[Closed Post: Caught]

[timebethine]

Laertes is in love. He's in love, and he's carrying his whole heart tucked into his coat, held close against his chest. The pup wriggles and squirms and makes little noises that to Laertes's ears are more curious and interested than distressed. "Soon, pet," says Laertes softly as he undoes the lock on the door to his and Sagramore's rooms. Then, louder: "Sagramore! I've brought a friend for thee!"

And he pulls the tiny puppy out of his coat. It blinks ice-blue eyes at Sagramore, then gives an amiable bark.

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[timebethine]

"Such a beautiful man," says Laertes with a feeling groan. "He says he's straight, though, and that I must respect."

[sagramore]

"I know, I was was devastated. Just the most tremendous waste."

[timebethine]

"Well--not a waste for the ladies among us. Think of the ladies, Sagramore." Remembering his chicken, Laertes fetches a slotted spoon and gives it a stir. It's not looking quite done yet, but close enough that he ought to tend to it more closely.

[sagramore]

"I suppose," mock-begrudging. He carries Szarka over to the refrigerator while he looks for bread -- he and Laertes have baked a fair amount of it, but not the specific dark wheat bran bread that he wants for her. "What dost thou think?" he asks her. "What suits thee?"

[timebethine]

Szarka's keen nose immediately identifies A Bacon, and she barks and wriggles and struggles to free herself for the purpose of Hot Pursuit. Her tail wags in an ecstasy of smell; she has never smelled A Bacon before, and it is the very best smell she has ever smelled.

[sagramore]

Sagramore laughs delightedly. "Oh, my darling, whatever it is, the answer is no, thy dinner is in the making. Unless it's the bread, and then the answer is yes."

[timebethine]

"Try opening and closing the door a few times," says Laertes, more egging him on than actually trying to help. "Picture the bread in thy mind."

[sagramore]

He laughs again. "That was easier when it wasn't my mind," but he shuts the fridge and reopens it dutifully.

[timebethine]

The joy dims on Laertes's face. "Easier when ... what dost thou mean?"

[sagramore]

"Oh-- when I was in Asmodean's body, everything was so clear. I don't know how to describe it really. I just felt as if I could concentrate properly for the first time in my life. Think about tedious things without getting distracted."

[timebethine]

Laertes glances up at Sagramore. "I can't imagine it," he says, low. "I know that some people can concentrate--when my sister bent her mind to something, no earthly force could sway her. But I never had her gift."

[sagramore]

"I really didn't think anyone else was any good at it either. I thought it must be saidin, at first, but half the people I talked to seemed to think maintaining purpose is natural."

[timebethine]

"This place has been good for me, in that respect," says Laertes. "I'm able to follow wherever my passions lead me--to leave off a project for days, or weeks, or to fix myself upon it to the exclusion of all else. I need do nothing against mine inclination, and so I find myself returning to work that would otherwise have lost its savor."

[sagramore]

"Good. I mean, I'd have thee happy. I think it's well thou canst set thyself to whatever thou likest here and take however long thou wouldst take."

[timebethine]

"And thee?" Laertes turns off the burner and starts dipping the chicken out of the water; once that's done, he rinses out the pan and starts warming the broth. Tepid, tepid, he reminds himself.

Szarka, catching that the mood has shifted, thrusts her cold wet nose against Sagramore's chin.

[sagramore]

He strokes her ears and makes a soothing noise. "I think it will help me to have her. I tire easily of things once they become predictable, but living creatures can never really be predictable. And at least this place trends toward infinite novelty."

[timebethine]

"Can I help thee? I share thy taste for novelty; between us, we may yet satisfy it."

[sagramore]

He glances back at Laertes. "Thou hast already helped me, thou hast given me a daughter to look after. I don't know, it helps that thou knowst-- if thou canst keep me on track at least a little, that's an improvement."

[timebethine]

"We'll tether each other, and swing together in our sphere," says Laertes. He leans in to add his kisses to Szarka's, then swings open the refrigerator himself, thinking of a rich, wheat-sweet bran bread that would be good to eat with butter. And as he opens the door, a loaf of dark bread lies waiting in a cardboard tray. "I envy thee, Szarike," he says. "This looks delicious."

[sagramore]

"Thou wilt be so well-fed," he agrees, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Thy fathers will dote on thee to excess."

[timebethine]

Szarke wriggles and barks--now that The Problem seems to have been resolved, she is once more on the hunt for The Bacon. She can still smell it a little! It must have run away! She should Chase!

Setting the bread down beside the chicken, Laertes dips a finger in the broth to find it milk-warm; he turns off the heat. "Now, tell me how to assemble these things to feed our daughter."

[sagramore]

"All together, like a soup." His arms are full of puppy, so he directs. "Tear the bread into small pieces and put it in the broth with the meat, and then she'll eat on the floor."

[timebethine]

"Mostly broth, or mostly bread and meat? Or even proportions of all three?" asks Laertes as he starts tearing up the bread into puppy-sized pieces.

[sagramore]

"Two parts broth to one part meat and bread." Szarka is now about as interested in her dinner as she was in A Bacon, since the fridge has closed on its scent, and she wriggles eagerly in his arms. Sagramore laughs. "Patience, patience."

[timebethine]

Laertes tips some shreds of bread and chicken into a bowl, then covers them liberally with broth and mixes them--then he sets the bowl on the floor, while Szarka frantically kicks and wiggles and barks with a passion to consume it.