Well this was just wonderful. Being right back in the place where he'd had more than one run-in with near-fatal danger in less than three days, all because of chasing his cat onto a ship that had left Vienda and... hell, he didn't care to think of all that. Now he just had to find a place to stay... hopefully a place where that crazy wick wouldn't find him should the fellow decide to hunt him down- he didn't feel like being gutted. He also needed a place that was warm and dry- a place for Rita to rest. Poor thing was feeling ill, constantly complaining. He'd let off the alcohol- for her, at least. She shouldn't be drinking that when she was ill.

Still, he'd guessed there was something good about being back in Old Rose- Murmur was there, and he'd not seen her in some time. He'd missed her quite a bit since their goodbye. That had been his first thought when he'd arrived- to find Murmur and ask that he stay at her place a while while he looked for his own house. But that didn't happen as planned. Not really. He had found her house, sure, but it was boarded up and no one was home. It was with a sinking feeling that he'd seen this- and he'd worried quite a bit about Murmur, looked around for her a bit, to no avail. So now he found himself in the Dove, worrying about things, staring into a glass of ale that the last bit of money he'd had on him had paid for. Perhaps the money would have been better spent on food? But that had only come as an afterthought- one that came with the grumbling of the hole in his stomach. Absently, he pet the gray tabby cat who laid quietly sleeping in his lap.

Esta was in a good mood. She'd got a good price out of her last customer, and pinched a little more when he wasn't looking, so for once she probably had enough to see if there was a decent meal to be had at the Dove. Goodness, it was nice to have money.

Just outside the door, Pip took her by surprise by landing on her shoulder. He'd followed her, obviously. She laughed and stroked his glossy, blood-red pumage.

"Oh, comin', are yeh?" she asked him. "Eh, why not. Yer as lonely as me, entcha? Blimmin' bird."

She pushed into the tavern, narrowly avoiding some high-spirited person's flailing fist, and wove her way to an empty seat where she could wait for someone to serve her. A man with a tabby cat was staring morosely into his drink beside her. Eh, what the hell. She was in a good mood, and coversation was the staple of good company.

"Gee, hope there's somethin' good on the menu, eh?" she said to the man, smiling in a friendly way. "I like yer cat. What's his name?"

Seth blinked out of his silent stupor, dragging his eyes away from the barely touched alcohol to the woman who he hadn't even noticed sitting beside him when she spoke. He cracked a smile, tired, worn, but genuine. "Yeah, that'd be nice." His stomach growled pointedly. Loudly. "Heh. Haven't had a decent meal in a while. Shoulda got some bread, instead of a drink, I guess."



"Mm? Oh. Her name's Rita." He stroked the cat fondly, enticing a low, rumbling purr, the cat's paws stretching out to kneed his lap. At least she was in a better mood. "She's not feeling so well, these days... not sure what's wrong with her." His smile trembled a bit at that, faltered, and then came back plastered on his face, less genuine than before. "And I'm Seth. What's your name? And the name of your bird. She's pretty." He liked having company. It was a distraction from his current predicament. Light conversation might lift his mood a bit.

Esta nodded, glad to see that he smiled. The people who never smiled worried her. She wasn't sure what to say in reply to his ale problem, except:

"Yeah, done that too many times before."

She considered offering him some of her own money, now that she had a good amount, but she wasn't quite selfless enough for that - and she was so looking forward to her dinner. Maybe if she had some left over... or maybe not.

"I'm Esta, anyway." She didn't tell him her other name because she hated it. Blossom. Her trade nickname - it made her shudder. "This fella's Pip. Mever made a noise in his life." She looked at Rita with concern. "Sick? What's sick 'bout her? She don't look sick. Then again, what do I know, eh?" She laughed, still wondering about the cat.

"Esta. It's good to meet you." He ran his fingers through Rita's fur, mouth set in a hard line, "I'm not sure what she's sick with, really. She's been real moody the past few weeks. Sometimes she doesn't like it when I touch her, which isn't like her- especially when she bites me for it. She's not taking as good care of her fur, either." The cat blinked a big, green eye up at her pet, then lifted her head to look up at Esta, as if she knew the two strange, furless mortals were talking about her, then settled her head back down, eyes closed, one ear perked, flicking once in a while when the two spoke, or when some drunk fellow would yell, or otherwise cause a ruckus.