Wild Blood Never Tells (open)

[Senyaa T'rin]

First Cycle of Junctior
Twenty-First Candlemark in the Darkening of Dianara
The Autumn of Era III of the Celestine Mandate
Twelfth Era Post Fractum, in the Reign of Arabella
Paradigm: the Voice of Diana is heard

It was autumn, and the heat was enough to make her fur itch, especially indoors. Give her the wide open spaces, and she would be happy... She did wear human clothes, but only the bare minimum required for public decency; in her opinion clothes were nothing but a nuisance. Senyaa prowled through the city streets, the bulk of her enough to send people jumping out of her way. The white tigron had yet to actually maim anyone, but it was oddly pleasing the way people looked at her and scrambled anyway. Perhaps they knew the thoughts that stirred in her mind, that set her blood to pounding... but they were only smoothskins, what did they know.

Shouldering the door of the Crown Inn and Tavern open, she stopped to let her eyes adjust to the interior atmosphere. Gods almighty, the place stunk to high heaven. She wrinkled her nose, whiskers peeling back. Already her fur was prickling, turning itchy... She'd find the silly smoothskin and give him his papers, and get out of there before someone stepped on her tail, or spilled beer on her, or anything of that sort. Senyaa had been here before; last time, she'd nearly had her tail broken when someone pushed their chair back and set it on top of her tail. Since then, she'd decided to stick to safer territories. Safer for whom, though? Well, there had been that tasty tigron at her last haunt, but he had been a bit too rough for her taste... Besides, she preferred to handle people on her own terms. Solitary as a hunter, perhaps half as dangerous as one.

Curling her own tail around her ankle for safety, the sleek katta moved through the foyer, into the tavern, her head respectably bowed as if in deference to those whose paths she might cross. Still, there was a dangerous gleam in her blue eyes, hidden as they were behind cracked crystal lenses. The eyeglasses had been purchased off a dirty little gnome that had reminded her less of a smoothskin than a giant potato with teeth and a fondness for liquor, but they served well enough to provide a bit of a ... guise, if you will. She had quickly discovered that in the world of katta, and in larger society as well, that there were certain expectations made of tigrons... Unwilling to experience another incident like the one in her youth, she had quickly adopted a meek attitude, and the glasses helped.

Under her arm Senyaa had a sheaf of papers intended for the smoothskin, a minor functionary of the ministry of law -- her cousin was the man's secretary, and had become injured the day before during a... robust encounter with her mate. And reports were reports, they came due regardless of Senyaa's personal thoughts about them. In order to protect her cousin, she had agreed to make the delivery herself.

The solitary tigroness was regretting that agreement now as she bumped into a smoothskin, a big burly man that smelled like rancid fish and looked about as ugly. "Rr, excuse me..." Without even looking, he elbowed her in the chest, sending her reeling back, papers flying everywhere. The eyeglasses skittered away across the floor as she bent double, gasping for air. Immediately her claws extended as she felt the urge to kill rising, but a female voice, chattering nearly into her ear, presumably smoothskin words of concern, brought her back to reality. Reluctantly she allowed her claws to retract, every single hair on her body standing on end. Slowly she went down to the floor, growling to herself as she began the tedious task of retrieving the papers.

One day you will learn, little Senyaa, that the world has no room for you...

[Khaellii Wrenwitch]

"Oh! How rude! How absolutely rude! You men think you own the joint. Going around and shoving females around like that. You better watch your step before someone turns you into a turnip!" Khaellii admonished the burly man who had elbowed the Katta in the chest and had nearly knocked her down. If it wasn't for the fact that it truly was an accident, she would have swung her healer's pack at his head and knocked him silly. As it was, he did not even know what hit him as Khaellii berated him loudly in front of the patrons in the Crown and waggled a finger in his face.

She turned back to the Katta who was starting to recover from the blow and was beginning the tedious job of picking up the papers that had scattered all over the floor.

"Are you alright, dear? Here, let me help you with that." Khaellii said as she bent down to help the Katta retrieve the documents. "Are you hurt anywhere? I have some salve that might help with any bruising you might suffer. Here," she handed the pair of glasses that had been knocked across the floor back to the Katta. "It seems as if your glasses have been cracked. I can recommend a place to mend them for a good low price. Such rude people!"

She looked back at the Katta and for the first time took notice of her white fur and the fact that she was a very unusual Katta, being a large tigron in a world of mostly tiny domestikattas. "What brings you to the Crown with all these documents, if you don't mind my asking?"

[Karbaaros]

Karbaaros swaggered up to the large Katta, stepping in beside Khaellii. "Are you..alright? The nerve of some people." He had taken notice of the claws that had extended before -- this kitten could take care of herself. Karbaaros liked that.

The booze he had imbibed earlier made his olive skin pinkish -- not his best look. His nostrils flared imperceptibly and he anxiously awaited a reply from the Katta.

[Ogabe K'tinga]

The concern shown Senyaa was certainly not customary in the hustle and bustle of Prime, and drew a few odd glances from the tide of patrons swelling the Crown Inn and Tavern. There were the unspoken suspicions of footpads and pickpockets looking to take advantage of Senyaa's momentary distractions, though these quickly dissipated. That such behavior would have been a horrendous mistake wasn't exactly obvious, as the pracenda gathering two tables over would spot such in a heartbeat. Their conversation was subdued, though not boring certainly, a gathering of lawmen always fertile ground for the telling of tales. It was Perrin Abbas' turn, and he held the group's attention well as he regaled them with one of his favorites.

"...So anyway, we've got nearly a hundred men with crossbows just on the perimeter, not to mention an arrest team of twelve making our way into the Alyxandryan Baths, evacuating everyone as quietly as we can manage. The bastard'd slipped through my fingers dozens of times, fastest thing I'd ever seen not wearin' spots." he qualified, for his new boss, chiefly. "Anyway, like I was sayin', we get the perect snare around 'im, and even then, I'm thinkin' we're still gonna lose 'im. We sneak into the small room he's usin', and he's just wrapping a towel around 'imself, like nothin's wrong. 'E finally spots us, and I kid you not, turns to leave and slips on the wet tile. Smacked his head against a support pillar, 'e did, dropped like 'e'd been poleaxed. Talk about anticlimactic." he summed up, several of those gathered already sniggering into their tankards.

That included the shadowy figure who owned the allegiance of the rest. A black cloak, hood drawn up to avoid casual scrutiny, was draped over the lithe diner's frame, the barest hint of a furred muzzle and golden eyes visible in the self-made shadows. The sole adornment for the otherwise non-descript katta was a silver cloak pin, a simple, if odd, notched arrowhead set with a single small ruby. He had called these men together to show appreciation for the work they had done in getting the Ministry up and running properly, Ogabe's standards both high and exacting. The Imperial Judicator was not one to allow hard work to go unrewarded, and this was no exception. Several gathered were men he though to put in charge of Sel'rakrya field offices throughout the Empire, those vacancies begging to be filled as yet.

That group of actors set set, there was one player yet to arrive upon the stage, though not taking long to do so. Dermis Tiddle was a narrow man, both of build and mind, less-abused spectacles rested upon his nose precarious, as if ready to plummet from their perch at any moment. He wasn't a lush, but did enjoy his wine, as was evident upon his breath for anyone with a sensitive nose. He smelled of Lysandrian red, but did not reek thereof, his keen eyes and perfectly combed hair indication that he was only slightly into his cups. Said green gaze picked out the tigroness, or more properly the combination of tigroness and documents, Senyaa close enough in appearance to her cousin to draw the man's attention. "Hey! Those are mine! For all the attention to punctuality you furballs have." he added for effect, clearly one whose default treatment of his 'lessers' was barely above abuse. He continued on with his tirade as he approached the unlikely trio, the whole episode now drawing more and more attention from the aforementioned table.

"Is that...?" Abbas asked of his nearest companion.

"Tiddle, yeah." the gentleman confirmed, clearly disgusted with the little man.

"The man's an arse. I really don't understand why you keep him around." Perrin said to the man in black, coming as close to suggesting Tiddle be fired as he would ever get.

"He's good at what he does, Perrin. Besides, I do need to crack the whip every now and then, if only to keep in practice." he replied calmly, before cracking a soft smirk in reply to Perrin's disbelieving face. "All right, all right, it's fun too." he admitted. "If you'll excuse me a moment, gentlemen." he said to those gathered, rising slowly and garnering quiet attention from his fellow lawmen, anticipation rife for the festivities to come.

"And if you can't even keep these reports straight..." he was saying before a loud, clear voice cut him off.

"Dermis Tiddle!"

The force, and a familiarity with the voice stopped the man like a lightning bolt, fingers halting their inventory of the documents obtained from Senyaa's grasp scant moments before. With a growing sense of dread did the audit clerk turn slowly about, emerald gaze falling upon the simple, yet well-made, black cloak, and more specifically the rather distinctive cloak pin holding it in place. "S-sir? I..." he managed to stammer.

"Were about to introduce me to Miss K'tassa, yes?" he said, not having actually met Senyaa's cousin before, the knowledge that Dermis had a tigron secretary confusion enough to muddle things thusly. Golden eyes quickly inventoried Senyaa, even as Ogabe's dining companions fought valiantly to stave off howls of laughter at Dermis' discomfiture. He could see the anger bubbling beneath the surface of the tigroness' pelt, the body language an open book for any katta. "Seraa and well met." he added for her benefit chiefly, though Khaellii and Karbaaros might have felt included in such a general greeting.

"I think perhaps you've not spent much time in taverns, madam. It's an acquired skill to navigate the crowds without getting your tail broken, to be sure." he added by way of explanation. His outward mood was that of smooth civility, even as his right hand clutched the hilt of his graw'lak as it nestled in the small of his back, hedging against the possibility that the entire situation was a setup. That he had ample backup nearby was not lost on him, but time and experience were hard teachers, and so he was prepared to buy the precious seconds he needed to survive if necessary.

Ah, the burdens of importance.

But that was not the topic of conversation, and he let it slip back into his subconscious thoughts, again addressing Senyaa and her erstwhile companions. "So what brings you all..." he continued a moment before stopping and affording the dumbfounded Tiddle a sidelong glance. "Why, Dermis, I'm sorry. I forgot you were there." he said, pausing for effct. "You may go now." he concluded, sending the anxious auditor shambling off. His tone of voice would be termed condescending, but for the utter lack of malice within, the whole of it almost more insulting because of it, if one thought about it.

"As I was saying, what brings you to the Crown, aside from work that is?" he asked warmly.

[Senyaa T'rin]

"He would be an injustice to turnips everywhere," she muttered under her breath to Khaelli as the female passed her the eyeglasses. Squinting at them, she noted a new crack, but the silly things needed mending anyway and she didn't need them except for her disguise. Chuffing air through her whiskers, she held the glasses in one hand and continued gathering papers with the other, stuffing them back under her arm.

A new pair of feet appeared, and she eyed the boots for a moment before glancing up. The smell of liquor rolled off him, and her ears ratcheted back. Just what she needed, another drunk male. "I'm fine," she rumbled, the words closer to a growl than polite conversation called for. For all intents and purposes the 'kitten' was an angry cat, and it was only the fact that there were entirely too many eyes around that saved her original assailant from sporting new holes in his digustingly-hairless hindparts.

As distracted as she was, she did not see Dermis Tiddle until the detestable creature was already in front of her, snatching the papers from her paws. Her eyes widened in surprise as the man started berating her, and she fumbled with the eyeglasses, nearly dropping them before she settled them on her muzzle, slapping her 'disguise' firmly into place. "But it's not my f--" Senyaa had tried to protest, but then that voice interrupted. Curiously she peered around the auditor's shoulder, studying the newcomer. Her nostrils flared and her ears canted forward, trying to pick out his scent from that of the people around them. All she could get was tantalizing wisps, enough to prick her interest. Those silly human clothes concealed much of him, but he was unmistakably katta, and most deliciously -- er, definitely -- male.

"Seraa," she murmured in response to the new katta, her anger dissipating somewhat as she watched karma catch up with Dermis Tiddle. These days there was plenty of anger simmering under the surface, but this strange katta did not need to know that. As Ogabe dismissed Tiddle with barely more than a glance, she grinned, her fangs flashing white momentarily. "I am not R'inna K'tassa, I am her cousin, Senyaa T'rin. She injured herself last evening with her m'baael and asked that I deliver a report to that Mr. Tiddle daurmin... I have been here once before. Not my kind of place." Her tail slowly waved from left to right, crooking slightly at the end, a signal that she had found something interesting that she intended to pursue. Remembering that she was not alone, the white tigroness turned her eyes to the two humans who were no doubt a bit befuddled by the scene that had just unfolded.

"Thank you for your help," she said, quite sincerely, to Khaelli. Having been relieved both of her papers and most of her frustration, the wilderkatta smoothed her fur down with her paws, straightening the vest and loose trousers she wore. Neither piece of clothing was fancy, or colorful in the least; the shoes she wore were nothing more than sandals, because she couldn't stand anything more. Every chance she got, Senyaa went barefoot, but then again she was a wilderkatta with wild blood running full in her veins, even though this current disguise painted her as a meek and mild feline...

Most tigrons were orange with brown stripes; indeed, her own littermate, Towrii, and her own parents were orange. With her white fur, chocolate stripes, and blue eyes, Senyaa was a throwback to some other, wilder time, and had apparently suffered some for it. The back of her left ear seemed to have sparser fur than the right, and a thick scar at its base canted the ear lower to her skull than the other, leaving her with a somewhat lopsided appearance. On top of that, the vest and trousers, the sandals, the glasses... Oh, they'd never know. Never trust a wilderkin except at the end of a spear... a very, very long spear...

translation: m'baael -- mated couple, either half of said pair; daurmin -- weakling or coward

[Karbaaros]

Karbaaros had never seen a tigron in the Tavern before, let alone one wearing spectacles. Upon her entrance, his first instinct was to give up drinking forever. Now that he knew this wasn't an ale-induced hallucination, the scarred man was intrigued; he knew this was most definitely not a creature whose clothing would eventually grace his bedside, but he wanted to know more of her and her kind. Her white-and-chocolate fur was stunning, and her blue eyes stood out against it like the finest sapphires in the Empire. What sort of background could a creature such as this hold?

"Have a drink with me," started Karbaaros, who was quite the beast himself, "And we can have a chat. I'm curious as to your...heritage." He gave her a look that said, "Trust me! I'm okay!" His blue eyes came alive and the corners of his mouth lifted. He wanted to swap stories with this beautiful creature, for them both to walk away with a mutual understanding. Wait...what?

More often than not, Karbaaros didn't give a rat's hind end about talking to any female without lovely assets and an inviting smile. What was going on with him? Maybe his macho shoot-first-ask-questions-later come-here-and-gimme-a-kiss-honey attitude was beginning to soften. If that was the case, he might as well become a eunuch and call it quits for good. No, he should stop thinking that way. He was allowed to be curious every now and again; this was a very different individual. He just wanted to know a few things of her and her nature. He looked earnestly at the tigron and shot her his best lopsided grin. "If you like, that is."

[Ogabe K'tinga]

The relaxation of the young lady T'rin was not lost upon the golden-furred Judicator, nor was the silent language of her body. He wondered a moment as to how, precisely, she had made such a determination with barely having scented him. Not that he was complaining exactly, just a little surprised. Her explanation likewise was something which begged further inquiry, when it was polite to do so. It was unclear whether R'inna was laid up because of a fight or a particularly vigorous roll in the hay. Probably both, he decided, again adding to his mental stack of unanswered questions.

Granted, the meticulous-minded cheetari was one who far preferred to reduce the stack, rather than expand upon it, and thusly he decided to speak further. "Seeing as your work appears done, I think I can find a spot at my table, if you're interested. At least buy you a drink, for putting up with Mr. Tiddle's... idiosyncracies." he said euphemistcally. That said seat would likely not be adjacent to his own, lest he receive yet another upbraiding from his bodyguards, was unspoken as yet. Ogabe's companions at the table were now laughing openly, though whether more at Ogabe's joke or his interaction with the much larger tigroness was open to debate.

"Unless you have other preferences?" he added noncommitally, referencing the curious human who had come to Senyaa's aid. He wasn't jealous, certainly, though the offer did strike him as odd.

[Khaellii Wrenwitch]

All through the tirade, Khaellii observed the small mean man who, she gathered by the scattered comments comming from a large group of kattas in the corner nearby, was one Dermis Tiddle. She would have blasted him verbally for his arrogant attitude had it not been for a cloaked katta, exuding in power and sheer maleness, who beat her to the punch.

For a second, Khaellii thought the male katta would bring yet more grief to the tigron, having blasted the man they called Dermis Tiddle. But the male katta was quite civil.

"Thank you for your help," the tigron said, and Khaellii smiled. The lady katta had manners. Once Khaellii assured herself that the female tigron would no longer be assaulted, she stood by and watched the interaction between the tigron and the male katta.

Once the male katta appeared on the scene, Khaellii's presence all but disappeared from the collective conscience. There wasn't much of a comparison between the katta and Khaellii. She was a nondescript colorless human/elven female, to say the least, and the katta was vibrant and very noticeable. That was fine by Khaellii. She melted into the shadows and the noise of the tavern so that she could observe the group in its entirety.

From what she had gathered, listening to the chatter in the midst of the group, the male katta was Ogabe K'tinga, The Imperial Judicator, and his underling, Perrin Abbas. She wondered why they were here, and once again, wondered why there were so many kattas all around Alleria.

Interesting. Very interesting.

[Senyaa T'rin]

She cocked her head to the left, narrowing her eyes as she considered the table that the other katta had come from. They seemed particularly amused about something, and she had very little understanding of what that might be. It could have been his handling of the little vermin Tiddle, or... Senyaa regarded Ogabe with some curiousity. One did not, as a rule, invite wilderkatta off to a table without something in mind.

And of course, that other one, the human, he had something in mind too. Why did the males always seem so interested in her and her tail? She suspected that the sheer volume of drink in this place had something to do with it. This drew her attention back to Mr. Skinny and Mysterious. He'd been drinking, the entire table had, and yet... Warily she scratched the side of her neck with the tips of her claws as if she itched, weighing her options. Both of these males were nosing around her as if she were a tasty morsel, and it was a bit disconcerting. At the moment she had no intention of rolling in the hay with either of them, nor drinking. If push came to shove, she'd much rather be somewhere else. People and alcohol... her poor tail was bound to get hurt sometime soon. Still, the situation called for a decision.

Reaching out, she patted Karbarros' cheek with her paw, a gesture that was nearly condescending. "Sorry, I don't drink with smoothskins. I think you've had a bit too much to start with anyhow. But perhaps I'll look you up sometime." With a flick of her tail, the tigroness turned and walked past Ogabe, toward the table he had come from. It wasn't hard to guess which table was his -- probably the one with all the men that had now gone suddenly silent and wide-eyed, watching her approach. It wasn't until later that she realized she'd made a mistake. Her clothing and her behavior were a direct contradiction to each other; she should have found a more polite way to decline the human's offer. He wasn't that detestable, really, it was just that she had a suitably mysterious tail to chase. Maybe they'd run into each other in a less crowded and smelly place and the human could 'get to know her,' as he'd worded it...

She paused just past Ogabe, thinking of turning back to apologize. That thought fled as she eyeballed the shrouded katta at closer range. Shorter, and a bit skinny in shape... she couldn't see much of his fur, and canted her head to peer at the barest tip of tail that showed from beneath his cloak. A cheetari? Or a calicori maybe... No, it almost had to be a wilder, the others wouldn't be caught dead being polite to her. She almost, almost tackled him flat so she could sniff him from head to toe and find out exactly who he was and what he wanted... but this was smoothskin society; it simply would not have been polite. Instead she merely chuffed inquisitively at him, allowing him to lead her back to the table and introduce him to his... friends. Most of whom were talking again -- she distinctly saw coinage being slapped onto the tabletop. A bet? She rumbled a faint growl, wondering how they would like it if she walked over there and slapped the table right over...

[Ogabe K'tinga]

The way Senyaa moved indeed belied her outward guise, the predatory grace underneath the bookish garb a thing of beauty. Her scent close up was strong, though muddled with her mixed emotions and the background reek of the general patronage. Closer up, she could see the tear marks under her mysterious companion's eyes, the black not reflecting what little light made it under that damnable hood, a few other spots soaking in the light as well, the rest a tawny gold.

Ogabe's tablemates weretnt so much surprised at her appearance, or even her demeanor; many had katta compatriots in their past or present experience. That she had accepted an invitation from their boss with the barest interaction between the two, that was impressive, to a gathering of males, at least. The exchange of coinage indeed had been a bet, the pair of katta returning to the table to a good natured debate between the pair of men exchanging coin.

"...had that look, I tell ya. I've rolled up enough drunks to know..." Perrin protested, before his fellow interrupted him.

"A look on the face does not a trouser wetting make, Perrin. You lost, fair and square."

"You've got your damned money, shut up. I think he's been around the Judicator long enough to keep 'is bowels in check, forgot to consider that." he conceded dejectedly.

"Gentlemen, this is Senyaa T'rin, Senyaa, may I present the cream of Imperial Law Enforcement. Play nice, don't bite. That goes for the lot of you as well." he said to his men, a little joke to lighten the mood somewhat more.

For his part, he offered a spare chair to the snowy tigroness, allowing her to take a seat two spaces from his own. Moving to resume his pracenda, he let a cream-furred hand trail briefly over her left shoulder, as if by accident, non-retractile claws gently scratching against the fabric of her vest.

Settling his tail, cloak and body into place, Ogabe took a healthy swig from his tankard. A dark ale of local origin, it was good, but still a poor substitute for real Zerdargian. Oh well, there were other pursuits to be had under the suns, one of which was now seated at the table. Flagging over a passing waitress, he requested a refill, and pointed her to Senyaa, to obtain whatever beverage she desired. Several trays with various frubi were in evidence, enough variety to please the assembled palates, a full meal not conducive to conversation.

"Thank you for accepting my hospitality, though you haven't answered my question yet." he stated with a smoky purr just beneath the surface, a wry smile barely evident in the shadows.

[Senyaa T'rin]

Her eyes narrowed as the two of them took a moment to inspect each other -- at least, all they could do while being polite -- and she made up her mind. Probably a cheetari. That was not necessarily a bad thing... She had not yet put a cheetari through his paces; this might well be an interesting and productive encounter. Senyaa followed, paused next to him to observe the tail end of the discussion. Good, they hadn't quite been betting with her in mind. She might have had to make an example out of one of them if they had. Unfortunately, Ogabe's quiet rebuke bound her, preventing her from doing anything more to his men than wishful thinking.

Upon being introduced, she inclined her head slightly, raising her left paw to keep her glasses from sliding off. Her eyes then went to Ogabe as he moved away. At that oh-so-innocent touch, she went tense, eyes narrowing as they followed him around the table and into his seat. Only then did she reluctantly seat herself, still watching him. Did he know what he was playing with? Perhaps, perhaps not. The tigroness looked around the table, grinned a bit, showing more than a little fang. When the waitress stopped next to her, she only waved the woman away without even looking.

Resting her left elbow on the table, she reached out toward the nearest plate, extending her claws just enough to stab a bit of tasty to nibble on. Sure she could have gone the conventional route, but why pass up an opportunity to needle the cops? As she chewed, thoughtfully evaluating the taste, he spoke, and again her eyes went to him. "Mm. I came only to deliver the papers for my cousin. I was here once, nearly broke my tail and someone spilled an entire tray loaded with ale tankards on me. It took me forever to wash that smell off." Her ears slanted back along with her whiskers, and she shook her head. The next thing she said was mellow, almost purring. "Perhaps I should thank my cousin for making me visit today."

She was thinking about the tidbit of conversation she had heard. Judicator. So her cloaked friend had power in his paws to command. Why in Aeternia was he tantalizing her unless he planned on making a fool out of her? She felt even more uneasy about having been invited to his table. Was he going to embarass her in front of his friends and minions...? Surely he knew better than to tangle with a tigron, but... confused by the various messages he was sending her, she forced herself to look away, instead pulling a plate closer to inspect its contents.

"You, is this any good?" Disgruntled, she addressed the male next to her, holding up an orangish bit of frubi. Smoothskins might not be much use to her for certain pleasurable pursuits, but they did generally have good taste. When said tastes weren't being drowned in cheap ale.

[Ogabe K'tinga]

The nervousness and anger swirling in Senyaa's thoughts were writ upon her pelt like ten foot tall gilded letters. The dappled cheetari was puzzled by this a few moments, until he remembered how uncomfortable he could make his 'lessers', no matter how he refused to look down upon them. Granted, getting to know someone with a dozen of his closest minions wasn't exactly conducive to personal comfort, and Ogabe wondered how much longer would be polite for the rest of the party to remain, rather than bolting the moment Senyaa sat down.

The first morsel was crunchy at first, with a gooey cheese center, the simple decadence of the melted amber filling spiked with spice and smoky bits of bacon. "I pulled taps for over a dozen eras, in less civilized taverns than this. I guess it's second nature to me now." the black cloak shrugged.

Her query as to the second bit of frubi was met with a noncommittal shrug. "S'alright, I guess. I'm not one for salmon." he qualified, leaving Senyaa with at least an identification of the smoked meat on bread she held.

While she was thus occupied, Senyaa missed the brief moment of eye contact between Perrin and an unnamed elf a short distance away. The elf flicked a glance at a pair of other men quietly enjoying a small drink before returning to Abbas and offering him a short nod. This was all the reassurance the veteran constable needed, and he rose slowly, brushing a smattering of crumbs from his shirt. "Well, if I don't get home soon, my wife's going to kill me." he announced, despite the fact that everyone gathered knew him to be a widower. The rest of the gathering took that as their cue to make their own excuses about the late candlemark. Filtering their way out in dribs and drabs, soon the substitute secretary was left alone with the cloaked enigma at the table. "I don't suppose you'd like to find a smaller table?" he asked, voice warm again, cream-furred hands steepled beneath his chin.

[Senyaa T'rin]

Him, a bartender? That was an interesting tidbit of information she hadn't expected. Not many katta she knew actually chose such jobs. Of course, her family and most of her friends were tigrons, generally consigned to bookish type jobs. Nice work if you could get it, but not her. Definitely not for her.

Senyaa purred in delight at the stranger's answer, popping the bit of meat into her mouth promptly. Thus her mouth was full when the constable rose to excuse himself. Quickly she swallowed the tasty and smiled, murmuring polite comments as the table began to empty. On the one paw, it was nice to be alone with her latest puzzle, but on the other paw, it was also somewhat nerve-wracking for a reason she couldn't quite define. At least he hadn't had a chance to embarrass her, and this relaxed her a bit. "A smaller table?" She glanced around, and at that point realized they were alone; her eyes snapped back to his. If it was possible for a katta to blush, she did it.

"Well..." She reached out slowly and took another bit of salmon, chewing it with less haste than the last. The stuff tasted delicious, and she wondered if he would too. "I wouldn't mind," she purred coquettishly, pushing her glasses up again. She'd nearly forgotten she had them on -- it was a habitual gesture, and partially shielded her face as she tried to hide the feline grin that kept creeping up on her. Oh yes, she would definintely have to thank her cousin. And probably her cousin's mate too. Maybe if she played this right she'd find out for herself if doing that would really break your arm like that... Of course it would hurt if it did, but in the meantime they'd definitely enjoy themselves...

There was a moment's silence as a thoughtful expression crossed her face.

Leaning in a bit, she murmured, "He doesn't have a wife, does he?" It was a blind stab, designed to find out if the others had left because they were uncomfortable with her... or if he'd sent them off, intending to keep her for himself. For obvious reasons she would prefer the latter reason... call it feminine wiles.

[Ogabe K'tinga]

Damn but this tigroness' mood was more skittish than a downwind antelope, darting all over the emotional landscape like a demented hummingbird. The evacuation of the table seemed to calm her at least, as did the food, her coy gestures and manner intriguing the dappled hunter. There was a certain vulnerability there, no matter how much she tried to mask it, otherwise she'd not have been nervous at all. To her question the cloak once again shrugged. "Tell the truth, I'm not sure." he said, guessing at the reason for the question. "If he doesn't, I'm sure he's off chasing some bit of tail he spied."

Retrieving the small plate with the salmon treats, as if he needed another lure to garner the salacious beauty's attention, he rose and wended his way to a small booth in a darker corner, away from the press of bodies taking pracenda. Graciously, he allowed her the choice of seats, before settling the fish and himself into position before her. At the very least, both of her tastys were in the same line of sight now. Looking about, he saw that they had far more privacy than before, the only people really in position to see them directly being men he well knew. That bit of secrecy secured, and his bodyguards' instincts placated, cream furred hands reached up and drew back the hood which had hidden Senyaa's quarry. Golden eyes the color of an Arakmatian sunset stared back into her blues for a long moment, his head inclined forward slightly, deep breathing taking in her scent like fine perfume.

A faint, knowing smile crept onto his face, black lips curling up in one corner, a tidbit of information wrested from his observations of the pale tigroness' actions. "Speaking of little white lies, you don't really need those spectacles, do you?" he asked.

[Senyaa T'rin]

Hmm. Not quite the answer she had been looking for, but it was enough -- confirmation that his minions were well and truly gone. That suited her just fiiiine. Alone with a handsome piece of tail. Or, well, as alone as one could get in a tavern full of smoothskins. She almost whined when he picked up the plate, but followed it -- and him -- off to the corner. With both of her newfound tasties delivered up like that, she had trouble deciding which one she wanted to pursue. She'd been about to ask something when he reached up and dropped his hood.

For a few hyptonizing moments, all she could do was stare. A pleased purr rose in her throat, and she almost -- in this day of almosts -- leaned forward and licked his muzzle. But she didn't. Instead she blinked, the moment broken. Her paw rose to her muzzle at his direct question. "Oh! Heh heh... No." With that she removed them, putting the cracked eyeglasses aside. "The smoothskins prefer to think I'm harmless. The glasses seem to help." Her left shoulder rose in a what-can-you-do gesture.

Slowly she reached out to try her third bit of salmon, but he was so darn distracting. In close quarters, the scent of him filled her nostrils, setting the tip of her tail to twitching. He seemed quite confident of himself... did he know what he was doing to her? Surely he did, otherwise he wouldn't have drawn her off to this corner. That thought gave her a bit more courage, and she instead offered the tidbit to him, her paw hovering under his nose.

"You really should try this... It's... tasty." That was a dangerous tone in her voice... pure smoky seduction. If he wanted to escape, he'd better do it soon, otherwise he'd never get free of her.