#rivervale_lodge

Something catches Dagmar's eye, a shape at the window.

A brow quirk and a turned head for a better look. Trolls are perceptive, but not always subtle.

Slitted, semi-malevolent green eyes stare in, looking at her.

Straight at her. Possibly boring holes into her skull.

A paw is lifted, washed, set down, all without breaking that gaze or blinking.

Tiny frown, and she breaks the gaze. (Lovecraft:1!)

Dagmar can feel the shadowcat still watching her. Lovecraft seems to be... not quite anticipating, but definitely waiting. As she might at a mousehole.

Dagmar shifts, uncomfortable. Her little adventure is over, so she's left with herself and the mess she was running from.

"That's like Da'an got involved," Sylvi says after Dagmar's story. Then she turns to see what Dagmar's looking at. Whether or not she spots Lovecraft is probably up to Lovecraft, but she does note the discomfort when she turns to look at her again.

She nods. "They needed rescued, yeah? Lucky I was there." She swallows. "Well, maybe it's time I head home..."

"Very lucky," she agrees. Then, "See you later? Or tomorrow?"

She chafes her arms and shrugs.

"Probably. I've got to catch up on census work, I think."

"And find a job."

"Okay..." she nods. "I'll look for you. Got some other things going on, too, so...if I don't show up right away, don't jump to conclusions, okay?"

"Are.. are you helping with the census thing, too?"

"Yeah. I'm trying to reach out to those who might not want to deal with the Lodge directly, and to spot the chimera that don't hang around here much."

Furious paw washing.

"Well, makes sense you have Goldfinch to look over, sure."

Another little glance at the window.

Sylvi follows the glance again, then gives a slight grin. "I think somebody's waiting to speak with you."

Ears back at the mention of census, though.

Frown.

She looks down at the floor. "He was none too happy with me."

"We talked it out, though. And...he's got your phone." A gentle verbal nudge.

"You..." She frowns. "I'm sorry."

"I can't excuse losing control like that."

"Absolutely you can. You're Gwyd. It goes with the territory. I poked the griffon, and I poked it hard." She shrugs.

A deep breath. "I need you to understand something, but I don't know if I should say it now."

A grimace. "I'll need to tell the Chief."

"About our fight? No need, as far as I'm concerned."

"But also, if you choose to, that's fine. I'm not trying to avoid responsibility for my part in it."

"I... it's what honor demands, you know? I am not trying to get you in trouble. Shit, I hurt you."

Sylvi blinks, and reaches out to touch her arm. "We hurt each other. And...we need to talk about that more, I think. But..."

At that moment, Sally Mae calls from the kitchen for Sylvi to help her out with something.

A guilty look.

"You... I gotta... I... seeya."

Sylvi sighs. "Look...talk to Symon. I'll catch up with you, and we can talk more later, okay?"

She gets up and heads for the kitchen, taking both empty Dr. Peppers to dispose of on the way.

A sigh.

"Okay, Lovecraft - is he here?"

The cat turns and hops down off the windowsill, outside. A pointed glance at Dagmar, then she starts walking away. Towards, hm, let's say the boat house, as a random place where no one else should really be at the moment.

The cat slides through the cracked door - normally closed and locked.

Dagmar follows, shoulders tense.

The overhead light is off, but sunlight streams in through a window, so it's neither dark nor bright. Symon perches within on a rack that holds some cleaning equipment, and one sluagh, putting him somewhat closer to eye level with Dagmar. He gives her a small smile.

Wearing the same outfit he wore to Goldfinch earlier, if somewhat rumpled by now.

She hangs back a little, wrapping her arms around herself. "Hey Sy. Sylvi says you have my phone..."

He offers it out, dangling for her to take. No danger of it falling, it's stuck fast to his suctioncup-like fingertips.

She reaches for it. "Thanks."

"...I'm sorry." He whispers.