Five

"Hrrr," Baskerville said. "Tomato juice? I'll look, but I don't know if ther..."

He stopped. He looked down. There was a kitten. It was apparently trying to attack and rolling a critical failure. But this wasn't the important thing.

The important thing was that it was a CAT!

A stern look persuaded him from his first, second, third... well, all eleven of his first impulses, which was a damn stick-take, in his opinion.

So he crouched briefly, touched one forepaw, er, hand to the floor, and said "Woof."

Now to search the dusty stores for gin, tabasco, HP sauce and vodka. On the way, he made time in this improbably long string of interactions to pause next to Amber.

"Ohmydog," he said, "Weft just propositioned Lance again. Bishiesex, and Amber's missing it!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAH WHERE!?"

Amber was awake, and was now clinging around Lance's neck so hard he was having trouble breathing.

"I'm not sure--if I should thank you--or try and kill you--!!" Lance gasped out.

Iseea winked at Lucifer before turning her full attention to Sebastian. She tapped him lightly on the chest with a long, red-lacquered nail. He looked so delightfully uncomfortable, how was a countessa to resist?

"I just love a man in uniform." She purred, giving the jester her full attention. "Tell me, do you have bells on your ..... tassels?"

Ze Countessa allowed her gaze to drop to tassel level. Slowly, she reached into a hidden pocket of her skin tight red leather outfit and produced a handfull of little bells on ropes. The tinkled merrily as she bounced them around in front of Sebastian.

"I just happen to have some..."

Sebastian looked at her once in a strange way before taking a single great swig of the bottle he had just been given. Very soon his throat was on fire. Pleasantly so. The jester scratched his stubble and looked at her again, cheeks already reddening from the influence.

A part of him knew he ought to empty the bottle before he fell victim to the GREAT ideas brought by the initial intoxication, but...

He couldn't stop stopping.

"Oh, no, see, that... that is a trade secret. But between you and me," Sebastian lowered his voice and ignored the fact that he had almost knocked something over with the sceptre, "no, but I have the next best thing. No, better." He looked about, then at ze Countessa again. "They glow in the dark."

This was true, but he couldn't understand why someone had bothered. Was having a self-luminising jester that important? Still, it wasn't his... wait. Where were his clothes? Surely not back at the palace? He had a faint recollection of...

"See, the problem with bells is, you can't stea-- borrow food from the kitchen if the evening cook hears you coming," Sebastian continued, taking another swig and grimacing. His speech patterns were degenerating by a few hundred... no, a millennia, or... drat. "Cor blimey. Prime stuff, barkeep! Anyway..."

He rambled on.

"Just doing my job," Baskerville grinned, tossing something that smelled like gin (sort of... well, close enough) to Carnil.

Vodka was plonked, if you'll pardon the pun, onto the counter. "No tomato juice," he said out loud. "Sorry, Countessa. Since we're not open yet, nobody's ordered any supplies in.

"I'm going to unblock the kitchen door," he added, "and then I'd appreciate some help getting the tables outside."

Jaina smiled a bit absent-mindedly. "I drift," she told Lucifer. "I do have a home, but it's boring there, so I find places like this to keep me entertained. When I'm not working, of course." She traced her sigil (the J within a J) on the table as she spoke, wrinkling her nose at the thick clot of dust her fingertip gathered.

"I still don't know your name, mister," Jaina winked at Lucifer. "I'm going to want something to call you sooner or later, and `you bastard' doesn't have quite the feeling I'd -- ooh, vodka!" The plonking of her favourite headache-inducing agent distracted her. "Grab me some?" she asked Lucifer with a slight pout.

Mai knew exactly how to handle something with faint dog smell and human size and shape. She gave her best tiny-kitten roar and hissed, coating Skerv's footwear with kitty spittle in the process. When she ran out of breath, she jumped and did her best to latch her miniscule jaws onto his leg.

At least she lightly grazed him this time.

''You know, my dear Carnil, they say a man's taste in alcohol is like his taste in women'', Agueda sidled up close to him and lowered her voice to a whisper.

''And I like it that you chose the gin.''

"Lance calls him 'the old ball and chain', I believe," Suitov put in, just to prove he still existed and was an evil bastard. Evil bastards have to like making evil puns. It's a tradition. Or an old charter. Or something.

Baskerville was tempted. So tempted. But all he did was say "Cute," and that at non-painful volume, before negotiating the semi-blocked front door.

Retreat! Victory was the kitten's!

~~

Silence reigned outside. Even nocturnal animals seemed to be giving the area a wide berth. The wyverns, wols and fruitbats so fond of colonising other Cross'd Roads locations were absent.

Baskerville sucked in the still night air, just as something hissed "Die!" - and pain rained from on high.

~~

Suitov's head jerked round involuntarily to stare at the door. No sound had yet filtered indoors, nor any other indication that something was wrong.

Until the bellowed "DAMN YOUR HIDE, WEFT!", anyway.

~~

"What from the bowels of hell was that?" Baskerville said, clawing at his face.

"Wilf's Acrid Arrow," said Weft, descending to earth. "As you should very well know. I learned it from your master."

The hellhound was rubbing his eyes. "I meant, what was it in aid of?"

"Oh, revenge." Weft rubbed the back of his own neck charmingly. "Maybe just spite. I've lost count of the score by now."

"We're still about six up." His damned hair was charred. Baskerville shook himself. Well, it was his own fault for being off guard. The hellhound rarely bore grudges that stuck.

"Though if you're in the mood for fun," he added, "I can think of something quite enjoyable and nasty we could do. Come and unblock the route to the kitchen, and I'll elaborate."

"I'd love to help you locate your back door," Weft said with an ironic half-bow-half-salute. "If you're sure you don't need an atlas." He disappeared over the roof again.

Baskerville followed at ground level, formulating sentences.

"You work, my dear?" Lucifer's eyebrows shifted upwards in surprised motion number two (lift eyebrows slightly and smile blandly). "Forgive me, but I'm having trouble thinking of an occupation that would be fitting for such a splendid woman as yourself."

He intentionally missed the name question once more. He'd answer it next time she asked. Mystery was always appealing to the dramatically female persuasion, particularly humans.

"Vodka?" He asked, eyebrows quirking into surprised motion number four (slightly quirk right eyebrow whilst raising left, morph smile into a pleasant and appealing smirk). "You appear to be a lady of many hidden depths, Ms Jaina. I'd have taken you for a cocktail sort of girl."

Lance was turning an interesting shade of blue over to the side, due to lack of oxygen. Amber was trying to get him to talk, despite his lack of oxygen due to her arms around his neck. The two of them were still, somehow, easily ignored. Despite the flailing.

"I work," Jaina agreeably answered Lucifer. Choosing her words with more care than usual, she added, "I freelance. Odd jobs, you know. Despite your apparent misgivings, it suits me rather well -- especially the free time!" She gave her most practised laugh, one designed to avoid barking, snorting, or echoing off flat surfaces in the area.

The vodka positively sang to Jaina. She caved, rising a bit awkwardly, and made her excuse. "Vodka, yes. I love it. It's deceptively clear, but it can also knock you on your ass. Sound like anyone you've met lately?"

Free of the table, Jaina walked up to the counter. Somehow she had failed to notice Lance and Amber collectively not breathing, and tripped headlong over them.

The kitten was most amused by this. Mai chose Jaina's head as the stage for her feline victory dance to celebrate "scaring" off Baskerville.

"Ow," Jaina offered before going limp against the floor.

"KIYAAAA!"

"Gasp!"

Jaina's tripping over forced Amber to let go of Lance's neck, and thereby allowed Lance to breathe again.

"Jaina, did you have so many goddamn stars in your eyes that you completely missed a six foot tall angel wrestling with a fifteen year old girl on the floor in front of you!?" Lance griped, then paused, then whacked his forehead with the heel of his hand as he realized what that had come out sounding like.

Lucifer, being the practised gentleman he was, did not even quirk a smile. He wore concerned expression number twelve (mild concern shown by a shift in eyebrow position, but otherwise expression remains neutral) and stepped over the lumps on the floor to Jaina's side.

Placing his cane beneath one arm to free up both his hands, he gently lifted the kitty from Jaina's head and set her down nearby.

"Mind your manners, little one," he said, petting her on the head briefly before crouching down next to the limp redhead and extending a gloved hand towards her.

"Are you all right, Ms Jaina?"

Smile number ten, which was very similar to smile number forty-six, except that it involved the target seeing more haze than sparkles. Show top teeth only, lower eyelids, relax features and let an air of sincerity accompany the motion.

"OH MY GOSH, HE'S DOING THE BISHIE SMILE!" Was Amber's simpler way of decribing it.

"Sic," Lance grumbled from the floor, beneath the squirming Amber. "Where's my bishie smile and offered hand?"

Jaina chuckled hoarsely at Lance's (for once unintentional) innuendo. She had the wind knocked out of her still. The floor, despite needing sweeping, seemed almost comfortable...

Then Lucifer rescued her from kitten claws. The furball seemed surprised but amiable to being held and set down. Jaina opened her eyes and was almost blinded by the terrific glint of Lucifer's shiny teeth.

"Hiiiiiiiii," she giggled. "Huh?" He had asked a question of her -- oh yes. "I'm better nowwwwwwwWW!" Her playful drawl rose to a squeak as she lifted her head.

"Vodka. Now." The kitten danced in gangly agreement.

Outside, something darkened the skies enough to cover a few stars. The pale image of the moon happened to be in its path, and there it made a curious change in course. It stopped there, floating still as it seemed to consider the ruins. Whatever it was, it had a huge wing span and looked to have pincers for hands and a tentacle sprouting from its head.

Before too long, it flew off.

The faint noise from the skies grew louder slowly, suggesting that flew off toward the inn.

Sure enough, something heavy landed on the roof in the cover of darkness.

It wanted to know where the booze was, but that much could be expected.

''What was that?!'' Agueda gasped, and clung to Carnil's shoulder.

Sometimes her natural talent at acting surprised her. She had genuinely sounded afraid. She was actually more annoyed that that klunking in the rafters had ruined the effect of her favourite 'taste in...' line. Now nobody would care what gin meant.

Izzy, too, had heard the noise.

''Maybe it's the one who was up there before?'', she suggested.

Agueda glanced over Carnil's shoulder towards where the voice had come from. ''Izzy!'' she exclaimed. But no time for greetings now.

''It definately landed'', she said, her tone was curious but she quickly slipped back into timid little girl mode as she bit her bottom lip, looking up at Carnil as she whimpered ''and it sounded big.''

Iseea, her brain still toying with the glow in the dark concept, looked up sharply at the sound from the roof.

"Oh my dahling, more visitors to our quiant gathering." She leaned against the jester suggestively. "You will protect us, won't you?" Her smile was both a tease and a threat. "Should the lights go out dahling, I may need a lantern."

Jaina winced. "My head is pounding so loud, I bet everyone can hear it."

Mai's yellow eyes widened. She skittered her way onto a chair and then the bar, climbing closer to the great noisy rooftop thing. She hoped it wasn't a dragon. If it was, at least this time she didn't have a finger to poke it in the eye. They didn't like that.

"Oh dear, I hope that roof holds," was all Suitov needed to say to add to the general panic.

This lord of terror stuff was easy.

~~

Outside...
"Here, borrow mine."

"Why does a dog carry a comb around with him?"

"It's not real. It comes with this form, like the jacket." (That explained that, then.)

"I'm out of my mind to agree to this, aren't I."

"Hey, I know, sunglasses would help. It'd hide that terrible haunted look in your eyes."

"What? I look calm and collected at all times! I'm trained to!"

"As a treed kitten. But we can work on that. Don't worry, you're wired for sound and I'll be standing by."

Sebastian, general ne'er-do-well (or constructive), was well toward the bottom of the bottle, but apparently he was still sure-footed enough to not budge much when someone leaned against him. He had to think about what ze Countessa said this time, eyes watering when he realised there was a goddess. (Why this should have surprised him was beyond him - he knew there were at least two.)

"Shure," he said, "I'm a regular jack-of-all-lanters." A swig. "Pardon my Elvish. If it's all the same to you, please, don't use any part of me as a handle when the lights go out?"

He seemed to think this was going to happen.



----

It wasn't necessarily the weight.

It was the fact it had bumped into the remnants of a blooming chimney as it was contemplating all the possible booze. And food.

"What's the damn matter with people these days?" it grunted and dusted the smallest remnants of the chimney off itself. The largest bits were littered about on the g... roof.

"But dahling! How will I direct the light then?"

"You could have the hat," Sebastian said innocently. He hoped she didn't want the pants.