#earthrunes

Jack seems to have a gift for knowing when to clean

She nods, finishes her drink, and sets the glass aside. "Yes."

August sets his half-glass of water down. "Here. At Earth Runes."

"Yes." Her tone is quiet. "He says he didn't know you and I were here, that it was a surprise. Of course, he said it differently. Pooka."

He nods slowly, thinking. Lines on his brow. "And.... is he well?"

A tender smile to him. "He is."

He is watching her intently, and then looks away. "Ok. Are.... do you.... " He stops. "Maybe we should talk about this later." Quietly.

"You two need me to step out for a bit?" Jack says

"Would you, Jack? Thank you...."

Jack nods, "Not a problem" And he moves on out closing the door behind him

"Thank you." And she waits until the satyr departs before the looks to Auugst. "Ask."

He's still looking away.

After a long moment, he murmurs, "Do you want him?"

A long moment of silence in reply, at first.

A deep sigh.

"Yes. I do." She says it gently, but not apologetically. "I think so."

...and closes his eyes.

"He wasn't here last weekend. He's been here... a week?"

"A bit less than that."

"You're not sure, though, you said."

"Well...I'm attracted to him, yes. But he still has to...convince me."

"His presence alone is not enough, August."

"And I will not allow anything that violates our oath, or our promises to each other."

He swallows. "I'm scared."

She nods, then nuzzles his temple a moment, and murmurs softly, "I know. Tell me why."

"I know I'm not very good at.... at this. Any of it. Just about anyone else would be better. Will be." He shrugs. "Not doubting your Oath, at all, but... maybe I was better, Then. And now... you won't want me."

"August...I love exactly how you are. And I do want you. That will not change." Quiet confidence. "I love you."

He takes a deep, steadying breath. "I love you."

She smiles and combs her fingers through his hair.

"So. What now?"

"So...you should speak with him."

"I... what?"

"You should speak with him." She repeats slowly and clearly.

A bass voice rumbles from down the hallway, low at first, but picking up, though his footfalls are silent. Humming to himself in a sing-song purr that melds well with the ren-faire-esque brogue he effects (quite well, at that!). "Herrrre's to the girrrrl with the brrrrright rrrred shoes, she smokes all me smokes, and she drrrrrinks all me booze... She ain't..."

Turning around the corner, and he stops mid-verse at seeing the couple there - the tall pooka dressed this time, tailored slacks and silken shirt, italian leather shoes, and mane pulled back in a mess of a bun. A large box easily hefted onto one shoulder clinks lightly, betraying the contents. "Ah, Lady of the Loch, I meant not to interrupt."

Behind him, a tail swishes back and forth, brushing the ground lightly. In another hold, it might kick up dust, but surely Delores has a firm enough hand on her crew that no such thing would dare occur here!

August's arms tighten around the woman in his lap.

She smiles a bit at his arrival, and while her first instinct is to rise to greet him, she instead stays warm in August's arms. "Come in, DaVinci. Your timing is uncanny."

He smiles, and leans forward to slide the box onto a counter with another faint sloshy rattle. The tops of a few bottles extend above the edge of the box, a few of them bearing the likeness of golden leonine heads, mid-roar, molded onto the seal. "Your wish is my command, Lady." And he pauses, leaning slightly to catch a better glimpse of the sidhe that site behind... well, beneath her.

"Ah, and our Liam Lord as well! August, as I live and breath. It's been a lion's age since I've seen you!" His eyes flash golden and his smile widens, with true joy. "If you are able to stand, come over, let me see if you're all in one piece!"

"I, ah, I seem to be, ah, occupied just now."

He watches the pooka cautiously.

She glances back to August. "His memories seem a bit more thorough than ours."

"With the Autumn as it is, there's never a promise of finding anyone these days..." a solemn rumble to his tone, and perhaps, a touch of hurt in his expression - but it's gone as gives his head a flip under the guise of brushing some strands of mane from his face. "But it's nearly Carnival, and who wants to dwell on Winter? Let me come in like March, as the saying goes, and seek out Spring's lambkin."

((That comment to August about DaVinci))

((Yes))

She smiles to the pooka. "Quite the poet, Whiskers."

August nods, thoughtfully. "I remember the picture, of course, but... " He exhales, frustrated. "You know that tip-of-the-tongue feeling? Whiskers?" Two different thoughts and tones.

"Because of my beard, you see." He strokes his chin - actually - when did he find time to shave? He must have, because his chin and cheeks are holding just a touch of stubble, and the only whiskers remaining sprout from his broad nose.

"Ah."

"My old name for him."