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There's a tarot card in a chair. She's comfortable there, playing Cat's Cradle with sparkly purple string.

She's playing it by herself, and she's doing rather well.

Her bare feet bop to a song only she hears, and her bright eyes are very intent on the string, her fingers rearranging it until it form a pretty pattern.

Well, it's pretty to her.

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His brow raises a little now that his one hand is got sparkly string around it. "She and I have agreed that if she can have other people in her bed, I can have others in mine." It's not exactly a yes or no. More an evasian, because he's sure she likes it about as much as he likes having to share her.

And now she ties the other end to her wrist.

"Everyone's bound in so many ways."

"Most of us chose those ties though," he says as he raises his hand enough that the string will tug her wrist up a little with his.

"No, you didn't."

Moon's eyes sharpen, take on that knowing edge.

"A choice forced is not a choice," she says, eyes darting to their bound hands.

There's a quiet breath as thinks about that, eyes looking at their bound hands as well.

"I chose to be where I am." He knew what he was doing before making the chioce.

Moon regards him for a handful of minutes, and then nods.

"You've always had a choice."

And it pleases her to hear him say as much. He chose to risk becoming a lycanthrope when he offered himself up to the vaccine. Richard chose his fate that day, though he'd been railing against it ever since. A small step forward, Moon thinks, for him to admit he chooses to be where he is, and she celebrates it as it should be celebrated.

"Now the choice is, do you find happiness in what you've chosen, or do you wallow in self-created misery?"

He doesn't usually have a problem owning up to his choices, unless he's pissed and tries to find a scape goat. Though, it usually always comes back to him knowing it was his choice. It's that accepting what he is part that always seems to snag him.

"No one wants to wallow in self-created misery." Again, not exactly an answer.

"But you do it anyway."

She shifts so her butt is resting on the table of the booth, her feet planted on either side of his thighs, and stares at him curiously.

"It doesn't make much sense which is maybe why I understand it. But fighting against what you are, Richard, will never change the simple fact that you are a wolf. You always will be now. You'll never be human again, no matter how much you wish it were so. And if you were human... you'd lose her. You'd lose Jean-Claude. You'd lose Jason. You'd lose them all because you wouldn't be a part of their world anymore."

And that makes her sad. Richard has his place in that world, whether he chooses to see it or not, and it's a place no other can fill.

He watches her, hands going to rest on her legs lightly.

"Doesn't mean I can't miss what I wanted but will never have. There are still days I want the house and kids, to not have to deal with all the Other politics," because it's not just shifter but vampire because he's tied to Jean-Claude. "But I don't want to lose the people in my life either."

Moon gives him an amused, half-smile.

"Then you just alter the dream a little. You have a house. Children are not out of the question. Politics happen whether you're Other or Human. You make a little change, a tweak, to the dream and it becomes real."

There's the softest snort of amusement, the faintest quirk of a smile.

"The woman I'd want to have children with has half a dozen men in and out of her bed. And that's before the actual question of whether she'd ever actually want kids herself." Because no matter who was in and out of his bed, there's only one person he'd want to have that dream with. He just doesn't see how it would ever be a possibility.

"The number of people she boinks isn't going to change," Moon quietly, seriously warns. "Some may come and some may go, but she will love the ones she loves and will want to be with them. It's something you'll have to accept or walk away from."

Richard's fingers drum softly, no real rhythem, where they sit on her legs. "I know. And I have accepted it," mostly. He'll get slightly snarly but he's doing better with it than he had been in the past. Not letting it keep him away from her, especially since he still won't let her feed from him. "I haven't walked away since."

"Remember that and don't walk away when she needs you next," Moon says.

She may not be fond of Anita, but Anita is a sentient like every other sentient, and Moon feels a certain responsibility for the lot of them.

"I try not to walk away from her. And I promised I wouldn't walk away from her anymore."

The words themselves are a start, to him. He rarely breaks a promise.

"Just remember that promise."

Because it's an important one.

For both Richard and Anita.

Moon leans forward and rubs her nose against Richard's.

"Growly but not. I like you like this. It doesn't make my head hurt so much."

"I will." His nose wrinkles a little, though his smile is more prominant now.

"I make your head hurt?"

"Sometimes. You all do it to me, when things get dark and unpleasant and cloudy."

And things weren't like that now.

His head tilts curiously, hands pulling her a little closer.

"When thoughts or events get dark and unpleasant and cloudy?"

Moon's rear slips from the table and she winds up in Richard's lap, looking up at him.

"Yes. Because I want to help but I can't. I know things have to happen. I know the pain has to come and I can't keep everyone from it, but it hurts my heart. It makes my head feel full of cotton, my thoughts all scattered, worried."

His arms wrap loosely around Moon, meeting her gaze.

"Can't always protect people even when you know it's coming. Especially for things that hurt their hearts." He doesn't like watching his people go through it, but he knows sometimes there's just no stopping it.

"I could tell you things that are coming, but if I did that, you might change them, and you can't change them. Too many changes will happen already."

This is how the headaches start.

She likes the feel of Richard's arms around her, and she huffs, leaning forward until her head rests under his chin.

"It doesn't stop me wanting to keep the hurt away."

"Because a pansdementional bar wasn't in the original plans?" The question is meant for the part about the too many changes already.

His chin rests lightly on her head, comfortable with her there.

"It never does."

"You weren't supposed to be smooshing her yet. She wasn't supposed to be smooshing Damian yet. Asher is with Nathaniel. Jean-Claude dances with Asher. Things are happening that just... weren't happening before."

That is the nature of time, of Fate. It changes. It's fluid. It follows no rule or plan.

"But I like smooshing her," he says with a small smile.

His head tilts a little, chin sliding a little in her hair. "Nathaniel is with Asher?" He'd been left out of that particular loop.