(no subject)

[mnt_raph]

There are days when Raph wishes he'd paid more attention to Donnie's Astronomy lessons. Not for any sense of personal edification, or to make him feel more in tune with the universe around him, but because if he'd done so he just might have a larger pool of comparisons from which to draw when trying explain just how MUCH he doesn't want to have the talk he's about to have with Abigail.

At the moment he's stuck at a whole freakin' lot.
Nothing to really be done though, right? Worms. Busted can. GIANT SPIDERS.

He sighs before pushing open the door to the Disgruntled Tortoise. It's long past sunset and what little dinner crowd there was has begun to shuffle out leaving plenty of room for the night owls to find places to roost. Raph nods a greeting in the direction of the familar faces as he makes his way through the tavern to his preferred spot over by the bar.

The two katana slung over one shoulder are new, as is the blank expression on his face.
Nothing good comes from blank expressions, they usually indicate one is hiding something.

Comments

[tortallan_npc]

It's a quiet night.

Abigail is sitting at a table by the fire, just out of his line of sight as he enters. She has been sorting through items in a small, tightly woven basket, and at the moment her hands are occupied with detangling a stirrup leather from a hank of coarse yarn.

Taverns in Tortall often have lost and found bins, too.

She watches Raph until he's by the bar and nods to Thomas when he raises an eyebrow at her. It's Yes, go ahead and serve him, and No, I've no need to bash his head in this evening. Her brother smiles to himself and slides a tankard down the bar for Raph.

"You can bring that here if you like," she says at last, looking back at the knotted mess in her hands. The metal bits are hopelessly snared. "I'll not bite at you this evening."

Not yet, anyway.

[mnt_raph]

Raph almost considers ordering something stronger than his usual for courage, but hearing Abigail's voice sort of nips that plan in the bud. Raph Thanks Thomas and accepts Abigail's invitation by moving him and his things closer to where she's sitting.

"Can I get that in writin'?"

He says, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. Surely there are enough witnesses around to keep it legal, right? Either way Raph leans over and places a kiss on the top of Abigail's head before sitting down.

"Someone knows how to have a good time."

[tortallan_npc]

His voice is neutral and his face expressionless, but he's as easy to see through as the kitchen window that looks out at the stableyard. He's troubled again. There's news that has made him unhappy, or he's worried about telling her he has to leave; maybe both. Abigail is practiced at reading people; it's just that she doesn't always understand what she finds when she studies Raph.

"It's relaxing work after servin' meals," she tells him. "People are forever leavin' random bits behind."

She smiles as the leather comes free.

"You yourself left something once."

There's no fun in helping him out by telling him what.

[mnt_raph]

That's probably because Raph isn't so much a study as he is Cliff Notes.
His mind is racing, wondering how best to start this thing, this damned dreaded thing.

He shifts his focus from her hands to his drink, avoiding her eyes at all costs.

"Yeah? It ain't incriminatin', is it?"

[tortallan_npc]

"Mayhap it might have been," says Abigail, "if you'd left it on this floor and not mine."

She looks faintly smug.

"I would've thought you'd miss it when you pulled on your breeches, but you showed no sign of noticin' a draft."

[mnt_raph]

His eyes widen. One might expect to see the Goddess herself rise out of Raph's tankard the way he's looking at it right now.

"please tell me you ain't got what I think you got, in that basket."

[tortallan_npc]

As if she'd suffer her brother's jests by doing so; but if Raph's slow enough in the head to think she might, then he can suffer the thought for awhile longer.

"Oh, yes. No one's claimed it yet, though Aldin mistook it for his until he remembered he was wearin' it."

She's good at keeping a straight face.

[mnt_raph]

It's not that he's slow, it's that he's just so distracted!






Oh no wait...who're we kidding, this is a guy who spent months rewinding dvds, of course he is that slow.
His head snaps up, eyes still wide. In a flash he reaches out and begins to rifle through the basket.

[tortallan_npc]

The basket contains a small collection of buttons; random bits of leather; a boot pull; a stack of unaddressed letters tied in ribbon and stained with rain and Gods know what else; a map of Scanra; and a cloak pin.

The letters have been there for years; Abigail and Thomas keep them for sentimental reasons, in case someone arrives one day to claim them. Naturally, they've read every word.

Abigail watches him sort through all of the above and sits back in her chair, bringing a hand, hank of yarn and all, to rest on her stomach as she laughs.

"Oh, Goddess. Your face -- t'was worth the fib. It's not there, Raph, though now I've a mind to have you search for it."

[mnt_raph]

The panic doesn't ease until her words sink in deep. This would also be around about the time that his ears start to go pink.

Raph looks up at her, one eyebrow raised. With one hand he pushes away the basket, while with the other he reaches out and pulls the seat of her chair closer.

"That weren't very nice."

Though...to be honest it doesn't sound all that much like he's really all that upset.

Quite the contrary, really.

[tortallan_npc]

"No, but it was fun."

Smiling, she cups his chin in her free hand and gives him a kiss.

She can practically feel the eyes watching them, but she pays them little notice. To a certain extent, propriety doesn't concern Abigail. That's for the nobility to worry about.

"There. All's forgiven."

[mnt_raph]

If she doesn't care, then he doesn't care. And right now? All he really wants to do is not care. Well, hold her and not care.

So he does, placing his head upon her shoulder.

"all's forgiven."

[tortallan_npc]

Feeling charitable in the wake of the kiss, Abigail confesses, "It's in with my things."

She smooths the yarn and places it back in the basket, then glances down at him.

"It's best just to say whatever's got you stuck inside your own head."

[mnt_raph]

His eyes squeeze shut and he takes a breath, you know...for confidence. Raph then sits up and levels a look at her. One of the very same blank looks as before.

"We've gotta talk."

[tortallan_npc]

Conversations thus begun rarely end with smiles, Abigail thinks. Her features oblige the thought by shifting to a barely discernible frown.

"Do we, now."

She'd suspected as much.

[mnt_raph]

He nods.

"Yeah, we do. Let's go somewhere that ain't here."

The please is sort of implied.

[tortallan_npc]

That's ominous.

Nodding her consent, Abigail stands and gathers all the stray items back in the basket, then deposits it on the bar; Thomas will finish putting it to rights.

"Call if I'm needed, Brother."

"Aye," Thomas calls back, puzzled, but he knows better than to ask for an explanation.

"My rooms?" Abigail tosses over her shoulder to Raph. "They served us well the last time you had that look in your eye."

[mnt_raph]

"That'll do."

Says Raph making his way to his own feet and gathering up his gear as he does so. He steals a look in Thomas' direction, one that says later. We'll talk later.

Then, instead of waiting for her to lead the way, Raph walks the familiar route, holding the doors open for her as he does so.

[tortallan_npc]

Abigail follows, torn between annoyance and worry. He's grim and, she thinks, a touch sad, and this assertiveness really isn't as welcome as she would have thought. For a brief moment, she's nostalgic for the days when she had to pull things out of him.

Silly, but emotions have a way of being nonsensical.

They enter her room in silence, and it's then that she realizes she's unfamiliar with the weapons he's carrying.

"Those are new," she says.

[mnt_raph]

"Not really, 'least not to me."

He says a tad distantly as he props the scabbards up in the nearest corner.

"They uh...they're my first real nice set. Gift from my father."

Then he turns to face her. Amazing how a situation can make a guy as big as Raph look like a little kid. It's been ages since he's been this scared. Not since the guitar disappeared.....

[tortallan_npc]

"They have a different shape."

It's her turn to keep her face carefully blank, as she watches him.

"Go on then." Firm, but not unkind.

[mnt_raph]

"I'm leaving."

He quickly catches himself.

"Just for a little while. Have to babysit the kids. Keep an eye on them while Alanna and Adam go..."

This isn't working. So he tries something else.

"There are spidren in the forests."

[tortallan_npc]

"Spidren."

Abigail blinks.

"In the forests."

Curiously, her expression hasn't changed much. Time is required to sort through the various feelings she has at what he's just told her -- all of it.

"The rumors we've heard are true, then."

[mnt_raph]

"I guess so."

Is his lame response. He wants to tell her that he had no idea just how big the umbrella of Anything that looks odd was, but feels that this confession might only cause more problems down the line.

"One caught up with me and the kids last night."

[tortallan_npc]

That hits her harder than realizing the rumors have some truth to them.

That makes it real.

Pale, Abigail folds a blanket that doesn't really need folding and asks, "What did it look like?"

One can't rely on legends for facts.