The walk to the village wasn't long, a mere fifteen minutes at the most. Monnayage had escorted his new lady friend the entire way, all too aware of the feel of her arm entwined in his. His initial desire from earlier had died when Maneki had attacked him, but hey! He was a guy. There were some things that didn't just disappear with cat-induced pain.
Villagers were larger in number than they had been when Monnayage had passed through earlier that morning, everyone out of their homes to visit with one another or to browse at the now open vendors' booths. Vanity peaked in his mind when he felt the stares of some of the villagers looking and he tried to shake back his dismay. Surely they were looking at the hideous scratches now marring his once dazzling figure!
Settled comfortably on his shoulder, tail wrapped around his neck like a furry necklace, Maneki batted a velvety paw against his cheek. <Even if they did notice them, which I doubt they can, it would serve you right.>
<My entire left side is covered in claw marks! Of course they can see them,> he responded.
<You're always covered in claw marks.>
<Yes. Because you're an evil little fuzzball.>
<And you're a disobedient, lecherous human. We're even.>
Up ahead, Monnayage could make out the village pub, The Iron Gryphon. It wasn't his first choice, but there really wasn't any other place he could think of that might have some first aid—at least not in this village. At least he knew the pub owner—a decent man in his late fifties—and wouldn't feel completely out of place. "We might manage to get some salve at the pub," he said to Dorothea, nodding in its direction while leading her toward it. "The owner's an acquaintance of mine. Do you mind?"
Dorothea was highly amused by Maneki. Her control over Monnayage, for one thing, was hilarious. How could this man, this gorgeous and strong man, be so influenced by such a small and bratty creature? But, she had to give the cat credit. Many people assumed that Dorothea wasn't capable of much because of her looks and size. Dorothea wondered what it might take to get rid of the cat... perhaps she could smoother her?
She batted her eye lashes up at him. "Oh, I don't mind at all."
Once he'd bowed Dorothea in through the door and stepped in after her, Monnayage tried to ignore the assault of smells that came on him like an attack of rabid dogs. Alcohol, stale vomit, and sweat were the more dominant, each less appealing than the next.
<I dislike bars,> Maneki said, mirroring his thoughts.
A few people looked up when he came in, their interest more in Dorothea than in himself, but he ignored them and went straight to the counter where a man he didn't know was cleaning a dirty mug. The guy was somewhat cleaner than the other patrons, his long white hair pulled back with a string and his iron-colored clothes less shabby. He appeared no older than thirty.
"What would you like?" the man asked, not looking up from the mug he was wiping down.
"Actually, I was wondering if Darrak was around," Monnayage said. He leaned forward on the counter, giving the bartender a friendly smile despite the man not looking at him.
"Mr. Darrak is in the back room. Make sure to knock before going in."
"Splendid! Ah, but," Monnayage continued, "would you mind serving my lady friend here while I'm away? It's on me." He turned to Dorothea and winked. "I'll be back soon," he said before striding away toward Darrak's "office."
---
The bartender, Darian, looked up and watched as the man with his cat walked away. He wasn't fond of cats, not after one had nearly mauled him as a child, and almost shuddered at the thought of one riding on one's shoulder like that.
Then he turned his attention to the young lady. "Well?" he asked. "Do you have a preference?"
Dorothea watched Monnayage walk away without a word, before turning back to the bar tender. "Hm, not really," she said. Her nose wrinkled. "This place isn't really up to my standards. Smells of rot, actually. Do you ever clean in here? There is no way I could take a drink offered to me here; I can't trust that there wouldn't be anything else in my drink."
Darian's eyebrows arched high on his forehead at the girl's words.
"This is a pub," he said, trying not to speak to the girl as though she were an idiot. "Not a palace. Excuse me if our building is not up to your prissy little standards. I can assure you, however," he continued, "that the smell of the bar-dwellers does not in any way reflect our wares." Even now he was cleaning a dirty mug, and he noted with pride his dedication to making sure that any and all drinks were up to par.
"But," he said, shrugging a little, "If you don't want anything, that's fine by me. I have more important things to attend to than listening to your prudish invectives." He turned away from her, placing the now clean mug on the shelf with the others.
Dorothea was startled when he spoke- she'd expected someone stupid who knew very few words. She smiled, pleased by the surprise and took a seat at the bar. "An ale, please," she said, grinning at him.
With an inaudible sigh, Darian rolled his eyes, making sure his back was turned to the girl as he did so. Another one of these people. Thought she could get away with being snarky until someone stood up to it. It was a common thing—too common if you asked him. Yes, he did know how to stand up for himself, thanks. He worked in a bar. It was practically part of the job requirement.
Reaching up into the shelf again, he pulled down one of the newly-cleaned mugs and brought it over to the ale spout that branched out from one of the many alcoholic kegs. He knew each keg by heart, of course, and the action was more instinctual than conscious. When the mug was filled, some of the froth nearly spilling over the sides, he walked back to the girl and laid it on the counter in front of her.
"One ale," he said with disinterest. Then, without another word, he picked up his rag and ventured toward one of the recently-vacated tables.
Dorothea did not say anything more and did not even nod a thank you to Darian as he passed her her drink. She picked up the glass, inspecting it carefully before taking a sip. It would have to do... the ale wasn't too terrible.
Monnayage emerged from the back room beaming. It was always nice to meet with old friends, especially when they were generous with what they had. Instead of providing him with salve as he'd first intended, Darrak had used his own minor healing magic to make the scratches disappear. Monnayage was once again beautiful.
Darrak had warned him that the side-effects might include excessive cheerfulness, but he didn't see that as a bad thing. And besides, it would only last a few minutes. Not that he wasn't already a very happy person to begin with.
When he saw Dorothea at the bar, he went and joined her, sitting on an empty stool beside hers. "Hello, pretty lady," he said. "Did you miss me?"
Maneki was still on his shoulder, purring loudly. In his uncontrolled euphoria, she was clearly receiving the effects of his healing as well. He could feel her glaring at Dorothea, but this time it was more guarded than hostile.
"Oh, of course," she said, leaning against the counter, turning to face him more fully. "And did you miss me, Monnayage?"
To be honest, he hadn't thought of much during the healing session, but he wasn't going to say that. Instead he said, "Why, of course! Every moment in that room without you was pure torment."
His eyes moved to Dorothea's drink. "An ale, huh? Decided not to get something expensive? I am paying, you know." He winked, then looked around. The bartender was off wiping down tables, looking bored but determined.
While not one for alcohol, he decided it best to order something so that his lady didn't feel out of place. His usual was water, although he supposed a little juice wouldn't hurt. If they had any.
"Hey, bartender! When you're done, how about some juice?" He got a few stares for that one, juice not being a common request at a bar, and he looked around with a wide smile at any that were looking at him.
<Two,> Maneki corrected him, still purring.
"Er, two juices! Please."
Dorothea chuckled. "Why not get yourself some ale?" she teased, resting her hand on his shoulder. "I'd feel awful for being the only one drinking alcohol."
The touch on his shoulder sent a burst of delight through his body. Ah, this girl. So physical—and daring, considering Maneki was right there on the opposite shoulder. Lucky the cat was feeling as content as he was, else he might have to go in for another healing.
Which wouldn't be too bad, now that he thought about it. The experience had been enjoyable, especially the after-effects.
"I'm afraid I'm not much of a fan of alcohol," he admitted. No need to mention that it was practically poison to him—to anyone, really, but to him especially. "So please don't take offense with my ordering a more juicy beverage."
<If we're lucky, the drink will kill her,> Maneki said. Her tail beat gently against his bare back, the tickling of the fur sending goosebumps down his spine. The idea seemed to cheer her immensely, and her purring increased.
Dorothea's lips seemed to thin and she looked away from him, taking a sip of her own drink. How could she get him to drink it? How could she trick him into drink it without him becoming angry with her? That was another issue.
An idea popped into her head. She grabbed her abdomen and moaned, forcing tears to her eyes. Dorothe doubled over the stool.
Failing to notice her disgruntlement when caught up in the spell of elation, Monnayage turned his attention to the bartender, who was still cleaning tables.
What a good man, keeping the place clean, he thought. Appreciation bubbled over.
Man. He should have known about Darrak's healing abilities long before now.
A noise of pain made him turn, and all feelings of ecstasy fled from him when he saw that it was Dorothea.
"Ah—what? What's the matter?!" he asked, noticing the sudden tears. A plethora of feelings, none of them happy, rushed through him. What the heck was going on?
<Huh. Had I known I could have killed her simply by stating it, I would have done it a long time ago,> Maneki said.
She gasped and struggled to her feet, pushing away from him. "N-no," she said. "Nothing--" she gasped, "--is wrong at all." Dorothea stumbled a few feet, grabbing a table for support. "J-just ignore me." She glanced at him with shimmering eyes. "I don't want to ruin your good mood."
He blinked, caught off guard. His good mood? How did she expect him to react any differently than he was now, what with that fact that she was groaning like a person on the verge of death? It wasn't something that someone could ignore, even if he tried. And he would never try.
By now other people were looking, too.
"You can't be serious," he said in exasperation. "Of course something is wrong. People don't go stumbling around and grumbling in pain for no reason. Are you sick? Do you need a doctor?"
Dorothea shuddered, nearly collapsing, but was able to catch herself. She shook her head. "N-no," she whimpered, barely audible. "I'll just go now..."
Now he was really confused. Had he done something wrong?
<Let her go,> Maneki purred. She leapt from his shoulder and landed on the counter, staring after Dorothea in triumph. The bartender looked up at this, brows furrowing in consternation, but otherwise did not say or do anything.
"Maybe I should help you get to wherever you need to go," Monnayage said. "You shouldn't be walking alone when you're like . . ." He gestured helplessly at her. "This. Better yet, Darrak's a healer. He can help."
He hurried to her side and grabbed her arm to help support her.
She grabbed hold of him, as if her life depended on him to hold her up. "I'm sorry," Dorothea gasped. She began to slowly sink to her knees, still holding onto him.
Before he knew it, he was being dragged to the ground, back bent forward. He could have easily lifted her--she really wasn't that heavy--but the action might have caused her more pain. He didn't really know; she was being confusing and it alarmed him. This wasn't in his list of experiences.
"Excuse me," came a voice. He looked up to see the bartender standing over them. "Would you mind getting your cat off of the counter? It's highly unsanitary." With a glance at Dorothea, the man added, "And your friend is making the other patrons uncomfortable. Do you need help carrying her out?"
"Uh, no, I--er. . ." Monnayage tried to help Dorothea back onto her feet. "I don't know what's wrong with her. I'm sure Darrak could help."
The man pursed his lips. "Mm. Mr. Darrak is not meant to heal every sick person that comes in here. He'd be quite busy if he did." He looked back at Dorothea. "But I suppose. . . if she really is dying, that it would be unethical and unwise to waste time bringing her to a village healer. I'll go fetch him."
"Ah. . . thanks," Monnayage managed, a little embarrassed by his situation.
Dorothea would have smirked if she weren't concentrating on her pretend when the bartender complained about Menaki. What she'd said earlier had stung him. Oh, people were all the same.
Her fingers dug into Monnayage's bare arms- not hard enough to leave marks- and she looked at him with wide eyes. "I-I'm sorry," she whispered. "J-just help me outside... I'll be okay on my own... You don't need to help if you feel uncomfortable..."
This was getting ridiculous. Now she was acting more like a martyr than a person in dire need of assistance, and for absolutely no reason. And it almost definitely was acting; no one in such supposed pain would deny help when it was so willingly offered. At least he wouldn't.
In spite of his suspicions, he couldn't leave her. His respect for the opposite sex was too ingrained. If there was even the smallest chance that this woman was in pain, he had to do something about it.
"No, my lady, I'm afraid not," he said as he looked down at her grasping fingers. "It would be dishonorable." With one last thought toward what might be appropriate, he simply lifted her up off of the ground, being careful to not agitate her condition further. She was as light as was expected.
Maneki and several unwanted stares followed at his heels as he carried Dorothea to the back room.
Dorothea gasped as he hoisted her up, but stopped fighting against him. She lay her head against his chest and whimpered as he carried her. "Thank you," she said softly to him.
Darrak and the bartender were leaving the room as he approached. One looked genuinely concerned if a bit frustrated, while the other—the bartender—looked somewhat bored.
"What seems to be the problem, Monnayage?" Darrak asked, brushing his long, straggly green hair out of his face to get a better look. Monnayage liked how wild the man looked, yet maintaining an air of sophistication at the same time, which could have been from the tiny glasses that he wore. "Did the lass have too much to drink?"
"Uh, no." He cast his gaze down on his bundle, who was currently pressed against his chest. "She's sick, I think. But not from the drink."
Maneki curled up at his feet and continued to purr. <Sick in the head, more like.>
"Do you think you could take a look at her? Heal her, maybe?"
"Mm." Darrak gave a grunt and hoisted his glasses further up his nose. "My healing powers aren't as potent as the village healer's, but I could give it a shot, I suppose. It really depends on what's wrong with her. Where does it hurt, lass?"
Good old Darrak. Tolerant, lenient. He was beginning to like the man even more.
"My stomach," she whimpered. Dorothea's mind was reeling fast, trying to force her shield to work inside her stomach, to cause a problem. It started as a small burning just at the pit of her stomach, which increased and spread to her back and her chest. She let a cry escape her lips.
Darrak nodded knowingly. "Stomach aches. Common in a pub, though usually for those that are more heavy on the drinks. All right, bring her in." He moved aside and Monnayage stepped past him into the room.
It was spacious as far as offices went, able to hold ten people easily. The first thing that always caught his eye upon entering was the large black banner with an iron-colored sea-gryphon sewn on its front. It hung on the wall behind a medium-sized writing desk whose contents lay scattered all over its surface.
A make-shift bed took up the back left corner--probably where Darrak slept. This was where Monnayage had been asked to sit during his healing, and this is where he set Dorothea.
"Out of the way, Monnayage. Out of the way. Upset stomachs aren't difficult, but you will have to move back."
Seeking a source of reprieve from his frustration and tension, Monnayage scooped Maneki up off the floor and began to pet her as he moved over toward the desk.
<We can leave her here,> Maneki suggested. Then, apparently noticing how bothered he was, batted her head against his hand and added, <Darrak says she'll be fine.>
"Sir."
Monnayage looked up, not realizing he'd been staring at the floor. The bartender stood in the doorway.
"Will you still be wanting those two juices?"
Juices?
<Tell him yes.>
"Oh, uh. Yes, please." He'd forgotten about the drinks. "Make it one instead of two, though."
When the man stepped out of view, Monnayage looked around.
"Healing doesn't hurt at all," Darrak was saying. "It might tickle a bit, but that's nothing to be worried about. And, as I told Monnayage earlier, you might feel a bit giddy afterward. It'll wear off after a few minutes." He held his hands over Dorothea. "Are you ready?"
This was not how Monnayage had planned his afternoon. In his mind, it had involved more . . . happiness. Less drama. He was beginning to suspect this girl to be a bit crazy, which was just his luck.
Dorothea nodded to let Darrak know she understood. She was curious to see how the healing would help her. The pain in her belly, now real, was so much it turned her pale. She glanced at Monnayage, then turned away, embarrassed.
The healing process went down the same way it had for Monnayage. He watched as Darrak reached down and lightly touched Dorothea's abdomen, watched as the man's eyes closed in concentration. He recalled the tickling sensation that had run up his side where the scratches were, remembered watching as they had disappeared before his very eyes. And then the wonderful happy feeling that had overcome him.
This seemed to be taking a bit longer, though. More than likely because Dorothea's problem was internal.
When Darrak finished, he opened his eyes and stood back, blinking. "There," he said. He turned to Monnayage. "All done. Should be feeling fine now."
Monnayage nodded.
It was amazing, truly. Dorothea's eyes widened as she felt the pressure and pain melt away. She inhaled deeply, her cheeks flushing and a genuine smile from the euphoria spread across her lips. As he finished, she sat up in awe of what had happened. "That... was incredible," she breathed, looking to both Darrak and Monnayage. "Oh wow... I feel great!"
"That's what they all say," Darrak teased, brushing the comment aside with a wave of his hand. "Now, unless you've more injuries that need healing . . ." He walked over to his desk where Monnayage was standing. "I should really return to what I was working on."
"Right. Thanks, Darrak." Still holding Maneki securely, Monnayage looked at Dorothea. "Are you ready to go back out? No more random pain?"
Dorothea grinned at him, her normal self. "Yes, better than every," she said as she jumped up and wrapped her arm around his lower back. "I'll get you a drink; payment for your generosity during that weird spell of mine."
"Ah." His eyes followed her as she approached. There was some discomfort in her touching him this time. She may have been feeling chipper once again, but her little performance had left him feeling sour. There had been no need for it; he'd treated her with affection. Why had she felt the need to embarrass him like that? "I'm afraid I'm not feeling very thirsty anymore."
<My drink should be ready, at least,> Maneki said. She poked her head out from under his stroking hand and sniffed the air eagerly.
With another nod of thanks toward Darrak, who nodded back, he started to walk out of the room.
Dorothea raised an eye brow but shrugged. "Whatever you say," she said, her arm dropping as she headed towards the door. What a freak he was, she thought. Perhaps he was was much closer to than that damn cat than it seemed. Disgusting. Why was he acting this way, now? Because of her pain-even though it had been staged at first? Well, if that was how he wanted it, then she wouldn't fight for him. He was gorgeous, Dorothea gave him that-- but not worth it. She sighed and left the building, sitting outside on the step.
He hadn't expected her to leave the building. That surprised him a little. Even so, he didn't follow her immediately. The bartender was standing over at the counter with his brows raised, a glass of what looked like apple juice in front of him.
After having the guy go through the trouble of getting it for him, he couldn't let it go to waste.
"Do you happen to have a bowl I could pour this in?" he asked when he sat down. "And I don't think I ever got your name . . ."
The barman looked displeased when he retrieved a bowl and set it on the counter, only to have Maneki climb up beside it and start lapping up the contents. "It's Darian," he said. "And again, it's highly unsanita--"
"I know, I know. I'll personally see to cleaning up the counter when she's done," Monnayage interrupted. "She's really quite clean, though. I assure you. Much cleaner than dog--"
"She's an animal. But, so long as you clean up after her . . ." Darian trailed off, then walked away.
So finicky.
Dorothea sighed, not really enjoying herself sitting alone on the doorstep. She wasn't going to go back in, though. She was far too superior to go back. But she was bored!
Monnayage's eyes wandered to the exit of the pub where he'd last seen Dorothea. Had she left for good, or was she simply sitting out there? Her drink was still here on the counter beside Maneki's bowl of juice.
He couldn't imagine what had upset her. She was the one that had acted crazy and then fawned over him afterward as if nothing unusual had happened. The act had put him out immensely.
Apparently feeling his discomfort, Maneki lifted her head from the bowl and looked at him, licking her whiskers to get excess juice off of them. <It tastes funny,> she said.
"What?"
<This drink. It tastes funny. I don't want it anymore.>
"But I have to pay for that!"
<You should drink it, then.> She turned away from the bowl and started cleaning herself.
"If this is your way of trying to cheer me up, it's not working," he said. He looked at the bowl forlornly. It couldn't be that bad, could it? Maneki pulled stuff like this all the time.
With a sigh, he got up from his stool. "I'll be right back," he said, ignoring the stares he was getting for talking to his cat.
<Hurry back. I'll make sure the bartender doesn't carry away the juice.>
"As long as that doesn't involve hurting him in any way."
- - -
He found Dorothea sitting just outside the door. She appeared upset, as he thought she would. Not his fault.
"Are you coming back in?" he asked in concern. "You didn't finish you drink. It's still on the counter."
Dorothea shook her head, refusing to look at him. "I'm not thirsty anymore," she told him stoically. "Why don't you go have yourself a drink?"
Ha. Throwing his own statement back in his face. Very nice.
"That's all right," he said, sitting himself next to her as if he didn't have a care in the world. "We didn't come here for drinks, anyway. We can just sit here."
The village was quiet this time of day, everyone inside their homes or the bar to keep out of the heat. He didn't find it that hot, personally, but that could have been because he had his shirt off. Not to mention the nice breeze that was still blowing through.
What was he going to do with himself if Dorothea decided to leave?
I guess there's always the option of rolling around in the grass again, he thought. That had been fun. Maybe he could get Maneki to join him this time.
"Was there a reason for the show back there?" he blurted out.
She turned slowly to glare at him and sighed, looking away and shaking her head. "I had stomach pain, stupid," Dorothea said, angrily, "And I don't like taking from others like that. When I feel weak, I'm different. But, what the hell would you know about it, hm?"
Her response both flustered and amused him and he had to look away to hide his lopsided grin. She was reminding him more and more of a cat, its fur bristling and body poised to strike if not left alone. Much like Maneki when irritated.
When he composed himself, he put his hands behind him on the ground and leaned back on them, looking up to the sky in pretend thought. He knew better than to approach an agitated cat, and instead chose to not prod her. "I would know very little about it," he admitted. "Considering I only met you a few hours ago."
Her actions earlier still came off as fake to him, at least until toward the end. It didn't seem a good time to bring that up, though. Not unless he wanted to be scratched, and he'd already had enough of that for today from Maneki.
Darrak's healing didn't seem to be having the same happy effects on Dorothea as they'd had on him. Perhaps she was made of tougher stuff than he.
<The bartender's glaring at me,> Maneki cut in, her agitation floating in through his consciousness.
He sighed. "You'll have to excuse me," he said. "My cat's getting upset."
The last thing he needed was for Maneki to start a scene. He liked this place and didn't want to be banned from it.
He stood, ready to go back inside.
She stood with him and smirked. "Sorry for earlier," Dorothea said, following him inside. "It was just as embarrassing for me as it was for you."
He stopped short just outside the door, his hand ready to push it open. Her turn-around in mood caught him off-guard, and it baffled him; it was like a constant mood swing, verging on the edge of frightening.
"Not at all," he said a bit hesitantly, wary, before opening the door and holding it open for her.
Dorothea sighed. No matter what, he seemed taken aback by her. What could she do to improve what she'd messed up? She remained silent as she walked towards the bar.
Maneki was where he'd left her, sitting on the counter, except now she was lying down. She looked up when he came in, blue eyes shining in the dim lights of the bar. The bowl of juice was behind her, her tail hitting against it gingerly when it twitched. Darian had yet to move Dorothea's drink, either, probably because he didn't seem to like being near a cat. The man was off cleaning tables again, though he kept looking up every so often, as if eager for them to leave.
<What took you so long?> Maneki asked. Her eyes traveled to Dorothea, but she didn't saw anything upon seeing her.
<I was only gone a few minutes.>
When he was once again sitting at his stool, he stared at the bowl. Someone was going to have to drink it. He wasn't going to waste his money on two drinks tonight. But he wasn't thirsty anymore.
Darned picky cat.
Dorothea was itching to know how the two communicated. It was obvious that they did, but how. She leaned over and whispered to him. "How do you hear her? Is her voice in human tongue?"
Blinking, he looked away from the bowl and at Dorothea, a little surprised by her question. "Maneki? Oh, err . . . It's hard to explain." As unexpected as it was, he supposed it shouldn't have been. He hadn't gone out of his way to treat Maneki like an ordinary cat, and it was hard for someone to not notice this.
"She's my familiar. I'm a mage," he told her. "I can . . . hear her thoughts in my head. But they're not in human tongue. They . . . ah . . ." How did he explain it? He didn't have to very often. "They're just . . . there. Like an idea that pops into your head. It's not in words, it's simply there. Does that make sense?"
He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. Man, he must sound like an idiot.
At this, Maneki rose and came over to him, her long, furry tail brushing under his nose. The tickling sensation made him scrunch up his face.
"That is incredible," Dorothea breathed, truly impressed. She looked to Menaki. "Sorry for making you feel like I was getting between you and him."
If he was surprised by her question, what she said next blew him out of the water. Maneki was startled, too, standing there under his chin and contemplating Dorothea. The apology sounded sincere.
After a moment or so of scrutinizing, Maneki sat and wrapped her tail around her legs. <Tell her she's forgiven,> she finally said. <But not to let it happen again or I'll scratch out her eyes.>
Another nervous laugh. "Uh . . . She says she forgives you." No need to mention the last part.
He felt a little better now that his cat and Dorothea were getting along. "Listen. Lemme go ask Darrak if he knows of any good places to sight-see," he offered. "We can enjoy the rest of the evening. Forget about what happened."
Dorothea crouched down and gently ran her hand through the cat's soft fur. She was a beautiful creature, indeed. She was also Dorothea's ticket to Monnayage. At the back of her mind, Dorothea smirked. "Sight-seeing would be lovely, wouldn't it?"
A sensation of pure pleasure coursed its way down his back at the same time that Maneki leaned into Dorothea's touch and started to purr. Oh, Kia. The last thing he needed was to be aroused just because his cat was being pet.
"Right!" he said rather hurriedly. He scooped Maneki up, her giving a low growl. "I'll go ask him, then."
<I want to stay with her,> Maneki protested. She was never one to deny a petting, but he couldn't allow her that right now.
He wondered if Darrak would be upset at a third visit.
Dorothea noticed the shiver that went through Monnayage and pursed her lips slightly; it was intriguing to see that sort of reaction. She had not expected it. She nodded sweetly, though, when he said he took the cat to speak with Darrak. Thinking he wouldn't mind, Dorothea moved to follow him but out of the corner of her eye, she saw the drink left on the counter. She grinned. Glancing around quickly, she reached into her side pouch and sprinkled some flecks of dried leaves into the drink.
As it turned out, Darrak was more than happy to accommodate him with his want for places to go exploring. By the time Monnayage left the man's office, he had several places in mind that he thought Dorothea might enjoy. The little waterfall near the edge of the nearby river, for example. It was the perfect place for them to . . . get to know each other more. Even Maneki agreed that it was a good spot, though she refused to get anywhere near the water and promised to make him her personal pin cushion if he did anything more than simply talk to the girl.
"Good news," he said, sliding in beside Dorothea once again and grabbing the bowl of juice. "Darrak was full of ideas, all of them great."
Maneki went from his shoulder to the counter, padding over to Dorothea and mewing at her once she sat down. <Pet me,> she said, though only Monnayage could hear this. The meow alone was obvious enough, however.
Right. The evening was turning out for the better already.
He left his cat and Dorothea to themselves, putting the rim of the bowl to his lips and taking a few sips. The taste made him gag. He looked down at the drink in disgust. <Maneki!> he said. <You weren't kidding. This juice is terrible.>
<Yes.> She wasn't paying much attention to what he said, still looking at Dorothea with imploring eyes.
Be that as it may, he was going to have to pay for it, and with Dorothea not having her drink, he had to make sure that his money didn't go completely to waste. After a deep breath, he downed the drink in three seconds, shuddered a bit and placed the bowl back down on the counter.
"Right," he said aloud. "Let me pay and we can get out of here." He pulled his money pouch from his shirt pocket.
Dorothea smiled inwardly as he drank. She busied herself with giving the lovely cat- she was gorgeous- attention so to keep from laughing. Looking up to him as he spoke, Dorothea replied "Where shall we go?"
Having been to this bar a few times, he knew the exact amount owed, and left a little something of a tip for Darian. It wasn't the man's fault that Maneki--an intelligent animal but an animal all the same--felt the need to be prim and sit up on counter tops. And, as promised, he reached over the counter to grab a rag and lightly ran it over the spot where Maneki had sat.
When his money pouch sat tucked safely away in his pocket once more, he turned to Dorothea. "There's a nice little spot by a river near here I think you'd really enjoy," he said. He ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth, trying to wash out the flavor of the juice. It really had been quite nasty. Never would he order it here again.
Due to his being ready for it, the sensitivity of Dorothea petting Maneki did not reach him, though he did have traces of the cat's satisfaction. Due to past experiences, he'd been working on this trick.
"Shall we go?"
Dorothea reached down and hoisted the beautiful cat into her arms, cradling her against her chest. She smiled at Monnayage and nodded towards the door. "To the river we go then," Dorothea said cheerfully.
Maneki gladly allowed Dorothea to lift her, purring and nestling into the woman's breast, paw resting up on her shirt. What a silly cat, to turn into this bowl of mush toward anyone that petted her just right. It made him grin, almost laugh. Cats were such fickle animals.
Isn't that why you chose her? he reminded himself as he got up from his chair. He'd been told he was like a cat, a statement that had only increased when he'd made Maneki his familiar. Couldn't blame it on the bonding, no. He'd had the attributes long before.
A loud crash filled his ears, accompanied by a shot of pain in his side. Somehow he lay on the floor, the chair with him. Blinking, he looked around at the barmen who stared at him with mixes of amusement, concern, and annoyance.
How had it happened?
<Monnayage. . . .> Maneki gazed at him from her spot in Dorothea's arms.
"Whoops! Guess I lost my balance." This assuaged the attention of some of the onlookers, their eyes going back to their mugs or speaking companions. He laughed to show that no harm had been done, then slowly got to his feet, brushing dirt from his pants. The action made him sway a little, baffling him.
<You don't lose your balance,> Maneki stated, her eyes squinting suspiciously, and she had a point. He couldn't remember ever having lost his balance before, but there was always room for a first time, right?
<I'm fine, Makki.> A little dirty, but fine.
With a glance at Darian, the man peering at him with disdain, he righted the stool he'd fallen over.
Good as new.
Dorothea gaped, her expression shocked. "What happened?" she gasped, still cuddling the cat. "Are you okay?"
"What happened?" he repeated, looking down at his side where he had fallen on it, knowing later that a large bruise would form but not caring. "Why, I do believe I fell over."
He laughed, finding all of this quite amusing. Him! Falling over! No wonder the men in the bar had laughter in their eyes; he probably came off as a drunk, a man none-too-tolerant of his alcohol and proving it after only a swig.
Drunk on juice. As nonsensical as the concept was, he still continued to laugh.
"I'm fine," he finally said, hand coming to rest on the chair next to him in order to keep from falling again. There was a delightful hum starting his head. "Though I suggest we leave before it gets too late."
Dorothea nodded seriously and struggled to move the cat to her shoulders, so that she could better assist Monnayage. Inside, she was giddy with excitement. Obviously, Monnayage didn't have much of a tolerance for substances. This would work in her favor and if she played her cards right, Dorothea was convinced she would be able to drug him.
She linked her arm with his and gave him a beautiful smile, sweet and innocent. There was no malice in her eyes. "Fresh air might be best for you."
Fresh air. The idea suddenly excited him. Amid the buzzing in his head that grew with each passing second, he caught glimpses of what fresh air meant. A nice breeze, the smell of forest, the waterfall he planned on taking Dorothea to see. The water would be a pleasant coolness on his skin, the wet soil a pleasant smell. He'd always liked the smell of wet sand.
"The best for me!" he repeated with a light laugh as she linked arms with him and started to walk with him toward the door. "Always the best, that fresh air." It felt like he'd been indoors forever, the smell of the bar suddenly overwhelming.
He found it a little hard to walk for some reason. He felt more like he was floating, and that made it difficult to know when to lift his foot and take a step. If he wasn't careful, he'd end up falling again, and he didn't want to appear like a drunkard in front of dearest Dorothea, the sudden light of his day.
Sweet, sweet Dorothea. Always looking out for him. Always there for him. How could he have possibly been upset with her earlier when life was so wonderful and her smile so delicious?
When they made it back outside, he took a deep breath. It still smelled like a town, people smells here and there, but it was so much better than the smell of alcohol and vomit and sweat.
He started laughing again when he saw a black cat streak out from behind the building in front of him, its quick movement amusing him for no reason he could see. Cats were silly creatures.
He leaned on Dorothea. "Ah," he said. "The outdoors. Amazing."
Maneki was staring at him from Dorothea's shoulders, a penetrating stare. <Something's wrong with you,> she said, voice tinted with heavy suspicion, which made him laugh more.
She gave her companion a squeeze with one arm and gave Maneki a soft pat. "Your friend, Maneki, seems a bit silly at the moment," Dorothea giggled. "Why don't we go lay in the grass again, hm?"
"What? Lie in the grass? No, no! I have to show you the secret waterfall." The waterfall he couldn't remember the location of at this point in time. He felt like he'd known where it was just a few seconds ago. Hm.
Trying to act as if he knew where he was going, and how to move his legs, he tugged on Dorothea's arm and led her out of the town. If he stumbled, he wasn't aware of it. Far as he knew, he was flying. Flying felt great--he couldn't imagine why he didn't do it more often.
But then heavy feelings of disapproval, worry, incertitude, and most of all fury, washed over him, making him stop and look around, confused.
<She's poisoned you!> Maneki hissed in his mind, her words jumbling together with his own thoughts and making no sense at all. Then there was actual hissing, and he turned to see Maneki clawing at poor, poor Dorothea.
What?
Closing this due to inactivity. If you'd like to start it up again, PM me.