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

[justbeclaws]

"Too low forr what?" It doesn't occur to her to question his assertion as such; presumably knowing things like this is one of his functions. "They've meownly got the one note."

[bloodand]

"It's just... It is." He makes a really frustrated face - he doesn't have the words for what's wrong about the note, except that it's too deep in pitch and it bothers him.

[justbeclaws]

"Well, I think they worrk fine rregarrdless. If you want it diffurrent, too bad." She tosses her head. She doesn't much care for being told that things about her are wrong. The sound can be bothersome, but it's her sound.

idk if you've heard this one but you SHOULD

[bloodand]

He huffs and folds his arms. "What, it doesn't bother you?" His gaze slips towards his other body beside the couch, which starts up another melody. Her dinging is probably less of an interruption than that, to be fair.

[justbeclaws]

"Look, it can't be too low, because therre's only one of it and that's the only pitch it's efurr been. I think." She doesn't quite recall. Memories...

Startled by the music, she jumps, then leans over and pokes at the phonograph. "I like this one. Cheerrful!"

[bloodand]

"Wha - hey!" When she pokes, he bristles all over, looking like someone ran a finger down his spine unexpectedly. "Don't touch - !" He's not really sure if that or me is the more appropriate way to end that sentence.

[justbeclaws]

She blinks, disconcerted, then looks between him and the phonograph with a slowly-growing realization in her eyes. And a wicked grin. "Is this you? But it clawn't be! It makes such purrrrleasant noises!"

pretend I have a pouty icon

[bloodand]

"And what does that have to do with anything?" He does not like the look of that grin. That grin is the grin of someone who is about to really piss him off. "It's what I do, not something I picked out of a list."

[justbeclaws]

"Well, you'd think you'd be morre like what you do. Why would you be a...is this some kind of bebop funnel? It's missing bits...if you-you doesn't make sweet and enpurrrrtaining meowlodies?"

She pokes the cupboard with malic aforethought.

[bloodand]

"I don't know," he says, with the annoyed tone that indicates that having no idea bothers him. He's been trying to figure it out a while, but nothing is forthcoming. He takes a couple steps closer to where she's prodding him, his eyes narrowed over her shoulder.

"And would you stop that?"

[justbeclaws]

"Why," she says, "would you rather I poke you here?" Quick as a wink, she spins around and pokes him in the (actual) ribs, just where the grubleg scars...aren't. How odd.

[bloodand]

He smacks her hand almost immediately, jerking away from the touch. "At least then I can tell what you're touching," he says, with a bit of a growl. He's not quite sure how to explain what it feels like to have his other self touched, except that he doesn't like it.

[justbeclaws]

"Grrrrrrrumpy," she says, rolling the r all the way across the room and down the stairs. "I'm borred. What is therre in this rroom? Otherr than awesome trrees. I wonderr if I can climb them."

[bloodand]

Well at least she stopped poking him. The rs can go wherever they want, no locked doors will stop them. The rs will rule the house. Sorry, Mason."

"Couches you can pounce on that don't have people in them."

He's not impressed by your pouncing.