After observing Rochambeau tearing off to the other side of the room, Bethany duly followed her fairy into the kitchen, where he was exchanging greetings with his 'mate'. She didn't respond verbally to Birch's welcome, but her expression spoke a thousand words. There wasn't a trace of jealousy, suspicion, distrust or wariness there: only an unassuming acceptance. She didn't judge. Having spent some of the worst parts of his life consorting with judges and lawyers, Jacopo could think of no better quality in a familiar.
On the other hand, while Bethany clearly didn't judge Birch, there was definitely a spark of amusement in her silvery-green eyes as they passed over Minerva. Jacopo couldn't much blame her. If he was as smart as Bethany, he'd be prepared to take on any creature who bore the name wisdom.
“No rush,” he reassured Birch, just as Roch came scampering back in with his silly bell-toy. It was deposited at Bethany's paws; she gazed down at it expressionlessly. Jacopo had never thought to buy Bethany a toy. She was so mature, so wise, so elegant – the thought of her chasing a ringing ball around was absurd.
Perhaps Bethany thought so too, because she neatly stepped over the ball and picked Rochambeau up instead – gently, by the scruff of his neck with her teeth. She carried him back into the living room and Jacopo, who had never seen such behaviour in her before, followed curiously. The golden jackal promptly made herself at home by jumping up onto the sofa and lying down. She dropped the otter firmly between her front two paws and started to wash him with her tongue, like a mother would a cub.
Shaking his head at the inexplicable behaviour of animals, Jacopo returned to the kitchen where Birch was finishing up the cooking.
“Do you need a hand?” He asked, a little awkwardly – not quite sure what to do with himself now.
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