What's this? What's this? There's weird shit everywhere | Day Four, Morning [OPEN]

[justbeclaws]

No one not intimately familiar with the library would notice, but there have been some rearrangements of furniture in one particular out-of-the-way corner. Said corner, and the burnished oak desk inside it, are screened from the stacks even more than they already were, inaccessible to anyone unwilling to climb over some extremely uncomfortable-looking chairs.

Or crawl under them, of course.

Her den arranged to her immediate satisfaction, the typewriter makes her way forth in search of something less immediately satisfying: the lay of the land. She wants to know where things are, including people (and people who are also things). And who knows, perhaps there will be information hidden somewhere about the house and its Keeper, secrets not even Mason knows.

It seems right to her that a moderately stealthy expedition (there's no reason to be stealthy, particularly, but she doesn't really trust anything around her) should take place in the morning. Whether or not she's right about this remains to be seen.

Comments

[automobile_enthusiast]

"You can say that again." His voice comes from above her, low and sounding more than a little disgruntled. "I never thought it'd become such an excursion just to get from slagging food." And if he sounds annoyed, well, he is-- he hasn't been able to shake a strange unease at the mere concept of eating, solid food, three times a day, despite the fact that he's sure he's dined with the Keeper before.

Positive. Really. He had to have-- didn't he?

The fair servant is perched on the seat of one of the massive chairs, peering down with bright black-and-red optics. At his feet is a heap of-- linen? It looks like nothing so much as a blanket, although an astute eye would note that the linen blanket matches the dressing on the table in color and texture.

[justbeclaws]

"Therre is food up therre, though?" she asks. If there isn't...she'll probably climb it anyway, to prove a point, but it won't be nearly as satisfying.

She waves, as well. "Hello! I've neverr seen you beforre. I'm a typewrriterr."

[automobile_enthusiast]

He laughs, and salutes her jauntily. "A feast, my dear, fit for our Master but left to us, eir poor servants-- presuming we can get up to it, that is." He turns enough to glance up at the surface of the table, several feet yet above his head even from his spot on the chair.

Kneeling at the very edge of the seat, he peers down at her. "A typewriter, are you? You don't look much like one."

[justbeclaws]

"Well, you don't look much like a whateverr," she replies, looking the chair and table over carefully. It's an elaborately-carved set of furniture, so if she climbs up the curved table leg there, and then gets a foothold there, and then...

She takes a running jump, springing up onto the table leg where it curves almost flat, and uses the momentum to launch herself at the chair. It...almost works; she ends up clinging precariously to the chair leg, unable to shift her weight without falling.

"A little help herre?" Her one free hand flails helplessly above the edge of the seat.

[automobile_enthusiast]

He can't help but draw himself up, armor bristling out in response to this effrontery. "I look much, much better than a 'whatever', that I can assure you." He sounds very serious as he says it-- but it's not enough to stop him from kneeling and taking her waving hand, hauling her up with moderately effortful grace onto the seat of the chair.

"That was very impressive...until the end there, that is~."

He steps back to the linen heap laying on the seat of the chair, which from up here is obviously a napkin from the table above, tied up in a bundle. Casually, he toes at it, flipping the flap open with his toe.

It's full of food.

"Can I interest you, or are you determined to make it all the way to the top?"

[justbeclaws]

"I'll get it next time," she says without much worry. Climbing things is turning out to be great fun! She doesn't mind the strange sizes nearly as much now she knows that.

She gives him a slow once-over now that she can see him properly and nods, apparently satisfied. "I guess you do look purrrretty good forr a whateverr," she adds with a wink.

[automobile_enthusiast]

"Very possibly the best looking whatever you'll ever meet," he says with a broad grin, according her a flourishing little bow. "And certainly the best bodyguard, that I can promise."

It's his turn to eye her, returning the compliment of her appraisal with a long look of his own, and a satisfied nod at the end of it. "I must say,y ou're the loveliest typewriter I've ever met."

[justbeclaws]

"Why, thank you, kind sirr," she says, bowing back. "A bodyguarrd, you say? Arre you guarrding any bodies purrrresently? Hiding them underr the tablecloth, pawsibly?"