quote_gentle_unquote | !!! [interlude]

Susan carefully wipes the mud from her boots before coming in from her morning archery practice. It's not warm out, but it's wet, and she's got rather mucked up whilst retrieving arrows. Her first stop is to deposit her dirty clothes in the hamper in her closet - which has seemed to expand even further since Lancelot moved in - to be washed immediately after she washes herself. Before she can shower, though, she must first wipe the arrows down, and then her bow. Then, to stay on the safe side, she sets about unstringing the bow so she can hang it and her coil of string with her other bows.

When she goes to start coiling the string, however, there's a tug on the other end. She frowns and kneels down. There's a flash of color, and then a flare of pain. She stares at her hand and the scratch across the back of it, and then at the culprit.

"Oh, aren't you a beauty," she breathes, reaching out to the Siamese cat tucked away between Lancelot's shoes. "Wherever did you come from?"

It takes her a good ten minutes to coax the cat out, and another ten to coax it into her arms. It's a girl, and not a kitten, though she does have a whiff of kittenhood still about her. "Do you belong to anyone?" Susan asks, but the cat isn't a Talking Beast, and doesn't answer.

Right. The first order of business shall be getting the cat some food. The second order of business shall be inventorying the residents to see if anyone has lost a cat she somehow hadn't caught wind of. She's nearly out the door when she realizes she's largely nude and still covered in streaks of mud, and carefully eases the cat onto the bed, instead. her actual first order of business ought to be washing quickly and getting dressed again. Then onto the rest of it.

Typist note: This is technically being posted as an interlude, given that Enjolras is doing an open post on the same topic at the same time, but if anyone wants to thread meeting Susan's new cat, I am MORE than happy to... I just don't want to overwhelm anyone!

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"That is not the only source of thy radiance." He says this off-handedly, as he finishes drying off.

"No?" she asks. There's still water beading all over her - she's been distracted by him - so she rubs herself down briskly with her own towel, giving him an expectant look as she does.

With a very faint air of humoring her, he elaborates. "Thou'rt sharp, intelligent-- very funny, I find. Thou'rt knowledgeable about many things. Very organized. Curious. Excellent at kissing."

She smiles up at him, impossibly fond. "Just kissing?"

"No, not just. But kissing is among my favorites."

She rewards him with one, brushed to his shoulder in passing as she moves past him to hang up her towel again.

He smiles and finishes up with one last toweling off of his hair, which is starting to get perhaps a little long, and hangs his own towel up.

When she opens the door, the cat bolts in, skids into the shower, yells loudly as her paws touch the wet tile, and bolts back out again, all in the time it takes Susan to blink three times in surprise.

"My goodness!"

Lancelot laughs, shocked. "What's gotten into her?"

The cat pulls to an abrupt stop in the middle of the room, turns to face them, and yowls imperiously.

"I haven't the faintest idea," Susan says, following her out and crouching down closer to her. "Excuse me, miss, have you got a complaint?"

"It does seem that way. Perhaps because we shut her out? Or perhaps because her paws are now wet?"

Susan glances up at Lancelot as the cat cuts off mid-yell and head-butts her damp leg. "I suspect we shall find out," she says, a faint twist to her mouth. "It seems she shan't be shy about making her personality known."

"A good match for thee, then."

"Do you imply I have a strong personality?" she asks, giving the cat a good scratch on her head before rising again.

"I do," grinning as he goes to grab some of the softer clothes he's been wearing when they're alone together, at home. "But it is one of thy best qualities."

Susan, though perfectly comfortable remaining naked, trails after him, pulling on a shift for some semblance of propriety. "I suppose you're right," she allows.

Lancelot has learned to find it pleasant to feel cozy. "Of course I'm right."

"You shall be surrounded by strong-minded women," Susan says, watching him dress, and then, "I believe I shall call her Regina."

He settles on the bed. "That is fitting. I like it."

She scoops up the protesting cat and carries her over, sitting down next to him and settling Regina between the two of them. A few good scratches and Regina gives them a look like oh, all right... curling up is my idea, though.

Lancelot reaches down to pet Regina's head with one finger, delicately.

She blinks at him slowly! Susan's face softens.

"Oho," quietly, with another tiny pet, "not so imperious, now."

Regina rolls over, baring her soft little belly.

He flicks a glance at Susan, "This is a trick."

But he does, very gently, stroke her fur, perfectly willing to be scratched for his trouble.

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