[While Qubit straightens his lapels, Carlisle's arms cross themselves, his hands landing where Qubit patted them a moment ago as he tries to revel in that sensation just a bit longer. He offers his friend a smile, one that tugs at the corners of his mask.]
Of course. [He glances upward, also checking the time. Gauging from the artificial sunlight, they've been out there longer than he thought they'd be.] Nearly on schedule, and you've earned a rest for all the talking you've done.
[Not that Qubit doesn't usually talk, but the subjects aren't nearly so heavy, so Carlisle takes the lead with the conversation as they meander back, saving further questions for when they've sat down. He starts with some of the various teas he used to brew when he was alive, particularly sleep aids and painkillers — both of which, from the sound of it, he took in copious amounts. That leads him to talking about the plants involved in their making, including some of the ones featured in his current garden. Then there's the glyphs used to enchant the teas, some of which merely enhance the properties found in the herbs, while others change the concoction into something entirely new.
His hero, Pendlebrook Brimstone, gets a brief mention as he discusses the nature of paw plants and the Forest Folk, and by the time they reach the farm proper and pass the pen surrounding the chicken coop, he's babbling about the kitten-kind who lived near Bear Den. His voice is energetic, animated and warm as he fondly remembers the kind and his camaraderie with them.]
... And they thought then to gift me with my own pair of pants, but much like the cabin and the furniture, they hadn't any real measure of how tall the ought to be, and thus, they vastly overestimated. They wouldn't let me leave without trying them on at least once for them, yowling and howling and pawing until I yielded. They were thoughtful patients, but there was no escaping them when they'd put their minds to something. I ended up walking home in trousers where I could fit my entirety into a single leg.
no subject
Of course. [He glances upward, also checking the time. Gauging from the artificial sunlight, they've been out there longer than he thought they'd be.] Nearly on schedule, and you've earned a rest for all the talking you've done.
[Not that Qubit doesn't usually talk, but the subjects aren't nearly so heavy, so Carlisle takes the lead with the conversation as they meander back, saving further questions for when they've sat down. He starts with some of the various teas he used to brew when he was alive, particularly sleep aids and painkillers — both of which, from the sound of it, he took in copious amounts. That leads him to talking about the plants involved in their making, including some of the ones featured in his current garden. Then there's the glyphs used to enchant the teas, some of which merely enhance the properties found in the herbs, while others change the concoction into something entirely new.
His hero, Pendlebrook Brimstone, gets a brief mention as he discusses the nature of paw plants and the Forest Folk, and by the time they reach the farm proper and pass the pen surrounding the chicken coop, he's babbling about the kitten-kind who lived near Bear Den. His voice is energetic, animated and warm as he fondly remembers the kind and his camaraderie with them.]
... And they thought then to gift me with my own pair of pants, but much like the cabin and the furniture, they hadn't any real measure of how tall the ought to be, and thus, they vastly overestimated. They wouldn't let me leave without trying them on at least once for them, yowling and howling and pawing until I yielded. They were thoughtful patients, but there was no escaping them when they'd put their minds to something. I ended up walking home in trousers where I could fit my entirety into a single leg.