#a_room_at_firnost

A critical look. "You won't win any fashion contests, but I'm not sure you ever submitted the entrance paperwork." Sliding over to perch on the edge of the cushion, drawing her bare feet off the chilly floor to finish pulling on socks. "More, though that Doc might use the scraps. She's making wigs, side income, y'know."

"Ah." (He is silent a moment)

"I recall that."

"See, I had this idea. Y'know, if there was a cat on my tail? It could track me down to most any hole, even slick as I am. But dive through a tank of feeders at Pets R Us? Damn thing will get confused and go after the first thing it sees."

"Mindless little things, but the smell 'n' look just about the same."

"They don't have my fashion sense, though." A hand tugs lightly at a piercing through one ear.

"And if that doesn't help, then... well, I DID tell that rabbit she could practice french braids on you."

"She saves scraps. I save scraps. A habit. I believe." (His head rolls her way, slightly. Murmuring) "It matters not. Whome'er is willing, I warrant."

"Odd thing," (After a long pause)

"Oncely, I wore it long. And the....those I came to knew, well....Lady Cogsbury, for one, Mr. Brolin. Desire'd me ne'er to cut it. The one time it was shave'd off, 'twas meant to be a punishment."

"Now I always wish to."

Her lips tighten, and she flicks a glance that way. "For what?"

"Does it matter?"

"It....took but oncely...for a one to seize it, ere I realize'd squirming avails one not, do they have a handful of thy hair."

"Does anything?" She gives a shrug. "In the end, I suppose not, bones are bones and dust is dust. I still eat when I get hungry, though." "No, it doesn't. Keep it, cut it. Your call, Breeze-blossom." And a small, humorless grin at his anecdote, and she runs a hand over her own cropped spikes. "Never thought of that."

"Neither had I." (A ghost of a smile)

"I had Doc cut mine. She had to put gloves on, though, and I didn't much give mind to the result, other than out of my face. Figured you might be more vain." She flicks a thumb towards the mirror in the room, off in one corner on above a dusty dressing table. "I don't have a make-up stand in MY house."

"An' she is willing, I am. I do not desire to trouble, any." (He reaches up, and fumbles off the glasses, to fold slowly. Lying back, his sealed and scarred eyelids are visible. He seems not to care whether she sees, as he reaches to find the nightstand and set them down)

The faint shift of movement as she leans to one side, a soft click as she lifts the glasses, examining them for a moment.

(Black wire-rimmed frames, thin, light but strong. He has had them inset with highly polished -- almost mirrored -- glass lens, to hide what lies behind them)

(How's the glamour level in them?)

(Imbued recently; there are hours of wear left in them)

(Normally, in the room, she has noted he tends to get along fine without sight)

Another soft click as the glasses are set back down, and the mattress shifts once more, her weight leaning over in his direction. And then it lifts, as she slides off, socked feet light on the floor. A click as the light is extinguished (or, a sizzle as her fingers are licked and pressed together to snuff out a candle wick). "I'm gonna read for a while, if it ain't bothersome. You know me, I gotta say them aloud to make the long words work."

"As pleases thee, Lady. I am in, for the evening." (A silence....then) "Dost thou leave....thou may'st take the glasses, with thee."

"Best to learn to use them....eventually, aye?"

A soft sound, hand patting a pocket. "I got my own." A pause, and she asks. "Unless someone is planning to borrow my eyes? There was a Raven around, might be it wouldv'e plucked 'em out for snacks. Ain't seen it for a time, though."

"Mmn. I was thinking....more of helping thee, Lady....learn to see what is thence, that cannot be seen." (He hesitates) "Oncely....I saw a....the city is full of spiders." (A slow whisper, pausing. She might wonder if he is stoned, but no, he goes on) "They cover the buildings. Weaving webs. Holding....things together."

"I was told to ignore them, pretend not to notice. But they are there, does one know....to look for them."

(A hesitation) "Still. I took one."

"It feels like banality....but it is....it is not, dost thou see?"

Silence, for a moment. "Is that, the spooks, again?"

(A slight headshake, thoughtful) "A different world, Lady. Difficult....to explicate. They are not chimera, nay. Nor aught that is dead, or e'er oncely live'd, that I know of. But....spiders. Not spiders, that we would find ourselves drawn to, which....is rather like saying, not a cheeseburger, thou wouldst eat."

She blinks. "What, is it made out of lentils?"

"It looks like a cheeseburger. But it tastes...wrong. I cannot explain it better." (A thoughtful pause) "But dost thou try....one can see them, with those."

"I have the spider, in my loft. A jar, that appears empty. Do not open it....but thou may'st attempt to see it."

"As long as no one fucks with my cheeseburgers." She says, a hint of warning in her voice. But then, a soft puff, an amused exhalation. "Maybe I go take a look sometime. Anything up there you need?"

"Someone, I believe, threw a bag up there," (vague amusement) "Mayhaps in a day or so?"

"Maybe." Soft footsteps, and a puff of air, as s blanket is shaken out and tossed over the sluagh. "Don't mind me now. Just gonna get my reading done. A hand reaches over to tug one of the extra pillows off the head of the bed, and she moves away, settling on the floor near the door. After a time, there is low, faint conversation heard, punctuated by muffled taps. tap-tap... tap tap tap... tap "...Fries? No. Friend. Huh, I prefer fries. Okay, next." Very soft, so as not to disturb his slumber.

(Scene? Zzz's.)

(He murmurs a thanks, and accepts the blanket. And yes, very soon after, he is drifted off to sleep) (Endscene)