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Who: Nathaniel & OPEN
Where: On the grounds, close to the front door
When: April 26th
Rating: PG-13 to be safe
Summary: Just a guy playing with a cat. Because cats are great for stress relief. And mun wanted to write a dumb self-indulgent narrative about a cat.

The Story: If a year ago, six months ago, you would have told Nathaniel Howe that he would be spending an afternoon watching a stubby-legged ball of beige and white fluff exploring in the short grass not far from the front door of a magical mansion in some blighted other realm... the only part he might not have believed entirely would have been the part about the cat.

As it turns out, the rumours about cats being good for stress are entirely true, and since the conclusion of Wonderland's latest 'event' he has been giving more attention to the little creature, finding that it seems to enjoy that as much as it enjoys leaving fur all over the carpet and scratching the bedposts.

When the little creature comes close, making a beeline for the toe of one of his shoes, he reaches a hand out and tips it over onto its back gently, ruffling his fingers across the soft fur on its belly. Never, ever will he admit to Anders that cats actually aren't that bad. Even when they're trying to bite at his fingers.

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"It looks like I've interrupted some intimate bonding. Should I give you two some privacy?"

Anders is often outside, not a fan of spending too long indoors thanks in part to the Circle, and it's only a matter of time before he spots his Warden companion on one of his walks. It's a difficult thing to sneak up on someone as skilled as Nathaniel, but Anders does his best to at least take advantage of his distraction to move toward him before he can pretend he wasn't doing anything.

It's official. Much to Anders' shock and amazement, Nathaniel appears to like something. A genuine, honest positive feeling about a living creature that doesn't end with a scoff or a cynical remark. Alert the presses.

Smug as can be, Anders stops and looks down at master and cat with a smile that comes as close to a shit-eating grin as he can manage without inviting a punch to the face. "So! Are you going to introduce us formally?"

It is difficult to sneak up on the rogue, but he gives Anders the time to attempt it while he listens to his footsteps moving closer.

Of course Anders would be the one to find him out here. Of course he would. Any cat-related activity seemed like some kind of siren song to the mage and it was only a matter of time before he was going to show up. Nathaniel lets out a long-suffering sigh that's obviously only half meant, and scoops the little kitten up out of the grass. It's still small enough to fit comfortably across his palm, where it lies with its front legs between his fingers in a kind of resigned acceptance, purring quietly.

"I knew you'd be pleased that I'm making friends," he says lowly, turning his hand slightly and shifting himself forwards to look at the lazy kitten's face.

"I haven't chosen a name for him yet."

It won't be a pun, Anders. Don't even try to make it a pun.

"Aww. As I live and breathe, here sits Nathaniel Howe, cuddling his pet cat. The years have brought out your tender side," he observes tauntingly, crossing his arms.

For every time Nathaniel had gotten on his case about keeping a cat around, now he gets to say 'I told you so!'

"That's an easy one," he goes without missing a beat. "Arl Meow!" True to character, of course he tries to make it a pun, knowing it grates on Nathaniel's nerves.

"Must you always talk as if I've suddenly become an old man," he responds dryly, setting the cat down again. It takes a moment to steady itself on its oddly short legs, then sets off exploring once again.

Of course he'd make it a pun. Nathaniel pinches the bridge of his nose.

"I am not calling him that," he says firmly. He hadn't expected Anders to say anything else. Honestly, he should have expected exactly that pun, and has no doubt that the mage will call his cat by it even when there's another perfectly serviceable name to use.

"Try something else."

"It's the truth. If you weren't my elder before, you are now," he protests. The humor doesn't seem inclined to leave his tone anytime soon.

He scuffs the grass with his boot to get the cat's attention. What is a mage to do when there's a cat not two feet from him? Try to pet it, of course.

"What? It's a fitting moniker for the pet of a Howe," he goes on. But perhaps it brings too many bad memories to the surface, given the fate of Nathaniel's father. "It'll have to do until you think of something better. A cat can't stay nameless, that's just cruel."

"I'm not feeling the creaking of old age in my joints just yet, Anders," Nathaniel says wryly, watching the cat's attention shift to the scuffed boot. It waddles over on those oddly short legs and bats one small paw at the toe of Ander's boot. What a ridiculous little creature.

"I'll think of something better, but he answers well enough to 'Cat' for now."

Cats being as fickle as they are, this one probably has a name in mind for itself already and won't answer to anything else. "Do all mages have a fondness for cats, or is it just you?" Curious minds need to know.

"And you probably never will, which could be a positive or a negative depending on how one looks at it. You can thank the taint for that."

Got to love that whole 'fight hard, die young' caveat. It's a barrel full of laughs.

Anders immediately goes to pick up the cat, smiling like a mother holding her newborn baby for the first time. "Hello there! Oh, don't mind Nathaniel, he's not terribly creative. It's not his fault--we can't all be perfect. Don't worry, we'll fix you up good and proper with a name soon."

Even Frederick would be better than Cat.

Cradling the kitten in his arm and stroking its soft belly with his other hand, he glances at the cat's master. "Well, some mages don't seem to be fond of anything. Ask Velanna. You have a Velanna, right?"

"Aren't you just a bundle of joy," he comments, though the grim outlook on his future lifespan brings with it an equally grim kind of humour. It's enough for a tight smile, in any case.

Thankfully, Nathaniel is not so insecure that he's going to get riled by Anders down-talking him to a cat. He does it to be irritating, the rogue is quite sure, so he only arches a brow and watches the small furry creature as it mewls once and stretches both forepaws out, showing tiny sharp claws.

"Of course," he says then, a definite smirk of amusement touching his lips as his thoughts turn to the feisty elf. "She's a delightful lady."

An airy smile. "I'm the most joyous of all the Maker's creatures."

It doesn't count as making light of Nathaniel's fate when his fate, too, has been sealed. Perhaps even more surely than Nathaniel's if the stories of how he dies at Kirkwall are to be believed.

"Then that's answer enough, I should think." Yes, Velanna is an utter delight. As delightful as a venus flytrap ensnaring its prey. A flytrap capable of throwing fireballs.

"Clearly," Nathaniel replies with a wry smile. His mind is still on Velanna, and the way her expression would scrunch up in a mixture of confusion and annoyance every time he complimented her and she tried to turn it into an insult.

Not that he would for a moment refute anything about Anders' description of her.

"I suppose cats are a harmless enough thing to be fond of," he says then, noting how the one in the mage's arms is now falling asleep. "Did you manage to find homes for all the ones that you brought forth from your closet?"

"Do I detect some subtext?" Nathaniel has a way of making 'cats' sound vaguely objectionable with the emphasis. "What else would you expect us mages to be partial toward?"

And he'd better not say possession or dark magic, or Anders swears, he'll find a way to enchant Nathaniel's kitten so that it bites his nose every time he gets close. Don't think he won't!

"Most," he says in regards to the cats. He moves over to Nathaniel and offers the kitten resting in his arm back to its rightful owner so that he's not hogging its attention. Wouldn't want Nathaniel Jr. to get more attached to his cool uncle than his cat dad. "And I took some in myself, so they're taken care of."

If he has more hidden in his room, he's not saying. These lips are sealed!

While those things may be the habit of some mages, he wouldn't think to suggest them to Anders. Not even in jest, when the other man has hold of his pet. Instead, he pulls a face and declines to answer until he has the cat back in his possession, handling the little creature with a kind of gentleness reserved for nothing else.

"I don't know. Cake?" Might make less mess, but then, he's never really thought about the amount of mess that a group of kittens might make of someone's living quarters. "Or puppies."

What do you know, he actually does have a sense of humour.

"Why don't you sit down? Unless the cat is all you're here for."

"You guessed it, the Circle Tower was non-stop cake and puppies. We're also fond of flowers, and get a tear in our eye at sad ballads."

The sarcasm is good-natured despite his persistence in it. Anders hasn't seen Nathaniel like this very often--relaxed, open to conversation. Maybe he'd been onto something to suggest age and experience had mellowed Nathaniel some, though it's just as possible that these quiet spring days have softened his guard a tad.

That's the dangerous part about Wonderland. How it relaxes people.

"If you'd like the pleasure of my company, you know all you have to do is ask, no need to make the cat an accessory," he teases, but he accepts the invitation to pull up a spot of grass across from Nathaniel, tucking long legs into a loose, cross-legged position.

"I knew it."

Maybe it was age and experience, maybe it was just this place, but Nathaniel remembers losing too many people over his time as a Warden to not have his feelings softened towards those friends he still has. Even if those friends are always chatty, often annoying mages. Anders is his friend, and he is fond of him in his own gruff way.

"It might shock you to hear it, Anders, but I don't actually dislike you," he says, setting his little kitten on his lap, where it curls up with a clear intent to fall asleep. "As far as my attitude might go to say otherwise."

Eyebrows raised, Anders rewards the other man with a congratulatory look that says good for you, you've finally figured it out, cat's officially out of the bag.

His gaze drifts to the very real cat making itself comfortable on its master's knee, looking pleased as punch as it does, but Nathaniel's admission gradually draws it back up to his face. "I know that." And just before Nathaniel gets his hopes that Anders is about to accept the remark earnestly and seriously, he adds, "Of course you like me. How could you not? I'm a likeable person. And someone has to remind you life's about more than simply getting down to the brass tacks."

He's welcome for the kitten, though he knows Nathaniel too well to expect a 'thank you'.

He wouldn't have done Anders the indignity of expecting him to take any remark of that kind seriously. Still, it was said in earnest and he simply has to trust that the mage took it to heart despite his dismissive response. Nathaniel snorts and chuckles in his usual short, gruff way, shaking his head.

"'Getting down to the brass tacks' is a necessary evil," he replies with another wry smile. "But a little levity doesn't hurt, either."

Nor does having a pet, in fact. He's going to keep that part to himself.

"I can't say I've missed the constant threat of darkspawn."

Unprovoked compliments don't factor into Anders' day-to-day operations--they're an oddity, something he hasn't dealt with enough to know what to do with. There's usually a string attached. A catch. An ulterior motive for stroking his ego. They're not said just to be said.

Anders is content to chase after snide banter until the joke is over and the "snide" has overtaken the "banter," but sincerity when he can't identify the aim behind is uncomfortable. Nathaniel's comment leaves a ripple of surprised pleasure in its wake, but not enough for Anders to look too closely at it. That's always where a person runs into trouble--looking too closely, reading into things.

Easier to run his fingers through the grass and nettle the man in front of him some more. "Who are you? You're talking like someone who actually has interests outside of polishing family heirlooms and sighing in the direction of other Wardens. I'm beginning to think you were body snatched some time when I wasn't looking."

"How much do you actually know about me, Anders?" he asks then, the words coming suddenly after a few moments of thought. This has been a constant topic of needling since he arrived, and it's been prompting him to think back to just the kind of person he was when he first met the Warden-Commander. Not the most welcoming of people, he knows, but he was sure he displayed more of a personality than constant sour brooding.

Nathaniel leans back on his hands, looking at the mage with a kind of calculating curiosity. Maybe time has dulled the more irritating aspects of Anders' personality, but he can't recall that they ever really came to blows and his current level of friendly fondness is genuine.

"Honestly. I do remember us having actual conversations in between you driving me to distraction."

"Relax, I was just having fun with you," he says around a laugh. The tone of Nathaniel's reply makes him think his joking had been taken more seriously than intended. "I can't resist sometimes, you make it so easy."

There's more to Nathaniel than just being their resident cantankerous Howe, he knows, just as there's more to him (though how much they're willing to show has always been in question). The sum of Nathaniel's parts--both the ones he's aware of and the ones he isn't--amount to a companion he's trusted with his life more than once before.

In their line of work, having certainty that Nathaniel will fight with him to the last dead darkspawn or bandit or until they themselves fall needs no words. It's enough. And it's enough to consider him a friend after weeks getting to know the man and Warden.

"We talked some." An idle admittance. They'd all talked here and there, though some members of their party tolerated it with more ill humor than others. Nathaniel, for his part, had always seemed to get along the best with the Warden-Commander. "There wasn't much else to do while we were camped in the Deep Roads. Why, is there something you think I should know?"

The rogue rolls his eyes, just a little, at the reassurance. Anders is just as easy to worry sometimes as Nathaniel is to rile, and he wonders if the mage is really aware of it. It's touching, in its way - at least it shows that he values Nathaniel's opinion.

He'd found a lot of his time spent with the Warden-Commander, and Velanna once she had come around to the idea that he was not trying to insult her with genuine compliments. Oghren had always been just the wrong side of crude for extended company and Justice.. well, Justice was something else entirely. Sigrun had made him laugh at the same time as making him more aware of his various privileges, and he respected her for that. Anders, though? His was a different kind of needling.

"Nothing pressing," he replies, realising that he might have made that sound more dire than it really was. He pauses, then a smile ticks up one corner of his mouth. "You know, I think Cullen has been avoiding me since I shot him. Fancy that."

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