"So where are we going, Jess?  Yeeesh... I never thought that riding a horse would require so much balance.  Never really had to ride one before with the wings and all.  So, yeah, anyways, where are we headed?  When can we stop?  And, well.. what are we stealing?  Is it gold?  Tell me it's gold.. or maybe diamonds!  Yeah!  Or rare runes... you know where we could get some rare runes, Jess?  I've never stolen stuff in the city before... this is kinda neat.  I hope I don't screw it up.. do you think I'll screw it up?  Maybe if I practiced..."

A very, very long day.

"We're not going to a city."

"What!?!  Where else are we going to pull in some cash?  No offense, Jess. but you don't really look the type to attack people on the roadways..."

Where had she gotten the right to sound perturbed?  The fool winger wasn't the one who had  to get used to whatever on her clothes was producing that ungodly smell...

"People might be looking for me," Jess deadpanned.  Deadpan was good.  Deadpan was a deterrent.  Deadpan...

"Really!?!  You pulled that big of a job?  Excellent... I just KNEW this was a good idea!  So we're hiding out?  I hope It's nice... we can get to work soon though, right?  Riiiiight?  'Cause the others will be all mad at me if I don't pull in some heavy-duty profit.  They always get more than me.  They say they actually don't sometimes, but I know that they're lying.  I'm so pathetic..." on and on and on and on.  At least it gave him something to think about.  Beyond alternately going mad with boredom and not feeling sorry for himself about the non-loss of Anabelle....

"So wheeere?  C'mon, Jess... you can tell me.  We'll get there eventually anyway, right?  Riiiiight?  And it's not a good way to start of a deal when you sit around and mope and don't tell your partner where you're going.."

Forget mental occupation.  This was just inane.  For once, the man remembered exactly why he enjoyed press conferences so much.

During a press conference, one never had to actually talk back.

"Partner?"

Damn.  Deadpan didn't seem to be working.  It was time for Feigned Interest.  Maybe the moron just needed to work things out of her system or something.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

If there was any sort of justice in the world.

"Well... yeah!  I mean, I understand if you don't want someone as pathetic as me working with you..."

Control.  Jess was controlling himself.  Jess was not going to give the obvious answer.  Jess was not going to forget that this filthy wretch could beat him within an inch of his life.  He just had to keep telling himself that he was under control...

Justice in the world?  The politician really did need to get more sleep.

"Sounds fine.  Although you aren't really aware of what I actually do..."

"Enlighten me!  It means cash, right?  I'm such a sad thief... no mother lodes for me... oh well.,. I'll be useful!  You'll see!  So what do we do?"  Finally, the interminably babbling brook had ceased in it's quest to wear down the politician's sanity.

Turning to the winger pressed behind him, Jess caught a twitch to signal the opening of her thrice cursed mouth.

Unacceptable.

"I'm a politician.  The former Assistant Mayor of Muse, in fact.  The youngest ever, " Jess unconsciously preened.  Hopefully Chirak hadn't caught it - but then the winger didn't look to be of a particularly perceptive breed. " What I'm planning.. well, it's kind of along the lines of large-scale blackmail... information brokering, if you will."

Silence.  Pure, unadulterated silence.  Thank goodness for superior verbal talent... though he wasn't quite sure how to interpret that blank stare boring somewhere between his shoulderblades.

"Erm.. yeah. Whatever. So there IS a large profit margin then? I'll need one if I'm going to prove myself to..."

"Yes," a statement that just failed to become a sigh. "We're almost there."

The rolling of eyes was obscured from her line of sight.

"Where?  Wherewhere?  This is the middle of..."

"Nowhere. I know, " the young man briefly allowed a sour look the permeate his features.  "Nowhere makes a great place to hide from any Muse spies that might be attempting to assassinate me.  I wouldn't put it past Anabelle.."

She would hate him most certainly now.  If she hadn't before... no.  That was unproductive.  No use thinking about that.  At least she was alive - Rousseau had no doubt alerted her little girlytoy and thus the rest of the bloody city to his treachery.  And any woman that he could... care for.. would be intelligent enough to extrapolate the inevitable from that.

"It's what I would have done, in her place."

She hated him.  That was the Plan, after all... no regrets.  There couldn't be regrets.  He hadn't allowed for regrets.  He wouldn't let there be regrets...

None at all.

The sun was too hot, and making the stench behind him rather ripe.  Relentless, unforgiving - that wasn't supposed to be sunlight, now was it?   Good old reliable seasonal archetypes - a foundation of the reams of literature he'd had to read in Greenhill so long ago.  The sun was summer, was golden, was beautiful  - glowing orb lighting the most blessed years of life.  Solace from the oppressive blanket of clouds and ward against the storm.  But it's heat, it's heat was searing.  Soaking through linen and cotton and wool to scald his very bones.  The sun was relentless, gazing down on the world without a thought for the cruel byproduct known as life.

Jess had always preferred the rain.

The room was coated in a film of dust, and of a rather petite nature.  Most likely because it was not only a chamber but the entirety of the domicile.

Polite passers-by would have called it a cozy hideaway.  The more blunt might term it a ramshackle trailer reminiscent of some of the poorer Grassland tribes.  It's occupant, however, called it prison.

Slowly, deliberately, a feline shadow made it's way through a softly tinted bar of illuminated cream.  And another.  And another. The motes of dust languidly drifting through sunbeams were no match for it.

A pink ribbon.  Uncomfortable.  Itchy.  Bad.  It had to come off.

Mottled grey alternatively caressed and scorned by the light, he nigh floated over reams of ancient parchment.

Ribbon, bad.  Badbadbadbadbad.  And the lady kept hugging him.

Reaching an errant letter opener, the cat neatly slit silken threads upon silken thread.  It wasn't hard - never was.

Out.  Out was good.  Out was impossible.  Window?  Maybe.  Now?  No.

" Mr. Cuddlekins!  There you are!   What did you do to your nice bow?"

The mental benefits of the cat actually being aware of the concept of hell are debatable.  It is notable, however, that ignorance is bliss.

"We're here," Jess intoned.  If the bandit heard an exasperated note disrupt the usual tenor she didn't notice.  She didn't notice alot of things.

"We are?  Ummm.. alright.  It's certainly nicer than where I was living!  I probably don't deserve to stay here, but..." Neine rambled.  She was quite good at inconsequential rambling.  One wondered how the girl managed to not be bored into stupefaction by her own words.

"It's not that great. The owner likes to keep a low profile. Fortunately for us, that is,"  ignoring ill-used and protesting muscles, the ex-chamberlain slid off of his bedraggled mount with a surprising ease. " I wish we could just proceed directly to L'Renouille... but it's not safe.  Especially since Lawrence and Danae have apparently abandoned their paychecks to resolve a romantic entanglement."

Leave it to those morons to abandon real work in order to run off to some Magical Happy Land of Resolved Sexual Tension.  Idiot slackers.  Why couldn't they just start sleeping together and do their damn jobs?

"Oh, hush.  It all sounds so romantic!  Nothing like that would ever happen to me..."

He would not be too tired to care what he said, he would not be too tired to care what he said...

A grin.  Forced, but holding.  The man had facial muscles of iron.

"Yeah, I guess so.  You need a hand off of that horse?"

"Oh, I'm alright thanks."

A second dismount - not as practiced, but lack of experience was made up for with natural agility.

"Well, it shouldn't be long now..."  hazel eyes glazing over, the  natural wonder of a perfect glade apparently lost on him, Jess awaited fate.  Perhaps this time it would be different, perhaps...

"JESSSEEEEEEEE!  Sweeeeetie!  It's so go to see you!" a screech broke the idyllic wafting of the breeze. Jess might have been able to affirm that the wind was still somewhat active, however, had he not been locked in a familiar vise.

Careful to avoid the bewildered look shot at him from aside, the politician set out to extricate himself.  Alas, that was not to be - although he did manage to procure some room to breath.  Inclining his head slightly downward, now horrendously tangled hair falling in to his eyes, Jess let out the least enthusiastic greeting that the woods had ever known.

"Hi, Mom."

It wouldn't do to encourage her.

Languidly rising from yet another sun drenched nap, the beast rose once more to ponder his captivity.  Sharply turning, he leapt to the window in one fluid arc through the air,  Cats were the most graceful of creatures, after all.

Another bow. Itchy. Badbadbad...  Unimportant.  Window important.

Alas, with a disappointed yowl, the feline found himself thwarted by the return of his mistress and the... shadow behind her?

He knew the look. Another captive.

" Mr.Cuddlekins!  You poor thing... you must be hungry and trying to hunt.  But you know that Auntie Cecelia doesn't like it when you go outside, " the woman hefted him into her arms, voice acquiring a frightening amount of bounce in the process." No she doesn't... nooooo she doesn't..."

Glaring baefully, he found himself exchanging pained looks with his counterpart.

Poor cat.  His mother had always had a thing for strays.  Not that that was a bad thing.. in this situation, anyways.

"I thought you were getting the water rune, mother, " Jess commented, relieving Cecelia McClarich-Stanton of her furred burden and plunking it down on a cluttered table.

"yes, yes... no offense dear, but the company that you keep is rather too filthy to come in without a good drenching..."

Jess surveyed the characteristic piles of random junk that his mother seemed to leave in her wake, surprised to see them almost dust-free.  She must have purchased this thing recently - the mess hadn't reached critical mass yet.  Chirak, however, would be minor league compared to what him mother could concoct... it was weird.  When her and Dad were together everything had always been so clean... but now she was "liberated from housework", or something.  Bah.  Dad always did most of it in any case.

Mom and Dad had always balanced out, somehow.  Where was Dad now, anyways?  He'd ask.. but considering his petition for lodging that might not be the best of ideas.

"of course, Mom.  We wouldn't want to muss up your house.."

"Oh, hush dear.  Muss doesn't matter to the runes, now does it, " she twittered , pulling a small glowing crystal from somewhere in the rubble.  "There we are!  You could attach this one, you know.  Not too energy consuming, a nice healer..."

"Mom, we've talked about his, " Jess sighed.  This always happened.  Always.  If only Dad were around to run interference...

No.  Not thinking about that either.

"Yes, sweetie.  Yes we have.  You just need your mother to show you some sense.  If you'd just attach the runes that I send you EVERY YEAR for your birthday then..."

"For the last time, Mother.. I don't want to attach any runes! All I wanted when I was younger was an encyclopedia, not Blue Gate..."

"Blue Gate runes are wonderful runes, Jesse!  And then I wouldn't have to worry about my sweetie getting attacked and..."

"Mother, please just.."

"Look!  It doesn't even hurt!, " the woman slapped the rune onto her hand and effortlessly grafted it to herself.  "See!  I could even do it myself.  I don't understand why you insist on being so stubborn and..."

"Why don't we drop this and talk about what possessed you to come out to this waste."

Her voice, much like an avalanche, refused to yield on grounds of superior inertia.

" ... really, I think that if you would just be a bit more open-minded you'd see things my way.  I'm only doing this for your benefit, dear.  There's an especially powerful source of magic about here to be found and I'm in here trying to help you with..."

"I must say that I was surprised when you wrote to tell me that you'd be here..."

" This is all you father's fault.  He's turned you against me.  My Jesse doesn't love me anymore and he won't graft a nice little rune for his mother, " self righteousness and exeunt.  Plaintative whine the nth executed.

And what remained of his patience, worn away by fatigue and annoyance and deprivation and the rigors of the world... cracked.

"NO!  Dammit, Dad has NOTHING to do with this.  You left him wit me, and I haven't even bloody seen him for more than a court ordered weekend in thirteen years.  Dad couldn't possibly have anything to do with this!  When will you accept that I don't want to rely on magic as a crutch! You've seen those people,  grafted to those people - they're talentless wastes!" Jess snapped, tone the whip's crack.

Hazel eyes widened.  Crows feet made themselves taut.  Whine was borken by the howling blow.

 "Jesse, dear I'm sorry..."

"No, no it's my fault mother. You're probably right.  I just need more sleep,"  Jess smiled reufully.  It wouldn't do to offend her.  He hadn't meant to...

"Yes dear, " the woman backed out of the rroom, obviously still shaken, " I'll.. go help that wreatched urchin outside fix herself up.  You get some rest. "

Lightheaded, her son responded, "Yes.  Yes, I think I will.  Mom... I didn't mean..."

"It's all right Jesse. We've had this fight before.   Go to sleep, " she said in a distinctively matronly way.

"Yes, sleep..." collapsng onto a nearby couch, the politician forgot even how unforgivable his lapse in emotional control had been.  The world collapsed into darkness and confort and warmth.

Sleep.

The other.  The other was his chance, he knew it.

Settling down on the almost feverish human's chest, the feline purred contentedly.  He'd seen enough... this one had been mad at the woman.  This one wouldn't make him wear pink ribbons.

Pink ribbons.  Ucky. Horrible.  Itchy.  Badbadbadbad.

Fish would be much better.

That night, and for most of the afternoon, Jess Stanton did not dream of books and plans and conquest.

Jess Stanton dreamt of the harbor - of the fishmongers and the tourists and the garish sailors.