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What? Did you think this wouldn't touch the animal patrons as well?

Looks like human[oid] females aren't the only ones cycling in the bar this month.

There's a large, cougar-like cat roaming between the tables, yowling, screaming and, every now and then, will roll about on the floor the way you've seen housecats do.

It would appear that being around a large number of hormonal women has caused Tasha to come into heat. Or rather, the scent of dozens of women going through their monthly cycles has caused her to come into heat. Or maybe it's empathy that's led her to this state.

Then again it could just be a funny case of coincidence that Ian's lir is in estrus and acting very friendly to everyone, rubbing against them and purring loud enough to pass for a car engine.

Either way, there's a cat who's perhaps the only one enjoying this time of the month - much to Ian's chagrin.

[This post weirds me out in all sorts of ways and that's why I have to write it.

Stupid muses...]

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Sheppard stares at the cat for several long moments before wondering if maybe earmuffs might do the trick. That cat is loud.

"Nice kitty," he says, rubbing at his forehead. "Go do that outside?"

Big cat = big purr.

We should all be glad she's not a roaring cat, because then the roof would come down, and that would be Bad For Everyone.

But you are a nice man, kind man, you pet Tasha?

Especially Sheppard, who's already had one close call with having a building go to pieces on him today. "Nice kitty," he repeats, watching Tasha very carefully. Happy as she looks right now, she's still got good-sized claws and teeth.

For now though, Tasha is content to wind her way about Sheppard's legs, which means going under the table and upsetting the contents on it.

Obviously Milliways does not have things nailed down completely.

And if she's going to use those paws, it's to bat at his feet while she's rolling about on her back, legs asprawl in the air.

It's not so bad - she could be attempting a hug and kiss, and - ask Niall about this - it's not as fun as it sounds.

"Dammit!" So much for that beer. Sheppard tries to move his legs, hoping to make some more room for the cat-not to mention to try and avoid those paws. "Good kitty. No mauling John, okay? Just...keep doing that."

He can't help but be more than a little grateful that she's not trying to jump up and bite his ass like his family's cat used to, though.

"Tasha? Tasha! Lir where are you?"

Here where there is ale and the scent of mating animals on the breeze...

Oh no; another person he has to rescue from his particularly amorous companion...

"I am sorry for my lir. I know what has gotten into her but I am not sure how it got into her."

And seeing Ian, she switches targets for her leg-winding and starts head-butting Ian, who, thanks to having had her for several years now, does not fall over.

But he does wobble.

"Lir?" he repeats, still keeping most of his attention on Tasha. "No problem," Sheppard says finally. "I still have all my arms and legs, which is good. She just seems...really friendly."

It's a nicer way of putting it than 'insane love cat'.

"Aye, lir."

For a moment, he thinks that's enough for anyone, then remembers that not everyone knows what lir are.

"Tasha is my lir. All Cheysuli warriors have one. It is a mark of a boy become man when he finally receives the animal the gods have chosen to be his companion.

Through them a Cheysuli warrior can know the freedom of lir-shape as well as the magic that comes from the lir-bond."

He looks down at the cat, who is rather pleased right now, and hopes that this won't last much more than a few days; that she will revert back to her normal self.

"Magic animal companions," he says, nodding. "Got it." Really, it's not that weird compared to some of the things he's seen. "So Tasha's her name, huh? Mind if I ask yours?" The cat is given another glance. "I'd kinda like to know who to yell for if she gets too friendly."

This time Ian laughs.

"Aye aye. My name is Ian. I come from Homana.

You are?"

The next question is: do you drink? If so how about some strong liquor my good man?

"John Sheppard. Pleaesd to meet you, and really pleased that Tasha here decided she liked me." He nods at the question. "I drink, but I think I'll stick with a beer. I kinda have things to take care of outside that door."

He nods.

"Then we shall have that," he says, not sure what a beer is, though he figures it's alcoholic, and that's something the gods made for Moments Like This.

"As to Tasha, she is not friendly with everyone, least of all someone who is Ihlini and thus in league with the Seker."

No. Niall has not convinced Ian that not every Ihlini serves Asar-Suti, and most likely Niall never will.

"Never heard of them," Sheppard says, raising an eyebrow slightly. "But I'm assuming they're not exactly people you're friendly with."

"Be grateful you have not, for they are an evil race bent on destroying the prophecy and giving Homana over to their foul god Asar-Suti," he says as a rat comes over, hoping someone will give it an order to fill.

"And aye, we are not friendly with them. The Cheysuli and Ihlini have never been boon companions, and despite what my rujholli thinks, we never will."

"Sounds like we both have problems with people who don't exactly like us," he says, nodding. He glances down at the rat. "Could you get us two beers?"

His attention returns to Ian. "Rujholli?"

He nods darkly. "The Cheysuli have had their share of distrust and ill-will given their way. It was not so long ago that a king's decree nearly eliminated the Cheysuli from the world.

We can only thank the gods that Shaine's orders did not succeed."

He looks at John, puzzled for a moment.

"Oh it is a word in the Old Tongue of the Cheysuli," he says. "In the common speech the appropriate word is 'brother'."

Sheppard frowns as he nods. "I'm guessing that's changed?" It's possible that Ian's dead, but it seems politer at the moment to not ask directly.

He nods again. "Got it. I've never met anybody who spoke the language-or from...wherever you're from, I think."

"Aye. Carillon made it so when he defeated Bellam of Solinde and won back the Lion Throne and as a result became the Mujhar he was meant to become. And that throne he bequeathed to my jehan—my father—who became the first Cheysuli Mujhar in centuries.

And now Niall, my rujho, is the Muhjar."

Talking about home is a welcome distraction from all the trouble Tasha has caused.

"I believe Niall is in this bar, though he might not be. We have been here before though—" He halts for a moment. "Niall does not look like me. He is taller, with a fair complexion, tawny hair and blue eyes.

And with him is a silver wolf named Serri, who, I am pleased to say, will never come into heat the way Tasha has, being that he is a dog-wolf."

"Politics," Sheppard says, nodding yet again. "Always makes life interesting..." It made his day very interesting, anyway. "I don't think I've seen Niall, but I'll keep an eye out for him."

"Aye they do. There was quite a bit of political unrest ten years ago when a man named Elik tried unsuccessfully to have Carillon's bastard son named the heir of the dead Mujhar and thus be Mujhar in Niall's place."

Oh dear it looks like Ian has forgotten a detail about his brother. How good of John to remind him.

"You have reminded me of something and I regret that I have forgotten about it. Niall is missing his right eye, and as such he wears a patch to cover the wound with."

He scowls.

"Strahan of the Ihlini, he set a hawk on Niall, clearly intending to slay him before he reached me, the plague-wolf and his mad-woman of a cheysula—wife—Gisella.

He failed of course. The gods were on Niall's side."

"...Sounds like it," Sheppard says after a moment. And he thought politics in the Pegasus galaxy could get weird. At least the Genii and the Wraith didn't try to kill people with birds.

Although that does make him wonder just a little about what the turkeys would be capable of...

Oh good the beer arrives.

"I am sorry if none of what I speak about makes any sense. I am trying, though explaining the subtle nuances of Homana and her peoples and cultures is ... difficult even at the best of times.

Especially when there is so much I could talk about."

"It sounds a lot like politics anywhere...except the part with killer hawks. We don't have those where I come from. Usually if someone's trying to take over, they use bullets or nukes."

He nods to the waitrat, taking the beer and opening it. "Thanks."

He follows John's lead and, with a little trouble, manages to wrest the cap off the bottle.

"What are 'bullets' and 'nukes'?" he queries. "Those are your weapons, correct?"

"Bullets are this small-well, usually pretty small-kind of ammo. They're...kinda like arrows without the stick, I guess. Small things you fire at people. And a nuke's a really big kind explosive device-one of the ones that can wipe just about everything out. We came pretty close to getting blown up by one today," he grumbles.

Sheppard unholsters his handgun and holds it up to show Ian. "This is what we fire smaller bullets with-it's a handgun. It can't stop everything, but if you aim right, it can take care of some things."