Rochambeau wanted to play. It wasn't anything all that new, really, given that Ro found life terribly boring if he couldn't figure out a game of some sort, and his attention was torn between the dog - whom he decided was clearly a kindred spirit and clearly needed him to play with him - and the basket. As the otter squirmed like a fussy child, eyeing a button on Flynn's shirt for a moment, Birch sighed and gave in. She sat him down on the ground and the otter immediately galloped, his long back arched, straight for the husky.
"Hihihihihihi," the otter chittered, stopping just short of the dog to give a playbow of his own. His long whispers poked straight out, much like an eager cat.
Birch sighed and ran a hand over her hair at Flynn's question, looking equal parts proud, pleased, and exasperated as she nodded.
"Aye, it's been... an adventure, to say the least," she answered. "This is Rochambeau."
Ro, who had flopped onto his back to bat up at the dog in what had to be the least intimidating posture ever, flipped back over at that and beamed good-naturedly at the young guard. When Flynn asked him if he knew what was in the basket, Ro assumed he now that he no longer had to (pretend to) be polite, and eagerly wiggled up to the basket. The otter looked up at him with the epitome of puppydog eyes, no doubt looking quite similar to Flynn's own companion.
"Food?" he offered, his chocolaty-brown eyes shining with innate friendliness and hope. From his expression, one would think he had not eaten for months, despite the furry, rounded tummy poking out from under his squat legs. Birch rolled her eyes. When Flynn pulled out the box of cakes, Ro screeched "CAAAAAAKE!" and ran circles around Flynn and the basket, skidding to a stop only when Flynn handed him his piece. With nimble fingers and a close eye on the dog, whom he liked but not enough to share his cake with, he gobbled it up and promptly turned his begging eyes on Birch after spotting her own little cake in hand. She ignored him as she spoke to Flynn, and he had to satisfy himself with grooming his paws for every bit of frosting.
Birch laughed at Flynn's comment, knowing well that, aside from the occasional upset, guard duty wasn't exactly the most thrilling task in the Castle, and nodded. Ro was now looking at the frosting bits clinging to Denahi with a considering expression and Birch nudged him much as Flynn had just done to the dog.
"Torram's been after me for ages, I just haven't had a chance to ask you," Birch leaned against the wall, at ease in the man's presence. "He was wondering if we might convince you to let us "borrow" the twins sometime? Danny's had to patch Tor up so often the last few months," - Birch couldn't help a bit of a laugh at that. Her poor ward had shot up another few inches and still hadn't the faintest idea what to do with his long limbs, resulting in all manner of injuries. - "I figured the least we could do was treat him to a camping trip, and I could use Dylan's help keeping the two bookworms safe."
She grinned at that. Dylan, on the few occasions she'd met him, had seemed to mirror her way of thinking more than his twins. They were warriors, where Danny and Torram were more scholarly sorts. |