Steven tucks the papers under his arm and obediently follows Layla in. Once the door is shut, he flicks his hand in what Layla will recognize by now is a dispell magic gesture, and the ears and cat tail from the night before reappear. The tail gives a little fluff before settling.
"Phew. Do you know how uncomfortable holding an illusion over someone else's spell is?" he says more than asks. "That feels much better."
The corners of Layla's mouth crimp as she fights not to grin at the sight of that fluffed-out tail.
"And here I'd thought you'd managed to get an early reprieve," she says, and reaches up with her free hand to absently smooth his hair down where it lies in slight disarray around the previously-invisible ears. "I don't think you need to hide them around here, though. Anyone who's not in on last night's festivities will probably just assume it's a Heba thing."
"No, no, just me seeing if I could, mostly, since-- Oh." He stops short and blinks a little, ducking his head into her touch. He wonders if some of that is the cat thing, or if it always feels that nice to have someone pet your hair. "Oh, that's nice."
Her hand stills briefly at that first 'oh', until he leans into her touch rather than flinching away. She resumes gently tidying his hair, the brief flicker of worry at her end of the tether fading into warm fondness.
"If you start purring, I'm not sure I'll be able to keep a straight face," she warns.
"I don't think I can purr," Steven says, keeping very still under her ministrations. "Though I haven't tried, either. You could do that all day, though, and I guess we could find out." Though they do have an apartment to view. He really shouldn't stand here all day and let her fuss with his hair. "Does Marc like it when you do this?"
Layla makes a small, amused sound in the back of her throat, not quite a laugh, but definitely in that family. "I'm pretty sure you'd get a crick in your neck in the first half hour," she says, mock-rueful. "And yeah, sometimes. Depends on his mood a bit."
Having determined that his hair's probably as neat as it's going to get - and recalled now to self-consciousness - she takes one last gentle pass before dropping her hand to cover his instead, so that it's sandwiched between both of hers.
"Let's take a look around, hmm? I really do think you'll like this place."
"Yeah, well, everything with Marc depends on his mood a bit, don't it," Steven comments, but straightens obligingly and lets her tow him further into the flat, looking around with interest. "It's not as cluttered as it could be," he says charitably. The huge windows really do help it feel more airy.
"Good to know that whole forced honesty thing hasn't affected you much," Layla says, tone slightly teasing - but not, notably, indicating much in the way of disagreement.
"I've seen worse - I remember when one of my father's mentors passed, we helped clean out his place. There was one room, just...wall-to-wall newspapers and old magazines, dating back to the 1940s. I think some of them were even older than he was. But this place does give off a little bit of a 'prick your finger on a spinning wheel' vibe, doesn't it?"
She pauses to crouch down and peer at a little stone carving of a winged lioness - not a sphinx, but close enough to catch her attention.
"I mean, I didn't even notice it until Marc told me about it this morning," Steven admits with a little shrug. She was more right than she knew with the whole "honesty is more of a you thing" comment: Steven can't really lie to save his life, and it mostly doesn't even occur to him to try.
He peers over Layla's shoulder, but when he can tell there's no real magic on it, drifts over to the window to peer out the windows. "Is there anything bad about this place? That you can see? Besides needing to clean it out. Which, as far as I can tell, isn't really a bad thing."
"No," Layla says, and reaches over to tap the little lioness on the nose. It rouses to life, shaking its head and then clambering down from the shelf to slink over and bat at the laces of Steven's shoes.
"As far as I can tell, it's pretty close to perfect. Wait 'til you see the bedrooms."
Steve jumps a little, tail fluffing out suddenly, but when he looks down and see what it is, he calms down again and drops to a crouch. "Hello little fellow! Is this you, Layla?" he asks. "Or did we wake something up?"
"Just me," she admits. The little statue does a credible impression of a cat stretching, then peers up at Steven as Layla closes her own eyes, looking for a moment just through the stone.
"I'm getting a bit better at fine manipulation. Though that would be useful, wouldn't it - actual animated stone sentries."
"That's mental," Steven comments, but with a smile, reaching down to scritch the little stone sphinx's ears. "That's such an amazing power, you know. I don't know if they tell you that, but seriously. Wow."
"It comes in handy," Layla says, smiling a little at the referred sensation - strange, but not unwelcome. She makes the little sphinx rub its cheek against Steven's fingertips, like it's scent marking him.
"I don't think it's especially impressive by local standards. Bit more versatile than it seemed at first, though. I'll take that over flashy any day."
"I think it's impressive, and who cares about flashy anyway?" Steven says, loyal and honest, because he can't not be honest. He smiles down at the cat, and adds, "I think you're impressive."
"This from the man who's already memorized half the magic library." Her tone's gently teasing, but her side of the tether is pure fond warmth. "You're sweet."
The little statue nuzzles his fingers again, and she opens her eyes, letting her senses return mostly to normal so she can appreciate the scene.
He scritches the stone cat a little more, not looking up to see her watching. "Not half the library," he protests, amused. "I still have a lot to learn. Which is fine. What would life be like without lots left to learn, after all? Pretty boring, I bet." He picks the stone sphynx up and finally looks back at Layla. "Maybe we should get a real pet," he suggests. "Not right away. But eventually."
The little creature's paws flex against his palm, kneading without the prick of claws that would come along with a real cat, then curls up, wings daintily folded, nose tucked beneath its little stone tail.
"Maybe," she says. "You know, I've never actually had a pet. Helped look after livestock on a few expeditions - there's no way out of that part of the chore rotation - but that's not quite the same thing."
"Goats and camels, huh?" Steven agrees, petting the little statue idly. "We had a fish, I guess. A couple fish," he corrects, a little sadly. "But we hardly had any time to even make sure we could really take care of them before we went here."
He's confronted and accepted, with much regret, that those poor fish are probably dead by now. It's not like they have anyone to look in on them, and even the automatic feeder he installed will only last so long.
"I remember the fish." It had struck her as strange, the first time she'd seen his flat - one of the little idiosyncrasies that, in retrospect, should have been a clear sign that he'd been telling the truth even then. Marc had never shown much inclination towards getting a pet.
"Are you thinking fish again? Or something a little more terrestrial?"
"Oh, I don't know," Steven says thoughtfully. "Fish would probably be best, if we're going to be in and out a lot for work and missions and things, right? But there's two of us, now. Three, with Marc. And no crazy gods dragging us around. We might be able to keep something bigger alive, this time."
"Maybe a bit smaller than a cat, though," she says, with a fond smile and a glance at the little statue in his hand. "I don't know if we'll ever actually find a way home, but if we do, it wouldn't be fair to take in something that would pine away."
"At least here we'd have a landlord who would probably check on something bigger than a goldfish if we didn't stop by for a few days," Steven muses. "Or it could be a mostly outdoor pet, like the cat downstairs."
He pauses. "What's between a goldfish and a cat, though? A rat? Rats are cute."
"You know, there are more animals here that are similar to ones on Earth than I'd have thought," Steven comments. "But that's an idea, too. We'd have to research what kind of animals make good, easy pets-- oh, hello." He tugs very gently on his trapped finger, but smiles warmly at the same time.
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"Phew. Do you know how uncomfortable holding an illusion over someone else's spell is?" he says more than asks. "That feels much better."
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"And here I'd thought you'd managed to get an early reprieve," she says, and reaches up with her free hand to absently smooth his hair down where it lies in slight disarray around the previously-invisible ears. "I don't think you need to hide them around here, though. Anyone who's not in on last night's festivities will probably just assume it's a Heba thing."
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"If you start purring, I'm not sure I'll be able to keep a straight face," she warns.
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Having determined that his hair's probably as neat as it's going to get - and recalled now to self-consciousness - she takes one last gentle pass before dropping her hand to cover his instead, so that it's sandwiched between both of hers.
"Let's take a look around, hmm? I really do think you'll like this place."
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"I've seen worse - I remember when one of my father's mentors passed, we helped clean out his place. There was one room, just...wall-to-wall newspapers and old magazines, dating back to the 1940s. I think some of them were even older than he was. But this place does give off a little bit of a 'prick your finger on a spinning wheel' vibe, doesn't it?"
She pauses to crouch down and peer at a little stone carving of a winged lioness - not a sphinx, but close enough to catch her attention.
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He peers over Layla's shoulder, but when he can tell there's no real magic on it, drifts over to the window to peer out the windows. "Is there anything bad about this place? That you can see? Besides needing to clean it out. Which, as far as I can tell, isn't really a bad thing."
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"As far as I can tell, it's pretty close to perfect. Wait 'til you see the bedrooms."
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"I'm getting a bit better at fine manipulation. Though that would be useful, wouldn't it - actual animated stone sentries."
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"I don't think it's especially impressive by local standards. Bit more versatile than it seemed at first, though. I'll take that over flashy any day."
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The little statue nuzzles his fingers again, and she opens her eyes, letting her senses return mostly to normal so she can appreciate the scene.
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"Maybe," she says. "You know, I've never actually had a pet. Helped look after livestock on a few expeditions - there's no way out of that part of the chore rotation - but that's not quite the same thing."
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He's confronted and accepted, with much regret, that those poor fish are probably dead by now. It's not like they have anyone to look in on them, and even the automatic feeder he installed will only last so long.
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"Are you thinking fish again? Or something a little more terrestrial?"
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He pauses. "What's between a goldfish and a cat, though? A rat? Rats are cute."
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The little statue in his hand rouses, and catches one of his fingers gently between two stone paws.
"Or maybe something local? Like those tiny little blue bats that're all over the Xin market."
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wrap on this one?
yes, let's