Pink Cookie Dough Who: Misha and Hier Where: Hier's Apartment When: Immediately after the noon lunch date.
As Bruce ran up, Hier unlocked his apartment. It was small, kitchen only separated from the main room by half a low wall, the little bedroom and bathroom around the corner. The little living room looked like a physical manifestation of what the inside of Hier's mind would. Ordinary furnishings were present, a sofa, a small desk, bookcases, and a TV, but they almost vanished under the collections of oddities that forcibly dominated the room. Every shelf, every horizontal surface was covered in specimens and curios. The items of geological interest, fossils and mineralogical samples, were carefully labeled behind glass, but most of the collection was loose. A single bookshelf, in addition to the actual books, held a dagger with a malachite handle, a lizard preserved in a jar, a Navajo sand painting, a frog carved from jade, and several pewter trees, and the whole room was like that. The walls were equally adorned with paintings, posters, and photos, stuffed and mounted critters, and some decorative stage weapons. Below a taxidermied vulture and a print of Time Transfixed was a large cage containing three black and two blond male rats, all happily engaged in playing or napping. Another cage stood on a spindly silver stand, a case of carefully arranged fossil mammal teeth filling the space below, where a small green parrot with a red head was chewing on a carrot. Semper Fido was on the sofa when they came in, contemplating whatever it is golden retrievers contemplate, and he lifted his head and wagged his tail languidly before returning to his almost-nap. In a dome shaped-cage on the end table, two stripey little hedgehogs were snoozing. Hier dropped his hat onto the saber-toothed cat skull replica on the TV and nodded toward the kitchen. "Shall we get right to it, or do you want to let yourself dry out a bit first?" Being dry is dumb, Bruce offered, running over to the hedgehog cage to check on his favorite little friends. Small ladders propped against most furniture allowed Bruce freedom of movement and spared Hier having to listen to his constant demands for things he couldn't reach.
Hamish was completely floored by his new friend's living arrangements. He'd never seen so much stuff, and so much fascinating stuff to boot. He resisted the urge to start running all over and picking things up like a child, but he couldn't help but go to the nearest table and peer down, hands holding back his long hair. In truth he was afraid to even breathe on any of these things. The animals seemed to be just another addition, and he was so distracted by the amazing items he even forgot to be afraid of the rats. He looked up, blinking, then smiled. "Um. I'm dry, I think. We could start now... my god, this flat is fantastic!"
"My little museum of madness? Thanks. This is why it took so long to move in. You really don't notice what nonsense you're accumulating if you don't move for ten years." Hier didn't exactly fathom that most people didn't have his quiet but ever-present drive to collect every strange and wonderful object that crossed his path, love it, give it a home, friends, and admiration. Who wouldn't want a transparent crystal carved into a dinosaur skull, a collection of ornate stone goblets, and an array of Kachina dolls, after all? He didn't imagine everyone had such a collection, exactly. He just assumed that the fun people would want one, and they were the ones he cared about. "You can poke things while they're baking." He bent down to fit Bruce's ribbon collar back around his neck and walked around the little partition to preheat the oven. The kitchen wasn't quite so dramatically arrayed, but it was certainly not dull, the cabinets covered in posters of exotic food items. Hier couldn't particularly cook, but he liked to imagine elaborate and peculiar dishes.
"It's wonderful. I've never had so much stuff," he said, smiling and walking by the parrot, grinning at him before going to the kitchen and rolling up his sleeves. "That sounds great. I'm afraid if you wanted me to stay focused without any time at all to take a peek, well," he laughed. "I'm sorry. I'm terrible, I am. give me something to do, anything. I can lay out the plastic sheeting, maybe?"
"This is really a one-step process. I'm not a cook." Hier smirked as he pulled a roll of pink chocolate chip cookie dough from the fridge. "Pull a sheet out of the cabinet, will you? Then we slice this up neatly and wait for there to be cookies. They happen. It's like magic there." He began to pick at the plastic bunches at the end of the tube. "And if memory serves, the same is true of you." He eventually just went for the kitchen scissors.
He took out the sheeting, pulling it out and taking great care to cover the whole sheet, then looked over and smiled. "That's alright. Nobody can be everything awesome," he said. "I don't cook either, I just make a good sub and mix drink." He blinked at the second bit, wondering what he meant by that. "Ach, no, I'm just a cow, remember?" he grinned. "No magic in me at all."
"Heh, I meant I thought I remembered you saying you couldn't cook." Hier rolled his eyes at himself. "Sorry, I can be a bit difficult to follow. But I think you're pretty magical." Being a were just sounded like such fun. Being a not very talented earth elemental was nice and everything, but he thought he'd have a lot more fun if he could be, rather than just adore, a creature of some sort. He thought he'd make a pretty good kiwi himself, but he'd settle for anything. He didn't think to elaborate on that, finding it self evident.
"Oh, yeah," Misha laughed at his own mistake and nodded. "I'm really not. Always thought I should learn but... there was always a Macdonald's or a shop with pre-made meals around, and I'm a big salad eater anyway, so there's never been a dire need for me to be able to roast a ham or anything." He smiled. Despite what most people thought he'd be, he wasn't a vegetarian. He just didn't eat beef. The concept of a carnivorous cow might seem odd, but after all, he was also humans, most of whom couldn't give up a bacon bit or cheeseburger if or when their lives depended on it.
Hier did think it was a little odd that a cow would eat burgers, but there was also something quite reasonable about a family of cattle herders having noted carnivorous tendencies. After all, what else would you bother to herd cattle for? Hier began to slice into the pink dough, setting out the cookies. He made them a bit thick to make sure they'd be soft and gooey. "I eat like I'm in undergrad, but I haven't succumbed to malnutrition yet, eh? Here, have a bite. It's fine before you cook it, too." He plucked off a bit of dough with a particular concentration of chocolate chips in it and held it out.
The impulse to simply lean down and take the cookie dough from the other man's fingers with his mouth was strong, and he wondered for a split second if he shouldn't or if Hier was teasing him, daring him to do it. He paused, only for a split second, then grinned and leaned down, taking the chunk of dough and grazing the other's fingertips with his lips. He would do teeth, but that sometimes irked people because lips were dry and teeth weren't. Still, lips were sensual and casual enough for his purposes. "Mm. That... that really tastes pink," he laughed, chewing and then swallowing.
He blinked slightly bemusedly. Slightly odd. Misha was too cute to bother wondering about, though. Hier smiled and reached up, tapping his fingertip against Misha's shapely nose, making no further comment. "Does it?" He picked off a bit and popped it into his mouth. "You're right. Pink. And to think, I didn't really know what pink tasted like until now. I feel kind of silly." He sliced off a few more and shoved the cookie sheet into the oven. "And now we've got about fifteen minutes until pink cookies."
Misha always enjoyed when people indulged his ridiculous announcements. "Quite pink," he agreed, then put the sheeting away before turning. "Will you take me on a tour, then? Introduce me to your cute little flatmates and sparkly gems?" He was eager to explore, if he was allowed. Eager to see what Hier liked and didn't like to collect, and inspect the little oddities that really defined a person's character, even if they weren't fully aware of it.
"A tour might not be the precise word for it. I have three rooms. Four if you consider the kitchen to be separate, I suppose. But introductions? Yes. We'll skip the rat boys, but you can meet all the other little flatmates and assorted curios. We can go around widdershins, which means starting with Pol and her guardianship of the tooth collection." He wrapped his arm around Misha's, slightly awkward due to the difference in their heights, and led the way all three steps over to the parrot's cage. "She's a Mexican redhead. Sort of a creepy little hen. I named her for the parrot in Robinson Crusoe, but if I'd known her personality much better, I'd probably have just named her Creepy in the first place. And underneath, if you're even mildly interested, I have teeth belonging to mammals and their earlier ancestors ranging from tiny little shrewlike things to the tip of a mastodon tusk."
"A real one? Blimey, that must have set you back a fortune!" Misha was clearly impressed, but he took a moment to coo over the odd beauty of the little redhead. "And such a lovely color. It must be natural, no bottle color could have that sheen," he chuckled at his own joked, then leaned down to examine the teeth, eyes wide with earnest excitement. He knew nothing about fossils or ancestors or anything else here, but he was always eager to learn.
"Oh, it would have if I'd bought it, but I found it myself. It was unfortunately in disturbed sediment, so it wasn't very useful for the study, so once it was cataloged and all, I managed to maneuver my way into taking it home. I try not to buy these things if I can avoid it. Do my own prospecting where I can." He fished out a peanut and gave it to Misha. "Here, give her this and she'll love you forever. And then we can go meet the hedgies. Though they aren't that sociable. Sweet, but they aren't really very energetic and they tend to only like one person at a time. Their slow little hedgehog brains can't really handle more than that. Maybe if you visited a lot."
Misha smiled and fed the peanut through the bars. It was easy with his long, dextrous fingers. He watched her grab the peanut and chuckled. "Good girl. Sweet girl," he said, then turned and walked over to the hedgehogs, looking down at Bruce and the obviously often-used ladder going up to the cage with the adorable little pudges. He grinned. "These your mates, then, love?" he asked. "What're their names?"
"Ambrose is the slightly darker one, and Sonic has the sort of stripey spines." Hier smiled and popped open the top of the cage and reached down to pet Sonic's head, stroking his little headspikes. "You're so cute, aren't you, my pokey little friends?" Bruce agreed. "I'd take one out, but it's daylight and they haven't made your acquaintance yet. They navigate by smell, though, so if you just reach in and pet them a bit... You do have to be careful not to poke yourself. Here." He caught Misha's hand and brought it gently down to brush the spikes, softly and in the right direction. Those little needles didn't really hurt, but they could itch.
While he enjoyed touching the small, friendly rodents, Misha had to admit he enjoyed being directed and touched by Hier better. "Hullo, Sonic," he smiled, then thought for a moment. "I rather like you two, you know? Much nicer than the boys I knew back home, that's for sure." He leaned back after a moment, directly against Hier, though he was careful not to bump him. "I like your family," he murmured, then turned, their faces barely an inch apart. "I might be able to meet the... um, others. It seems like they're a bit too plump to jump at anybody."
Misha was apparently just cuddly. Hier didn't really mind. He wasn't naturally huggy himself, but he liked Misha enough that his affection wasn't bothering the elemental. He wasn't fundamentally opposed to being hugged. "They are exceedingly sweet, those two. Hmm, I suppose they are the better part of the family that counts. My aunt isn't likely to visit any time soon, so they're the main exhibit, filially speaking." Hier glanced over at the rats. "You don't have to force yourself. Neither they nor I will be offended. But let me get Templeton. He's my oldest boy, and the most mellow by far." He walked over to open the cage, but hesitated with his hand on the door.
"What's force and what's fun?" Hamish responded cheerfully. There was a bit of fear in his eyes, but he took a deep breath. "Right. Let's meet Templeton." He nodded and got a little closer, still a few feet away, and holding his breath, but putting on a brave face. He wanted to make an effort, wanted to see a rat up close and do his best not to panic. Maybe he'd call on some traditional cow apathy to help him through this.
Templeton was pushing two years old, a comfortable old gentleman who enjoyed attention, dried apples, and chewing on small pieces of wood. He was mostly black with white on his round stomach. He held his hand out to the plump little fellow, cradling him gently and not approaching Misha too closely. Templeton blinked sleepily and poked his nose into Hier's collar, making a contented chattering noise. "They have a tendency to jump into clothes. It's warm and dark underneath, I guess. And it tickles like you couldn't imagine." Templeton made an effort to squirm under Hier's shirt but was pulled back out.
"Oh, yeah? Well, there's no room in mine for any body but me, so, I suppose you'll have to hold 'em," Misha said, his voice a little higher and faster than normal, though he didn't move back. Nor did his eyes leave the rat. Still, he didn't back down, letting Hier come to him. After a moment he blinked, realizing the rat's eyes hadn't burst into flame, nor had the small beast lunged for his jugular. "Blimey. He's... he's kind of... not that bad." His voice was full of wonder at the idea.
"No, he's very nice. Now Cluny can be a little spitfire, but he's gotten calmer. Just had a tough adolescence. Of course, they all have their own personalities." Maybe in the future he'd try and get Misha to pet them, but as it was, it was fine just to get used to them. Hier lifted the plump little rat and it licked the end of his nose. "Aw, good boy. I'm going to put you home with the others, alright? Thank you for my kisses, little guy." He put the plump rat back into the cage. "There you are, little fellow." He straightened up and smiled. "And now you've met everyone. I'm going to go ahead and collapse on the the couch for a few minutes, and you're welcome to join me." His leg was hurting a bit, and even more importantly the rain was picking up a bit. Hier pulled his curtains open a bit to watch the heavy clouds and sheeting rain hang over them.
"I see that," Misha agreed cheerfully, relaxing when the cage door was shut. Then he blinked. Invited to join somebody on a couch? What could be a better reward for dealing with his fear so well? Some of Misha's greatest experiences had been on couches, though after working on a physically challenging farm for his entire boyhood, he recognized at least one of the reasons why. He bit his lip and followed him, sitting and smiling. "The storm's beautiful," he said, sitting by his new friend and looking out. He wondered if Hier would mind him asking about the leg. It wasn't much of an elephant in the room considering who the man with the hurt leg was.
"Gorgeous." A branching streak of white split the sky, blinding him for a second with white light. The thunder that came after was quite satisfying, a sharp burst and a long crackle that made the windows shiver a little. He knew he'd have to get up in a few minutes, but it was nice to relax. He sank a little too deep into the couch, which had unquestionably seen better days. Hier mimed swooning for a moment, hand to his forehead with a dramatic sigh. "You'd think I'd been doing marching exercises all day the way I carry on. Ah, well." He straightened up again to look out the window beside Misha. The cookies were beginning to smell nice, and with the rain pounding outside and the rather close quarters of the apartment, the whole of it was very cozy indeed.
Hamish curled up on the couch sideways, facing him and hugging himself. It really was quite nice in here. His eyes went to the storm outside as he enjoyed the comfortable silence that held them for a bit. But then he couldn't help himself. "May I ask about your leg?" he murmured softly, then got a slightly mischievous glint in his eyes. "Would it feel better if I kissed it?" Ok, he was a very caring and concerned man, but he couldn't help himself sometimes.
Hier laughed at that. "Feel free. It's not really a secret. People just tend to be a little shy of bringing it up. As though it weren't obvious." It amused him for most people, but he didn't really want to tease Misha particularly. "I smashed the leg and, to a certain degree, the hip when I was five. There was really nothing to be done. And if it slows me down a little, well, I mostly ignore it, actually. It's a problem when I'm supposed to do something I'd rather not, for the most part." He could be sneaky. "I fell off a cliff, you see. It was a small cliff, but then, I was a pretty small person at the time, so it evens out. Makes for an excellent parable about not neglecting children and clarification on the subject of wilderness safety."
"Oh! Oh, wow," Hamish stared at him. Coming from Scotland, most of the cliffs he pictured were incredibly steep, severe, and landed in the ocean. He had a moment of shock thinking about Hier plummeting off one of those, but when he clarified it as a 'small' cliff he relaxed. A little. "Well... it's certainly a talking point. Boasting, too, for still being up and about," he murmured, looking down at the leg before he reach up and stroked his own hair. "Is that a nae to the kiss, then?" he teased, glad that Hier seemed more or less comfortable with it.
"Considering it was thirty years ago, I don't know how much impact that'd have." Alright, it wasn't his imagination. Misha was definitely flirting with him directly. Not an incidental tendency to hugginess, but deliberate. Maybe he did it with everyone. Hier wasn't unused to being flirted with, but not usually by people who could be best described as alarmingly attractive. He wasn't sure how to react. Usually he pushed away at any attempts to get his attention with pointed disdain, but the tall redhead made his head spin oddly. Nothing seemed usual around him. "It was, uh, very dramatic. I dragged myself to a ranger station and passed out..." The story from there got a bit uncomfortable, and suddenly he was glad to answer Misha's question. "Did I say no?"
"You dinnea say anything, sweet," Misha said, knowing when to stop pressing. In certain areas, anyway. He smiled and touched the back of Hier's hand. "But you don't have to." He was always for giving people outs. He liked Hier a lot and if the older man just wanted a friend, he was delighted to be that. Not that he'd ever stop flirting, it was how Hamish talked to people. Had been before he really knew what sex was. He retracted his hand and then looked over to the rain again. "Lovely storm. Shame I don't have a rain dress or I'd be tempted to go nap," he said, stretching slightly.
Hier usually did just want a friend. He hadn't even thought of Misha in any other capacity until this moment. He did, occasionally, feel himself drawn to someone, and Misha had such magnetism it was almost frightening. They got along rather too well. He'd already shared more with the cheery redhead than he had with most friends he'd ever had. He felt like he'd known the were forever in a strange way. He'd had a boyfriend in undergrad and a girlfriend while a postdoc, both of them quite special, as Hier insisted anyone he was more than friends with, or even friends at all, would be. It was very rare for him to be attracted to anyone, but Misha was certainly a rare specimen. While he wasn't sure now, if he pushed back, he didn't know if he'd get another chance. "Maybe that's because I was talking too much?" He was certainly uncertain, but he followed Misha's fingers with his own.
Misha grinned at him, leaning against the back of the couch again and gazing up at him fondly, as if everything Hier said tickled him in the most pleasant way. He lifted the other's hand, kissing his knuckles gently, then held it while stroking it with his other hand, tracing around the fingernails. "Well. If you decide you ever want a bit of affection like that, I can't say no to a handsome, striking face. Or a man with a mastadon tooth in his possession," he said.
"Just part of a mastodon tooth, to be fair." He didn't usually react like this to being kissed. Hier was one step away from asexual, but Misha was something else. He smiled a bit sheepishly, listening to a roll of growly thunder. He shivered a bit, but had not the least idea what to say next. Then the timer on the oven went off. "Oh. Better get that, or we'll see what awful color results when pink dough gets scorched." He reluctantly pulled his hand free, as slowly as he could manage, and stood to get the cookies out.
Misha just laughed and got up, going with him and setting up the cooling racks. "Whoa. Those smell delicious," he said, looking at them and then lifting his eyebrows. "Your house is going to smell like them for ages, though... wow! Look at how vibrant pink they are! Och, I don't know if I can eat these or if they'll clash with my clothes too much," he laughed.
"I promise not to take any pictures. If anyone asks, they were just the same shade as your shirt, and made for an excellent accessory coordination." Hier held one up, ignoring as it scorched his fingers. "Not bad at all with your complexion. Coordinate an outfit around them and you could probably spend the day passing out cookies and looking fantastic. Sounds like a fun afternoon to me." He dropped the cookie again rather quickly and popped his fingers in his mouth, feeling silly, while he dug out a spatula and piled them on a plate. "There's some milk in the fridge if you're a cookie traditionalist, or about ten kinds of coffee and more tea than China." Hier was a terrible drink snob, and more of his cabinet space went to various plants to steep in hot water than actual food.
Misha shook his head, wondering. "Maybe at one of the awareness walks or fund raising events," he chuckled. That would be a great way to show his support. He cooed. "I could put ribbons in my hair," he said happily, then offered him a towel and grinned. "You should be careful. baking your fingers with a greasy cookie's just begging to have them nibbled on. You know, by your furry friends," he teased, then went to the fridge. "Let's go traditional. For once," he put the milk down and found the glasses, pouring them each a good amount. "Mm, those smell great."
"I don't know if it counts as traditional with skim milk, but close enough." Hier carried the plate back to the couch. He didn't have anywhere to sit in the kitchen, another reason all his meals consisted of either takeout or things which could be prepared by placing the contents of box somewhere hot and waiting a few minutes. "Your hair would certainly look good with a few ribbons. But then, I can't think of a way it wouldn't look nice." Hier admittedly had some strange tastes, and wouldn't have found it at all off-putting if Misha had worn a disarticulated fish skeleton and porcupine quills in his hair. Actually, that'd be pretty cool. But ribbons, yes, that'd be cute.
"Milk is milk," Misha said confirmed his belief and brought them out, smiling and sitting by him again and chuckling. "I always thought it was too thin," he said. "And getting it to do anything but hang straight and silly... well..." he shrugged and then grinned. "But it's strong, so I can wear what I like." He wondered what was going on in the man's head, and if he would like his thoughts or not. He hoped he would. He grinned and then took a cookie, biting into it and letting out a soft moan. "Now that's lovely," he said, beamed and licking some stray chocolate from his lips. "Just perfect."
Hier was rather surprised to find himself staring. He was rather glad he didn't blush. Between that deep, sultry sound and the chocolate... Uh... He found himself quite lost for words for a moment, a very rare occurrence indeed. Misha had perfect lips, a thought he couldn't remember ever having before. He took a bite of a cookie to hide his stunned state, and by the time the bite was down, he felt more equal to the situation. "Though I think purple would be even nicer than pink. Either a deep, royal purple or a soft lavender. We'd have to experiment to see which we liked better and in which light."
"I do love purple," Misha agreed, noting the staring, but always taking such looks to be complimentary. He didn't make a fuss about it anyway, just ate more of the cookie and drank his milk. He loved milk, always had, though he usually preferred unpasturized. Americans seemed paranoid about those products, however. "These are great. Thanks so much for inviting me here," he said, white teeth flashing in his grin at the older man.
"Come by whenever you like. Though giving me some warning would be a good idea. I tend to wander off at strange hours. Lurk at diners until four am and such. Just to vary the scene a little while I work." That or take breaks to work on stories or expand the constellations of little glowing stars on his bedroom ceiling or just hang out with his various furry, spiky, or feathery friends, all of which Misha was pretty welcome to join in on to whatever extent possible. "I'll be sure to have some purple ribbon around next time. We can try it out." He wasn't very good at getting hair to behave, but Misha's was straight, which would help. He wished he'd had the attention span to grow his own hair out at some point, but all it had ever really gotten was chin-length back in college.
Misha grinned and looked at him, fluttering his eyelashes at him. "I'm just might take yeh up on that offer, sweet," he said, eating another cookie. Lurking was always fun, as was traveling around to different spots. He sipped more milk and then grinned, leaning his head against Hier's shoulder. "I'd like that," he said honestly.
Just because he couldn't help himself, Hier's fingers slipped through the ends of Misha's silky hair, the bright red making a sharp, pretty contrast against his bronze skin. He smiled at the younger man softly. "Silly me, being caught without any ribbon at all." Well, no, that wasn't true, there was some red ribbon he used for makeshift string ties once in a while, but he didn't know where it had gotten to and it was a little thick for hair.
Hamish smiled back and closed his eyes, liking the sound of Hier's voice just for the sound in it, and the accent. Most American accents were crude sounding to him, but he liked the geologist's. "That's alright, I haven't got any either," he said. Then he took a deep breath and inhaled Hier's scent, relishing in it and memorizing it.
Hier leaned against him a bit as well. It wasn't as though he'd squish Misha. For all his delicate features, the man was bigger than he was. "I should really not keep you. You've probably got oodles to do." He liked the word oodles. "I should let you up." He didn't move. He didn't want to yet. "...Really ought to." Darn it. It was like trying to get himself out of bed in the morning. Except a tall, spirited, sexy redhead was even more of a temptation than cozy blankets. He noted as an afterthought that he didn't generally characterize people as "sexy."
He chuckled and glanced at his watch. "No," he cooed softly. "You've not kept me too long, and all I've got to do is review a light show and hand out the glitter." Not too much, yet so much at the same time. At this point, if he could pull it off, he'd try his best to seduce the other. But he wasn't a hundred percent sure Hier wanted that, really, and if they did sleep together he'd want to make a night of it. "I probably should now, though," he sighed, not appearing happy about it.
"Curses. Alright." Hier sat up, smiling politely, and raked his fingers through his curly hair, a mild sign of nervousness. He wanted to say the right thing as they took their leave. "I may be able to stick my head in at the party, if I catch up on the dozen things I ought to be doing. I'll at least try and say hello." It wasn't his sort of place, but he could at least go in on his way to, say, spend the night renting a booth at a diner with endless cups of coffee and occasional muffins. "And if not, I'll catch you for dinner tomorrow night."
Hamish flushed happily and then nodded, going with him to the door and opening it for himself, pausing and turning back to him. "You don't have to, but if you do I'd love to see you," he said happily, then leaned over and kissed his cheek. "And aye, tomorrow for sure. I'll make sure there's something nice on... do yeh like lamb?" He could cook lamb, kind of. And if not there was a place in town that did it wonderfully.
"Quite particularly. My dead animal delight of choice." He did blush, just the least bit, when Misha kissed him. He was sure it was a casual gesture, but he'd still been kissed by a handsome werebull. "Your place, then? I'll bring dessert." He didn't cook much, but he wasn't absolutely adverse to it. He had recipes his aunt had insisted he write down and bring with him. "I can't guarantee it'll be pink, but I'll make sure it's delicious." If he failed his attempt, after all, he could always stop by a nice bakery.
"We'll have us some lamb, then," Misha said, then tore himself away before he leaned in and kissed him again. If he did it would be on the lips. He focused and then nodded. "Right. Say goodbye to your lads and pretty feathered lass for me," he said, then turned and walked out of the apartment, feeling his heart pound a bit as he went. As he left his hips swayed, as if he were listening to his own music in his head, and apparently he was because as he stepped into the elevator he was humming merrily, stroking his fingers through his long hair and thinking fondly about the man who's company he was eager to rejoin.