#rutgers

The little sofa is just the right size for 2 normal folk to sit cozily upon - which means that Dagmar and Symon average out nicely, his slender legs curled up onto the cushion as he leans against Dag's side, idly plucking a piece of stale popcorn that sticks to it's mates with a coating of somewhat rancid butter out of his bowl, placed carefully out of accidental reach for Dagmar.

Across the small living room, the TV plays, showing an episode of Dancing with the Stars where a beefy woman cavorts with several men dressed as donkeys.

Symon whispers, "You sure it's not turned down too far? I know you like this song." It's still audible, just at a definitely lower than usual volume.

A small creep of purple but she shrugs. "Don't wanna hurt your ears, neither."

Symon is watching the lady dance, and then occasionally his eyes drift back over to Dagmar, looking over her muscular form. A small smile creeps to the corners of his cracked lips.

"She's something, isn't she? Rugby, y'know."

One of Dagmar's muscular arms wraps around Symon's slender shoulders, warm and possessive.

“You know, I always wondered what drew me to people with that kind of muscular build. I wondered if I just had an appreciation for muscles- but its the other way around. It’s because she reminds me of you.”

She blushes so hard that she's appreciably warmer. "I... oh."

"I just... I... I like having you." Not exactly eloquent there, the words tumble and tangle like very earnest and very clumsy puppies.

"Yeah." He leans back against her again. "Me too."

The little bird chimera is hopping about, and seems to be pondering Dagmar's bowl of popcorn.

She rests her chin on top of his head and lets out a contented huff. ("Mine.")

Wee bird hops back onto Dagmar's horns and gives a whisper-cheep of it's own. mine!

A bit of rumbly laughter in her chest.

After a few moments, he remarks, "I'm planning on finding those redcaps. The leader, at least. Soon. Not on Samhain, though. I need for them to remember what I have to say to them." He doesn't need to specify which redcaps he means.

Indeed, he has names and appearances

"Good."

"They deserve it. Fuckwads."

"I have a few ideas about how to make the message stick. You don't mess with family."

Another rumble. Agreement.

"I can't just smash'm into paste. There's rules." Slightly resentful.

He reaches up and lightly presses a hand against her cheek, fondly. "Those rules are a part of who you are, so I respect that - love that - about you. That said, I don't have those rules. Neither does Dirk."

She smiles at that, and nods. "Better, really. Coming from you and him."

"Doesn't quite work as well as you by my side, but Dirk's no slouch. He might beat me up if I tried to go without him."

A sudden huff of whispered laughter. "Do you remember - when we first met?"

A pause, considering. "Party."

"It was at the mall, I think, but it was... years ago. Hard to believe how long it's been. The time I was thinking of? Dirk was bullying me, and you and Sylvi came to my rescue."

"It's hard to believe there was a time I didn't know you."

"You called me 'Jack Skellington'. I was too intimidated to call you anything, really." He twists his neck unnaturally so that he can look up at her, eyes amused. "You're lucky I didn't call you ma'am."

"I woulda socked you good."

"I was kinda a hot mess back then."

"That would have confused the hell out of Sy-that-was. He might have had his brain break, half in fear and the other half trying not to blurt out, "t-t-t-thank you ma'am, may I have another?" Mimicing his old stutter with a hint of a grin.

Impulsively, she stretches to kiss his cheek. "I mean, if you ask?"

There's a hint of an impish glint to his eyes. "Please, ma'am?"

She very lightly taps his nose, with a slightly odd edge to her smile.

A laugh that she can more feel vibrating his frame than hear aloud.

A wolf-fanged grin, golden eyes gleaming.

"Did you want to do anything for Samhain? I mean, anything specific? Not sure if there were any official events being planned..."

"Specific? Dunno. Wanna spend it with you. I have you. Doing something wild, maybe. I've been feeling... wound tight, yeah?"

"Yeah? Want to go hunt someone who deserves it? Or go on an adventure? Into the dreaming? Or to a new part of town? I'm game for anything." A pause, and he adds, "Well, maybe not a rock concert or flash mob. But most anything. As long as we can do it together."

"An adventure. Kicking someone's ass is fun, too, sure. But I don't need nuthin' loud, nah. Or crowded. You know I don't like parties."

"I don't mind... get togethers. Maybe even soirees."

"You can have a soiree with two, yeah?" She considers. "Do you remember more, since you're unseelie more? Samhain's always so... fuzzy. I boomerang pretty hard, after. Not supposed to stay in winter as a Falcon."

He looks thoughtful.

"Dumb. It can be nice feeling like this." She emphasizes that by giving Symon a little squeeze.

“A little, maybe.” He admits. “Not as much as I’d like, but I understand what the dreaming is trying to accomplish. Originally, anyways- giving the Seelie a chance to cut loose and understand the other side, and the Unseelie the grace to welcome them for a night, and then wiping the slate clean- no regrets, no shame.”

"True. Can be good to let go."

He wraps a hand around one of hers, twining fingers. “Sometimes. Some things though, never.”

She ducks her head and kisses their intertwined fingers.

The little bird trills a raspy little song just for them.

Dagmar closes her eyes, pressed close. "I know you don't... but... just... you fit so nicely."