milliways_bar | Entries tagged with pearse harman

There is quite a number of cats and the occasional not!cat living in Milliways; most of them are quite friendly and will approach people unafraid. So, this morning, both Teja's forge cats and the cats living with Bodhi Rook and Galen Erso are strolling around the grounds, angling for food and scritches, playtime and attention in general.

There is Count, a small grey male cat, lying in the sun by the door to the forge. Behind him, in the forge, his human, Teja, is sitting at the workbench very intent on working on something very small and golden.
Kitty is the tabby female, and she's hunting demon bunnies in the forest, near the chapel that Javert built, years ago. Father Harman, back in Milliways after a long absence, is sweeping out the dead leaves of yesteryear, and observing the cat while he does so. This is still not a job for a highly professional Jesuit vampire hunter, but Harman takes this as downtime; it's peaceful, meditative, and will not involve carbon bullet or allicin grenades.
Myrrh is a small black female who usually lives with Bodhi and Galen but today has attached herself to Wen Ning, who looks like a zombie that could kill you, but is actually an utter cinnamon roll, and Myrrh of course has realised that. Wen Ning is sitting on a small wooden pier at the lake shore, fishing peacefully with a simple rod -- with quite some success, and Myrrh gratefully accepts the spoils coming to her.
Not far from her, though, there's her human Galen Erso tending to the crystals that help irrigate the herb garden; by his side is his red tomcat Kyber who's catching butterflies among the cilantro and the chili plants.
The laziest and least offensive of the cats is Ferdinand, a white-and-tabby male who just likes to sleep in the sun. He's doing so on the table by the potting shed, where another human whose face is the same as Galen Erso's but otherwise utterly unlike him (sharp, well-dressed, orderly, contained and enigmatic instead of sloppy, open, bearded and friendly like Galen) is sitting tying herbs into little bundles to dry. This is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, and despite the similarity, it's impossible to take him for Galen, or the other way around.
One cat is all by herself by the back door of the bar itself, licking her paws and blinking up at the sun. She's small and black as well, but has a crescent-shaped white mark on her chest. This is Nahts, the youngest of all these cats.

[[OOC: Tag a cat to get the human attached to them, or tag the human directly. Nahts might lead you anywhere...]]
tinytag: wen ning

ostro_goth

They're all there:

Teja, in the forge, sharpening a sahs;
Ragnar, by the stables, feeding the goats;
Father Harman, on the steps of Javert's little church, taking out wilted flowers;
Hannibal Lecter, in the herb garden by the kitchen's back door, picking basil;
Galen Erso, by the door of the greenhouse, sorting through a mess of crystals and wires;
Lady Margolotta, in the darkest corner of the bar, knitting baby shoes.

onceaviking

{It's been a while, but things have gone down now in Louisiana.
Eric is under the spell of the witch and Bill is the host of a Living Dead Alliance Tolerance do.

Sookie to the rescue!
Warnings: blood, violence, casual disregard of human life, the banishment of Puppy!Eric.
Forgotten where we left off a year and a half ago, look here.}

The door opens and a tall, pale vampire wearing light brown pants and a blood soaked, white grandpa shirt walks through.

There's a brief hesitation as he realizes where he is. Then he runs a hand through his hair and proceeds with the assured walk of of someone who knows who he is and knows what he wants.

Eric Northman and someone to eat respectively.

See?
Easy.

ostro_goth

It's Saturday around lunchtime, cats are all over the place and people are doing, mostly, what you'd expect them to do:

Teja's in the forge, working on an axe-blade, his hammer ringing while he sings a war-like ballad to which Egil, sitting by the door in his human form, is listening to with fascination while he throws a catnip ball for the little grey cat Count, who keeps bringing it back again and again, rather like a dog playing fetch. Which he would totally deny doing, of course. He's a cat.
Dr. Hannibal Lecter is sitting outside the kitchen door, de-boning chicken legs. Occasionally, he may drop a shred of sinew for the white-and-tabby cat who's skulking around among the herbs.
Father Pearse Harman is sweeping out the church and putting up palm branches for the Palm Sunday service tomorrow. He's quietly wondering to himself how he ended up with such a calmly parochial vacation reality while trying to keep the tabby cat that's been following him from pouncing on and shredding the greenery.
Galen Erso is in the garden, putting up an array of tubes, solar panels, crystals and wires around some newly planted vegetable and herb patches. The little black cat in the hood of his jumper hangs on as if by some special cat magic, sleeping even while he moves around. He's careful, of course.
Ragnar Lothbrok is out by the goat pen, meeting this year's newest arrivals, still small and sweet. It's an impressive herd they have now, enough to start some serious goat cheese business later in the season. There's a big red cat sitting on the fence, probably hoping for spilled milk at some stage.
Inside the bar, Lady Margolotta is knitting and drinking cocoa in a dark corner, sheltered from all sunlight. The young black cat with the white patch on her chest would never dare grab and chase the ball of wool moving around the basket by Margolotta's feet -- would she?

[[OOC: Back after an overdose of RL -- please say in your tag who you want, or you might get anybody.]]

feed_the_lost

Will sits at the back of the bar, back to the wall. He has a copy of the bar explanation pamphlet in hand, tapping it rhythmic on the scarred wood of the table.

He's watching the comings and goings from behind hooded eyes. He may not be good company but he's still trying to understand the place.

{ooc: new mun/new Will.}

cook_the_rude

It's an unusually fine November morning, the fog has vanished under the rising sun, trees in the forest are gleaming copper and gold, the air is crisp but not cold. Several people are already outside, among them:

Dr. Hannibal Lecter, carefully cutting off some of the last annual kitchen herbs to be dried;
Galen Erso, who is slowly disassembling parts of his irrigation system from Bodhi's garden, to be cleaned and put back in after the winter:
Teja, putting in a new window in the forge instead of the rough boards he'd closed the window up with after it had been broken;
Father Pearse Harman, who is cleaning the brass parts on the church door while quietly humming show tunes to himself;
and finally Alex Vause, running slow laps around the lake just because she can.

[[OOC: The usual: -- say in your tag whom you want; otherwise, you might get any one, or several in succession.]]

cook_the_rude

These things happen more or less simultaneously:

Dr. Hannibal Lecter enters the bar from the kitchen, bearing a small tray of autumnal themed cupcakes;
Teja comes in from the back, talking to little Egil, and followed by four cats who hope for a late breakfast, which is provided in the shape of tea, bread, and smoked fish for humans and cats alike;
Galen Erso emerges from the elevator to the garage, smudged, animated and followed by merely two cats, for whom he orders tuna immediately along with his own caf;
the door opens and in walks Ragnar Lothbrok, groaning and flapping his hands irritatedly at whatever he is leaving behind beyond the door before he realises where he is, and orders beer and a pizza;
Father Pearse Harman walks down the stairs, carrying papers and a boxy laptop computer while politely asking the first rat he encounters to provide him with a pot of tea and some biscuits.

[[OOC: Say in your tag whom you want, or you might get anybody.]]

ostro_goth

In the bar today, you find:

a wind turbine engineer who had recently moonlighted as sea rescue volunteer, now carefully arranging a breakfast for two on a tray;
a metal musician who walks in from the the door, followed by a grey cat, to sit down by the fireplace, order a craft beer, and start trying out cords on his guitar:
a vampire in a long black coat, shielding himself from the sunlight by standing calmly in a dark corner;
a biker in full leathers and cut-off vest, leaning against the bar with a beer and listening to the music;
a dark-haired woman in ca. 1910 clothes, folding suffragette pamphlets at a table right next to the window, the sun warm on her hands;
an FBI consultant who steps in from a hot and humid place that stinks of stagnant waters, and sighs with relief upon seeing Milliways.

They are all basically friendly and approachable people, even though you might want to be wary with the vampire.

[[OOC: Teja and Count are alive and don't live in Milliways; Hannibal is from this amazing fanfic. Please say in your tag whom you want, or you might get whoever is just logged in.]]

galen_erso

This morning, several people are going about their business outside the bar, among them:

Teja, who is sharpening a sword in front of the forge,
Father Harman, who is carrying a basket of papers to the church,
Hannibal Lecter, who is preparing a barbecue pit,
Galen Erso, who is tinkering with some pipes in Bodhi's herb garden,
Ragnar Lothbrok, who is feeding the goats.

cook_the_rude

This afternoon, among other patrons,

Dr. Hannibal Lecter is sitting at the piano, playing jazz;
Teja is perched on a bar stool, with Egil sitting on the bar herself, proudly if slowly reading a book to him to prove he can;
Galen Erso is outside, flying a quadcopter drone with the help of a 21st century tablet computer around the lake area, taking notes while he does so;
Father Pearse Harman is taking down and putting up notices by the door of the church in the woods.

All of them are quite open to company.

ostro_goth

Everybody has already seen and believed at least six impossible things today, so here they all are:

Teja, sharing his usual coarse bread, moretum and cured meat with little Egil. Teja's own tea is black and strong, though, and Egil's fragrant, honey-sweetened fennel.
Galen Erso is setting a breakfast table for two, by the window looking out into the sunny outside at the back, helped by some rats.
Father Harman is absent-mindedly drinking tea and eating bran flakes from a bowl while reading a newspaper, all done standing up at the bar.
Dr. Hannibal Lecter is carrying a fully laden breakfast tray out from the kitchen. There is probably enough here for three or four people.
Dorian Gray is sipping champagne and nibbling battenberg cake while looking extremely chipper and cheerful.
Alex Vause, on the other hand, is drinking Starbucks coffee (from a huge permanent cup bearing that green logo, and her name) and munching on assorted donuts in a bright pink basket, because that is what she asked the bar for.
Lady Margolotta von Überwald is having cocoa in the furthest, darkest and most hidden corner.

Have at!

i_am_your_host

By New Year's Eve, everyone who has ordered something directly from the Bar has received an invitation to Emcee's party, no matter what their means of communication. Or if they've perused the notice board, they've seen a flyer making note of it. Along with emphasizing a fun, casual, and inclusive atmosphere, the invitation provides directions on how to find said celebration: just follow the arrows.

On the night of the party, neon-colored arrow decals that light up if stepped on have been placed on the floor, pointing to the elevator. In the elevator, more arrows point to the button for the garage. And in the garage, even more arrows lead down the aisles between cars, planes, and spaceships. Not sure where you're going? Several of Jay's hive drones are flitting around, making sure no one gets lost. They all guide guests toward a modest, single craft-sized hangar. Except tonight, it's not housing an aircraft (which is now outside next to it, with the note Property of Sahaal on it), but Emcee's New Year's Eve party.

Closed red velvet curtains hang in the wide, open doorway. Pinned to the curtains is a sign that reads WELCOME, and under that, BE KIND. It's an attitude that Emcee hopes is not too difficult to adhere to.

Step through, won't you?

Inside, the party is likely in full swing.

Above, twin mirror balls, one at each end of the room, spin in tandem, casting twinkling lights over everything. The light shifts colors every so now and then, from gold to pastels to rainbows. Placed among the gantries are devices that will release silver confetti onto the crowd below at midnight. The walls are draped with more velvet curtains, hiding the cold steel and providing decorative sound insulation, as upbeat music pumps through the speakers.

On the back wall there's a large digital clock counting down the time.

Meanwhile, Emcee is around, wearing impeccable makeup that will most likely be sweated off before the end of the night; tight, cropped black leather trousers; and a white tank top with the word HOT spelled out with tiny red kisses.

Find your host anywhere, anywhere at all, if he doesn't find you first.

[OOC: Millitimed to New Year's Eve, but open forever! Threadhop, mingle, arrive as couples, have fun!]

imthepilot

Bodhi comes down to the bar for a cup of caf and asks for some information on Earth wedding traditions. Just out of curiosity.

He wasn't expecting to be presented with a pile of glossy magazines but he takes them all the same. He sits down by the fire to read them, looking more and more confused.

Someone please explain some of this to him?

{Tinytag: Bodhi Rook]

i_am_your_host

He's making a list, checking it twice. Gonna find out who's naughty.

Actually, it's never too early to start planning a Milliways New Year's Eve party, especially when you want to rent some space, practically a blank canvas, and make a proper event out of it.

Emcee is sitting cross-legged on one of the sofas, with a notepad in his lap and a glass of red wine in his free hand. Things that he's scribbled down so far:

mirror ball
mirrored walls and ceiling
~~chaise lounges~~ circular couches
chandeliers (maybe)
stage with: piano, karaoke machine, DJ equipment
glitter confetti

Is he going overboard? One thing for sure, Emcee never does anything half-assed.

Besides, this sort of thing is taking his mind off more pressing and important issues that are a matter of life and death and physical and emotional well-being and that is so not what he wants to deal with right now.

ostro_goth

This afternoon,

Teja is sitting by the fireplace with his harp, singing in Gothic;
Hannibal is lounging at a table with a small samovar and a cookbook in Russian;
Father Harman is out by the church, sorting hymn books by language;
Lady Margolotta is sitting at a table in the darkest corner, taking notes in Überwaldean;
Galen is working on a datapad with Aurebesh writing.

[[OOC: Open forever! Teja speaks Gothic, Latin and Ancient Greek, with a little Italian the only modern language he knows; Hannibal speaks Lithuanian, Russian, French, English, Italian, Spanish, Japanese and probably even more languages; Harman speaks English and Portuguese, and knows Latin, Ancient Greek, and Hebrew; Lady Margolotta speaks Überwaldean (mostly like German) and Morporkian (English) as well as some other Discworld languages, and will have a heavy accent; Galen speaks Galactic Basic (English) and then some languages, but the Aurebesh writing his world uses is radically different. OPEN FOREVER.]]

Current Location: All over Milliways

ostro_goth

This morning, there are a number of people outside, doing morning exercises before their breakfast, among them:

Teja, who is sparring with the de-programmed droid Atton Rand gave him many years ago; what with 'Valentinian' (as Teja has named the machine) being nigh-indestructible, Teja can let loose with his axe to the best of his ability -- which is fearsome as ever, despite the long peace-time his afterlife has been for ten years now.
Dr. Hannibal Lecter, who is briskly swimming back and forth in the Scottish part of the lake, about twenty metres away from the shore, turning neatly in the water whenever he has reached whatever landmark denotes for him the lengths he is swimming so meticulously.
Galen Erso is walking around the lake on the same path the runners tend to use, but he is doing something else, using the same sort of long sticks that cross-country skiers use to march along quickly. Clearly, he picked up some sort of new idea here that he had to try out.
Young Katrina van Tassel (later to be Katrina Crane) is sitting by the side of the church in the woods, quietly praying, or maybe meditating -- whatever you would call her silent welcome of the morning in this magical place.
Father Pearse Harman has apparently had another talk from Angie about taking care of his health more, even if his lymphona is in remittance, as he is quietly jogging along the path around the lake, in the opposite direction than Galen, having turned towards the stable and forge first rather than the Caribbean inlet and the woods. He is going slowly, but even so, there is sweat on his faded black polo shirt already.
Alex Vause is at the training grounds and hitting the punching bag hanging from a tree as fast and hard as she can, as if it had personally offended her. She's tied up her black hair, and is sweating profusely, but keeps going and going and going.

They all seem rather absorbed, but of course will take a break to talk to anybody who may encounter them.-

is_the_motion

Outside on the grass, from the Scout Hut towards the beach, there is bunting and fairy lights and a large banner.

MILLIWAYS THIRD COUNTY FAIR

The fair is here for the whole week, and there's something for everyone, so come along and join us!

[ooc: OPEN TO ALL!
Threadhopping encouraged!

For further details, this post, and this post.

Horticultural show entries are now CLOSED.
Sports threads are now CLOSED.
Stalls/other are OPEN]

ostro_goth

At the sparring grounds this morning, there are several people around. It had been raining in the night, and the morning is cool and invites exercise.

Teja is having an all-out axe fight with his sparring droid which he calls Valentinian, given to him by Atton Rand many years ago. This droid doesn't talk, as Atton had ripped out the talking module just in case the rest of the re-programming wasn't complete enough; but for all these years, Valentinian has done nothing but spar when told to.
Galen Erso, on the other hand, is sitting on a tree trunk and watching the Goth proudly denting the ancient, priceless antique some more. As far as he is concerned, this droid belongs in a museum; but as he got here from talking to Teja about his irrigation system and the parts he needs for it, he's not going to offend the smith who has offered to make things for him.
Dr. Hannibal Lecter, at the same time, is going through his kendo moves, fully suited up despite the fact that he has no opponent, a situation in which usually, kendo-gi and hakama are considered to be enough.
Dorian Gray, on the other hand, is perched on a hurdle, a blue Wedgewood mug of tea in hand, and just observes the sparring warriors with unashamed fascination.
Father Pearse Harman, finally, is walking back and forth between the bar and Javert's little church in the woods, getting the Sunday service ready.

[[tinytag: galen erso]]

irish_vagabond

[Millitimed to after Cassidy is released from the cells (threads still in progress)]

"Are there any windows in there?" Cassidy asks one of the waitrats before he enters the kitchen for dishwashing duty. "Cos I can't-- y'know, it'd be a great favor if you could like pull down the shades, see, I'm kinda-- the sunlight, it hurts me eyes and I have a skin condition, y'know, and, like-- yeah, wouldja do that? Oh, that's right nice of you, thanks muchly."

He can't believe he's talking to a rat. But, he's at the end of the universe, so, why the hell not.

Ambling into the kitchen, he casts his gaze around the room, with its shiny, fancy appliances and a pantry that he could probably get lost in. At this point he's just, like, fuck it. Might as well make the time pass. So he rolls his shirt sleeves up past his elbows and sets to washing the stack of dishes already piled in the sink.

Eventually he starts humming and singing softly to himself,

"In Dublin's fair city
Where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheeled her wheelbarrow
Through the streets broad and narrow
Crying 'cockles and mussels, alive, alive-oh...'"

[ooc: Begging slowtimes, please! And thanks to everyone who tagged so far, always open to more :)]

[tiny tags: Zso Sahaal, Baze Malbus, Rose Forrest, Bernard Black]

almosthonorable

The Ben Wade who enters the bar cuts a slightly leaner figure than he used to. Blame old-fashioned manual labor, and frugal living.

He's sweating and sunburnt beneath the brim of his beat-up brown hat, and he's counting himself damn lucky to've walked in. Here, he can pour iced water down his sawdust-dry throat.

At the counter, he's greeted with a napkin from Bar; his mouth quirks in a half-smile.

"Awful good to see you, too."

Another napkin appears.

"Thank you for holdin' on to 'em for me. I appreciate your safe-keepin'. Might be a while, yet, before I'll need 'em."

A third napkin.

"That so? Well, happy Mother's Day, Miss Bar. If you celebrate it."

Ben can't rightly say where his own mother might be. Or if she's above ground, now.

Still.

Even bad men love their mamas.

Which is why, as Ben pours himself a glass of ice water from the pitcher Bar graciously provides, he wonders, briefly, if that Bible she left his eight-year-old self with at the train station is still intact, somewhere — its spine and cover creased and cracked, maybe laying open on somebody's dinner table, or sitting shut and silent on a dusty shelf.

[ ooc: well, hel-lo — it's been a hot one and a half, y'all. open indefinitely! ]

[ tiny tag: cassian andor ]

ostro_goth

Over the mountains, a thunderstorm is gathering; in an hour or perhaps even just thirty minutes, it might be pouring down. But as yet, people are about, among them:

Teja, who is wandering the woods and the lakeside looking for canine activity. So far, he has found the traces of a veritable pack and several humans with them, but somehow he suspects that Buster the Inept was not part of that merry outing. Furthermore, he found two dead demonic rabbits, but they were too far gone for him to see if they were killed by a dog. Also, he doubts that Buster would be able to kill these creatures. When it starts raining, he will make his way back to the bar.
Father Pearse Harman is on the lawn, having afternoon tea complete with scones and cream. He is reading a book with it, and ignoring the weather so far. He is, after all, English.
Dr. Hannibal Lecter is two tables over, on the lawn as well, with coffee and drawing utensils. He is drawing dogs in sepia pencil.
Ragnar Lothbrok is in the bar-room itself, ordering things from the bar which he stows into two rather small bags. He has a paper on a table which he looks at from time to time. Apparently, the Viking is planning to leave.
Lady Margolotta is sitting in a dark corner of the bar, far away from the windows, checking things off in a large ledger. The table around it is covered in papers that look like lists.

ostro_goth

In this pocket of Millitime, there is a spot of insistent rain around this Saturday afternoon.

Teja is watching from the eaves of the forge as Egil is out playing in the rain, wearing wellie boots and a little sou'wester, chasing fallen petals in the puddles, and carrying insects to safety. All three cats are lined up by the forge-fire, secretly of the opinion that their little human has completely lost his mind.
Father Harman is walking through the woods towards the little church, wearing sensible shoes and carrying an umbrella.
Dr. Hannibal Lecter is in the herb garden, moving potted plants in and out of the rainfall according to some system only known to himself.
Ragnar Lothbrok is fishing. Rain is a good weather for that. Fish bite better then.
Dorian Gray is walking through the woods, barefoot and in shirtsleeves, enjoying the rain just because.
Alex Vause is sitting by an open window, reading a book and listening to the rainfall.

cook_the_rude

Spring has fully sprung, the cherry blossoms have been and gone, and the season is making some people rather frisky and restless. This state of nervous energy has different ways of expressing itself, in different people.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter is in the Caribbean inlet, swimming laps -- he seems to have marked out two landmarks on the shore, and swims back and forth, parallel to the beach, in flawless form, just as if he was in a pool.
Ragnar Lothbrok is riding his motorcycle around the lake. He's going very fast and making it roar, which is fun.
Father Pearse Harman is in the bar, has thrown open the windows closest to the piano, and is playing and singing old Ivor Novello songs with a good voice and not much inhibition.
Alex Vause has taken a punching bag outside, has hung it in a tree near the sparring grounds, and proceeds to beat the living daylights out of the poor thing.
And finally, Teja's three forge cats (Myrrh having defected to stay with Bodhi) are chasing each other all through the bar, outside through the garden, jumping in through the windows Harman left open and up a pillar into the rafters, in an obstacle race all around the chairs and table, out again through the back door between the feet of some poor bewildered patron, all the way down to the forge, and up again, weaving among the late tulips and hyacinths and in through the kitchen door, where the rats scatter and scold. And on into the bar once again... They seem indefatigable. Teja, in the meanwhile, is sitting by the backdoor, teaching little Egil to fletch arrows.

i_am_your_host

Emcee comes downstairs looking like the opposite of what he'd looked like to anyone who'd seen him last.

That is, he looks like himself. And more importantly, in the bigger scheme of things, he feels like himself.

Clad in his usual repurposed tuxedo trousers and suspenders, a white sleeveless undershirt, and grungy boots, he's also made the effort to put on makeup. Smoky blue eyeshadow, crimson lipstick. Because this is who he is.

When he reaches the Bar, he receives a note from Sinric saying a fond farewell. And he also receives a note from Bar herself, saying that he has bartending duty now. Never one to shirk a bartending shift, he takes a moment to ask for a few items before agreeing and lets her have her nap.

He sets up an iThing music player on the back shelf to play a collection of electro swing, beginning with a little ditty called Star Wars - Cantina Band. Emcee has no idea who or what this is but it's catchy, and he bops in place as he writes the specials on the board.

Happy Hour Specials
Cocktails:
Gin Rickey
French 75
Sidecar
Bee's Knees
Corpse Reviver
Hanky Panky

With that done, he pours himself a glass of cherry schnapps and snacks on Belgian fries from a huge bowl, enough to share with anyone who comes by.

[tiny tags: cassian andor, baze malbus, chirrut imwe, mary of guelders]

cook_the_rude

On Saturday around dinnertime, the bar is full of people. Among them are:

Dr. Hannibal Lecter, eating spicy tandoori dodo with naan and rose water lassi -- at the moment, his entire attention is dedicated to the food, but that might change;
Father Pearse Harman, having fish pie while reviewing his notes for tomorrow's sermon -- he always preaches ex tempore, but likes to have note cards to make sure he doesn't forget a salient point;
Dorian Gray starting off his evening with champagne, oysters and strawberries:
Alex Vause, who is snacking on small bit of vegetables -- tiny tomatoes, little carrots, miniature cucumbers, celery stalks, sliced bell peppers ant that kind of thing -- while devouring a huge historical novel that looks a bit as if it had been left behind by Madame Thénardier;
Ragnar Lothbrok at the bar drinking his way through a flat green plastic bottle with a black label declaring BRENNIVÍN -- this particular Viking may not have discovered Iceland, but he has certainly found Iceland's infamous svarti dauði;
and finally, two cats sitting by the fireplace quietly communicating in feline -- ears and tails, licks and yawns and touches, yowls and purrs and mewls and growls. One of the cats is Myrrh; the other, taller and rangier and wearing a red collar, has not been seen in the bar for a long time and may thus be considered 'some unknown cat' by most patrons. It is in fact Teja himself, using a collar that had been Loki's gift to grant him (and Pyrrha) cat-shape, as he has much to talk about with Myrrh these days.