You find yourself in a well built, fairly large loft. The wood planks comprising the floor are almost completely covered in hay. There are several piles of hay as well as a few bales to provide makeshift seating. Extra tools and equipment have also managed to find their way here. As you move a soft crunch, as well as the occasional squeak of wood greets your ears. There is a small window open to the road to the south.
As the loft extends back there are openings for the hay to be thrown down. A small gray kitten perches atop one of the bales grooming herself. With the smell of fresh hay and a rather cozy arrangement it is one of the more pleasant areas of the stable to be.
Jana sits in the corner of the loft, weaving staw boredly.
Lanisen is flopped on his stomach next to the window, looking equally bored. “Startin’ to feel like home, this place…”
Jana grunts in reply. “Not exactly my favorite home.”
Lanisen asks, “Meanin’ you have a favorite home?”
Jana says, “If I did it wouldn’t be this place. I don’t like having to watch out for police every time I peek my head over the railing.”
Lanisen hehs and raises his head to peer out the window again. “Beats trees.”
Jana shrugs, and unweaves her fourth or fifth piece of straw-jewelry.
Lanisen yawns and rolls over onto his side, propping his head up on one arm. He eyes the kitten across the loft, then picks up a long piece of straw and begins twitching it nonchalantly.
Jana raises one brow and shakes her head with possible disdain.
Lanisen is definitely too bored to be affected by possible disdain. He draws random invisible designs on the floor with the straw and watches from the corner of his eye as the kitten pauses washing itself to eye the twitching straw.
Jana examines her nails, Lanisen and the kitten in her peripheral.
Lanisen manages to coax the kitten over and holds a brief game of Fearsome Hunter. Losing interest in that, he rolls over onto his back and deposits the kitten on his stomach. It settles down into a purring lump of gray fur.
Jana says, both as if she’s said it before and as if she is talking to herself, “Men are all the same. They pretend to be different, but in the end, they’re all big softies. Just got to find the right place.”
Lanisen, except for a snort that might be a chuckle and might be hay fever, ignores this and continues scratching the kitten’s ears.
Jana clicks, and rubs her fingers together for the kitten to come to her.
Lanisen sits up as the kitten wanders toward Jana. “Oi!” he protests. “Get your own!”
Jana scritches the kitten behind the ears, and then flicks it on the nose and plays a bit of cat and mouse, in which the mouse is definitely the victor.
Lanisen lays back, folding his hands behind his head. He snickers and shakes his head, watching.
Jana picks up the kitten behind the forearms. It squirms in protest, and she tosses it in Lanisen’s direction. Her aim is pretty good and the kitten is Not Pleased.
Lanisen lets out a squawk and just manages to catch the Not Pleased kitten before it lands back on his stomach. It proceeds to make ribbons of his forearm. He keeps up a steady stream of alternately profane and soothing murmurs and works on prying the kicking claws out of his arm.
Lanisen manages to get rid of the kitten, which high-tails it for the hay-bales stacked in the corner, bristling with deep offense. Lanisen glowers at Jana accusingly.
Lanisen exclaims, “Why’d you– Completely… no reason…”
Jana snickers. “It was amusing. That’s a perfectily good reason.”
Lanisen groans loudly and regards his very scratched and bitten wrist with regret. “Any of those goops of yours take care of cat-scratches?”
Jana moves over to her pack and rummages through it. She tosses a jar at him. “Don’t use very much of it.”
Lanisen unscrews the cap and daubs a bit of the goop onto his wrist, muttering, “Why, you make a habit of siccing killer cats on people?”
Jana says, “It’s a kitten. It ain’t gonna kill you.”
Lanisen returns the lid to the jar and tosses it back at Jana.
Jana catches it deftly. “You’re welcome.”
Lanisen doesn’t dignify that with a response. He scooches over to the wall and leans against it.
Jana says, “Loc likes baby furry things, too.”
Lanisen is just bored enough to raise an eyebrow in a vague indication of interest.
Jana smirks, and goes back to weaving.
Lanisen eyes the straw-weavings in process and finally asks, “What are you /doing/?” His tone makes it clear he has doubts about Jana’s sanity.
Jana says, “Busying myself. Bored.”
Lanisen watches Jana fiddle with the straw for a while longer, then leans his head back against the wall. He glances back to the stack of hay-bales and their indignant occupant rather regretfully, then yawns and closes his eyes.
Jana ignores him like a pro.
Myrd tosses a sack up the ladder, which lands on the loft floor with a ‘clunk’, then climbs up after it.
Jana says, “Glad you could join us.”
Lanisen jumps, then raises his head and an eyebrow, looking curiously at the sack. “What’s this?” he asks, nudging it with the toe of his boot.
Myrd explains with his usual verbosity, “Supplies.”
Jana hms, and leans forward to pull the pack toward her.
Myrd puts his boot on the sack, using his weight to make it difficult for her to do so.
Jana looks up at him with a frown, but relents.
Lanisen waits with growing interest to see the contents of the bag. “What kind of supplies?”
Myrd frowns. “Stuff we’re going to need where we’re headed.”
Jana hmphs in mild displeasure. “Probably blindfolds.”
Myrd says, “Aww, Darlin’. You guessed it right off.”
Lanisen presses, incorrigible, “Where’re we headed?”
Jana brings her palm to her face in reaction to Lanisen’s astonishing skill at being foolish.
Myrd says darkly, “Somewhere they won’t ever think to look for us. Quit asking foolish questions, boy.”
Jana crumbles a piece of straw. “Well the sooner we get out of here, the better.”
Myrd scowls. “I’m working on it, woman. Ain’t going to make it far without what I picked up today.”
Lanisen shuts up accordingly, but he still eyes the bag with deep curiosity.
Jana furrows a brow at him.
Myrd smirks at her. “Just hope you ain’t afraid of tight spaces, Darlin’.”
Jana does not look pleased by this, but she replies boldly, “Not afraid of anything. Except maybe your breath.”
Myrd doesn’t seem bothered by her insult. “I have to have something to keep you from throwin’ yourself at me, Darlin’,” he drawls.
Jana snorts. “Oh, that’s why.”
Myrd smirks. “You’re just going to have to learn to control yourself, woman. That’s all.”
Jana examines her nails. “Better watch out. Might be so overwhelmed by your amiable nature that I can’t resist.”
Myrd says, “Good thing I ain’t tempted to test that one out.”
Jana says, “Indeed.”
Jana makes a quick yank at the bag while their conversation distracts Myrd.
Lanisen watches the verbal battle, looking from Myrd to Jana and back again several times. He shakes his head and mutters something under his breath.
Lanisen mumbles “Mmhmm. /Just/ like an old married couple…”, to Lanisen.
Lanisen mumbles “Mmhmm. /Just/ like … old married …”, to Lanisen.
Myrd scowls deeply, taking his attention off the bag to backhand Lanisen after catching the mumble.
>>> Myrd swings his fist at Lanisen, grazing him. Lanisen doesn’t appear to be too hurt by the blow.
Lanisen startles back, avoiding the worst of the blow. He touches the side of his face gingerly.
Jana looks up long enough to say, “You want your little furry friend in your face next time?” before rummaging through the bag.
Myrd growls, “Leave that alone, woman.”
Lanisen’s eyes shift to the bag again.
Jana closes it up, but not before she’s seen all that’s inside it. She doesn’t pull anything out for general viewing, either.
Myrd grabs the sack from her, being rough about it. He ties it securely.
Jana doesn’t seem too miffed. It appears she got the information she was looking for.
Lanisen looks the very picture of irritable at being kept in the dark and hops to his feet. “Assumin’ you ain’t got some big important job for your loyal lackeys…?” he says to Myrd from a safe distance.
Myrd snorts. “Ain’t about to give you something that’d stretch you too much, boy.”
Lanisen snorts in reply. “Ever considerate.” He turns and heads further into the loft, plopping down behind a hay-bale so as to be not immediately visible from the entrance.