Red blinks, slowly, then grins hugely, baring all of her teeth. "That sounds fantastic! I wish I had someone like that, it sounds fun!"
“It’s great. Really blow of steam, shake off whatever’s bothering you. Unless it’s him that’s bothering you but hey, in that case you get to run his head into a wall or stab him or whatever and that feels pretty good. For you, not him, but then, he gets his hits in, too.”
“What was all that shit about not giving up, earlier?” Katters smirks, and taps Red’s shoulder with her knuckles. “Just a lot of talk?”
"Pff. Not giving up isn't the same as knowing how to deal with people." She smiles back, flashing a mouthful of sharp teeth. "At least I know if I'm animal, vegetable, or mineral. That's probably a start."
“Well shit, who does know how to deal with people? Mostly I don’t bother.” She looks Red up and down. “You’re bipedal,” she says, “I assume. Mammal, omnivorous or carnivorous, sentient, at least an illusion of sapience. You know, you look different — did you get a haircut?”
"I dunno, mostly I assume it's an arcane magoc I don't understand!" Red smiles. "Illusion of sapience? You wound me. Now you will nev3r learn the secret of the doors," she snarks, then pauses, a bit self-conscious again. "...you mean. The face? Well. Yes. But..." She hesitates, shakes herself, then smiles again and drawls, jokingly. "They didn't quite get their aim right every time." She rubs one of her red scars, pointedly.
“At least an illusion of sapience,” Katters says. “If it is an illusion, it’s a very good one.” She does not look over at Red’s scars, doesn’t need to to know what Red’s talking about. “You know, if my barber kept missing my hair like that, I’d stop seeing them.”
“Wow, harsh. I was going to offer you a haircut but I don’t want to know what you’d do to me if you didn’t like how it turned out.”
The silence stretches as they walk, and Red doesn't seek to break it, keeping alert, ears pricked up. Roll Perception.
Katters, Red freezes stock-still as you hear the faintest call of a horn in the distance, like in some movie about nobles hunting foxes on horseback. Red's right hand shoots out to grasp your arm, holding tight.
Katters’ ears stick straight up and she looks, wide eyed, over her shoulder at the sound. That is, as they say, not a good sound — not here. She looks back to Red. She’s tense, but she waits to see what Red’s going to do before acting.
"....so. Uh. I.. No matter what we do, it's dangerous. But. If we go off the path, your... your soul might get fucked up. But. If we don't..." She's tense, like a coiled spring, ready to bolt. "...if we don't, it might not matter how quickly we run. I... that sounds like the Wild Hunt."
