The woman wasn't used to having an audience for sessions such as these.

"Every blade should be balanced," he murmured, offering his professional critique on the matter. "A blindfold?? he asked incredulously. "How d'ye keep from bumpin' into anyone?" If there was a stage, how did she keep from falling off? "Why would they ask ye to dance tha' way?" making a little confused face. Lips twitched, snorting softly. "Yer welcome to tell Cris wha'ever ye like, I will defend the statement." If one was merely carrying around a sack of knives with no purpose, then yes, that was a little ridiculous. "But I do no' know why he trains, I only have a small idea o' wha' he...does." Or did, as a Shadowhunter. Fin had a vague idea of what that even was. Mention of show clothes versus practice clothes had him canting his head, brow puckered. "Wha' clothin' d'ye wear for a show? Ye think tha' if I were to sketch ye, it should be in those?" He didn't know what they looked like. "Would ye be wearin' the blindfold?" he asked with a crooked smile. "Then ye could no' see how horrible I be."

"Yes, well. Tends to be especially important when relying on said balance to keep it from slipping and impaling you." Gentle teasing in her tone. "And it's rather easy when you're the only one on the stage. Also, when you maintain an awareness of how many steps you've taken and in what direction you're unlikely to end up somewhere unpleasant." Like the laps of the people in the first row. "As for why? Because it's different. The novelty of requesting a special performance, I'd imagine." Shae shrugged as she screwed the cap back on her half finished bottle of water. "I wasn't going to turn down the extra silver." Rather than continue to tease, Shae sobered herself to muse about Cris. "I do not envy him his calling," murmured with a glance towards the mirror. There her gaze lingered until he brought up his concerns about her attire. "Hmm? Oh show clothes are usually themed to the dance in question. As it's called bellydance, something that displays this area here," with a gesture to her stomach, "is fairly commonplace. Skirts or pants. Arms bare or in sleeves that are tight to form. Bangles, things that rattle or chime on the wrists, hips, ankles. Things like that. Blindfolds aren't standard fare, and I wouldn't wear one when I practice. The entire point is to get an idea for how the dance looks before I perform it, after all."

"The Scots have a sword dance but it no' be as dangerous," letting a grin bloom. "Ye put two on the ground, crossed," making an X with his fingers. "Then ye dance around the blades but it no' be a threat to yer feet," chuckling to himself before guzzling the rest of his water. Empty bottle was put back into his bag and then he leaned back on one palm, bringing the cigarette to his mouth for a drag. "I do no' much understand wha' he trains for. Wha' is it he did?" because Fin didn't think he did it anymore, if he remembered that conversation with Cris correctly. He saw how she became distant for a moment, lost in her own thoughts and he let it be until she came back on her own. He was used to quiet company. "Ye think tha' I should wait to sketch ye until I see ye perform? I will seek ye out at the festival Izumi mentioned," since he didn't think he could swing an invite to a private performance. "I would be happy to sketch ye durin' yer practice or a performance, wha'ever makes ye comfortable. Actually, I was thinkin' o' takin' some pictures because I be interested in the movements I see ye do. The way be bend an' wave yerself..." making a vague, twirly hand gesture. "I did no' think tha' anyone could move tha' way. I would take a picture to capture the positions and sketch them. I...I ha' been interested in sculpture for some time but I never found anythin' tha' I be wanting to put to stone. But yer dancin'..." leaving that hanging in the air.

"Do they?" Curious tilt of her head as she listened to his explanation of the cultural dance. "I don't know. Seems awfully risky to the toes, at least," said with a chuckle. "I should like to see that at some point." Fox froze as a hand neared the bag he was stalking. The creature prowled closer when Fin didn't behave as if he'd noticed the sneak thief in action. Soon, a black nose was poking about the top of the bag in search of the source of that greasy smell."Did he not ever speak to you on that matter?" She asked rather than leap to an answer. Some subjects weren't freely discussed, after all. On the matter of becoming some manner of muse, the witch had this to say: "It might serve you better to see the performance as a whole rather than the bits of practice, was my thinking. This," with a gesture to the oddly industrial rehearsal area, "might work if you don't mind me being poor company. I focus to the point of neglecting conversation. Pictures, certainly, would be useful if you wanted poses."

"Well," a wry twist to his smile, "ye be wearin' shoes an' they normally be more ornamental swords. No' the type ye might want to swing at another person." Antique relics, more like, but real ones could be used in a pinch. "Only the clumsy e'er touch the blades, anyhow. If ye be any good at it, ye need ne'er worry." Glancing down, he saw the canid poking around curiously in his backpack and grinned wide enough to show his teeth, reaching down with a slow sort of deliberation to pull the bag a bit wider. "If ye be hungry, I will share wit' ye," he murmured after a brief scratch to Fox's ears. A burger was pulled out and unwrapped, setting the wrapper down on the ground and smoothing it with one hand before setting the food atop it. "M'lord, I humbly offer ye some meager fare to tide ye over until ye may take yer leisure," giving a stately half bow from his seated position to Fox. Why? Because...the whimsy struck him, nothing more or less. His attention swung back up to Shae. "Eh...if he did, I do no' remember but I will ask him again," relieving Shae of the potential for spreading tales when it wasn't her place to do so. "I would love to see yer performance an' look forward to it, aye, but ye do no' have to fash yerself otherwise. Were I here to sketch ye, I fear I would be poor company as well an' so we migh' enjoy the shared quiet. When I be in the thick of it," making a vague gesture toward his head, "I do no' notice much else.? Pause. "But if ye no' be comfortable wit' the idea," he added hastily, "please do no' think tha' I be tryin' to impose upon ye. I would accept yer refusal."

"Oh, I see. I suppose I was picturing something different. I imagine sharper swords might be used to showcase skill. Such is similar to the draw behind the use of a blade in belly dancing." This time when Fox froze it was because he was caught. Shae's attention followed Fin's towards his bag. "Fox..." She began to scold him, but cut off as Fin fluffed the reynard's ego with a fancifully offered burger. "He's always hungry, but his manners aren't usually so poor." The russet hunter puffed up his chest and quite regally nodded in response to the playful obeisance from the Scot. "He says 'Thank you, vassal.' Look what you've gone and done." Royal mannerisms were quickly abandoned for scarfing down the burger. "Apparently he's my agent now, as he wishes me to communicate that it would be prudent practice to bring him food if you come to sketch as he'll 'have to look after two distracted bipeds instead of one.' Nevermind that his watch skills are debatable." Her nose crinkled affectionately at her familiar. "I can text you the next time I'm able to rehearse in a space that allows for observation."

The Scot laughed and every time he caught his breath, more came out - not at Shae, which he would explain. A hand waved back and forth in her direction to indicate she was not the source of his humor, not directly. "It...jus' be....tha' most who try it be completely sotted." Because if the Scots were having a party, they were going to be drunk and hence all their cultural dances had to be...navigable to even the drunkest warrior. "I do no' think sharpened swords would be so grand," snickering still over that mental image. "None would want to tell tha' they lost a toe an' missed the battle or died from a sword dance." He watched Fox abandon the courtly manner in favor of gobbling up the burger and Fin could hardly blame him. Or point fingers about eating habits. "Well, he be so eloquent, his mere presence demands respect," his voice deadpan but he was grinning to Shae impishly. "I think he be meanin' to watch an' see when we get more food," chuckling softly, wiping his palms along his thighs. "If ye would, tha' would be lovely, thank ye. Tryin' to capture motion in a still moment is verra challengin' but ye be an inspiration."

"Sotted...drunk?" An assumption, but one that had her chuckling. "I take it back. Skill sounds secondary to rite of passage shenanigans, if I'm understanding. Though the need for skill always increases when you add alcohol. I shouldn't want to belly dance while drunk. Tipsy perhaps, but not drunk." Fox licked at the wrapper. Not even a crumb or smear of ketchup left behind as he sat and quietly belched. "Yes. So eloquent," drawled with clear amusement. "He often has a lot to say, and, to be fair, he can string his thoughts together smoothly when the mood strikes him." Now was not one of those times. The canid slumped onto his side abruptly and sprawled next to the empty food wrapper. "Certainly." A step to the side allowed her to start packing up. "I can feel that storm moving in. You might want to get your seating soon."

"Aye, drunk," he murmured with a chuckle, his gaze straying to Fox when he burped and then collapsed to his side. Lips twitched but he glanced back up to Shae. "It be the Scottish pastime, drinkin'," his expression teasing. "I wish tha' I could hear his thoughts so tha' we could leave ye be to practice," but he noticed that she was packing up, getting ready to go. Leaning down once more, the bag was zipped up and the wrapper was crumpled in one hand, shoved in his pocket to throw away later as he rose to his feet. "I thank ye for lettin' me watch a wee bit, I hope I did no' startle ye. I will look forward to yer next dancin' practice," giving her a friendly smile.

"Is Ketch Scottish? Or did you just adopt him?" Of those she knew, he probably was the most frequent drinker. "As for hearing his thoughts, if you really want to perhaps one of these days." Tilting a smile in his direction as she located and donned her sandals. "You're welcome. It may be a little time as I'm still acclimating to some new work teaching at Dragon's Gate, but within the next few weeks, for certain." Fox didn't look inclined to move. Indeed, Shae had to bend to scoop him up from the floor. This was accompanied by a quiet groan. The critter was of no help, lounging as dead weight in her arms while, between the jerky and the burger, he slipped into a small food coma.

The backpack was slipped onto his shoulders but he waited for her, would walk out with her at least to the back door. A bark of laughter and several scoffing, choking sorts of noises met her question. "Scottish..." he murmured, making another noise. Oh, that tickled him. "As if he could drink more than m'self. D'ye no' know where he be from?" Fox was scritched again while he was looped over Shae's shoulder, comatose, fat and happy. The back door was held open for her when they both reached it.

"I know he's half of what you Earth dwellers call 'Native American'. He didn't really discuss the other half." Small shrug. "And to be fair, I've seen you drunk but not actually been around to keep tally on your consumption." She slipped outside while lugging her food sated companion. As she'd warned, the evening had grown darker as creeping clouds blotted out the stars. "Clearly I'm not quite up to date on your geography, but I recall something about the country he lived in having a more diverse spread of people than most others."

He could swear that Shae mentioned seeing him drunk before but...he didn't get drunk in public terribly often. Brow furrowed and he forgot to glance up at the sky. "When did ye say tha' ye first saw me? D'ye remember?" Shoulders were shrugged in regards to Ketch's parentage - the Scot knew but like the subject of Cris, it wasn't his tale to tell. It was...jarring to hear her speak of his home as Earth, a clear cut reminder of where he was. Something he usually managed to forget on a day to day basis. Made him suck in a breath and push it out in a bit of a sigh.

"I first saw you in the Inn. I first..." Pause while she searched for the right word. "Interacted with you in the Tomes when you were with Cris." One of those occasions where Fin had been less than sober and less than happy. She remembered it well, as it had also marked her first encounter with the globe that was her personal nemesis. His sigh saw a faint raise of her brows. "Are you alright?" They were nearing the end of the alley to the street the warehouse properly sat upon.

Damn, he wished he could remember that. For some reason, not remembering was eating at him even though he should be well used to that by now. His memory was worse than swiss cheese for all the holes and gaps it had in it. "Ye know, I do no' remember the first time I saw ye," his smile a little sheepish, one hand rising to rub at the back of his neck. "But I remember when he shared yer food wit' me in the inn. Tha' was verra kind o' ye." Her question had brows rising but then, upon a moment's reflection, he shrugged, his smile dimming slightly. "About as well as I will e'er be," which was to say...meh. "I ha' not' gone mad yet so I suppose it be a good day," flashing a wide smile. "Will ye be alrigh' walkin' alone or would ye like me to escort ye anywhere?"

"That's perfectly fine. My memory is...wired different. Dates, times, sometimes names. Those slip through the cracks. Chains of images, or feelings, or faces. Those stick with me and crop up at the oddest of times. I've gotten better, especially with the names, but I still have those details that escape me now and then." Her shrug turned into a need to shift the weight of Fox from one shoulder to another. "You're quite welcome. I ordered most of the menu. It would have gone to waste otherwise. Even Fox's stomach has limits." Considering his answer required a half step back, a once over glance, and then a smile that was shaped as kind. "Not going mad is a fine goal. I think you'll be alright. Just be safe, hmm? I'll be fine getting on. Enjoy your storm watching."

"Aye, I remember feelin's," he murmured with a self deprecating chuckle. Thumbs were tucked beneath the straps of his bag as he nodded to her. "Have a good eve, Shae. An' Fox," including the somewhat somnolent beast. With a nod, he turned and headed away from them, back around the side of the building from whence he came.

Period Studies
Rooftops, WestEnd, evening, 09/26/15

Evening had fallen and was well entrenched. From the top of the building, a gentle glow betrayed a presence enjoying the vistas. The ramshackle collection of seating was illuminated by torches made from old bottles and candles lacking any sense of uniformity in shape or color scattered over crates that doubled as tables. Shae had strung her hammock between a solidly anchored pipe and a hook sunk between two bricks. Upon it, Fox currently lay dozing. Shae sat on a broken love seat with the remnants of a Chinese food dinner in the form of empty boxes scattered about and a book propped in one hand.

Whistling preceded his appearance from behind the slightly warped and hollow metal door that separated the staircase from the roof of their apartment building. It had one of those push handles that cut across the width of the door, meant to lock automatically once it was shut behind you but it had obviously been broken for some time, the catching mechanism rusty from exposure to the weather. There were two paper bags in one hand, a six-pack of beer dangling from fingers on the other hand as he nudged the door open with a knee, letting it swing wide and not bothering to make sure it closed behind him. The weather was fine tonight, balmy and serene with just a hint of breeze and clear skies highlighting the bright glow of the full moon. Spotting the back of Shae's head over the loveseat, he smiled and moved around it, dropping down next to her without ceremony. "Good eve."

Shae was able to move her feet to avoid them becoming trapped beneath the descending backside of the Scotsman and promptly delivered them back onto his lap without bothering to ask permission. "Evening." One finger held up while she found a stopping point for the page she was on. A flick of eyes to the number at the corner, and then she shut her tome to offer Fin a proper smile of greeting. "What have you got there?" Asked with a nod towards the bags she'd heard rustling on approach. "Am I in your spot here?" Added after a moment where she realized that she might be hogging his typical seating.

He minded not one bit that her feet relocated themselves to rest on top of his thighs, settling an arm comfortably over her ankles after bending to set his bags and the beers on the ground. "Some tacos from the truck because I was feelin' peckish on the way back from the bar," giving her a half smile while studying the cover of her book. Brows flicked together a moment at her question, not expecting it and so having to work through the wording to divine her meaning before he chuckled and cleared the expression with a grin. "No, lass, do no' fash yerself. I do no' have any seat tha' I prefer over others. A warm palm settled over her ankles to keep them in place while he leaned back and lifted his arse off the cushion briefly in order to dig out his cigarette case and lighter. Didn't want her to think he was trying to dislodge her but his hands had been full earlier and he didn't think out the process clearly before sitting. "Wha' are ye readin'?" asked curiously with a nod to the book she just closed. "Would ye like a taco or a beer?" already leaning to reach over her legs for the items he'd set on the ground, ready to serve her if she did want anything.

Tilt of her head as she watched him get situated, relaxing again as he reassured her that she was not, in fact, monopolizing his territory. "I wouldn't say no to a taco," decided when he made the offer. The spine of the book wasn't hidden from sight, but it was without adornment in the way of lettering. The cover was turned to allow him view. The Gate of Horn, proclaimed silver, sunken lettering. "It's an Earth book. Supposedly fictional."

There were many chairs around them, littering the rooftop to turn it into some sort of lounging area even though there were watermarks and stains from inclement weather but everything was dried out now and uncaring as to the state of what they were sitting on. One of the paper bags was set on her stomach just in front of the book. "Ye can have wha'ever be in there," because he'd gotten a mix, not knowing which type of meat or veggie she would like best. "There be extra onions an' sour cream an'...eh...the green one. Guac-a-mole," saying the word carefully, having to think about it. He loved it but could hardly say it correctly. "Wha' is the book about? D'ye like it?" A beer was cracked, the hiss and foam of liquid making him smile a bit before offering the can over to her.

Tucking the book down against her hip and the back of the loveseat, a hand steadied the bag before it tipped over. Shae was busy digging through the bag of paper and foil, peeking into wrappers until she found one with sour cream and no onions. The offer of the beer was considered, and then accepted with a warm "Thanks!" Sipped and set aside so she might unwrap her chosen prize. "It's a series of case studies surrounding encounters between humans and fairy creatures."

After a moment, she added. "I'm liking it so far. The prose is...different. I think it must be an older book."

"Case studies? Wha' are those?" he asked seconds before cramming half a taco into his mouth, cheeks bulging while he chewed. Extra guac and onions and cilantro were put on to his, fingers messy with the additions even though he'd used a spoon to scoop them on there. Green avocado stuck at the corner of his mouth until he could lick it away, not even looking at the extra napkins. Lettuce dropped onto her ankle and he brushed it away with a mumble and a sheepish chuckle. Swallowing down the mouthful with some beer, he asked, "Wha' be prose?" Hadn't gotten to the parts of literature yet or the theories and mechanics behind it. "Why are ye wantin' to study such things?"

"A case study is... a detailed consideration of some series of events or some subject. From many angles or over time." Bite or two taken from her chosen prize, sans the extras. A brow raised as her ankle became a catch for errant shredded green, but she only chuckled as he brushed it aside. "Prose is, well, language. In this case, written language. His...his style and word choice, would be simpler to say, perhaps." From her hammock a black nose poked up to sniff in their direction. "I'm wanting to study such things because I want to know a bit more about the creatures of Earth. There are many here who claim to be from there...taking refuge in some manner. Yet your culture treats them as if they do not exist. Seems bizarre."

"So ye be studyin' claim's o' people tha' said they ha' spoken to the Sidhe? Or seen them? Wha' do the stories say?" The black nose was followed by bright eyes that zeroed in on the food and soon the orange hunk of fur was slinking from the hammock to head their way. Fin's eyes crinkled with his wide smile, not knowing he had some cilantro stuck to a front tooth. "I did no' forget abou' ye, Fox," he murmured, pulling out two tacos that were mainly just beef strips and tortilla with less additional fixings. Unwrapped from the foil, he spread them both on the ground for the canid to graze upon at his leisure. Fin gave him a quick scratch behind the ears and then relaxed back with his beer, one arm stretched along the back of the loveseat. "My culture? Ye be readin' Scottish stories? We ne'er treated them as if they did no' exist but we were verra wary o' them. Some said tha' to utter their names was to call them forth an' ye had to be careful o' their powers."

"Each concerns a different manner of being. The one I was in the middle of so happens to involve a mermaid." Suddenly a curl of a smile intruded around the bite of taco. "You might find it a worthwhile read." Added innocently, for the woman was quite aware that there existed in some of the stories a more...naughty energy. Fox stretched as he extracted himself from the hammock, padding towards the scent of seasoned beef with the clack of canid claws. He was appreciative of Fin's selection and didn't hesitate to dig into the presented offering. "Forgive me. Not quite. I have a bad habit of lumping those from Earth together. No...mm. English?"

"A mermaid? I ha' ne'er seen one o' those but we had more stories o' Selkies. D'e know wha' those be?" asked curiously in between gulps of foamy beer. Her smile was noticed and he arched a brow, lips twitching. "Why are ye makin' tha' face?" eyes narrowing playfully, wondering what she thought he would find so interesting. Finishing off his beer, he leaned and reached for another, balancing the still-cool can against her shin while cracking it open before it was lifted to his mouth. A snort happened on the tail end of his swallow, making a face. "Fuckin' Sassenachs," he muttered, throwing in a few more choice Gaelic curses that insulted some mothers and implied things about them consorting with farm animals. It was an automatic cultural response even though Fin did know a Sassenach and considered him to be one of his closest friends: Ben, the British actor. "They would hardly know a Sidhe if they met one an' would most likely try to do nothin' more than kill it."

"I do. I've met one, as it happens. Here. Shortly after I did a good bit of research on them. She seems to have restrained the desire to consume flesh, at least." Prelude to a healthy bite of taco as if she were pretending the meal was something more carnivorous. "What face?" And she schooled her smile to innocence. "I'm allowed to make reading recommendations, thank you." Reaching for the can she'd set aside, Shae took a few small sips. Fox looked up from his eating to tilt his head at Fin's cursing. "With a donkey, really?" Shae supplied out of the blue, which suggested that the critter was translating. "My. Some strong feelings about the English, duly noted.Though I should assure you that killing isn't quite what happens in most of these tales."

"Ye met one?" brows rising as he turned his face to her. "Wha' did she look like? How did ye get her to speak to ye?" Pause. "Consume flesh?" That...didn't line up with any stories he'd heard of but again, mermaids weren't as prevalent in Scottish lore as other creatures so maybe he just didn't know enough. "Is tha' why ye think I might like the story?" A grin slowly crawled across his face, squinting at the innocence portrayed upon her lovely features. Not buying it for a second. "I think ye know exactly wha' face ye be makin'," reaching out to poke her cheek good naturedly. The Scot sputtered out a laugh when his meaning was given away by the tricksy canid (what use was food bribery?), shrugging without embarrassment. "When ye ha' watched them hurt those ye love, yer neighbors, press their rule upon an unwillin' people..." and he shrugged again. Oppressors rarely gained sympathy from those they oppressed. "Wha' are the tales about?"

"She looked quite like a woman at the Inn. Or, on occasion, a small horse. I believe she made herself small as not to be an inconvenience inside the building. And she spoke of her own accord." Pause. "Kelpie. She was a kelpie...not a selkie. Damned confusing names. I regret to say that if I have met a selkie I was not aware of it." The poke to her cheek was weathered without complaint, as she was owed that for her teasing, but she bypassed his comment on her self-awareness. "Ah I see. They conquered." The ire was, then, more understandable. "You'll have to read them for yourself! I could loan it you you, should you like."

Eyes widened at the description. "A...aye, a kelpie?" Well that explained the part about consuming flesh! "An' ye lived to tell the tale? They are said to be fearsome wit' a taste for blood," his voice having dipped low with just a hint of reverence as if even speaking the title would bring one here, slavering for his head. "How did ye escape? Did ye use yer magic on her?" A chuff of breath escaped past his lips. "Selkie's be verra different, they are seals tha' can slip their skin to become women. 'Tis said they will lure a man to couple wit' them so they can have bairns," because he couldn't ever remember hearing about male Selkies. "If ye could find their skin an' hide it, they could no' return to the sea," which always seemed a very sad fate, to him. "Well, they ha' tried to conquer. The pewlin' quims o' the Lowlands could no' stave them off but the Highlands be a different matter," his chest puffing with just a slight bit of pride.

"Aye, when ye finish the book, I should like to look at it, if ye do no' mind."

"She wasn't all that fearsome. I think I recall something about her family having made a pact with the locals...oh. That's right. She was a half-kelpie. Her father had married a human woman, I think. Anyway, she gave Fox some berries. I didn't feel the need to hex her, given the circumstances." Small smile as she polished off the rest of her taco and chased it with a few more sips of beer. "Seems a poor arrangement all around. For the children, for the selkie, for the menfolk. No one wins." She mulled this over for a time before reaching out to pat him on the arm. "I'm sure your folk will give the English a proper fight."

Sidelines, Part 2

Her words soaked in where he mulled them over silently, sipping from the warm mug in his hand. It was conceivable that there were much worse places than RhyDin to live, if he couldn?t get home. Hadn?t he already been to one of them? And hadn?t he managed to find a few friends here, make himself a new family? It wasn?t everything he hoped for but he was grateful for what he did have and so he nodded in general agreement to the shared sentiment. At least Shae hadn?t been forced to live in her own private hell as a layover.

He might have asked more about her home world but she moved on to the subject of Ketch and he listened carefully with furrowed brows. Head canted slightly while he studied her expression, the grip of her fingers around her mug. ?Wha? is it tha? ye want to do??

Lips curled in a soft smile conveying something like relief when the Scotsman nodded along to her answer. There was nothing left to distract her hands with. Rather than sit there holding an empty mug, Shae leaned forward to set it on the coffee table. Then, crossing her legs, she leaned back with a soft sigh. "About...what precisely?" Evasive, but some part of her was hoping he wouldn't say 'Ketch'. "Or were you just asking in general? Because I could ask you the same thing. Is there something that would make your recovery better? Would you like my help?"

The attempt at deflection and diversion was noted - a truly valiant effort that caused lips to twitch around the lip of his mug - but he wouldn't be deterred. For all his hesitation at making others uncomfortable, the Scot could be tenacious when he wanted answers. "About Ketch an' Mimi. Ye say tha' it be terrible difficult for ye to no' jump in but wha' would ye do?" A hand waved for her question because the only thing that would speed his recovery at this point would be magic and while it was incredibly tempting, he didn't want to rely upon it, not with his nightmares so close to the surface. It would only make them worse.

Faint grimace and a look towards the window. Her familiar lifted his head from his crumb hunt to stare at her pointedly. The grimace transformed into a frown. One hand reached out to casually push Fox off the couch. Whatever he had to say had apparently struck a nerve. The vulpine sought Fin's company for support, sitting where he could lean against the Scot's leg and plead his case with innocent eyes. "Really? I want to help. Help her if it would give him peace of mind and it were in my power. I worry that his sense of guilt will cause him protracted suffering. What I could do exactly, well. I can't speak to that. I'm keeping out of it, as asked."

The silent response earned a closer study, a brow arching when she pushed the reynard from the couch. The mental connection was clearly in use though the itch to know what was being communicated was faint. A smile bloomed and eased his expression when Fox sought out his company as a consolation and the Scot wasted no time in patting his leg - Fox could jump into his lap for pets and cuddles if he wanted. Fin was no pretty lass but the canid wouldn't want for attention under his hands. " 'Haps he will surprise ye," the tone not unkind, a gentle suggestion meant to soothe her anxiety. It was something with which he could sympathize, always worrying over the 'what if' of an indistinct future that held no guarantees. "I think tha' he has no illusions as to wha' be in front o' him."

With an invitation, Fox carefully vaulted himself onto the open lap. Promptly sprawling there with his full belly. Shae resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the creature's fickle loyalties where affection was concerned. "I believe that he will find a solution, with or without my involvement. So perhaps he will. And I agree that he has a fairly clear view of the situation." That wasn't enough to still the apprehension, clearly. One hand of fingers raked through her hair. "I didn't come over here to talk about Ketch, though. I wanted to see what you've been up to."

The slight weight of small paws were dainty points of pressure on his thighs before the animal circled once and settled into his lap, rolling to his side in a show of comfort and trust. Fin let his fingers disappear into the thick ruff. The mug that formerly occupied his hands was set on the floor next to his chair so that he could fully devote himself to Fox.

The change in topic was allowed though he was a poorer subject. ?Before this, nothin? verra excitin?. I had fallen into a routine tha? I enjoyed - workin? the docks in the day, workin? at Charlie?s by night an? seein? m?friends in between. Visitin? m?horse an? dog out at Ben?s, tryin? to cheer up Lucy.? Waited a beat and then filled her in, in case she didn?t know. ?Dair has left, I think it be for good this time.?

Sated and spoiled, the reynard was on a fast track to a state of light hypnosis with the attention lavished on him by the Scot. There was a ripple effect. He removed himself from the conversation and Shae's shoulders began to relax, bit by bit. "Ah, yeah. I had heard that from her. I saw her at the Inn the other night. She seems to be holding up well enough under the circumstances. Fox wanted to go and see her but I've been discouraging him for the time being." The whole separation thing seemed to be catching. Lucy and Dair, Cianan and Antonia. Then there was the other side of the trend. "Have you seen Cris with Charlie? I hear he's working at your friend's bar now, too."

Fin watched the tension eke from her slowly and let his hand stray to the underside of Fox's chin. Were Fox not in his lap, he would have offered to get more tea for Shae but he was comfortable and Shae knew better than to stand on ceremony here. "Oh, I think Lucy would like tha', for Fox to visit her. I do no' think they would be able to communicate but she would enjoy his company." It still felt a little lonely in her place, even with Kitty. Which reminded him... "Eh, d'ye know how to put up wards a'tall? Because some men tried to break into her home a week back." Correction - they had broken in and the ghost managed to scare them away while Lucy hid. "Could ye recommend someone to her? As soon as possible?"

Oh yes, Cris and Charlie. A crooked smile slanted his lips. "I ha' no' had the chance to meet her as o' yet but I have had a full report from Lucy. I do no' know much about her, aye? Ha' ye met her?"

She did know better, but she wasn't yet inclined to vacate the warm corner of the couch she had claimed. Small comforts. When the tea in her stomach chilled, she would fetch another cup. "Maybe." To the notion of Fox visiting Lucy, though Shae was not entirely convinced. Fox heaved a sigh. The question of wards had her sitting up a little straighter. "They did?" Worry creasing her brow at the news of the break in. "I can recommend myself. I did the wards for..." She trailed off, picking up again, "Another friend. I've had no complaints yet." Half smile blossomed into a full one at the sight of his crooked version. "I met her, I suspect we'll talk soon. She made me curious."

Lucy would love it, trust him. ?Aye, please call her tomorrow. I worry o?er her. Tried to show her how to use a firearm,? because her powers still weren?t working. ?But she...be a gentle soul,? and spoiled, to boot, though he was too loyal to say that out loud. ?I would feel better knowin? she was somewha? protected.? There was a curious smile for the way Shae trailed off. He would have asked after it but got distracted.

?Curious? How did she make ye curious? Ha? ye met Sabine?s new beau? It seems tha? winter has birthed some romance,? smirking to himself. ?It sometimes be a comfortin? thing to know tha? the world still goes on around ye, for better or worse, when ye no? be payin? attention to it.?

It was less a denial of Lucy's enjoyment and more of a general concern over the behavior and intentions of her familiar that kept Shae from wholeheartedly endorsing the idea to cheer the gallery owner up. "I promise to get ahold of her and discuss it." Shae would only push so far, though. Fin might need to talk to Lucy to persuade her if he was convinced that wards were a necessary precaution. "She made me curious because she pegged me for a witch fairly quickly. She's sharp. I like that." Light chuckle. "No, I haven't met him. I assume it's not that Leo fellow anymore?"

Fin was of a mind that Lucy agreed for the need of the wards though they hadn't had that specific conversation. "Thank ye, I do appreciate it," gifting Shae with a warm smile. "I canno' imagine tha' Crispin would want to spend his time wit' a dullard," spoken wryly with a matching glance to Shae. "His sharp tongue would cut them to ribbons before they could speak more than twice. Does she make him smile? And, eh...wha' happened to Leena, d'ye know?" It was a grand mystery to Fin but he never bothered to ask Cris because the Nephilim was hardly forthcoming.

"Leo?" puzzling over the name a moment before recognition dawned. "Oh, no, tha' lad has no' been around for some time. This be a new one, an older man." Though, with Sabine's youth, that was a very relative statement. "She seems verra happy."

"No, Cris wouldn't do well with someone who couldn't keep him on his toes." Then, inexplicably, she was grinning. "Oh Fin. You should see him. Yes, she seems to make him smile. I've never seen him so...uninhibited with contact in public. They might have been trying to keep it under the public eye but the changes in his behavior around her practically scream at anyone who knows him." Cris would never be sunshine, rainbows, and excessive PDAs, but the little signs were like billboards. "As for Leena, no I couldn't say that I know. I just know that she left." Cris never had been very talkative about the woman in his life, and Shae hadn't wanted to pry too deeply. "That was the last one I paid attention to. So I haven't had the pleasure of seeing her with the new one. What's he like, other than older?"

Features warmed under the brilliance of her wide grin, happy to see it on her as well as being glad for Cris allowing himself to find a happiness long denied. Brows rose to hear that he was allowing even some small affections to be shown, thereby silently advertising his intentions with this woman. A bold move for their subtle friend. "I canno' wait to see the effects o' this mystery woman for m'self. D'ye know how they met or how long they ha' known each other?" The subject of Leena was tucked away to follow up on by other means.

"I ha' only met the man briefly, I think his name be Josiah, if I recollect," though they both knew what a crap shoot that was. "He seemed verra...placid," the corners of his eyes crinkling a moment. "But I think it migh' be have a steadyin' effect upon Sabine. Be good for her."