milliways_bar | (no subject)

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It is a good night for a drink.

This is the reason why Cloud is in the bar, with said drink in hand. He is sitting alone at a table, more or less enjoying himself (though you would never know by the way his expression remains as indifferent as ever).

Once in a while, he'll take a sip.

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"Mmmmmraowrrrrr," says something that's rubbing up against his ankle. It's that white cat from before, the one who likes the scritching.

Ah.

Cloud vaguely remembers that cat.

Which obviously means he just stares at it.

The cat certainly remembers Cloud. It eyes the fabric of Cloud's pantsleg, eventually judging it thick and dense enough, before digging his claws in and climbing up onto Cloud's lap.

Surely he knows what comes next.

...Indeed, he does.

He begins to pat the cat's head -- gently, one might add.

There's that lovely sound again, that deep, contented purring. The cat settles down, a warm weight, its bright green eyes closing.

Cue the slight feeling of awkwardness. He isn't very used to cute fluffy things warming up to him.

Still, there is the beginnings of scritching.

! He can be taught! That lovely purring deepens, growing louder as the cat moves its head to get more friction against the scritching hand. "Mrrrrr," it says, insistent. It keeps moving its head so Cloud's scritching fingers are right behind its left ear.

It seems to have an itch.

Very well.

He will appease the kitty, but he will do it out of duty, and nothing more.

~~He is definitely not enjoying this. Nope.~~

~~Of course he's not~~.

The cat, however, is.

Immensely. The volume of the purring can attest to that. Cloud's getting better at this.

"Oooh, yeah. Right there."

"..."

If deep-voiced cats don't make someone stop, who knows what does.

His hand freezes.

Well, technically, Yrael's a tenor. It's the cat speaking the human language that usually stops people, much to Yrael's annoyance.

"Oh, did I say that outloud? Blast." The cat yawns, "Oh well. It's about time you found out. You don't have to stop, you know, Cloud."

His eyes narrow, and he shoos the cat off his lap as one might rid oneself of dust.

He recognizes that voice. "Yrael."

The not'cat, of course, lands on his feet, smiling up at Cloud.

"Good evening," he says, stretching. "Thanks for taking care of that itch; it had been bothering me all afternoon."

Ugh. Never again will he so much as express an inkling of warming up to an animal. Ever.

"You do this often," he says in a way that could be understood to be a question. And, of course, he means his turning into a cat.

"When the mood strikes me," Yrael says, essentially saying yes.

"It is a useful shape, depending on circumstances."

"Clearly."

Cloud is still a little wigged out by that whole thing. Ugh.

Cloud stays wigged out.

~~It explains the hair, at least.~~

He must not have done enough squats to get the Sexy Wig.

"Ready for our little jaunt to the library?"

He proceeds to stand up. "Yeah."

Pause.

"You're going as a cat?"

"For now, I suppose. It helps, when one must traverse the higher shelves," he explains.

"Though I will have to change, if I find anything interesting."

Cloud shrugs, making his way to the door.

"Fine."

Yrael follows, grinning.

He's actually not twining about Cloud's ankles to make him trip. See how good he's being!

Cloud pulls the door open (http://dontloselight.livejournal.com/1487.html) and promptly walks through it, not bothering to see that Yrael is following.

He knows he doesn't have to.

Will has come in to grab some more food for the party outside and has a happy smile on his face when he sees Cloud in the corner, something about him looks familiar but Will can't place where,

"Fair eve, sir, would ye care to drink with company?"

Cloud looks up. And nods.

"Sure," he says, motioning to the seat opposite him.

"Thank ye, sir, we've got some rum an such outside near the new bit o'sea if ye care to join us."

Will bows a little and is smiling though looking thoughtful, he's got a good head for faces and this man is just niggling something.

"That's fine," he says. He rather likes it where he is right now. But then, he's never been outside before either.

He looks up and nods again, jutting his chin towards the other man's arm. "Your arm seems to be in good condition."

"Aye, sir, 'ealed up fine, Lady Bar bound me 'ere so I wouldna go back 'urtin'."

He answers easily and then blinks looking a bit worried,

"'ow did ye know I'd 'urt me arm, sir?"

Cloud takes a sip of his drink.

"I saw you when you came in injured," he replies. He hasn't forgotten Will, despite what his nonchalance might imply.

"Aye, sir, was so tired, 'ave forgotten most o'when I came in. Thank ye for yer 'elp, sir."

The cautions still there but Will's a bit easier since that whole entrance was such a mix of exhaustion and pain, few things truly stand out.

Yeah, from what he remembers, Will was definitely not in any position to be taking names and having good conversation.

"You're welcome," Cloud says politely. Then, "I didn't catch your name that time."

"Will Scarlett o'Nottingham, England, year o'our lord 1138, sir. Tis a pleasure to meet ye 'gain, 'ope I wasna too much trouble for ye."

Cloud shakes his head. "No trouble. It was a routine procedure," he replies which basically translates to 'It was no trouble at all, don't worry about it' in Cloud-speak.

Also - he's dealt with wounds similar to arrows and things before.

"I'm Cloud."

"Thank ye 'gain, sir,"

Will's never been good at knowing how to deal with strangers helping him even though he'd help anyone without a thought, an odd quirk of his,

"Good to meet 'gain then, Master Cloud."

A nod.

Cloud isn't usually the sort to help out random strangers -- or at least that's what he'd like to think. As far as he's concerned, he isn't fit to be the hero-type.

"Likewise."

While Will's a hero though he'd never call himself one,

"Aye, so what's got ye drinkin' tonight, sir?"

"Just something from my world," he replies and proceeds to take another sip. He hasn't tried any of the earthly drinks yet.

There is a pause before he prompts, "...You mentioned the new bit of sea?"

He's not very good at conversation, as you might be able to tell.

"Aye, just 'ppeared day or two ago, tis lovely to see, sir."

Will just smiles a very young looking smile, he's from a landlocked part of England and the inlet just feels like a touch of something strange and wonderful.

"I've never been out back," he admits.

"Tis lovely, there's a forest, gardens an a lake, when I was bound, 'elped a lot, sir, 'minded me o''ome an gave me a place to practice."

A nod.

"Sounds nice," he concedes, his curiosity piqued.

Perhaps he will take a look a little later.

"Aye, tis, drinkin' out there with a couple o'friends. One o''em's been in a war an 'e needed some cheerin' up an some rum washed up on the beach."

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