We Have a Predicament

[lorki]

Consciousness had a habit of being unkind to Sleet. Mostly it was because she despised sleep, getting there was difficult and rousing was often equally (if not more) painful, and most often involved being jolted from some awful dream laced with difficult reality. The truth, the sort of truth that one tries to avoid and pretend they do not know, was a prominent figure in Sleets unconscious mind, a daunting and mocking thought that she forcibly pushed back during the waking hours. So naturally, having now endured a good day's worth of sleep, Sleet wasn't waking well.

Starting out, Sleet was more confused that anything. Her head still swam uncomfortably, dehydration had taken away a fair chunk of her steady thought process, and there was a shooting pain in forehead she might have been able to mistake for a stick lodged though one of her eyes. The real problems came once she opened her eyes and the early afternoon light that crept though the small window illuminated the tiny room and the empty bed across from her.

Ungracefully, the ferret turned herself in a bit of a panic and flipped from the bed onto the stone floor. Her paws pressed into the cold ground while she swung her head around, trying desperately to think of what could have landed her in a tiny, locked (she assumed) room. She ripped the tangled sheet away from herself and was about to body slam the door when she realized that she was clothed completely in a hideous forest green... and she was wearing a tunic.

Just as quickly as she acknowledged this horrible fact, she recalled the evening she had stumbled though the Abbey doors, she remembered Tirael's bleak ... Tirael-ness, and Redin's enraged glare and the bucket of water she had dumped on herself. Was that why someone had felt the desire to change her clothes? Into this? Her paws patted the chest and abdomen of the tunic, they moved to touch her hip- weaponless, of course. Her expression grew darker, she didn't even have a knife to try and make herself look... not ridiculous. She reminded herself, halfheartedly, that she probably looked half dead anyhow and a single hued outfit probably wasn't that worst that could have happened to her. Still, she vowed to discover the one responsible for such a getup... and she already had placed blame on Redin, Tirael would never dare dress her.

Fueled by this new vengeful purpose, Sleet fought the throbbing pain in her head and the fatigue in her legs. She marched to the door, and after some confused shuffling with the locks and a few unsuccessful attempts at opening it, she flung it outwards, turned into the hall and stared down a horrified looking vole; who was unfortunate enough to be walking by with an armful of folded laundry. In a very demanding (not to mention haggard and raspy) voice, Sleet asked, "why am I wearing green?"

[Maxodis]

Trotting back through the seemingly endless hallways of the sandstone building, Redin Outmir was in a mixed mood. On one paw, he had thoroughly enjoyed watching that healer Tirael's feeble attempts to learn how to wield a quaterstaff. Naturally he'd had to exert a great deal of self control to keep himself from laughing audibly, to the extent that he had nearly fallen from his perch on several marked occasions. Still it was well worth it, a brief comic relief in the otherwise grim situation he found himself in. On the other, he'd stayed to bear witness to that 'training' far longer than he had intended. The sun was well up in the sky, the morning being chased out by the awakening heat of a new summer day.

Sleet had still been asleep when he left her. Ordinarily he wouldn't have even begun to consider such an action, but the oppressive feeling of those sandstone walls was doing nothing to help the creeping hunger that had begun to consistently pull at the edges of his mind. Keeping himself in check had begun to be a conscious effort, one which had fouled his already displeased mood. Still, getting out and breathing a good deal of fresh air had helped to clear his mind somewhat. Helped to suppress the faint urge to throw the door of their room open and drag in an unsuspecting victim whenever he heard pawsteps passing down the hallway outside.

He hadn't meant to leave her unattended for so long. It had been over a full day since she lost consciousness, and according to the healer her health was rapidly improving. Realistically she could be awake at any time. He thought he would only be gone for an hour... but sometimes things didn't always turn out as he expected they would.

One such thing was finding his way back to their room. The Weasel's sense of direction was dismal at best. He had been living in Mossflower his entire life and still regularly managed to find himself lost. It did not help matters that the only other occasion that he'd gone through the halls of the building was the night of his arrival. He had made several wrong turns, but he was beginning to get the impression he had made just enough of the wrong turns to get to where he needed to be anyway. He glared at an approaching vole burdened with an armful of laundry. He could hear the seducing voice in his head sweetly urging him to wrap his paws around the creature's neck. Before he could begin to consider suppressing these thoughts, the door he was about to pass by was meeting his face.

The resulting calamitous noise was his shout of pain and surprise mixed with the dull thud as the solid wood door slammed into his jaw, fused with the faint but frantic jingling of his face-bells. He stumbled back as he recoiled from the blow, more overcome with shock from the abrupt interruption of his thoughts than of the stinging pain. Catching himself with his uninjured arm, he glanced up sharply when a familar if not ragged voice reached his ears.

"Why am I wearing green?"

[lorki]

Sleet turned sharply as the door made an audible thud, giving the vole a chance to escape the mayhem that was quickly escalating. There was no mistaking the sharp jingle of bells, Sleet knew very well who she had swung the door open on. "Redin!" She said sharply as she rounded the door and glared at the disheveled weasel, who looked a bit surprised at her surprise attack.

Her first action was to scan the weasel for any sort of garment she might be able to steal off of him and turn into something half-decent for herself. However, he was dressed in classic Redin wardrobe- a vest and pants, and without any instruments she couldn't make either one of those a suitable shirt. The disappointment only added to her displeasure, which had yet to manifest itself into a physical attack but was getting dangerously close.

"Redin... I... I look like a... a friendly tree," she managed, her ears pressed back against her skull, her eyes dark and wide and her head bobbing with every word to give it some extra emphasis. She realized that perhaps the abbey dwellers had a bit of a differing culture from herself, but this color? "Where are my clothes?" She continued, her tone just as demanding and vicious, "and where have you been? I'm in their dieing and you put me in this hideous thing and then run off to play? Some friend you are!" There was a moment of quiet before she swung her arms up violently and shouted, "a friendly tree, Redin, a friendly tree!"

[Maxodis]

Redin Outmir considered himself fearless. He had been fighting all his life, killed hundreds of creatures in battles where he was often vastly outnumbered, survived countless wounds that would have killed lesser creatures. He possessed a solid self-confidence and an indomitable will. There were few things that could give the hardened weasel pause, and an unpredictable Sleet was one of them.

He watched her warily as she came around the door and set her glare upon him. 'Unpredictable' wasn't entirely true, she was predictable in that she would turn violent very shortly. It was only a matter of when, and how he would get away when she did. He rubbed a paw over the stinging spot on his chin, watching her eyes flit over his figure and then darken. She was undoubtedly looking for a change of clothes, and understandably so. Quietly Redin was grateful for his simple attire: his open vest would do nothing for the disoriented ferret but make her indecent.

"Redin... I... I look like a... a friendly tree,"

Friendly was not the first word to come to the weasel's mind. He could already see that his time before 'Friendly' turned into 'Murderous' was rapidly disappearing. He dropped into a half-crouch, holding his sling close to his chest as his eyes darted around, searching out the best escape route for when he needed to bolt.

"Where are my clothes? And where have you been? I'm in there dying and you put me in this hideous thing and then run off to play? Some friend you are! A friendly tree, Redin, a friendly tree!"

"Aye, I missed yew too, Sleet." He growled, his ears flattening against his skull as he began to slowly circle her. He held his free paw out in front of him, in almost a warding gesture, although he maintained several feet of space between this paw and her, he had become far too familiar with the ferret's habit of lunging forward and biting something that was put in front of her face, particularly when she was in such a mood as this. "I've been jes' fine, thanks fer askin', though yew've been far better off than I, b'leive me. They took yore clothes, said they 'ad t'clean 'em. Now quiet down now, eh? Gonna collapse again if'n ye ain't careful."

[lorki]

"Aye, I missed yew too, Sleet."

Holding a glare for so long was proving to be substantially painful, the muscles in her head felt like they might implode at any time. Still, it was difficult not to express the anger that was heating her chest. Relenting, Sleet relaxed a bit, at least in the face, and let out a long and frustrated sigh. "Y'look like it." She muttered sarcastically, her uninjured arm moving upwards so that her paw could try to rub out the throbbing ache in her forehead.

"I've been jes' fine, thanks fer askin', though yew've been far better off than I, b'leive me. They took yore clothes, said they 'ad t'clean 'em. Now quiet down now, eh? Gonna collapse again if'n ye ain't careful."

"I've been better off?" She tossed her head back and rolled her eyes in exasperation. Redin was not worth arguing with, this was the reason why their heated conversations rarely went into reasonable debate and more often into immediate physical fighting. It was more satisfying for Sleet to get in a good punch than it was to attempt a vocal argument and get no where. But right now, with her head blazing in pain and every limb feeling substantially heavier than normal, an innocent brawl sounded terribly unappealing. She'd have to deal with this the difficult way- deliberately ignoring most of what came out the weasels mouth.

Giving up on trying to massage the headache away, Sleet lowered her arm and waved a dismissive paw at Redin, "Get up, you look pathetic." She imagined it would be a funny scene to walk in on- her in a ridiculous getup menacing at a defensive (albeit much more intimidating) Redin. Funny, that is, if it were not her in the green oversize tunic. Her paw returned to press against her head, "Jus' take me to wherever there is food, would you?"

[Maxodis]

Continuing to circle around her as she spoke, Redin slowed to a stop when his back had found the wall across the corridor from their room. With her now between him and the open door, he carefully considered her as she spoke. For the most part, she appeared to be exasperated, pained, and in short supply of patience. Not to say that the ferret was ever in ample supply of patience. All things considered, this was an ideal situation.

"Get up, you look pathetic."

He rose slowly, his stance relaxing somewhat although his arm still remained extended in front of him. He shrugged his shoulders, aggravated by the tug of the sling tied behind them. He maintained a sense of dignity, regarding her with a cool look as she rubbed her temples.

"Jus' take me to wherever there is food, would you?"

There were a few motivations for the words he spoke next. One could easily argue that her bursting from her bedside and out into the hallway was in direct violation of the healer's advice for her to remain at rest once she had awaken, and his actions were the beginning of an unorthodox and ineffective plan to see to it that she stay at least within the confines of the room until the otter came to see her. This wouldn't be entirely valid, as the weasel was of the solid belief that if she was able to stand, she must not be that bad off.

What was more true was the fact that despite his marked caution when dealing with her, that caution founded with good reason from their years of companionship, there was little that the weasel enjoyed more than antagonizing Sleet. To this end, his caution made a hasty exit, searching desperately for a safe place to hide as the mischievous nature that was his species' birthright came to light. A lopsided grin spreading over his features, he chuckled as he shook his head. "Pathetic? 'Least I don't look loike nature vomited on me." His sarcastic grin growing, he tilted his head slightly to the side. "I dunno why yer so upset anyway. Yew were all wet, an' I helped ye t'make it better." He offered her a roguish wink. "Yer clothes jes' 'ad to go in th' process."

[lorki]

"Pathetic? 'Least I don't look like nature vomited on me."

Sleet grunted a bit of a halfhearted laugh, "Y'dont? Nature perhaps not, but I was always under the impression that vomit was the look you were goin' for." Her eyes flicked over his worn garb, scarred chest, arm in a sling, and back to his face, her brow raised. Still, she was a bit disheartened to find that familiar mischievous grin had found it's way onto Redin's face. He wasn't going to let her go that easily, she realized, he'd probably had to go too long being polite and needed an outlet for his brutish humor. She was not in the mood.

"I dunno why yer so upset anyway. Yew were all wet, an' I helped ye t'make it better." He offered her a roguish wink. "Yer clothes jes' 'ad to go in th' process."

Sleet never could help but be a bit shocked at him sometimes. Waking from horrific dreams, the prescience of a throbbing headache, noticeable fatigue and not knowing much about where the hell she was were trying enough on the ferret's short temper. Redin and his multiple faults- in this case his blunt vitiation, and unneeded salacity, never did much but to shorten her fuse.

At which point there were only seconds left for Sleet to determined a sharp tongued response was not adequate punishment for her companion, not to mention that it would surely only be followed by yet another remark from Redin. "You," she glowered, a snarl taking up her features, "are impossible!" And with that she closed closed the distance between them, a green tuniced disaster of a beast tackling an intimidating weasel with one arm in a sling. Who would expect anything else?

[Maxodis]

"You... are impossible!"

A burst of laughter was pulled from the Weasel, only briefly halted by his ferret friend solidly tackling his chest. Such a reaction was one more befitting their odd relationship, and though he would never admit it, he found a quiet sort of comfort in it, something familiar in an otherwise foreign environment.

His suspicions were verified by the force of her tackle. In good health(and ample rage), Sleet was easily capable of knocking the wind out of him at the worst and taking him down at best. The latter of these continuously bewildered Redin, as she most often demonstrated this talent when he had lost control completely and was deep within the clutches of insanity. He was no novice when it came to fighting, he knew how to keep his stance and maintain his balance. Still it was unsurprising. The assassin knew a number of tricks that were secrets to all but herself. On this day however, her feeble attempt at expressing her displeasure could have been mistaken by the weasel for an enthusiastic hug.

He eyed the open door behind her and followed through with her idea, prying her off of himself rather easily with his slinged arm, then bending down and wrapping his other around her midriff, hoisting her up over his shoulder as he rose. Still chuckling, mostly to himself, he carried her into the room, bending down as to keep from hitting her head on the top of the doorway. "Loike I was jes' sayin', y'need to quiet down an' get s'more rest, aye? We'll get one o' those green-clad idjits t'bring yew some food, yer clothes, and prob'ly tha' 'ealer fellow. Sooner yew c'n gimme a respect'ble tackle th' 'appier we'll both be."

[lorki]

Sleet knew her anger wouldn't be correctly translated. Her movement was sluggish and, although her expression was meaningfully enraged, she thudded against her larger target without much real power. She had little time to realize her failure, however, as she was quickly scooped into the air. She was still for a few fleeting moments, staring, wide eyed, at the ground her face was now angled towards.

"Loike I was jes' sayin', y'need to quiet down an' get s'more rest, aye? We'll get one o' those green-clad idjits t'bring yew some food, yer clothes, and prob'ly tha' 'ealer fellow. Sooner yew c'n gimme a respect'ble tackle th' 'appier we'll both be."

As Redin began entering the room, Sleet's motivation seemed to come back to her. She kicked her legs out, successfully striking the door sending it flying back to crack against the wall. Next, she threw her arm back, purposefully moving so that her elbow may meet with the back of Redin's head. "Put... me.... down!" She added viciously, as she made a determined shift of her weight away from the weasel in an attempt to fling herself off his shoulder... or possibly to throw both of them onto the ground.

[Maxodis]

In the brief moments that the ferret was still, Redin experienced an odd sense of triumph, a security with the knowledge that the angry little creature on his shoulder was either listening to him or in no condition to do anything else. Quietly he knew these thoughts were naive at best, and that her momentary compliance was merely the result of her shock and short-lived disorientation with her new position in relation to the floor.

When her legs first kicked out all good feelings dissipated. His ears flattening back against his skull, his grip on her tightened grimly. The door slammed against the wall, the corridor echoing with a resounding crack as the solid wood made contact with the sandstone, leaving a split that would be almost imperceptible until the wood around the crack had an opportunity to splinter. Her elbow rammed into the back of his skull, tilting his head forward slightly as he continued to march unabated into the room, fazed neither by the sharp noise nor the surprisingly solid blow that followed.

"Put... me.... down!"

Her sudden lunge took him by surprise, and his eyes went wide as he realized that his next step was not going to make any solid contact with the ground, as anticipated. Still maintaining a firm grip on the thrashing ferret with his good arm, Redin reflexively reached out with his other to catch himself on the small table, forgetting entirely that the arm in question was restricted by the cloth sling that confounded healer had confined him to. The resulting failure produced a symphony of noise far too raucous for the early hour of the day. Desperately attempting to keep his balance as well as prevent Sleet from falling and breaking her neck(Which at the moment did not seem such a disagreeable fate), Redin stumbled, both tripping over the modestly-sized floor rug beneath his footpaws and slamming his elbow down on a corner of the relatively tiny table. His footpaws gave in first, after an almost in imperceptible pause, and he shouted an expletive in alarm when the rest of his considerable weight and that of Sleet's came down heavily on the table, in reality a sorry assortment of old wood that was never intended to hold much more than a pitcher of liquid. The whole thing gave without much complaint, its split legs going one way and the board that served dutifully as its surface going another, the remains of the weasel's breakfast that had been at rest atop the structure filling every space between. They continued, unhalted, on their combined plummet to the floor, which was far more successful in bringing an end to their fall than anything previous. The wind was driven from Redin as he hit the floor, the ferret in his arm for the most part landing on his chest and neck, comparatively soft surfaces to that which he himself had found.

He lay there in silence, somewhat bewildered with a distantly familiar sensation quickly rising up in him as the listened to the small bells attached to the chains strung along his face stop ringing. The distance of that sensation was quickly bridged and made apparent by the thick vein pounding in his neck as he shoved the ferret off of him. Parts of the fur covering his heaving chest stuck to his skin from the copious amount of juice that had been in one of the earthenware cups atop the table from his half-finished meal. His lips curled back in an equally vicious snarl as he half-rose to his knees, his claws sinking into the offending rug beneath them. "Couldn't 'ave it easy, could ya? Fine!" He snapped the thick fabric taut, sending the broken shards of what had once been dishes flying off of the rug in every direction. "'Ave it yer way!" He threw that end of the rug over the ferret, reaching over and roughly grabbing what he assumed to be her shoulder with one paw and her hip with the other(Now belatedly free of his sling), beginning to roll her tightly within the dense rug in a manner far from gentle.

[Tirael]

A floor below the mayhem, a much less unpleasant noise was emanating from the infirmary. Tirael sat in one of the room's large windowsills, playing his flute to pass the time until Sleet woke up. It was warm in the sunlight streaming through the window, and he relished the sensation. At least, he did until a crashing din startled him. It took him a moment to figure it out, but when he did, he just sighed, grabbed his bag, and headed upstairs. Why couldn't they just calm down for once?

Tirael was tired. He'd spent the entire morning stressing over the psychotic friends apparently doing their best to kill each other; playing the flute was his attempt at relaxing. The fact that Redin and Sleet were justifying his concern was only making things worse. As he reached the upper floor, however, something seemed wrong: it had grown quiet. Taking that as a sign that things were just about to get worse, the otter hurried toward the door to Sleet's room and flung it open just in time to see Redin making a Sleet-burrito.

It didn't matter to him how it had started, or who was to blame, or whether or not he could stop it: all he saw was that he had tried to help them, and they were busy undoing his work. Redin's sling was off. Sleet's bandaging was skewed and undone. The room was wrecked. And he had spent hours worrying that they were the innocent targets of intolerance from his friends. He felt humiliated.

"You're obviously feeling better," he said, his voice dripping sarcasm. "If this is all I'm helping you to do, then leave me alone, I don't want anything to do with it." Turning to go stew in his anger elsewhere, he called back, "Leave whenever you want!"

[lorki]

Feeling Redin's body lurch with her sudden shift sideways was terribly satisfying... for about one half of a second. As soon as the wide fanged grin of success had come over Sleets face, Redin continued his downwards movement, shouting out a few choice words as he managed to spin and fall. Sleet could only really register the crack of wood and stone, seeing as she shut her eyes tightly and grimaced, knowing what the outcome of these turbulent movements would be. Landing mostly on top of the ungraceful weasel, Sleet opened her eyes immediately, just in time to avoid a falling cup... which instead thudded against Redin's chest and sent a wave of watered down juice over her face.

Despite the somewhat grim-looking broken table and clearly angry weasel, Sleet still managed to feel a bit triumphant. This feeling materialized as Redin roughly shoved her away and she let out a sharp laugh. She moved a paw over her mouth to try and muffle her clear enjoyment of this moment, but it did nothing to stop her giggling. "I though... hehe... thought you'd be happier with some.. hah... respectable damage." She shook her head, wiping a paw across her face, "Don't ask for things y'don't want, Redin."

"Couldn't 'ave it easy, could ya? Fine!" He snapped the thick fabric taut, sending the broken shards of what had once been dishes flying off of the rug in every direction. "'Ave it yer way!"

She managed another half laugh while Redin came at her with the rug, but soon there after found herself moved about again in an uncomfortable manner. "Ack... Redin, damnit... not again." She tossed herself about, clawing at the outside of the rug in an attempt to pry herself out of it. Just as she'd managed to wriggle her chest away from the trap the door swung open and she raised her eyes to look at a horror stricken Tirael.

She watched as his shock made the quick shift to displeasure. She had become still for that moment, half tucked into a rug and half out and her face splattered with juice, but the smile had dissipated.

"You're obviously feeling better," he said, his voice dripping sarcasm. "If this is all I'm helping you to do, then leave me alone, I don't want anything to do with it." Turning to go stew in his anger elsewhere, he called back, "Leave whenever you want!"

She blinked as the otter disappeared from the doorway, unsure if she ought to feel angry of guilty over Tiraels words. Still, she fought her way out of the rug prison and quickly darted across the room from Redin, "that's enough o' that, now nobody's going t'get me any food." She breathed heavily, smirking at the weasel. Still, Tirael's words echoed in her mind while she pondered over if she ought to go after him.

She felt as if his words may have hidden a snide comment on the projected nature of vermin- their 'well known' affinity for violence, destruction, disrespect for hospitality and... tables. "If this is all I'm helping you to do, then leave me alone, I don't want anything to do with it." Perhaps she was taking it too personally... She considered looking to Redin for his interpretation, but quickly reminded herself that his thoughts on these sort of subjects weren't worth much.

Her mood having fallen a bit ill, she scowled across the room before quickly turning out the door right as Tirael had reached the end of the hallway, "I'll leave after I get some damn food and my damn clothes, otter. Y'can find me and my friend down in your... dining... whatever." These words, she was sure, would cover both her needs. One, they expressed her emotions well enough and she couldn't have to go chasing after the sensitive otter to try and coax him back into liking her. Two, no sensible beast in their right mind would gladly let her and Redin parade about the Abbey on their own. She was sure Tirael would be joining them shortly.

In the meantime she turned back into the room and grabbed a sheet off the bed to wipe her face with. After dropping it unceremoniously to the ground, she glanced back at Redin, "c'mon, I'm tired of waiting for some food."

[Maxodis]

Redin was mostly certain of the high chances of failure in his venture to imprison Sleet in the rug before the idea even occurred to him. Ferrets, in his experience, had always been restless creatures, always moving, never still. Anything that would restrict that generally sent them into frantic bouts of writhing to get themselves free. This counted moreso for the assassin, as she was well aware that if he managed to trap her it would be a good long while before he let her free.

So it was mostly for the spirit of the moment and amusement that the weasel essayed to roll Sleet in the floor rug. The brief spike of livid rage faded as it came, having served its purpose as merely a catalyst for their mutually destructive behavior. A grim smile cracked across his features as he attempted to confine the ferret in the now ruined rug, continually shifting his weight with her as her struggles first sent her rolling one way and then another.

They both froze as the latch of the door gave a brief metallic prelude to the sound of the abused door itself being thrown open. The weasel did not turn to look sharply as Sleet had, rather he pivoted slowly at the hip, acknowledging the intrusion with only a lazy glance from the corner of his eye. He refused to acknowledge the absurdity of his appearance, juice still dripping from him in places and scraps of food clinging to his fur in others.

"You're obviously feeling better. If this is all I'm helping you to do, then leave me alone, I don't want anything to do with it."

His brow twitched at the otter's words, his look of calm disinterest darkening slightly. Redin wasn't entirely certain that he found the healer's attitude and choice of words to be tolerable, rather they seemed unprovoked and infused with a more subtle meaning. He was less and less certain that he cared for Tirael's reaction by the second, and he rose from his knees to his full height, his hazel eyes darkening still, leaving Sleet free to escape from the rug. She did, and quickly, putting ample space between herself and the rising mass of muscles without hesitation.

"That's enough o' that, now nobody's going t'get me any food."

Her words, accompanied by the flashed grin, made him wonder if she had equated their brief struggle to something akin to the energetic cavorting of dibbuns. He supposed in reflection that it could be considered 'playing' of a sort... of a destructive and often violent sort. He returned the concise smirk, the action stalling his rising irritation and willingness to act upon it. In the awkward silence following, he glanced down at himself to see just how much of the mess had made it onto him, and noticed immediately that a corner of the vest he wore was hanging by a scrap of cloth, a long gash having cleanly split the material.

He shrugged the garment off his shoulders as Sleet exited into the hallway, holding it out in front of him for a more general inspection. There were more long slashes in the weathered material, the back of it was in far worse shape. He wasn't sure of what had been the cause of such destruction, Sleet was certainly quite capable of tearing the back of his vest when he had been carrying her, and it was just as likely that in his fall he had landed on some shards of broken earthenware. Regardless, the vest was ruined, and he dropped it in disgust.

Bare-chested, he turned back to the doorway as Sleet passed back through it. He brushed a few crumbs from the fur covering his shoulder with a few delicate swipes of his paw, as if he were a lord in his best finery and not a half-naked weasel, clothed in only the sturdy black and far more dependable pants and his fur.

"C'mon, I'm tired of waiting for some food."

Redin shrugged, slipping his arm back into the sling as he began to walk towards the doorway. "First yew get covered in food, then yew want t'eat? Huh, always knew yew were a nutter."

[Tirael]

"I'll leave after I get some d**n food and my d**n clothes, otter. Y'can find me and my friend down in your... dining... whatever."

Not bothering to turn around or even slow down, Tirael simply went down the stairs in a foul mood. He noticed that Sleet had reverted to calling him 'otter'; how like her to just pull away and play the offended victim instead of even admitting the possibility that she could be in the wrong. Whatever, Tirael thought bitterly. We're even now, I don't owe her anything. Part of him was pained that their relationship had so suddenly and unceremoniously gone sour, but the rest of him was too furious to care.

As much as he would have hated to admit it, Sleet was right about something: there was no way he was just going to let her and Redin waltz into Great Hall and cause more mayhem. They'd already had their way with the small room; there was much more to destroy in Great Hall, and that kind of damage would be hard for Tirael to explain later.

Of course, tagging along with Sleet and Redin was far out of the question. With no other recourse, the otter trudged down another flight of stairs into the Hall, down yet another flight into Cavern Hole, and made for a seat by the corner where he could keep an eye on things without having to interact with anybeast. Now was definitely the wrong time to start up a conversation with the fuming healer; he was only interested in keeping chaos to a minimum.

[lorki]

"First yew get covered in food, then yew want t'eat? Huh, always knew yew were a nutter."

"Covered in what I can only imagine is your breakfast, you damn wasteful brute. I didn't ask t'get thrown into a table either." Sleet maintained a bit of a lopsided grin as she berated Redin, trying to let her anger towards Tirael fade. Hadn't she known what she was getting into when she'd decided to come here in the first place? She wasn't looking for friendship, that much was true. But, alive as she was, the trip had been worthwhile and if all went well she and Redin could grab some food and get out before anyone did get hurt. Still, she couldn't help but be bitter.

Not only that but Sleet had no knowledge of the abbey building, no real idea what section of it she resided in or where she was in relation to their kitchens. She started out into the hallway with the intention of leading Redin out of their room but after a few meaningful strides she turned sharply. The ferret marched back and grabbed onto Redin's good arm, propelling him forward lightly she looked up at him, "and I imagine, in your adventuring while I lay on my death bed, you know where we ought to go."