Aug 08 22:20:55 105 PA

From Chronicles

The current game time is: Sat Aug 08 22:20:55 105 PA.

Desmond sits upon his bed quietly as evening steady encroaches upon the light of day. By and large, the big feline seems entirely whole at a glance and quietly content in the steady, neutral set of his expression. Hospital gowned, he has the covers laid over his legs, a small book settled in his lap, his eyes directed down to scan over the text therein. He's nearing the end and a small stack of books along with a few other gifts take up the counter beside the bed.

The door to the recovery room is opened with a quiet quickness and swung shut after someone tall and sort of broad-shouldered ducks into it. The door and mechanism barely make a click when its shut again. Surprisingly quiet for such a violent looking action. Once the door is, in fact, shut, the 'someone' heaves a sigh of relief, back facing the inside of the room but for a moment. A thick white tail switches once or twice before she does turn. The visible relief on the psi-hounds features is instantly replaced by a stony neutral as she spies the recovering patient. "You're... Desmond. Aren't you."

Desmond lifts his head in a jerk when the door is swiftly opened. Unusual, along with the swift close. His ears perked, catching the soft sound made before the visitor turns to face him. The big male's brow is furrowed. Curious.. just a bit wary as he considers the canid female for a few quiet moments before he responds to her question. "I am Desmond," he confirms after that thoughtful pause. There is another brief pause before he adds, "What brings you to see me here? I don't recall having seen you before." Still curious. Just a little wary.

"Y'haven't. Friend'a yers 'as, though. Mentioned 'e 'ad a feline buddy in the hospital, an' since yer th'first I seen, I made a wild guess." The wolf sayes, taking a glance out the sliver window and leaning against the wall away from direct view of the door. "Sorry t'bust in, didn' know this room was occupied. I c'n leave an' find another'n, if y'want. Hate places like this, s'all." She takes another look at the door and wrinkles her nose. "Roulin's his name. Guy mentioned you. Comes t'my bar sometimes, so.." A hand reaches up and scratches the back of an ear with blunt claws. "So.. uh. Y'healin' up okay?"

There is a sense of bemusement that hovers about Desmond as he observes Hex. His eyes flick towards the window when she peeks through it, though only briefly before he returns to observing her chosen place and posture. The curiosity rises just a bit, while the wary fades, a nod given when she speaks of Roulin. "I am well enough, though looking forward to when I might depart. Roulin spoke of me to you? But.. you are not here to see me?" He glances towards the door again before he states, "I do not mind your presence, though I do wonder what brings you here, if you have no love of places like this." His voice is a steady, basso profundo rumble that keeps to the path of neutrality, a subtle roll given to his 'r's.

"No offense t'yer or nuthin', but no. Wadn' my intent t'visit you, since. Y'know. Y'don' know me'n'yer been jes' a name t'me 'til now, so.. em. 'Pologies. But, s'long's I'm 'ere, y'know. Glad t'see yer doin' better. Betcher buddy'll be glad too. Tol' me y'had a fun run in wit' a maniac, so." Another glance out the window and the towering wolfgirl steps further away from the window. "Iie. Hate 'em, but.. Kinda had ter come, this time. Got family in 'ere, 'n me'n'my brother're takin' turns visitin' t'keep 'er safe, so. Ehm." One ear flicks back while the other remains awkwardly out front. "Ye'm.. Sure y'don' want me t'go? Don' wanna interrupt.." She gestures at the book in his hands. "Whatever yer doin'."

Desmond cants his head slightly, the bemusement lingering. His initial response is quick, glancing at the book he holds for a moment before he shakes his head, turning it pages down in his lap. "There is no need to worry. I have no lack of time for books," he rumbles in response. "You may stay as you desire." He glances towards the door again idly, thoughtful as he continues, "It is a good thing you visit your loved ones here, I know not what I would do without those who have come to see me." Another brief moment of pause before he adds, "You may sit if you wish." Motioning towards one of the chairs in the room. "I know not why you seem to think so, but there is no danger to be had here."

"Not fer me, there ain', but I can't swear I won' plaster anyone'at touches me to the wall, y'see." She moves away from the door, taking one of the chair backs in a wide palm and spinning it until she can straddle it. She takes another look at the door and tugs one of the curtains around so she cant' see it - and so she's harder to see. With that out of the way, she turns her long face to the feline and narrows eyes. "You ain' like that other fella. Had a funny talk-box an' was sorta.. woozy-weird t'be 'round." Her nostrils flare a bit as she sniffs subtly at him. "Bu's s'same. Only come here 'cause she needs us, so. Always 'fraid they're gonna try'n kill'er in 'er sleep, so's we take turns. You ain' a'feared like that, here?"

Desmond frowns slightly towards the end and shakes his head in reply to the query. "You mean, do I think the humans will harm me? No.. not the ones who work here. Their task is to safeguard life." He pauses, considering for a moment before he states, "You are as I am.. of Coalition make." There is a flicker of perceived understanding as he states, "There is no need to fear the likes of these humans. They are not like.. the others." There is a slight firming of his expression, a flicker of some stray thought behind that is soon dismissed as he rumbles, "I am who I am. I know not what other to speak of in comparison."

"Heh, s'pose's what y'could call it. Though t'be fair, weren't grown in no laboratory, I weren'." She takes one last glance around the curtain and finally heaves a full sigh and drapes her chin over crossed arms, hugging the chairback essentially. Her full attention is trapped on the cat now. "Ain' t'say y'would, but I tell ye. 'Nother cat feller I met, real weird. Yer better." Ears pull forward. "Docks, these are, ye? Menders. Don' come here often, m'self. Gramma Jade usuall c'n fix us up arright, but ain' no good when she's th'one needs fixin'. None of us're any good at it, so. She's 'ere. S'why I am." A pause. "Now how'd you get yerself snipered, anyway?"

There is a notable rise in that quiet sense of curiosity at the snippet of origins, but when Desmond responds, he leaves that lie for the moment. "Trouble with a gang in the Dregs," he sates. "I killed two of their number in the defense of a friend. When I depart from here, I will give them a wide berth as a peace has been made. But I will not forget the one who struck out at me." Those last words firm. "It is a messy story, really. You say you have seen one like myself? Not so tall, very white eyes? Simple knowledge of American?"

"R'venge is healthy, no matter what anyone'd tell yer otherwise. 'Sides, he took a cowards' route, shootin' atcha from afar 'stead o' dukin' it out. No honor in it." She leans back, knees holding her upright as she crosses arms over her chest. "Sorta, yea, though 'e's a bit harder to fix th'n that in my 'ead. Funny feller, didn' talk when I met 'im, but sat this liddle box down'n had me talk t'it for 'im. Kesslan, said 'is name was.."

"Considering I stood up to five of their number and did eliminate two in our initial encounter, their caution is justified," Desmond replies. Though his deep voice remains a steady thing, not given the boastful bombast one might expect at such an improbable declaration. "But if I do meet him face to face, we shall see what skills he has then." He huffs out a low breath and nods his head once. "Kesslan, yes. That meeting must have been a time ago. He has learned to speak the language, though he is still mastering the rudiments. Much as I have recently learned to understand the written word." He lowers his eyes to the book and considers it briefly before he returns his eyes to Hex again. "Kesslan, however.. he is not of our ilk.. yours and mine. He is from another place. Another world."

A grunt for this, and a nod. "S'what I thought. Seemed a touch.. strange, y'ask me. Not right, far as folk like me'n'Judge're concerned, but I s'pose the whole Alien thing hadn' 'cured to us. But hot damn 'm I glad 'e learned t'speak, s'frickin' 'ard tryin' t'straighten my tongue out t'take 'is damn order, I'll tell ya." She chuckles, peering at the book. "'M tryin' t'learn it. Ain' easy, an' frustrates th'hell outta my teacher, I ain' got the hang of it yet. Who taughtcha, or d'ja learn on yer own?"

The evening is still settling in and Des is just where he might be expected to be, sitting up on his bed, book in lap. But his attention is on Hex, who sits astride a chair by his bed as the two talk. Though a bit odd is that the curtain that usually hangs in wait to be drawn has been drawn to veil the bed from the door. But there is nothing out of the ordinary in the deep rumble that can be heard within. "It was troublesome and the device was very.. generic in how it phrased things. As he becomes better in speech, he can communicate more clearly than he could before, which is favorable." He considers his book a moment before he states, "In part I was taught some things by a man I came across in the library, but so too I have had some scattered practice writing with others.. and my own determination to learn. It took some weeks, but I grow better as time passes. There are times I find it curious how easily I have taken to it. Art as well. It makes me think that such things were meant for me, though they are contrary to my training."

There is a tap on the door, and Aimee pops her head around it, a small frown between her eyebrows as she sees the drawn curtain. "Desmond?" She questions, reaching for the curtain to draw it back. In her red top and her jeans, her hair left loose around her cheeks, she still looks tired. She draws it back, giving Hex a considering look, thoughtful before she smiles. "Am I interrupting?" She questions, moving to the other side of Desmond's bed, to offer him a kiss. "I can come back tomorrow..."

The intense interest in the book and his speaking of writing and art that Hex displays may, to some, seem a little overbearing, or unnerving. Her nose even pokes further over her crossed arms, the nostrils wiggling again to smell the air curiously. "You art?" She asks, ears pushed forward once again. Her maw is open to speak again, but the door and curtain being drawn have a very different reaction from the psi-hound. The thick fur at her neck and shoulders actually puffs out a bit, and remains there until she sees.. Aimee. A blink. And a constant, unblinking stare as she watches the woman walk over and.. oh. Gosh. Hex at least has the decency to look away at the smoochy-time.

Desmond's ears perk when he hears the door open again, swiveling towards the sound. Aimee's voice causes a profound shift in the big male's expression. The steady neutral of it softens and when she appears on the other side of the curtain, there is a warmth in his expression. "Aimee," he greets her with obvious welcome. He lightly takes that offered kiss, a brief show of affection, he touching the open space on the edge of the bed in offer to her. "You are always welcome, My Flame," he rumbles. But he doesn't forget Hex and he responds to her, "Yes.. thus far I have only sketched, but I feel ready to try something new. Painting perhaps. I am not sure yet. It is a favorable thing to create, when destruction is what I was taught." He pauses then and notes, "I am sorry, I have not asked after your name. Might you give it to us?"

Aimee returns the psi-hound's stare, lifting one eyebrow, arching it questioningly. She slides into the space Desmond offers, kicking off her shoes and tucking her bare feet beneath her. "Your drawings?" She questions softly, her head tilting to one side slightly. "I am Aimee, Desmond's fiancee." She offers a hand politely to Hex with a quick smile, the green eyes interested, assessing.

Ears radar every which way for a few moments, transforming the wolf's expressions in rapid succession. When a name is offered, however, attentiveness pulls both ears forward, and Hex's eyes flip to the offered hand. Her own unfolds from the back of the straddled chair and dwarfs the womans - the shake and grip, however, hold a gentleness that belies the size and thickness. "Matsumoto Hex. Work over at th'Nut an' Bolt. Pleased t'meetcha. Both of ya." Releasing Aimee's hand, Hex falls a little quiet.

"Matsimoto? A strange name, no offense meant," Desmond rumbles thoughtfully. "A pleasure to meet you as well. It seems many of our kind have come to be here. I have seen another.. canid such as you, but not the same coloring. Strange, but he seems pleasant, if distracted. I will admit to having not been to the Nut and Bolt often, but I am not one for drink. I did serve as a bouncer at Moe's for a time, though I am glad to have left that job behind for something more.. fulfilling in a sense." as he converses with Hex, he slips a casual arm about Aimee's waist with a casual familiarity. He looks to Aimee then and wonders, "You did not get in trouble, I hope." An honest hope, that.

Aimee smiles and withdraws her hand, giving Hex a thoughtful look. "I work at Moes. For the moment." She shrugs lightly, glancing at Desmond as he speaks. The arm around her waist warms her smile and something in her face relaxes a little. "Only a little." She murmurs, giving him a laughing reproving look. "But if you don't know mon chat..." She slants Hex a look full of questioning,

"Family name." Hex explains to Des as he questions her surname. When he speaks of another canid, the look on her face sours slightly. "I think yer talkin' bout the one I know. /That/ one. Is See-Ess. We don' share family ties, an' like I said. I weren' born in a lab." She smiles crookedly and then glances to Aimee. A blink or two later, and the psi-hound laughs. "Eh, sorta.. well. Met on accident. I wen'n barged in his room here t'git away from all th'white coats. So happens, I know a friend'a his, so.." Rath'tklan arrives from the lobby. Rath'tklan has arrived.

Desmond nods his head to Aimee. "Yes, a chance meeting, but a favorable one," he rumbles. "and I an glad you did not get in trouble." Once more, a simple, honest thing that. He looks to Hex again and muses. "Some seem.. precise about their names. So I think it proper to ask which you would rather be used." He pauses then and studies Hex for a moment before stating, "I to am escaped.. feral as they term it. Created." His mood sobers slightly. "You are.." He pauses as he hearkens back to the term he's heard before. "..free born?" His brows lifted slightly as his curiosity lifts again. The evening is settling in and Desmond sits, surrounded by the ladies. Aimee sitting beside him on the bed, furthest side from the door, whilst Hex sits in a flipped about chair on the door side of the bed. The curtain still partly drawn to veil the bed from the doorway.

Aimee returns the laugh with a warm smile, glancing at Desmond as Hex answers. "I can't stay, mon chat. I need to sleep before work ..." She runs her fingers up his arm that circles her, a light casual touch. "Perhaps I should leave you to talk, bring food tomorrow..."

It is right about this time when the door bangs open and heavy footsteps enter. It is recognizable instantly to Desmond, Aimee may not in fact realize whom he is yet -- although she has certainly heard tell of him. The Assassin is almost unarmed today -- just in his normal armor except for the staff that seems an ever present part of him. Currently held in his left hand it clicks against the ground as he halts at the foot of the bed, looking from Desmond to Aimee. "You are the mate of Desmond." He says. "And friend of Kesslan. It pleases me to finally see you with my own eyes, rather than the tales of others." He pauses, and then indicates her with an inclination of his head. "However brief that it has been. Good Day, Desmond and..." Crimson optics look at Hex, curiously.

"Hex's fine. On'y really use th'other one for formalities, so." She shrugs. "M'brother's Judge, he bounces at the En-an'-Bee. Big Newfie feller, preddy chatty when 'e ain' on duty." As the term bounces out of Des's mouth, the big wolf grins and prepares to reply.. but is paused both by Aimee's announcement of departure and the sudden sound. It's a far worse reaction than when Aimee entered quietly. The banging has Hex's ruff, shoulders, and hackles spiking out like a contained explosion. They don't smooth back down either, and the newcomer's red gaze is met with a silent, unnerved, blue one. Rath'tklan's comment gets a reaction from the woman in Desmond's arms, but the flash of emotion in her eyes is swiftly masked with the lowering of her eyelashes. "You must be Kesslan's friend." She replies steadily, returning the inclination of his head with one of her own. "A pleasure to meet you. However briefly." She slides from the bed, slipping her feet into shoes. "Mon chat, tomorrow..." She leans forward to offer him a quick kiss, her eyes warming for him.

Another visitor? Desmond's head turns, along with the flick of his ears. Recognizing Rath easily, though there is a subtle tense in the big male in the moment before he does so. "Rath'tklan," he rumbles in greeting to the one who is ever armored. With that done, he looks to Aimee and nods once, his arm curling about her in a squeeze. "I understand, but I am glad you did come by for a visit. I will await you tomorrow." There is a simple ease he shows around the armored feline, thus he is momentarily bemused when he looks back to Hex and notices her unease. "Peace, Hex. This one is Rath'tklan. He offers no threat to you." Not a flicker of uncertainty in his deep voice.

Rath'tklan's comment gets a reaction from the woman in Desmond's arms, but the flash of emotion in her eyes is swiftly masked with the lowering of her eyelashes. "You must be Kesslan's friend." She replies steadily, returning the inclination of his head with one of her own. "A pleasure to meet you. However briefly." She slides from the bed, slipping her feet into shoes. "Mon chat, tomorrow..." She leans forward to offer him a quick kiss, her eyes warming for him. She turns then, giving the others a smaller smile, as she turns towards the door.

Rath'tklan inclines his head to Hex in a similar manner to how he did so for Aimee. It is a simple tipping of his frame to the right. "I apologize if my armor my be disarming. It is not my intention to make you feel threatened or intimidated. It is merely the trappings of my kind; and of my occupation. I assure you, I manage to be perfectly pleasant to carry on a conversation with Hex is your name, then?" An armored hand is extended to her. "I am Rath'tklan. Are you Wolfen, then?"

"Now tha's kinda bold, ain' it? Y'neither intimidate'r make me 'fraid, but I'll be damned if yer entrance weren' loud 'nough t'raise the dead. S'place is fer sick'n'broken folk, an' loud noises ain' generally c'ndusive t'helpin' 'em feel better, y'git me?" One by one, it seems, the indivitual spikes of fur are smoothing down. Desmond receives a smirk, "Less, 'course, he threaten's t'ruin my quiet 'gain." She turns back to Rath. "An' I seen funnier outfits'n that. I work at a /bar/ fer fuck's sake." She rises, her own hand reaching out and gripping that of the other feline. "Mostly, yea. Liddle bit'a bitch in me, but mostly wolf. Hex's fine, n' I'm right fucked fer rememberin' yer name, so hows 'bout you pick a nickname fer me t'call yer, eh?"

Desmond is not slow to receive the kiss, his arm relaxing, but giving a parting linger against the small of her back until she slips off the bed entirely. "Farewell, My Flame," he rumbles to her as she departs. Then he t urns his attention back to the two who remain and, for the moment, simpley observes their interactions with mute curiosity. Hex's aside earns her an arched brow, but not a word until the last. A memory sparking as he notes to her, "He does not seem to like such things." His eyes shifting towards the other feline as if to see if he confirms such.

The armored figure does not move nor show any applicable sign of irritation or the like, though he does withdrawl his hand once the contact is made, after a moment to return it to the top of his staff. "You would be correct. It is a cultural insult to truncate my name. Rath'tklan or, if it pleases you, do not use the name at all." If his fur were showing, she would find that not a hackle of it has been raised. "We have an interesting conundrum here. Wolfen are a race of humanoid, to say, with arms and legs like you and I, wolves that populate the stars. I would say that you are not Wolfen by race.. but if that is the case, then what are you?"

"Tha'd a been nice t'know 'fore I insulted th'guy." She says, also in an aisde do Des, complete with a sticking out of her tongue. The question has her looking toward Rath again and one ear quirks sideways. "Psi-Hound, they call us. 'Nother name for 'em, but I don' like t'use it seein' as how I ain' dog nor boy, so." A shoulder shrugs awkardly and once more, her attention diverts. "T'answer yer earlier question, y'got it right. My dam'n'sire were 'mong some of th'bunch to 'scape the labs. As fer me, I was born in a motel room." She laughs a little.

Desmond is again quiet as he muses the two of them, and their interactions with a steady attention. His fingers idly toy with the book in his lap, though he is not slow to respond to Hex's response to his earlier curiosity. "I see.. it must be a pleasant thing to have such relations as you do. Such things I have not known before. Not in a true sense, though in Kesslan I have found one I could think of as a brother." Thoughtful as he dips back into a silent lull, musing quiet thoughts.

"Such things often transcend origin." He says to Desmond in regards to the brother comment. "My relations are... strained in many ways. I find it difficult at times to remain in one plaec. One city feels claustraphobic at times. I find myself walking at night as of late, regarding the stars and wishing to be among them once again. There are things there, Desmond, that one can only see for themselves to know. No picture, no story would ever do it justice. Flying along a stream of irrridescent plasma between the twain stars of a binary system; the endless burning horizon of a fire-world. Pressure-rippled frozen snow of an ice planet. However, I grow needlessly lengthy in speech." Hex then, he sees. "Psi..Hound?" He inquires, looking at Desmond for some sort of explanation.

A strange, half-amused expression crosses the wolf's features, and she replies to Desmond with a casual, "Family's whatcha make of it. Find it in th'weirdest places're not at all." A shrug, and a blank stare for the cat in front of her. Lengthy in speech, indeed. "Sounds like home's quite a place, eh? H'get stuck 'ere?" His question for her is given a twist of the mouth and she motions to Desmond. "Guess you c'd kinda say he'n I are related. Least.. vaguely."

Desmond regards Rath mutely as he speaks of what else there is to see and his own thoughts in being here. Then Hex's words, all drawn in, mulled quietly as they come. In the end, he addresses the issue of he and Hex first. "She and I have mental abilities. We can sense the energies of magic and track them. Sense creatures of magical origin. So too all of us have some other abilities.. things that are different from one to another." He touches his chest and rumbles, "I can touch things and see images linked to those objects.. the past usually. Occasionally the present of those who have owned them, though such a thing is unreliable. So to I have.. flashes of what could be. Rare moments, often cryptic and strange." But he doesn't neglect the rest the other feline had said. Only a brief pause separates the next. "Perhaps there are many things to see.. one not even leave this world to see much, if rumors are true. But I find I have little desire to roam. I have found things here that I would keep close and enjoy. Things to build and see grow."

Rath'tklan inclines his head to Desmond in his familliar way. "Home is where one wishes to be; and where their heart is. I only wish this were the case for myself. To answer your question, Hex, yes, I am marooned here. There is some rumor and speculation that I may yet leave this planet and return to my adopted home but for the time being I make an effort to properly fit in here. There are times that I find success and there are times that I find failure. Psionics are not a new concept to me, but you speak as though you share a common origin?"

"'Bout the same as folks born in th'same town do, I guess." Hex says, and scratches claws into the thick tangle of her multi-hued ruff. "T'be honest, I never really unnerstood it much, n'Gramma never really got 'round to 'splainin' it all too well, so. He prolly knows more'n I do, s'for sure." She laughs at herself, picking up her chair and setting it down in front of Rath before crossing to the corner of the room and grabbing another chair.

Desmond considers quietly for a few moments after Hex's words, his brows furrowed as he muses what she has spoken of when it comes to her and his respective origins. After some thought on the matter, he decides to speak to both on this topic, though there is a subtle sense of reluctance about his tone and expression. "I and her parents, I suspect, hail from a place called Lone Star. It is a place controlled by the Coalition.. humans who see all that are not human as inferior. To be used or destroyed. I am a created being.. bred to serve them as a soldier. The same is true of her own kin, though if I understand her words properly, her parents escaped some time ago and she was born free of their influence." Her kind are called, by most, 'Dog Boys'. There are also Battlecats, though that is not what I am. I am something else.. 'more'. My kind are called Kill Cats. We are made stronger.. more durable than they." He looks to Hex and tells her, "It pleases me you have not known their touch, Hex. I will admit to you, for a time I was content with a simple, ignorant life. But I have come to see that was an error. Better it is you have known a life of your own choosing. Until I came here, my life centered around destruction. Every thing I was trained focused on that, but now I can learn other things.. reading, art. And I can know what it is like to have family. Things I had not known I was missing before. Though there are ever things I will lack."

Rath'tklan sits fairly silently as he listens to the exchange that is going on between Desmond and Hex. "You should feel fortunate that you have such oppertunites to know home, family and your pursuits. As should you." He indicates Hex. "There are many places, much like your Coalition, where such things simply cannot be. One needs only to see the situation of Kesslan and myself." He rises carefully, and inclines his head t both Hex and Desmond in turn. "I must be off. It is good to see that you are growing well, Desmond. May both of your hunts prove fruitful."

"I know of them." The wolf's jaws work over words, and her jaws tense faintly, teeth baring faintly at what may be memories. She sits properly in her chair in the corner and leans forward, elbows on her knees and she looks at the bed sheets. "Y'ain' wrong. Jade says m'folks 'scaped from a compound, so.." A shrug. "Jes' 'cause I wasn' don' mean I don' have a good healthy hatin' for that /pound/, though. Folks tried t'go back t'free some'a th'others. Fuckin' coalition mowed 'em down 'cause one'a their comrads ratted on 'em for a pat on th'head." She leans back and meshes fingers behind her head, looking at Rath as he speaks again. "Life ain' peaches'n'pineapples for any of us, 'seems." As he prepares for departure, the wolf nods her head. "Drop by th'Nut'n'Bolt, I'll gitcha a drink."

Desmond nods his head once to Rath. "I am thankful, but ever will I wonder after simple things.. what it might be like to have parents. To have known a life that was not fixated on combat and death." Though there is a sense of wistfulness after those things that simply were not, he doesn't let his mood dip too much so. Hex's words get his attention briefly, the big male frowning darkly, though response is delayed as he offers to the other feline, "Be well, Rath'tklan. I would extend to you an invitation.. soon Aimee, I and Kesslan will have a gathering. Aimee and I were hoping you might attend, to share a meal with us in celebration for those things we have."

Rath'tklan inclines his head to both yet another time. "We will speak of it soon, in the days to come." He says to both. "And perhaps I will indeed visit you." He vanishes, then.

"Weird fuck, ain' 'e? S'arright, though." Her demeanor seems to have improved exponentially with the departure of the odd feline figure. She drops her elbows to her knees again and grins again, this one devilishly cheeky. "Gathering, huh? Y'gettin' hitched?"

Desmond devotes his attention to Hex now and nods once. "Aimee and I are engaged, by the human ceremonies for such things. We have not wedded yet, but as far as I am concerned there is no need for such things, I have accepted her as my mate. But I wish to please her and this is something she desires. So too we are living together now. Truth be told, I will be quite happy to leave this place and return to our shared home." Indeed, such talk does seem to relax him, the usually firm and neutral set of his expression softening as he does so.

"Seems important to 'em. I won' ever unnerstand it, but I tell ya. Get gaggles'a human women'at come int' m'bar an' all they ever talk 'bout is weddin's. Dunno if s'age or what, but they're /rabid/ 'bout it." Hex considers the outdoors for a moment. "S'pose I oughta be gettin' back t'Jade. Judge's shift'll start soon, so." She rises, digs in a pocket and pulls out a crinkled card. Plain white with a number written on it crudely in sharpie. "S'me. You need anythin', I'll see what I c'n do. Yer buddy Roulin's got it to, so." A shrug. "Good meetin' ya. Get better s'you can go outside'n get on with life, yea?" Without waiting for reply, the wolf makes her way toward the door.

"I will come to see you at the Nut and Bolt later. We can talk further," Desmond offers as he accepts the card, his attention dipping to consider the information therein. "Farewell, Hex. Be safe." He won't look to keep her, watching after her departure for a few moments before he tucks the card into the book he's reading, flipping it back around to scan for a moment before he resumes where he left off before time comes for him to look to the need for rest.

Location:Recovery room Tags:aimee, desmond, hex