#anywhere

Sylvi can't help but be impressed by the...appearance? entrance? emergence? Regardless, she gives Lovecraft a respectful nod. "Lovecraft. Thank you for meeting with me. You are well?"

Her tail twitches. The cat always looks skeletal and with a corpselight gleam to her eyes - so "well" may be subjective.

"Better will a belly full. My hunting- interrupted." She hisses, neatly neglecting to mention who/what was the hunted.

"Fair." She pulls the picnic basket into her lap and reaches in. "One moment." The basket is covered by a cloth, so Lovecraft can't easily see what she's moving in there.

Soon, she pulls out two small plates...one with two chicken livers, and one with two sardines. "The chicken livers are fresh from the DeBuke farm. The sardines are the best I could afford." She puts down the plates at arm's length, giving Lovecraft some room. "There's more of both in here, but that's for starters."

Traces of chicken blood and sardine oil linger on Sylvi's fingers, and she doesn't wipe them off yet.

Lovecraft sits back and washes a paw as she considers, then narrow eyed at Sylvi, "Brrrrribes?"

Even as she swipes out to snatch a bit of liver on her claws and daintily starts to eat it.

"Appreciation. You did not have to speak with me, and I hope you will hear me out with comfort." She waits a bit to let Lovecraft eat the first course.

She sits back once her initial hunger is satiated, and washes a paw. "Lissssstening."

Another solemn nod before she begins. "It's about Symon. I'm concerned for him, for his welfare, and I'm hoping you can answer some questions for me."

Her tail twitches, and she does not make eye contact, but she continues listening.

"Before I ask, I want to say that I know I'm biased. I know that what I think is bad for him might not be what he thinks is bad for him. But...I don't think he's thinking clearly." A pause. "He has shared an apartment with Dagmar and me, but we've seen him less and less. When we do see him, he seems more exhausted each time, but he excuses that on his studies. I don't think it's that. So first I'd like to know: What theories do you have about his well-being that you'd be willing to share?"

"Busy. Working hard. Must become doctorrrrr." Her tail swishes. "Stupid classes. Write, write, write." She considers, ears twitching. "Sometimes, cutting up bodies." A bit of a purr to that, approving of THAT.

"And, she." This a bit of a hiss.

Mild nods of understanding as Lovecraft lists the academic causes. But then she focuses in on the last. "Yes. She." Trolls tend to grumble where cats would hiss. "I have opinions. What are you seeing about her?"

"She does not like we." The royal 'we'! "She is clever with tricks. Mine chose she. Together, he is less for we." Annoyed tail twitching. "Mine says, she makes he better. Wait and see."

"We waits. We do not yet see. But, mine is mine, and we must attend his wish. Perhaps, soon. She goes away now for a time."

Lick, lick, and in a pleasantly hopeful tone, "Purrrrhaps the boat sinks?"

"He doesn't need to be made better. He's fine as he is. Well, as he was." She's about to say something else when she pauses a moment. "She's going away? On a boat?" She looks like she's been dreading this. "And he's going with her?"

Lovecraft suddenly pounces, claws bared! A sardine is her prey and it is gobbled up.

That succeeds in startling Sylvi, that time. Just a bit.

"She goes. Mine stays." Licking a paw. "Big boat. Too much sun, people, party, much much too much. Not for mine. For he, only to send, not go."

A deep breath and exhale. Relief. "That's good, then. Very good. Maybe we can work with that. How long will she be away?" She absently rubs her thumb and forefinger together where the food residue is growing sticky.

Lovecraft suddenly flattens, her tail twitching and rump slightly raised. Her gaze, on those twitching fingers.

A brow. "If you attack me, I'll give you no more."

"But...there is more." She half reaches for the plates. "Shall I?"

It is a supreme effort, but she settles down on her rump (tails!) and does not attack or bite (heads!)... for now. "Morrrreeee!" Agreeing.

"Of course," Sylvi says, a gracious host, and brings the plates back under the basket's cover. As she arranges things, she repeats the question: "How long will she be away?"

"We knows not." She says, after the food is back out.

Sylvi was going to gauge how much to put on the plate based on the answer given, but the delay was risky. Another two livers, two sardines, presented before the inky chimera. "Then there's no room for delay, once she's gone." She bites her lip, thinking. "Do you know about the gifts he's given her? I know she resold at least one."

She considers this through a mouthful of sardine. "We are not interested in baubles. Save for, featherssssss. Best on a bird, but on a stick? Good." A somewhat annoyed glance at Sylvi. "Nasty bird, hiding inside glass. No fair."

The sardine is finished, and there is a few moments for washing. "She gave him a heart with spark. It dangles, but we are not allowed to bat it." Twitchy tail.

Sylvi's eyes widen, and that gesture with the fingers again. "The pendant. Does he ever remove it?"

"Not even to wash." She sounds a bit disgusted. "Nasty water spray. Not proper bathing at all."

Lick, lick, as though to demonstrate. "Once, twice a moon? She takes it, and gives it back. Frrrrrrresh."

A deep breath, and her jaw clenches. "That bitch," she mutters, anger growing.

"We need to help him, Lovecraft."

Ear twitch.

A narrow look at that gesture. "Will you help? Or...will you at least not impede us if we try to help him?"

She looks away for a long moment. "We belong to he. It is not for we to act against he." Furious paw washing, before she says, diffidently, "Perhaps we are not there."

"Perhaps," Sylvi agrees with a nod...and three more livers, three more sardines are added to the plates. "We want to help him, not harm him, but he will see it as harm, and he will resist."

Lovecraft's eyes narrow. "Not harm him."

"He may see it as harm," she repeats. "But we do not wish to harm him. Now HER, on the other hand...." Yes, the anger is brewing at that target.

"We want him to be free of her."

A thought occurs to her. "Lovecraft, whatever involvement or lack of involvement you can contribute, thank you. If there are any other obstacles I should know about when confronting Symon, any that you're comfortable sharing, that would also help us to help him."

"Also, if you hear precisely when she's leaving, or when she's returning, that would help."

Her ears flatten a little. "Hisssss. Choice. We do not like, but we, are not he."

And just a tail lash at the question about dates. Perhaps she does not think of time in that same way.

Sylvi watches the chimera quietly for a few minutes. "Well...okay. Then let me ask you this: if we help (NOT harm) Symon, and if he is angry at us for doing so, I would really appreciate it if you could run interference, talk him down from taking revenge on us immediately. He may need time to come back to his senses. But...I know I can't insist that you promise to do so."

“We likes revenge.” She points out, a touch sullenly.

“We are not fluffy bunny!”

A brow. "I've known some vindictive fluffy bunnies in my time." Nobody insults Flopsy and gets away with it on my watch.

An arched back stretch and swish of her tail.

A shrug. "Just sayin'. Anyway...you can like revenge as much as you want, but if you don't at least try to keep him from retaliating on us when we're trying to help him and you, well, don't expect any more treats from me in the future."

Sylvi punctuates this by putting the remaining treats (four livers, four sardines) on the plates, this time cleaning off her hand on the towel covering the basket. "Thank you, Lovecraft. I wasn't sure where you stood in regards to Her. I'm reassured, now. I hope you are, too."