Doctor's Notes

Brandie's infection did not respond to the topical antibiotic I applied. I will have to find something in an injection, because I don't think she is old enough to take pills. Desmond has agreed to help me find the medicine. I just need to figure out what medicine she needs.

Callisto has agreed to take one of the children, but she isn't sure which one. I'm very glad of this, and I know it isn't just because it's spring.

Even if it weren't spring, I am ever so thankful for my Desmond. I need to find a tree for him.

I met Matthias in Rainway today, and set him to keeping an eye on Guildmistress Phoenix for me. He wants to give the children a concert, which means I need to find a place large enough and safe enough to do it. I am tempted to ask Callisto if we could use her den again, or at least part of it. Hopefully the dank underground won't mess up Matthias's baby grand too much.

I sat there for awhile, thinking about things. About Desmond. About Brandie. About Matthias. If Vasili weren't so damned crazy, he could be our eyes in the Slaver's Guild. Desmond's in with the merchants, and I don't think we have anyone in Zero Tolerance or the Assassin's Guild. It'd be wonderful if we did.

But it would be horrible if they had spies in our ranks. I guess that's the way it goes.

As I was sitting there, a strange man approached me. He must have been straight from the desert. He was... many things. Bugs. Locusts, I think, but I'll have to compare it to a diagram in one of Callisto's books. I gave him 50 credits to get him fed and clothed, then sent him to Navarre's. I hope I don't end up regretting that.


With French toast and good conversation marking the beginning of her day, Ilse has returned to the Blood Meridian hedquarters to see to the children. Brandie's infection hasn't gotten any better, and the doctor is worried. She sits in one of the common rooms, mulling over a medical textbook. The doctor is wearing her labcoat, a stethoscope looped over her neck, and a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. For once, she's working in casual clothes. Even sneakers.

Callisto spoofs: A quiet set of steps can be heard coming in the door, soon turning into large and creaking movements in the hall. Maybe if Callisto sneaks up, she can finally find the puma and apologize. It seemed every time she has tried so far has ended in something else. She's rather clean today, dressed in jeans and sneakers, and a white, half-sleeved blouse buttoned over a black tank top. Her hair is pulled up into a haphazard knot, and the loose ends spike up behind her head. Hands in her pockets, Callisto stalks quietly down the hall, peeking in rooms as she goes, and shushing kids who happen to see her. Hhhmmm.
Skia has arrived.

Ilse spoofs: One thing Callisto cannot hide, however, is her smell. Scenting the bear who might as well be another member of her pack, Ilse carefully shifts her vocal chords. She wants to speak with her old friend, and the best way she knows how to call her is to howl. The grayback does just that - extending her neck a bit while remaining on the couch, she opens her throat and intones the low, summoning noise. Callisto's spent enough time around wolves to know both the call, and that it is Ilse's own.

Someone giggles: "They found youuuu~." Callisto shoots the room in general a disappointed look before shuffling out to the hall and towards the direction from where she was just summoned by the grayback. The woman stops outside the common room door and lets herself in, lips pursed in a soundless hum, a song probably stuck in her head. "Heeeey, Ilse."

Ilse swallows and tucks her chin as she shifts the inner workings of her throat back to a form more capable of conversation. "Hey, Callie," she says in a bright, but soft tone. Despite her worry over Brandie, Ilse is uncharacteristically happy. Gretchen was Desmond's problem, after all. If he wanted her help, she would gladly give it, but she wasn't about to get in the way. Besides, she had enough on her plate with the children.

Callisto swaggers tiredly over to flop down onto the sofa, the furniture no doubt giving a squeak of protest. "I haven't seen Pussycat in days. I hope I didn't scare him." Too bad, at least. "But anyway--my problems are mine." The woman leans her elbows up over the back of the couch. "What's up?"

"He's been busy," Ilse says with a smirk, leaning back into the sofa and away from her book on the coffee table. "Prosthetics for the Spartans, not to mention finding homes for them, Jackson going up for sale, and now the slaver's to deal with again." And me. She grins at her own thought, which is very odd considering the laundry list of problems she just rattled off.

Callisto mmms, but frowns at the same time. "You guys have to get him...he's too much of a Spartan himself." She sighs and seems to melt into her seat. "Annnnd. Yeah, about the homes? I've been meaning to bring that up here. I wanted to know what you all were planning."

Ilse closes her eyes with a sigh. It's nice to not have them open and staring at text and diagrams for a bit. "Des wants to screen each home. Make sure they're good people who won't sell 'em back for a couple of credits so they can put food in their own mouths or crap in their bloodstream. But he doesn't want them to get too far, and for good reason." She smiles a bit, then adds, "I know *I've* become rather attached. They're like... they're like *my* kids now." Our kids, but Ilse doesn't say it. Her face says it for her.

Callisto leans her head back, staring up at the ceiling while Ilse speaks. Her face is in a perpetual mode of thought as she turns her head to peer over. Callisto is silent even after the other woman finishes, brain on slow-motion while she runs over words in her head again. "Would you rather one had a lackluster parent than none at all?"

Ilse only had one parent growing up, so she simply squints in response to Callisto's question. "If we can't find people, then they'll simply stay here." Like Raven, Aaron, and Sunshine, to name a few. "Besides, I wouldn't describe either Des or myself as lackluster, no matter how helpless he can be." And it's out, but Ilse doesn't care.

Callisto eeehhs and waggles a hand, sitting up off of the back of the sofa. "I didn't mean it like that..." Hnng. "I...eh." Okay, well, she'll just ask. Callisto turns where she sits, shifting to a somewhat hunched and submissive posture. "Do you think -I- could do it?" She almost squeaks it, one hand rubbing at her jaw while she squints back at Ilse.

So that's what this is all about! Ilse snaps out of her own head and chuckles. "Of course you could, Callisto. They *love* you. I bet they'd all fight to try and be the one you pick." She laughs again, rubbing her own chin, her elbow propped on the back of the couch. Stay away from the booze, mama bear, and you'll be just fine.

Callisto slumps and ends up with her butt on the floor. Umf. The bear rests her head and arms over on the cushion, because she doesn't feel like getting back up. "That's somethin'else I'd be afraid of. I can only take one, so whoever wanted to come but couldn't might not like me anymore." And we all know that having kids like you is far more important than adults with positions of power! Huh. "I d'nno."

Ilse shrugs. "So long as you kept coming to see the rest, I don't see the issue. Most of them will hopefully go to homes." She thinks a moment, humming and looking away. Callisto's falling off the couch doesn't phase her much. "You could wait until their mostly gone? And then, like I said, visit with the ones that are staying here."

Callisto can find fault with all of her own ideas, don't worry. "But then the ones already -gone- might find out and get sour. I'm probably gonna be around for a damn long time, and it'll suck real bad if I get old and there is nobody around that likes me." She is thinking far too much into it, clearly. Callisto seems to want to adopt one of them, but she's stuck between too many good or bad possibilities. What ifs have always been a specialty.

"So don't adopt one," Ilse says with a shrug, running out of answers. "I know you don't want the traffic of them coming in and out, but you could be like... I don't know, and aunt or something. Like I said, they already love you."

Callisto buries her face in the couch cushion with a loud grunt. If this was Peanuts, above her head would be the knot of angsty-frustration scribbles. "I want to help, though. There's something in my head telling me that I need to like...get a cub...like, now, and raise it, and it's almost driving me nuts. Have you ever had that? Maybe it's May. Or...whatever." Snort.

Ilse laughs a bit more. "I'd offer you a drink, but we're about dry, and I know just one wouldn't help you." She leans over on the couch to rest a hand on Callisto's head, smiling down at her. "Maybe it is just the season." Ilse's got her own feminine urges handled with the smaller of the children she's bonded with, and wakes up every morning next to a gorgeous man who loves her. No problems here!

Callisto puffs out her cheeks once, peeking up at Ilse and the hand on her head. Don't talk to the hermit about 'the season'! Well. Technically she started it, BUT. "Well. -If- I did, you really think I'd be a good parent?"
In a very girlish manner that certainly does not befit the doctor, Ilse flops over on the couch to lay on her stomach, head on folded arms. "I do. You've got a big damned heart that wouldn't stop beating even if Monster Muldoon riddled it with holes."

Callisto smirks. "Eeyyah. He'd have to find all of them, too." Heehee. She hums again, the same song she's had stuck in her head. "I'll have to keep thinking about it, I guess. I first thought about it back before the whole lizard deal, and then they were in my house for...days."

Ilse snorks. "You didn't like their company?" she teases. "And thanks for taking them for that bit. Des insisted on taking Amy alive, which I guess is a good thing now. I didn't like the idea then."

Callisto chuckles. "I've not even seen the kid. As for taking them in, you already know it was no problem. Did you guys see the drawings I brought over? Some of them are real menaces with those crayons. I can only imagine like...fingerpaints and stuff."

The wolf breaths in sharply through her teeth. "Don't even mention paint around them. They'll get it all over the damned walls, and I think Des' patience is tried enough with them taking up two of the common rooms. But I did see the drawings," she smiles, "It was nice to hang stuff on the fridge."

Callisto laughs. "Okay, okay, settle down. I won't. At least not en masse. Maybe some of the older kids. The mature ones." She smirks again. "Did y'see the rainbow and Desmond one? That one just cracked me the eff up."
"I did," Ilse says with a chuckle. "It was too adorable. The one... monster thing? That upset me though." She knows what these kids are afraid of, and she hates it.

Callisto frowns and nods. "Yeah. Some of them were kinda...well. Like that. I keep finding some strange doodles around the house, too." Callisto turns herself to lean back on the edge of the sofa, head still on the cushion.
"strahlende-Katze couldn't shift properly the other night," Ilse says a bit out of the blue, bending her knees so that her feet are suspended in the air.

Callisto turns her head. "Eh?" She doesn't know all these fancy names. "Whonowcouldn'twhat?"

Ilse grumbles a bit. "Sunshine."

Callisto oohhhs. She pauses a bit, mentally scrolling faces. "He's a little cat, right? Dark skin?"

Ilse nods. "The Indian boy. Golden cat. Des and I found him in...here, late one night. ... or early one morning. He couldn't shift. All, bound up inside. We got him calm enough to do it right, though." She sighs, scowling. "They messed with his head. There's not enough blood I can spill."

Callisto puts one hand behind her head, the other's fingers drumming on her stomach. "Ah. Like, he wasn't allowed or something like that?" That's all she can guess, really. "And now he wants to, but just...can't?"

"No," Ilse says with a shake of her head. "He can now. But yeah, he couldn't before. Something like that. You know him, he doesn't talk. I don't have a damned clue what's going on in his head. I can only make...guesses."

Callisto's hand makes a gesture towards her cigarettes, but that search is cut short and the motion just goes back to her middle. "Ahm. Well, if he's still havin'trouble, or really, anyone else, let me know. I had trouble when I was little too." Ahhhhsofarback, it seems.

Ilse tilts her head to one side. "You? I would have never have guessed. I'd suggest you go talk to him, but I doubt he'd talk back... and I doubt he'd like it if he knew I told you."

Callisto chuckles. "I have an idea for that. Maybe I can just let him realize I'm around to talk to. Stories are useful for that sort of thing. Tell them something from -my- youth, and there are plenty of room for questions. I could count on one to be 'Why didn't you shift to get away from the waste-scorpions?' Or something like it. I'll have to devise it better." The woman chuckles and grins back at Ilse.

Ilse chuckles and rolls onto her back. "Good luck. I told you, he doesn't talk. He does like the notion of stories. I quoted Hamlet to him the other day, and then he met Avery. That interested him."

Callisto hums. "Lack of speech is easily fixable, if you ask me." Even though sometimes she tends to use odd methods, it works. "But...things like that really hit home, cause it happened to me and all. Maybe I'll find a way, maybe I won't."

"I wish you luck," Ilse says with a growing smile that only gets bigger after a pause. "With that, and your seasonal troubles." Bearlady needs to get laid. Ha ha!

Callisto gives Ilse one of those 'I hate you so bad, but I'll love you again in thirty seconds' glares. "Hey. Don't smile at me like that. Not much I can do about it, and besides, it's not my fault." Her mouth juts into an angry pout.

Ilse laughs uproariously, crossing one ankle over the other on the arm of the couch. "I'll smile anyway I want, Callie. And I never said it *was*." She hums, then giggles again. "We should find you a kitty. ... a big one, of course."

Callisto frowns a little again. Now she's laughing at me! Great. "No, no, I can pass. I'm not much of a cat person..." That, and she'd probably be hard pressed to find one like that in the first place.

Ilse tilts her head back to look at Callisto upside down, positively gloating. "Aww. Why? You pet them the right way, and they purrrrr." She rolls the 'r', which is about as close as she can get to the noise.

Callisto grows an expression akin to nervous fear, eyeing the woman beside her. Augh! "I don't think I want to pet anyone in...any...way, really." A pause, where she glances around quickly to make sure there really is nobody else here. "Really."

"You miss it," Ilse continues, giggling more to herself. "Hell, I know I did. The less you lie to yourself, the better off you'll be, Callie."

Callisto looks the other way, cheeks turning a darker shade in a matter of seconds. "I...I can't...miss something that's never happened, Ilse." I'm not lying to myself! You're just...oblivious! D:

Ilse turns over onto her belly again, wide-eyed. "You've got to be shitting me."

Callisto looks back to see Ilse all wide-eyed. "What?? Why would I shit around about...something like that?" You crazy.

Ilse continues to stare, all traces of a smile gone from her face. "No wonder you're going nuts."

Callisto almost lets out a whimper, rubbing at the back of her head. "Well, I have no idea about that being the cause of it. I just thought it was cabin fever or something like that. Usually I just go do stuff around the city and it gets better..." She has no idea what she is talking about at this point.

Ilse sits up, shifting her weight so she's resting on her heels with her hands on her thighs. "...I'm so damned lucky," she says more to herself than anything. "Poor you." And the latter *is* genuine.

Callisto lids her eyes and chuckles dryly. "Poor me? How would I know?" She snorks and hangs her head back again, a small gurgle following. "It's not like there are people linin'up on my doorstep, Ilse." Thank /god/.

Ilse drops back down onto the couch with a thump. She's all girlie today. Damn you, Callie, taking her back to her younger days! She lift a hand to idly play with Callisto's hair and smiles. "See? So poor you. Even in the darkest of days, love makes things a little bit brighter."

Callisto doesn't pull away, but she still doesn't seem content, either. Buah. "Right, right. I....euuh. So does that mean I'll get electricity at home?" She tries to change subjects, yet pulls it off very badly in her flustered state.

Ilse laughs brightly and shakes her head. "You silly old bear. Don't you think it'd be *nice* to have someone to help warm up that old den of yours?"

Callisto rubs at her cheek, peering down at the floor for a moment. "Well, It's never really crossed my mind that much before. I am rather lonely a lot. Maybe I get jealous of other people sometimes too. I suppose it might be nice, but..." But...waah. Mental flailing.

"All work and no play makes Callie a dull bear," Ilse sing-songs.

Callisto groans and gives Ilse another mild glare. "I'm not gonna go axe-murderer if I don't find a...companion, Ilse." A pause. "I won't, will I?" D:

Ilse shrugs, but her smile remains. "I dunno. It wasn't *that* long ago that you came in here all murderous."

Callisto hunches. "That is because I was drunk and it was not because I wasn't getting any it was because I was depressed and not because I don't have nobody 'warming my den'." :< "But I have the feeling you'll just blame the -depression- on it now."

Ilse reaches out a hand and leans forward enough to flick Callisto's nose. "You shouldn't drink when you're not in your right mind anyway, for whatever reason."

Callisto watches the movement, going crosseyed when it flicks at her face. "That's what the guy with the kegs said, too." Snort. "It's not something like that that would...chase people away? I mean, not that in particular, but..." Hmmm. "I don't think I'm...mm. Feminine? Enough, sometimes." Smoking, drinking, digging up graves, going out to drag waste-creatures in to sell parts, etc etc.

Ilse laughs again, leaning away. "Well, I could buy you a pretty pink dress? With frills? Do you think that would help? Oh, but you've already got that sparkly one. You should wear it more... when you go out and do your drinking."

Callisto slumps into the sofa. "I...eh. I'm not that desperate for companionship. I'm not silly enough to parade around, either." Not that people would try anything, but the thought might be ingrained from somewhere else.

Ilse turns and leans back into the cushions of the couch with a smirk. "You know what's funny?"

Callisto blinks. "Apparently, I don't. What's so funny?"

"Well, I know it's not *exactly* what you were saying, but..." Ilse's mind has clearly been elsewhere to one defree or another this whole time. "...I wish I could parade."

Callisto smirks back at her. "Oh. I think I get it...you wanna show off your own kitten, is that right?"

Ilse pouts a bit as she tilts her head and looks down at Callisto. "He is a very *handsome* kitten. Why shouldn't I want to show him off?"
It's Callisto's turn to laugh a little. "I never said he wasn't a handsome kitten. I wish you could show him off. Cause then you'd probably be too occupied to bother with me." Hooray!

"Oh come off it," Ilse laughs. "You like it when I bother you." She pauses, letting her chuckle die off as she looks away from Callisto. "...I love him."

Callisto smiles softly now, instead of her previous smirking. "That's a good thing. Does he feel the same?"

Ilse is a bit surprised by Callisto's reaction, even if she had no real reason to be. "He does. ... and it's not a good thing. Well, it is," she submits with a bit of a chuckle. "It's an amazing, beautiful thing...but it's all..." But she doesn't have to explain it to the bear.

Callisto gets it enough to nod in understanding. "I realize that." She sways a little where she sits. "I'm glad he feels the same, too. I hope things can get better for it."

It's then that Ilse lets out a troubled sigh. If she can't tell Callisto, who can she tell. "Me too. But it's not just Navarre or *his* wolves now." As opposed to her own. "Seems Guildmistress Phoenix is a jilted lover. We lost her as an ally about... oh, maybe a week ago." Days kinda flow together after awhile when they are so jam-packed full of things.

Callisto snorts at this news. "You might have lost her, but it's not like she controls free will. She's just one fish in the net, not the net, as much as she might want to believe." Behind the titles, people are still people. "Same goes for all of Navarre's wolves. And him, likewise. He's still an old friend, but the same goes for him and the net." Her hand waggles a bit in the air.

Ilse shakes her head. "You don't get it, Callisto. Sure, she's not the net, but she's a damned big fish. And she knows. And I don't think she's too happy about it."

Callisto grunts. "Then that is her problem. She's an adult, so she can deal with it in an adult manner and grow up. If things come out into the open because of her, then you'll have to handle it that way too." We're not middle-school children, you know.

"That's going to really fuck things up, Callisto," Ilse grumbles. She doesn't curse often. No, not at all, especially like that. "Navarre'll have a damned attack."

Callisto shrugs. "...He also knows what love is. In all forms. Love is exactly what he wants. He can't go back on a basic like that."

Ilse sits there a moment, then leans down to rummage in her medkit, which sits in front of the couch. She pulls out a book, and then extracts a piece of notebook paper from it. Holding it to Callisto, the doctor smirks. "This is what I want *now*, because it's the only way to get what I want *later*."

Desmond has arrived.

Callisto watches Ilse curiously, reaching out to take the paper. "Want?" Everyone wants something, and she seems to have it all planned out.

"Just read it," Ilse says with a smirk as she leans back into the couch, curling both feet up underneath her.

Callisto sinks back to read the paper, eyes tracing slowly and deliberately down the page over what seems to be longer than expected to read it. She finishes the last lines, having adopted a solemn and somewhat intense expression. "I want this now too, Ilse. I just don't know how." Callisto turns to look at her now. "Did you write this?" She can't imagine, but she'll only find out by asking.

Ilse shakes her head. "I have a little bird who comes and sits on my shoulder and whispers beautiful dreams and pearls of wisdom to me."

Callisto tilts her head a little. "That don't tell me nothin', y'know." Sigh.

"He's a street performer," Ilse clarifies. No one but Desmond likes her own poetic description of him. "He said those words, practically sang them without... without any regular sort of music in the bazaar. Des and Navarre were both there, but... they fought through most of it." This troubles her, bringing a frown to her face.

Callisto snorts and shakes her head at the talk of the two. Back to birds. "A beat poet?" She goes back to reading the paper over again. "Interesting. Does he have a name to go with these pretty lyrics?"

"Radovan," the doctor answers, refraining from revealing his last name. Not that she doesn't trust Callisto completely, but she has no purpose in knowing it. "He's helped out with the Spartans over and over again, financially. And he's recently made a very sizeable contribution to Jackson's cause."

Callisto suddenly lets out a holler of a laugh. "Radovan? Karga? The crow? Crap." She giggles at herself now, happily leaving Ilse in the dark.

Ilse blinks. The dark is bad! "Wait, you *know* him?"

Callisto shakes her head a bit. "Not /really/. I've met him at Siddartha's. Finch was with him. I wasn't exactly...noncomforming to the opium den way, and so I can barely remember much except him and the fact I called Finch a soup-hunter."

Ilse blinks again. "Wait, okay... so I can understand the crow most of the time, but... soup-hunter? ... he hunts for soup? I just thought he was a bad shot."

In the doorway appears Desmond Cusick, hat in hand and overcoat on. Despite the events of last night and early this morning, he looks rather rested and in good spirits. The puma is smiling--an expression that brightens when he spots his

Ilse, and dulls only slightly when he sees Callisto. He hasn't spoken with the bear-woman since she dislocated his shoulder, but any bitter feelings have vanished entirely. "Good evening, ladies," he greets them both, stepping into the room. "I hope you're well?" Desmond is dressed all in black: fitted T-shirt and suit. He obviously had time to go home and get properly dressed after leaving his mother's this morning.

Callisto chuckles. "Uhuh. Well. He has a soup kitchen sometimes, but he doesn't really...parade it. Not that I know of. I went there a long time ago, when there was a few food shortages down hereabouts. He wasn't there, but still. See? Soup-hunter." At around 'Soup-hunter', Desmond appears, and Callisto turns to look over a shoulder from her spot on the floor beside the sofa. Her first instinct is to possibly leap up and grab the Puma to make sure he doesn't disappear again, but that notion is passed off as silly right away. "Desssmonnnnd~." Instead, he gets a stupid, big-toothed grin. "I'mfineI'msorryIsmooshedyouintothe ceiling...I would have apologized by now but you were always busy or something." Smile, and it makes things better! Or it makes you look crazy. Take your pick.

Ilse is content with the description, chuckling at it some. She would normally leap up to greet Desmond warmly, but the bear woman steals her thunder. She stays on the couch, feet curled up underneath her and simply grinning with adoring affection at the puma.

Desmond is somewhat taken aback at the grin and the rushed apology. His eyebrows lift and the smile becomes a bemused smirk. Once it's over, the puma chuckles, moving forward to extend a hand to the bear. "There is no need to apologize, Callisto," he assures. "I know you didn't mean it." You were, after all, raging drunk at the time. He casts a brief, subtle glance to Ilse, and his smile widens ever-so-slightly.

Callisto takes the extended hand with a little shake. Okay! We're good. "I had to apologize. It's in my nature." She hands the paper back to Ilse--or her lap, if she's not paying much attention. "So--" Wake up, you guys. I had enough of Ilse's 'concern' to last me awhile, and this ain't helpin'. "--Ilse told me you were going to screen homes for the kids soon."

Ilse takes the paper and slips it back into the book from whence it came before returning it to her bag. She stands then, slipping over to Desmond's side. Hiding is so tiresome, and Callisto knows...so why hide? Ilse slips one hand between Desmond's over coat and shirt, sliding around to his back while the other comes to rest on his abdomen. Mine.

Once again, Desmond is slightly surprised, this time at Ilse's unguarded state in front of Callisto. This lasts only a moment, however--he figures the bear-woman must know by now what is going on between the duo. Thus, he is not hesitant to drape an arm over Ilse's shoulders and nuzzle at and plant a kiss on her hair. Purrpurr. His gaze soon goes back to Callisto, and his face takes on a more business-like expression. "Yes, I had hoped to see to that in the near future," he confirms. "Blood Meridian can't keep them forever, and they need stable homes if they are to be raised properly.”

Callisto has been thinking about it all over again since mentioning it to Ilse, and now she seems -slightly- more sure of herself. Just a little. And she wants him to know too, of her potential interest. "Would someone like me need to be screened too?" And since Ilse is gone--she lifts her arms and pushes herself off of the floor and onto the sofa again.

Not wanting to interrupt them, Ilse remains quiet at Desmond's side. After she's been nuzzled and kissed, she lays her head on the puma's shoulder, inwardly wondering if he was on his way out or in. She hopes it's the latter.
"You have already been sufficiently screened, as far as I'm concerned," Desmond chuckles. "It would please me greatly if you took one--or more--of the children." Callisto's proven herself to be gentle and accomodating with the youngsters. Then, since sitting seems like such a fine idea, the puma begins to move towards one of the chairs, gently guiding Ilse along, if she'll follow.

Callisto shakes her head. "Ehhh. The only way I'd take two is if one could babysit the other." She smirks over at him. "Apparently Ilse thinks I need my own life too, so I'm thinking about a somewhat older kid." One that can take care of themselves if it comes to that. "I wouldn't give myself a stellar parent award, after all." In the long run, she has no idea if she'd be reliable.

"You'll be fine," Ilse reassures her with a chuckle as she glides along with Desmond toward the chair. "Besides, if you didn't take *any*, I think we might have a bit of a rebellion. And I would hate to be labeled a Persian."

Desmond chortles softly, dropping his Fedora on the book that still lays open on the coffee table before he takes a seat. This, of course, means that he has to separate briefly from Ilse, but as he eases down, he runs a hand down her arm to lace his fingers in hers, then uses this to attempt to draw her into his lap. Come sit! "Yes, God forbid," he chuckles, grinning. "The children are very fond of you, Callisto. I think you'll make a fine mother."

Callisto chuckles, but it goes into a sigh. "I don't think I'd want to be called a mother." The woman sinks into the cushions as much as they allow. "I'd probably end up taking one on the condition they didn't call me that. I don't think I'd be comfortable." At least not at first.

Ilse smirks at Callisto's statement as if to say 'sure you do', but then she's pulled into Desmond's lap as she gives his hand a squeeze. Without ceremony, she places a tender if brief kiss on his temple. "Did you have any of them in particular in mind?"

With Ilse in his lap, Desmond wraps his arms around the doctor's waist and snuggles his head up beneath her chin, smiling and heaving a soft and contented sigh. His Ilse. She has already asked the question he would have, and he'd rather snuggle and listen than talk at the moment, and so he says nothing. He can empathize with Callisto's aversion to being called a mother, though. He's not sure he could deal with being called a father. "Spartacus" is where he draws the line.

Callisto shakes her head again. "Just...not too young, and just enough common sense. I would think I'd need more time to really think over it. Or I might wait and see who can't be placed." She props a foot over her knee, fingers drumming at the side of her shoe.

Ilse nods, agreeing with Callisto's idea of who would fit best, and when the right time to take them would be. Desmond's nuzzlings elicit a soft giggle from her, and she brings a hand up to curl around his face and rest on his cheek. Her Desmond. "You know my feelings, Callie."

"When they go up for adoption, you will be given your choice of the group," Desmond adds, half-lidding his eyes at the touch. "You realize that there will be many disappointed Spartans, though." Only one gets to go home with the bear-woman. The ones left behind might not be so thrilled about it.

Callisto wags a hand towards Ilse. "Yeah. I was talking to her about that. It worries me, but I suppose if I'm still around, they can't get too bad. I think it might be easier to wait a little, when some of them are starting to go."

"Either that," Ilse says with a growing smile, "Or you could come with me when I make rounds...wherever they end up." The Spartans have a doctor for as long as

Ilse is alive. "We can't have adoptive parents flocking here to drop them off for any sort of big playdate or anything - it'd be too dangerous."

Desmond nods against Ilse's throat. "That is a fine idea," he agrees. But then, Ilse is always full of fine ideas. "The children will get to see you, and you can still take one home." He gives his wolf a gentle squeeze, just in case his words didn't convey how pleased he is with her.

Callisto laughs. "That doesn't sound so bad, actually." She smiles again and lets her eyes wander elsewhere. "It would probably work out fine." The next few moments are spent getting back up from the couch. "I haven't eaten in two days, unless you count the peanuts I found outside a bar upside." Callisto grins and stuffs her hands in her back pockets, shuffling towards the door. "So I'm going to raid a small area of your kitchen, and leave y'all'lone again." No buts. With that, she is out the door and setting off down the hall towards the kitchen.

It's a good think that dinner is over by now so that there will be no Spartans to interrupt Callisto in her meal. Ilse nods to Callisto as she leaves, then dips her head to rest her lips and nose in Desmond's hair. "Have I told you how much I love you yet today?" she murmurs to him as her fingers curl against his cheek to brush the closely trimmed hair there.

As Callisto leaves, the puma watches her, but his eyes soon half-close again and he emits a soft, rumbling chuckle. Desmond's smile grows broader, and he angles his head to press a kiss to Ilse's jawline. "You need hardly say it," he murmurs, though he always gets a thrill from the words, "and I love you just the same, if not moreso." He can't imagine anyone loving another as much as he loves his Ilse.

Ilse tilts her head upward a bit at the kiss, then tucks her chin to deliver a series of kisses to Desmond's forehead. "I could never stop saying it," she says with a soft laugh of her own, her words punctuated by the kisses. "Or how handsome you are. Or how lucky I am to have you."

"And I," Desmond utters, brushing his nose against Ilse's chin, "am most blessed of all the men in the world. Were I not so happy, I would pity those who do not get to bask in the love of my Ilse." But no one else gets his Ilse. He won't let them. And to prove it, he angles his head back a bit more, seeking to redirect those kisses on his forehead to something more in the general direction of his lips.

When his lips meet hers, Ilse's hand curls around Desmond's jaw to hold him there in that moment with her. Her eyes close, her nostrils flaring slightly as she inhales sharply. These are the moments she lives for - when all the worries about Sunshine and Brandie or even Gretchen or Babenkov are washed from her mind. Nothing else matters. Only Desmond. Her Desmond.

Desmond lifts a hand as well to lovingly caress the skin on Ilse's cheek. He, too, feels that these moments make life worthwhile. The world could be roaring at his doorstep, demanding his blood, his head, but one kiss from his Ilse makes things right again. This is one of the many reasons why he loves her, or perhaps it is a result of that love, or both at the same time. It's a question best not pondered over too long, as there is no clear answer. However, much as he would love to stay there in her arms forever, the puma knows this is not possible, and he breaks the kiss with a contented exhale and a smile. "How was your day?" he whispers, nose touching hers lightly.

It's not so much the breaking of the kiss and moment that cause Ilse to let out a sad sigh as it is the question that comes from her love. "Not good. Brandie's infection is not improving...which means the topical I gave her isn't doing the trick." She brushes her nose against his, tilting her head to press her forehead against his. "Yours?"

The question isn't immediately answered, as Desmond's brow furrows at the news of trouble among the Spartans. His hand slips from Ilse's cheek and comes to rest on her shoulder, but his thumb does not cease its caressing movements. "If the topical is not working, what will you do?" he asks. How his day went is secondary in light of this concern.

Ilse shrugs, sliding her head from his to rest against the back of the chair. "I honestly don't know. I've been looking for an injection I can give her. Her stitches have been removed like the rest of them, and I'm reluctant to open it up. I'm afraid it would be terribly traumatic."

"Is there anything I can do?" Desmond inquires, ducking his head to press his cheek up beneath Ilse's chin, as though to support her tired head. He hates to see her worried. He hates that the child's infection is growing into something to be concerned about. "Some medicine that you are not able to find that I might be able to get?" There are benefits to being a man of the black market.

Ilse spoofs: Desmond's head near hers is enough to pull a smile back onto Ilse's lips. Her hand resumes stroking his cheek lovingly, and she turns her head enough to kiss his temple. "As soon as I know what the bacteria is, the appropritate antibiotic would be the way to go. But I don't think she can swallow pills, and the topical isn't working...so I'd need it in liquid form."

Desmond's eyes slide shut, and he nods slightly, lightly rubbing his nose along Ilse's throat. "Let me know when you have the name," he intones. "I will do what I can." His hand moves from her shoulder to wrap his arm around her once again, and he tightens his grip briefly, reassuringly, to seal the promise.
Ilse raises her other arm to wrap around Desmond's head then, cradling him to her and closing her eyes. "Thank you, liebe," she hums, inhaling his scent and simple being deeply. "Your turn?"

All this 'being' could not be more relaxing, nor loving. Desmond is truly grateful for it, which he realizes again when he is thanked and cradled. He smiles and tilts his head slightly to rest it against Ilse's shoulder. Right now, he could die, and his only regret would be that he did not get to have more moments like this. "I spent the day hunting for Mother's new home," he responds. "It was tiresome, harrowing, and frustrating, but I have found one in Fairhaven that will do temporarily until I can find her something on the Upper Level."

"And what of Gretchen?" Ilse inquires next, tilting her head to lay her cheek against Desmond's head as her fingers run through his hair.

Desmond tenses at the mention of the name, and his brow creases. God, Gretchen. His embrace tightens again, and he nuzzles slightly into Ilse's neck, as though clinging to that feeling of peace and relaxation that he had experienced not moments before. "I visited the Flying Siren," he utters. "There was no file there." He prays that the transaction hasn't completed yet.

Ilse stiffens herself for a moment before she relaxes again, her own grip on Desmond becoming more immediate, more urgent. "I'm sorry, liebe," she sighs, regretting she brought it up. Inwardly, she can only see it as a trap. A way for Monster Muldoon and his slavers to get her Desmond in their clutches, and God knows, Babenkov has a motive for such action. "Did you check her apartment?"

"She wasn't there," the puma utters, nodding slightly. "Judging by the scent, she hasn't been for some days." Thinking about it fills Desmond with a dull anger. How could Gretchen be so stupid? How could /he/ be so stupid? Why didn't he just kill the rat that night in the apartment? How could he have been so blind as to trust that Babenkov would never harm her?

Ilse could get angry, or frustrated, but that would only escalate the same feelings she is sure her Desmond is experiencing due to this horrible course of events. So she is quite and sympathetic, holding him close to her. This is her only means of comfort.

Desmond's feelings are already escalating at any rate, judging by the way he cleaves to Ilse's comforting embrace. In a low growl, he voices the one thought prevalent in his mind: "I should have killed him." When he was in Blood Meridian custody, when he first ran into the slaver on the street one night, or even when he first became aware of his crimes against shifters. Desmond should have killed him.

Ilse brushes her hands through Desmond's hair again, letting out a sigh at his growl. "Desmond," she coos to him, biting her lip before she plants a firm kiss into his hair. "There's no use in saying such things now. The world was never saved by those who prattled off the things they should have done."

Desmond exhales quietly, the sound shuddering from his nostrils. She's right, of course, and he knows that. He's often berated himself for such thoughts. Thinking about what he /could/ have done gets him nowhere. The puma relaxes slightly, finding relief in both the wolf in his arms and the warm remembrance of his own resolve. "Of course," he acquiesces, half-apologetically. "But I /will/ kill him, when all this is through."

Ilse smirks. "Only if you can get to him before I do," she says with a small chuckle. Her hands slip to his sides, sliding over the fabric of his shirt.
Desmond answers with a chuckle of his own--a pleased and joyful sound. He lifts his head and draws it back slightly to stare into her face, smirking. "I might just let you have him," he intones somewhat jokingly. "Your wrath far outmatches anything I could possibly do to him." He's seen Ilse angry. It's a humbling sight. His own hands slide to the small of her back, and one remains there whilst the other rubs up and down her spine.

But Ilse has had a long day of hunching over children and books, so the attention to her back is rather distracting. She arches it, turning her head in a humming sigh. "Don't do that unless you intend to finish it, or I'll make my angry faces at you," she hums, but it's an easily recognizable empty threat.

That brings a grin to Desmond's lips, and the hand continues to rub, joined now by its left companion. It was a thoughtless action before, but it now becomes a little more focused, spreading from Ilse's spine to out around her shoulderblades and ribs. "Well, I wouldn't want that," he murmurs. "Perhaps if we retire to home, I can do this properly, hmm?" Not here, where children and others can walk in on them at any moment. He's enjoyed having Ilse in the privacy of his apartment. Their apartment.

Ilse murmurs her agreement, then moves her face to nuzzle against his, eyes shut as she enjoys the rubs. "I wish we could walk together," she says with another sigh, her hands at his sides curling up his back to embrace the puma more properly.

The rubbing pauses briefly, his hands on her shoulders, as Desmond rests his forehead against hers, breathing a sigh. "As do I," he admits, and never could anyone fill a sentence with more regret and wistfulness. But someday--someday they will walk together hand-in-hand and kiss in the middle of a crowded square, just for the sheer freedom of it. This thought brings a smile to the puma's face, and his hands resume their work with reassurance.

Ilse has the same dream but it's one of many. The idea of dreams brings her own back into mine, as well as Desmond's fulfillment of it. "Des," she whispers after a moment. "...I need to repay you for something."

"No," Desmond chuckles, "you don't. Whatever it is, you have already paid me in full." He doesn't ask much; just that she be there for him to love and cherish. Always.

"I do," Ilse protests, nuzzling at his head so she can look into his eyes. "You gave me something once, before you gave me your heart. I want to repay that, and you can't do a thing to stop me." Well, maybe he can, but Ilse's not about to put that idea in his head.

"Ilse," the puma rumbles, his tone almost chiding. Desmond's eyes stare right back into the blue orbs before him, and he smirks reprovingly. "You owe me /nothing/. You have given me everything I could ever possibly want, and to ask for more of you would be impossible." He seems quite adamant on this one point. He also removes one hand from her back to hook her chin in his index finger.

"On the contrarty," she chuckles warmly, "I owe you *everything* for all those same reasons." Ilse is just as stubborn. You're not going to win, kitty. "I want to know what your dream is."

Desmond grins, bringings his thumb around to trace the gentle curve of her chin. "It isn't obvious?" he chuckles. Then, to take away all doubt, he cants his head to one side to bring his lips towards her own. He has his dream right here, in his arms.

Ilse laughs. "I know you didn't lie away at night when you were a kid dreaming for the day you'd be sitting here, holding me." She smiles, then leans her head in for a kiss. "But I *would* be flattered if you did."

Desmond chuckles again, and even after the kiss breaks, he presses his lips to the corner of her own. It's not a kiss; simply a means of resting his face against hers, sharing the intimacy. He remains this way for a moment before he utters, "All right. Do you want to know the deepest, darkest dream of the Blood Meridian leader? A secret so damning that it can be revealed only under penalty of death?" His tone is rough, joking, and as he speaks he slides his cheek along hers until he is whispering directly into her ear.

Ilse moves her head in a slight nuzzle as Desmond rests hers so close, closing her eyes. "Only if you don't have to kill me after you tell me," she whisper-giggles back to him. His opposite ear is so close, she can't help but crane her neck to take the lobe between her lips, if only for a fleeting moment.

Desmond's lips part in a grin, accompanied by a sharp breath somewhere between a chuckle and a gasp. Rrrr, earnibbles. "It is only punishable by death if you tell it to someone else," he rumbles, shifting his head slightly so that his lips can brush against Ilse's ear as they form the words. "My dream . . . is a tree."

Perhaps because it's so similar to her own dream, Ilse smiles. She squeezes him tighter to her, humming a soft approval. Then again, Desmond's time in the Entertainer's Guild have left her more poetic in his speech, even if he has issues with the beat poet's rhyme. He could mean many things by that. "Tell me about your tree," the wolf whispers back, eager to know more.

"Well," Desmond breathes, grinning wider and planting a brief kiss on his love's cheek before continuing, "as you know, there are few trees in this city suitable for a large cat to climb. In my entire life, I have not climbed one as a puma--and it is a well-known fact that we pumas love to climb trees." There. It's out in the open: Desmond Cusick's childish fantasy.

Ilse breathes in, then sighs, hugging Desmond close to her. "Thank you, Des," she murmurs before kissing his cheek near his ear. She'll get right on that. It's more difficult than her own was to fulfill, she's sure. In her roundabout wanderings of the Upper level, she's not seen a single tree large enough for such a task that was out of sight and safe enough for Desmond to climb in his arguably more vulnerable form.

His secret revealed, Desmond draws his head back to stare into Ilse's face, tucking his chin to look sternly up at her through his eyebrows. "Now that I have told you this," he intones, "don't feel obligated to find me a tree. As I said, you owe me nothing." He won't stop her looking; he just doesn't want it to bother her if she can't fulfill it.

"Oh, don't be silly," she chides him, stopping his mouth with her own in a kiss. She'll find that tree. She'll find it so hard, it won't know what hit it.
And Desmond is content to be shut up in such a fashion, taking a page from Ilse's book and sharply inhaling as her lips meet his. This is followed soon after by a quiet exhale through his nostrils, and the puma settles back into the chair, using his arms to pull the wolf with him so as not to interrupt the affection. When it does finally cease, however, he smiles and confesses in a whisper: "I love you."

Ilse moves easily with Desmond, humming her own pleasure at the passion. All good things must come to an end, and as he speaks again, she trails a hand across his forehead to straighten his hair. "Ich liebe Dich," she whispers back before pressing her lips once more against his. When that breaks, she holds her forehead against his and holds him close. "I don't think I could ever not."



Rainway Station

Tabloid magazine in hand, Matthias takes a stroll on one of the most dismal places in Bleaker. The rusted metal beams and whispers of architecture of yesterday all make his trek across the station a little dangerous. Matthias casually walks up to the white line, the one that says "D N T CR S" and stands purposely with his feet over the words. Rolling forward just a little on his toes, Matthias looks down the tunnel, as if this bit of effort will give him the edge he needs in hearing the god-awful monorail before it arrives.

The roar of the monorail sounds, and it rushes toward the station in it's usual manner, slowing to come to a rest. Among the people in the car is Ilse Braun, who has taken her usual steps not to reek of puma after spending the night in her love's arms. She's dressed in stone-washed jeans again today, a pale yellow shirt, and sneakers. This is all somewhat obscured, however, by her white labcoat and brown overcoat. Over one shoulder is slung her black leather medkit. She waits patiently in the car as the multitude oozes out.

Matthias moves to board the monorail, trying his damnedest to avoid the small throng of people who've departed the car. Side-stepping one disaster and getting a fist shaken at him, Matthias unfortunately is body-checked by another passenger who was paying attention to where they were going. Since Matthias was busy looking at the one that he did manage to avoid, he finds himself veritably ping-ponged right in Ilse's direction. Everything goes slow-motion for him at this instant: his magazine goes flying, the jacket he hand slung over his shoulder flying, his hands held out in front of him and trying to say: Watch out.

It's nearly impossible to distinguish one smell from another in such a crowd, so Ilse does not notice Matthias until he's almost right on top of her. She tenses, then holds out her arms to catch the larger shifter so that he doesn't fall. If she shouts something, it's lost in the din, though it was more than likely his name.

Matthias is, as luck would have it, caught. And by Ilse too. If he wasn't so distracted with being a shifter-pong ball, he'd probably have noticed her presence. Well, he's noticed her now. "Hi." comes the greeting, grinning wolfishly as he looks up at the woman while still being held a little oddly. "Fancy seein' ya here. Nice catch."

Ilse chuckles as she looks down at her packmember, shaking her head before she plants and almost motherly kiss on his forehead. "You alright, Matthias?" she asks with a softer version of his own grin. "It's customary to wait until the car is empty before one tries to board."

"But then all of the good seats are taken. You couldn't /imagine/ who I sat next to yesterday." Matthias whines and then wrinkles his forehead. The wolf turns and looks at the monorail car that is now leaving. "Eh, I wasn't going anywhere important anyway." he shrugs and turns back to Ilse again. "An yeah, I'm good. Bored and lookin' for some familiar faces. What about you?"

"Well, I can't say I'm bored," Ilse replies with a grin as she rights Matthias and leads him toward a bench. "But I was looking for familiar faces. Yours in particular. Other than that, I'm very well."

"I assure you I didn't do anything too rash.." Matthias assures his packmate with another wolfish grin while being led to tbe bench. "It was harmless, really.. and it was just a jug of oil." Matthias waits for the inevitable 'huh', grin still plastered on his face.

Ilse narrows her eyes as her grin falters. "...what are you talking about, Matthias?"

Matthias allows his own grin to falter at Ilse's reaction. "Lighten up, eh? I'm joking. You know, those things that people do when they like one another and want to see some sort of .. grin?" Matthias nudges Ilse just lightly. "It was just oil. A young man down at the bay managed to sell me a whole jug of it." he explains, the grin coming back. "Jus' can't resist the kids."

Ilse closes her eyes as she lets out a very tired laugh. Ugh. Matthias. "Sorry, I'm... stressed." Who wouldn't be with fifty Spartans running about in their thoughts, one of which has a rather nasty infection. "What on earth do you need a whole jug of oil for, or do I want to know?"

"That's just the thing, Ilse.. I didn't. Kid's name is Skia...will make a good salesman one day, bet ya whiskers." Matthias claps his packmate on the shoulder affectionately. "When are you going to ask me to help, eh? Or is it time enough to beg to help...I mean, I'm going to go poor if I keep buying stuff from kids."

Ilse tries not to act like she recognizes the name Skia, but grins and nods. "You're a sucker for a kid," she remarks, elbowing the other wolf. "And I do have a job for you, and I promise you won't have to spend a single credit to do it."

"Sounds .. serious. Are you sure I'm the right choice for this?" Matthias punctuates his question with another customary wolfish grin. "And Navarre. Right. Fry Navarre. Got it." he chuckles as he sits up so he's a little less like a slouch.

Ilse delivers another sharp elbow to Matthias's side. "Watch yourself," she warns, but she's still smile. Matthias is safe for now. "And yes. You're in the Belfry. And I need eyes and ears there. And a nose wouldn't hurt either."

Matthias emits a half-pained oof. "All right all right.. no frying. I was just going to cook chicken, yeesh." he murmles while holding his side, quite acting in pain, but hardly being in it. "Well, there's a lot t'smell there, darlin...and I mean a lot." and the shifter's nose wiggles somewhat. The prospect of actually having to register the smells in /that/ place is not a pleasant one.

"Well, I want you to concentrate on one person," Ilse says with a smirk, lifting her hand to poke Matthias in the nose. When she speaks again, it's in a much lower tone. "I've accidentally made an enemy of your Guildmistress. She knows things that could be detrimental to our cause...so I need someone to keep an eye on her."

Matthias looks around slowly after this, the usual flippant demeanor fading for a moment as he takes in the surroundings. "So, back to cooking. And piano playing. When can I set the grand up to play for you, mm?" Subject change. Matthias gives a slight nod to Ilse so she knows he understands, and right on back comes the buoyancy. "Well, you and anyone else that wants to listen to my squaking."

Ilse hums a moment, her smile returning with a slightly conspiratorial flair. "You could always put on a concert for the children. I'm sure they'd like that." Her smile gets warmer, and she leans in to rest her shoulder against his. "I know I would."

"One condition, darlin. Just one." Matthias takes comfort in the familiarity and the closeness, having always been fond of Ilse. ".. and that is only of you dance. With as many of the kids as you can manage."

Ilse chuckles, the image she helped to paint on the side of the Slaver's Guild coming back to mind. "Hand in hand around your baby grand, Matt," she hums, pushing against him. "Just give me a date."

"As soon as possible. As often too." remarks the wolf as he puts an arm around Ilse. The gesture is slightly protective, as he's never had a mate in life he enjoys imagining Ilse as a daughter. "This weekend, I think. I've not performed for anyone real in months." A slight edge to his tone here, but it's not directed at Ilse. "The ponces on the upper level and their half-hearted claps. It's like they're afraid to breathe funny less the world end. I wonder if they didn't get the memo that the world /did/ end.."

Ilse leans her head on Matthias's shoulder as she laughs, eyes closing. She's comfortable with him - the one wolf that vies for the 'father figure' role in her heart, now that her own has passed on. "They've got a chronic cranial-rectal merge, Matthias. They can't help it sometimes. Where shall it be?"

"I'm thinking somewhere away from the Belfry...for obvious reasons." Matthias says through pursed lips. "It's far too small in there, of course. We'd lose the kids in the props and they'd grow up as ponces. Can't have that." The wolf isn't going to put Ilse anywhere near someone that may have it out for her. Ilse wanting someone watched? Not unheard of...but going through someone unknown to everyone else is, while smart, not something he'd guess she'd do. Gal's always full of surprises. "So, any ideas? Got any large places that'll house a lot of people all singing and doing .. jovial things?"

Ilse hums a bit in thought. "Well, we don't want it to be *too* open. We wouldn't want to draw too much attention, obviously." A thought strikes her, and she grins again. "Let me run some things by a few people, and I'll get back to you. It might not be this weekend, but it will be soon."

"All right then darlin." Matthias says, looking up and perking his ears. "So, I think I'll wait for people to get off before getting on." The wolf says, despite there being a lack of monorail car. "You promise you get back to me, eh?" and the wolf gives a good squeeze on the shoulder he's holding. "Promise me and I'll play so much all of those kids will finally sleep for a full night and forget .. everything." With that, Matthias stands up, the monorail car screeching into the station.

"Thank you so much, Matthias," Ilse says with a nod, wrapping her own arm around him to return the hug. "And I will. Thank you."