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Cath Delaney (dian_cecht) wrote in inpoormerit,

"No idea," he admitted. "I haven't any dressing up clothes meself." Well, unless some of his less worn button downs counted. But nothing he'd consider dressing up clothing. He had a few books, his family bible, his reading glasses and most importantly, his rosary.

Cathair scoffed at the idea the woman would refrain from hitting anyone for any trivial reason as not breaking his glasses. "She'd likely only aim lower," he mused dryly. "She's with child, and I'm wagering not pleased with any male with this heat and humidity, let alone the situation." He'd already raided the druggist shop for suncreme as less than an hour into his search his pale Irish skin had started turning red.

He coughed out a laugh at the breeding camp idea. "Right," he said with a pointed look. "And no, you don't need more males for that. Since we can breed with more than one woman and get the same results every time." And that idea was just insane, considering the women he'd met thus far. One was already with child, the other was the sort who was very hands off and the third was already married and here with her husband.

Well, the lad had the right idea and the Latin words made Cathair grin softly. He crossed himself, then replied with "nam et si ambulavero in medio umbrae mortis non timebo mala quoniam tu mecum es virga tua et baculus tuus ipsa me consolata sunt." before starting into the woods.