eiattu_pride | (no subject)

(no subject)

Rial managed to sneak Wainthropp through his door, much to the small purple creature's apparent joy. It's now curled up on the couch, finishing off a piece of lightly buttered toast, looking deeply satisfied.

Rial's in their bedroom, searching around for something to make into a bed for the crumple-horned snorkack.

And wondering if he should tell Plourr.

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There are no words, right now. There is only a combination of 'what did you say?' and 'no, it is not' on her face.

Plourr sets a stubborn hand on her hip.

"His name is Wainthropp," Rial explains.

"He likes lightly buttered toast, mostly, and he enjoys being scratched behind the horns."

"You still haven't answered my question," she says, looking very unmoved.

Also, very annoyed.

"It's a crumple-horned snorkack."

Rial picks him up, and cuddles him to his chest.

:D?

Plourr sighs, finally holstering her blaster and dropping into an armchair. "Rial, I don't care if it's a five-horned whisperkit, what the hell's it doing in our apartments?"

Rial sits on the couch, still petting Wainthropp absently.

"Staying here. It needs a home."

"Ohhh no," she says immediately, sitting upright. "No, it does not, Rial Pernon. I don't care if you have some sort of--formerly purple bond, or something, that thing can't stay here."

"Oh yes it can."

Rial holds the snorkack protectively against him.

"Please, Plourr? It followed me home, honest."

Plourr facepalms hard, tilting her head back and hiding her eyes with her hand.

"Where the kriff did it come from?"

Rial beams, leaning back against the couch and balancing Wainthropp on his chest.

"The bar."

Plourr makes a pained noise that sounds something like 'nnnnghhk,' but it's hard to say, as her face is hidden by her hand and her palm is muffling her voice.

"Plourr?"

Rial hesitates, then sits up, places Wainthropp back on the sofa, and moves over to her.

"I'm sorry, but...he kind of needed a home."

"What was wrong with his old one?" she asks crabbily of her hand.

"Luna, I gather, is a little difficult to live with."

It was the look in his eyes that gave it away.

Her fingers lower from her eyes. She peers up at him.

"Luna," Plourr says neutrally. "The same Luna who turned you purple?"

"Yeah, her."

Rial rests a hand on Plourr's shoulder.

"Just - can we keep him for a little while? He's cute when you get to know him."

She sighs and leans her head against his arm. "Alright," she grumbles. "Alright, fine." She glares daggers around Rial at Wainthropp. "Just tell it not to scare the shavit out of me like that. Next time, I'll shoot."

The only reason she's allowing it to stay is not that it belongs to the woman who turned her husband purple.

Not at all.

"You should tell him yourself."

Rial bends, kisses the top of her head. "Thank you. Very much."

"I'm not talking to it. It can't understand me."

She grumps, "You're welcome."

"He," Rial reminds her. "Wainthropp's a he."

She's very much not in a good mood right now.

Rial wonders what he can do to help that.

Plourr nearly sat on a strange little spiny be-horned purple thing in the sanctity of her living room. As someone who is not an animal lover--besides thaks--even at the best of times, she is not particularly thrilled right now.

"And when were you planning on telling me about him?" she asks, tipping her head back to look up at him, sitting on the arm of her chair as he is.

"Uh, well...when you got in."

Think, Rial, think!

He leans forward, and after a little creative maneuvering, manages to capture her lips in a gentle kiss.

Plourr's eyes fly open and she protests, with something that might be 'Rial!' or might be 'eeirg!' Putting a hand on his arm, she makes the attempt--admittedly, not nearly as strongly as she could--to pull away, or to push him away. She isn't too picky.

Rial knows his wife, and he knows when she's trying and when she isn't.

So he deepens the kiss, not letting her move.

Further protests are half-hearted, at best. A few seconds pass where she's just giving back what she gets, not encouraging or discouraging, but then her hand wraps around the back of his neck, pulling him down as she leans up.

Wainthropp makes a small sort of noise, and turns away.

Rial, though, wraps his free arm around her, half-lifting her upwards. Murmured against her lips, "C'mon."

"Count Pernon," she says imperiously, but she's getting up, "I will not be distracted so-- so cheaply." He kisses her again, though, long and slow and--oh kriff, fine, maybe she will be.

Plourr manages to disentangle herself; tells him to go ahead, that she'll be in in a second, and once he's passed through the bedroom door, she pads over to the couch.

She stares down at the little creature, its purple snout hiding in the cushions, and then she glances around, whispers, "Sorry," and furtively scratches the snorkack behind a horn.

Wainthropp snuffles and purrs.

Plourr kinda smiles, but she isn't about to tell her husband that.

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