Another day, another rat bagged. Bleeding cutpurse. Couldn't even wait until the dogs were out of sight. Drumming her fingers on her baton, Beka waited (mostly) patiently to be turned out and back to her bed. Even this late into the watch, the dogs were still alert. For when the Rouge slipped into the yard and caught up to her on her way out the gates, heads snapped around.
"Great Mother, you think they would trust a cove", he murmured to himself. Her laughter obviously stated otherwise, and he looked almost insulted.
"I am a respective cove, I'll let you know. Just cuts my heart to pieces to know ya' think otherwise."
"Knowing you, Rosto, there is more reason for you to be here than to be stared at by these loobies: I want to know why." Lately, he had been avoiding her, making his appearance at the kennel all the more suspicious.
"Must I have more of a reason than to wanting to walk my favorite gixie home? Now, you must think me quite the barbarian if I would only come here for my own gain!" Only he could pull off such a look of insult while still teasing her with his eyes. Pausing, she turned to him and looked him in the eye.
"Quite right, rouge, what do you have to gain from this?" Raising an eyebrow she paused and looked at him. Stopping to look at her, he paused noticed the lines in her face were deeper: she hadn't been sleeping well.
"Tis' only your favor I wish to gain, fair lady." Unsmiling she fell in step next to him, relying on him to part the crowd. Vying his around an over turned barrel, Rosto seemed undaunted by her indifference. Wanting to simply get home to her bed and her cat, Beka was happy to listen to his prattle and prose when people parted for him. Xylophone music was floating in the air throughout the market, until they reached her door shortly.
"You really are a different kind of mot, Beka Cooper." Zealously, he leaned in a placed a kiss on her lips before quickly back stepping to avoid the imamate punch.
"And you was all big about not having any motive, you loobie" Beka murmured to herself.
"But, deary, how would ya know I cared if I din'ta come an' surprise you now and again?" Coming up to her again he smiled. "Didn't I tell you you were my favorite gixie?"
"Even so, Rosto the Piper, one can't go about stealin' kisses!" Feeling frustrated, if not warmer, Beka turned to leave. Groaning in exasperation, Rosto took hold of her shoulder and turned her to face him.
"Here, now girly, don't get all defensive on me. I'm no cove to come pestern' if I didn't mean anything by it."
"Just look here, you! Keep your poxy kisses to yourself! Leave me be Rosto. Might be that this gixey just doesn't like to play those games. Not with you." Only then did she meet his eyes.
"Pox, Beka, why do you have to be so damn complicated? Quick to condemn, but not to believe."
"Rosto, just go back to your Court and leave a tired mot get to her bed." She turned from him again, too tired to keep up the appearance of anger. "'Tisn't your place to kiss a mot when you have others, anyways."
"Unless I don't have any other mots, dear."
"Varying from the norm than." Wanting only to get to sleep, she finally gave up on conversation and slipped inside, leaving the Rouge alone in the street. "Xeric as the Great Southern Desert, the little git: afraid of the big bad Rouge comin' in an' bein' nice." Ya didn't get smacked, though, a small voice said. Zig-Zagging his way back home, Rosto could only hope she would come around eventually.
