It wasn't common for it to rain this far out in Nowhere. Maybe three or four times a year, max. Today, for one reason or another, was one of those times. Clara relished in it. It started to rain about an hour into her walk and it was the perfect thing. The sun had been warming her before the clouds rushed in and the cool water fell. It felt magnificent. It was a late summer rain, one that seemed to be a blessing from the heat. Not long from now there would be fallen leaves and snow - and it would be the first time she felt autumn and winter without her best friend.

Could Francis have been killed on Mad Dog's command? She thought he had gone to the human city, but ended up in an animal city instead. Why had he lied to her? Or had he told the truth and been called away? But what could lure him from the human city to a place that they both knew they had to lay low from for a while? More questions than answers yet again.

Clara turned around and started to walk back after she felt her shoes start to squish with the rainwater and mud. What was she going to do with the two men who had forced their way into her life and her home? A partnership...it was one thing to suspect Katz wanted to work with her, but to have him speak so bluntly and lay it out so clearly was unnerving. Of course there was a matter of trust involved, trust that he would work with her and keep her safe as she would him, but there was also the frightening concept of...of...of moving on.

Katz had a point though. She couldn't stay at the house for the rest of her life. Eventually she would need money, as well as the thrill of a scam, and she would have to get back into it. To have someone with her, or two evidently from Cajun's suggestion, was appealing. It made things easier...but it came down to trust. And, of course, to moving on. Was she replacing Francis? No...no, he would understand. Life was for the living and she had to keep about it. But...but Clara was nervous. Katz would never replace Francis, but to suggest or think he might offer something similar, though it likely would pale in comparison, to what she had with Francis was...different. It was new. It was scary.

But if she refused? What would Katz do? Leave? Obtain her house? The fact that the man - both men, technically, though she was less trusting of Cajun - had heard Mad Dog's cry to end her and instead had come to her house with a lack of intent to kill spoke volumes. Hell, Katz had even brought her back to the world of the living. It would be a fairly cruel thing to do to do that just to bring her to her death for a reward. But...well, was Katz cruel? There was so much she didn't know about him.

Like Kitty, she thought. What had happened after that article? Did he ever find out the answer? Did he ever get revenge? What did that revenge look like - and would similar revenge be warranted for her own action of stealing and selling his spider before that? Why was Kitty with Bunny and Mad Dog? Had she been on the look out for someone fitting Clara's description that first time and told Katz? But how?! How could she have when Clara had been in a disguise?

The walk provided little answers and served little purpose other than to wear her out and get her sopping wet. She didn't even know how to approach the fox yet either, yet she saw her home in the distance and knew it was time to go in and bathe. The weather was cool, though not cold, and she knew she looked like a swamp monster with her hair clinging to her neck, her clothes heavy and dripping wet, and her shoes sloshing with mud. Though she felt tired, she felt calmer. There were many questions, but she wasn't as bothered by them for now.

Not wanting to clean up an excess of mud, she took off her shoes on the porch. When she opened the front door, the smell of strong spices hit her like a wall. Clara blinked, processing the scent. It smelled...good. Good enough to where her stomach rumbled. She closed the door behind her and inhaled deeply. It smelled delicious - spicy, but delicious.

"You're dripping all over the floor!" A displeased cat yowled from the living room couch. Clara turned to look, bits of water flying from the ends of her hair.

Unable to resist, she spoke dryly, "Well, obviously. It's raining and I didn't take an umbrella." She shook her head, sending more droplets of water flying. Katz, who had stood from the couch, jumped back a bit to avoid the spray. This amused Clara to no end. "What are you cooking? It smells delicious."

Before Katz could speak, the southern accented voice rang out from the kitchen. "Well thanks little darlin', but the only thing that grouchy pussycat can cook is weak tea."

"At least what I make is edible." Katz shot back. Clara walked over to the kitchen, curious what the fox was making. "You're tracking water everywhere, girl!" Katz snapped.

"It's my house," she shot back, "so either clean it or get over it." When she got to the kitchen, she winced. The spices the fox used made her eyes water. "What are you making?"

"One of my other recipes," Cajun didn't mind taking a shot at her as he stirred the pot, "homemade gumbo. Figured it'd warm you right up from that walk of yours, cherie." He glanced over at her, a motion that only suggested it as she could only see his sunglasses. Did he wear them all the time? "Have a good walk?"

Clara brought herself back from her wondering of his shades. "It was okay." Now that she was standing still, she felt her legs tingle with weariness. If she took a bath, she didn't think she'd stand back up. "I'm surprised I had the ingredients for this." She nodded towards the pot.

"Ya didn't, not entirely. But lucky for you and that rude cat in there, I always bring a bottle of my special spice blend. Mmm-hm!"

"Right...well, I'm going to shower and change. Try not to throw Katz into the pot, won't you?" The man laughed as she started her way up the stairs.

Just as she got to the top of the stairs, Katz's voice drifted up, "Girl."

Rolling her eyes, she took a step back down and glanced below to see him standing where she had left him, book in hand. "Cat." They locked eyes for a moment.

There was the sound of something clanking in the kitchen, drawing Katz's attention briefly. Whatever he was going to say, he switched to something safer, given the new guest. "Don't expect me to clean your mess."

Clara's blue eyes narrowed slightly. She caught the shift, but it did little to quell her annoyance. "Asshole." She murmured before going back up to the bathroom. As she was about to shut the door, she caught sight of Francis' bedroom, closed. Her heart gave a painful thud, but she only sighed and went about to shower.

Much like her first time with Katz, Clara had demanded that the fox ate some of the gumbo before anyone else did - which he did with glee. It didn't take too long for Clara to dive into the food though, so delicious and tempted as it smelled. After a few bites, she had to reach for a glass of milk since it was so spicy. Still, it was delicious. Not that Katz could comment on it - he refused to touch the stuff no matter how many times they showed it wasn't poisoned. Towards the end of the meal, Cajun remarked, "Katz is just too bland and too stuck up to enjoy the finer things in life, like my award-winnin' gumbo."

The red haired man narrowed his eyes. Why he was even bothering to sit at the table was a mystery to Clara. "I do not partake in garbage, Fox."

Cajun Fox slammed his hands flat on the table, making all the silverware and bowls jump. He stood as he did, his smirk transformed into one of fury. "Now that's takin' it too far, you…"

"Enough!" Clara snapped, raising her voice. She looked between the two, all too well aware that at least one held a knife. "If you're going to be staying here, Fox, you two need to stop this shit! If any of us plan on making any sort of heists, there needs to be a base level of cooperation, not this petty fighting. Do you understand? Both of you?"

Katz blinked, his tail slowly flickering. Cajun turned his eyes to her, the light reflecting off his shades. Slowly, he sat down. "Sure, mon petit patron, whatever you say."

When Clara looked back at Katz, the man raised a brow. "So...I take it that you're agreeing to my proposal."

She leaned back in her chair, her heart doing a fluttery flip at the question. It was something her walk hadn't exactly answered, prompting her to answer now. "Not entirely." She said slowly, trying to buy herself some time. She could feel the exhaustion from the walk kick in, but the food combated it nicely. "Let's call our first heist a test run. We can work out the kinks from there."

Cajun chuckled and leaned closer, his arm on the table. "Mm, I am all for the kinks, cherie." His shades lowered just so to offer a glimpse of a winking aqua-blue eye. Clara blamed the gumbo for the warmth she felt travel up her neck.

Katz growled and stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. "If you two are quite done...I will be getting ready for bed. We can discuss this 'test run' tomorrow."

Clara looked up at Katz, lost for what to say at first. Then she realized the word he used - bed. Shit. That was something they hadn't discussed. "Cajun," she turned to look at the man who had re-adjusted his sunglasses, "you...can't possibly be staying." How had she lost control of her house so quickly?

The fox waved his hand in the air. "Yeah, yeah, Katz told me all about the guy's room bein' off-limits, though he seems awfully cozy where he is." Clara glared. "I thought I'd just cozy up next to ya, cherie." The way he made it sound in his sing-songy tone distracted Clara from all sense. The flirting kept knocking her off her guard.

Before she could speak, Katz spoke up in his typical deadpan tone, "You can't."

"Let the lady speak, ya crankypants twig." Cajun protested.

Clara wasn't sure how she'd step around this landmine, but she needed to try. "Cajun," she said, trying her best to imitate Katz's cool tone, "the other bedroom is off-limits. My bed is off-limits. You can either sleep on the couch, on the floor, or in your car - whatever you decide is not my concern though."

Wow, deja vu. This seemed like a familiar situation - and that situation hadn't ended in her favor, really.

He didn't look horribly put out, but he did look suspicious with his brows raised and his head tilted towards the cat. "That's fine and dandy, girlie, but, uh, given how easily I broke in this mornin', don't ya think it would be wise to have someone guarding you inside the house?"

"If you are truly attempting to sell your services as a guardsman, you can do so just as effectively on the floor, where you belong, Fox." Katz snarled.

Clara briefly met Katz' gaze and realized something. Neither of them felt particularly proud or willing to admit that her bed had no more room besides for the pair of them. And while this had started off as an unpleasant annoyance, morphing since as just uncomfortable but tolerable, they both understood how it could be taken by Cajun. Neither wanted to deal with that, but the fact that they were trying to avoid it was just that much more damning. They had become accepting of their sleeping arrangement, but to say it aloud, well, it would force them to re-evaluate it. In short, it was a weakness that neither cared to admit to. Though, come to think of it, it was a weakness that made sense for poor, grieving Clara, but not one at all that made sense for Katz.

Even through sunglasses, the fox caught that too, the conspiratory glance. "Looks like you two be sharin' a partnership already with those looks you're givin' each other." He threw out without much thought. Katz scowled deeper but it was Clara's blush and breaking of her gaze that seemed to snap Cajun into a realization. "Wait a minute! Wait a crawdad-lickin' minute!" His jaw dropped and his sunglasses fell down his nose, revealing his wide eyes. "You two?! You two be doin' the nasty?!"

"What?!" "Be silent you fool!" Katz and Clara both shouted at the same time. "Absolutely not!" "No!"

Before Katz could further insult Clara, she spoke, her voice loud and her face hot, "We aren't doing anything at all! If you're going to think that then get out now!"

"Goin' off those guilty as sin looks, you really sayin' y'all aren't doin' the horizontal mash?" Cajun sounded disbelieving.

This time, Katz beat her to the punch - with a literal punch to Cajun's face. The fox flew out of his chair as the cat grimaced and flexed his hands, his knuckles undoubtedly on fire. Clara jumped and stood from her seat, the scratching of it against the floor barely hiding Cajun's loud curse. Before she could move, Cajun stood and ran at Katz, who managed to catch him but ended up stumbling back into the wall. The fox threw a punch and Katz grunted.

Clara wasn't entirely sure what to do. On one hand, perhaps they needed to get the obvious tension between them out and over with. On the other hand, blood was a bitch to clean from rugs and floors. And, alright, if they were going to try a test run soon, it wouldn't do well for either of them to be bruised up. Her own bruise around her neck from the first day of Katz had only faded shortly before the visit to Courage.

She made a quick decision. Bringing her fingers to her lips, she gave a sharp, shrill whistle - and boy did that bring back memories. That had been her warning whistle to the gang of teens she had been with as a thirteen year old, her and Francis. She had been look out for more than a few times, sharp as her eyes were, and gave that shrill whistle only a few times when her group, or rather the group she was with, were about to be exposed. It was the universal sign for - oh shit, scatter! It seemed to have some sort of effect now as well, for the boys froze, fists and arms raised mid-air, and looked at her.

"I hope you two got it out of your system," she said coldly though her voice shook from the adrenaline rush, "because the next time there is any in-house fighting - literally or otherwise - I will turn you out. If either of you were serious about an equal partnership, then there are some rules to learn."

It occured to Clara then, as she tried to steady her breath, that these two had never been in a partnership or otherwise. At least, not to her knowledge and certainly not when she and Francis had scammed them. They were loners, ones who dealt with their business singularly. This was new territory for them, but not for Clara. "First: don't beat the shit out of each other, it leaves marks, and marks are identifiable." Their arms fell to their sides. "Second: we are not the enemy...the outside world is. Third: if you're prepared to hit your fellow thief, then you'd better be prepared to take a hit for them. Loyalty...loyalty is needed for this. Loyalty and trust. If I can't trust either of you to contain your emotions in a heated moment," and that was saying something for Katz to have gotten so worked up, "then I might as well turn myself into the police right now. The same goes for you two."

There was silence as the pair processed what she had said. With the stillness, the adrenaline left Clara and exhaustion took her over in an overdue wave. She felt her legs shake and had to lean against the table, refusing to lose the high ground she had taken, in a sense. Bed was calling to her. Sleep was calling to her. She hadn't slept well at Coruage's or during her nap earlier, and damn she needed it badly after the emotional run of today.

While it wasn't something she cared to speak aloud, it was something to address. "Cajun, Katz and I share a bed because he's too prissy to sleep elsewhere. That is all that happens - sleep." She emphasized, adding, "And if you are going to vulgar about it, then you can go ahead and walk out of my life right now without a recipe or money because I will not be called a whore in my own home." There was a layer of thick emotion in her tone. Then she tried a slightly better tactic, one that suggested she may very well be ready for a scam or two. "In any case, Cajun," her voice softened, "you're from the bayou. You're made of stronger stuff that him. You can handle a bit of roughing it on the couch, can't you?"

And to her pleasant surprise, the ego stroking worked. "Well of course I can, cherie, I ain't got a silver spoon up any orifice like some others in this room." He gave Katz a pointed glance, but thankfully no punches were thrown. "The couch does sound an awfully lot nicer than sleeping out on some moss or the like." He said thoughtfully. "And as for the other stuff...you won't hear a peep from me, mon petit valour." He winked behind his shades. "If you say you're a lady in the streets and under the sheets, then who am I to disagree - unless you wanna show me firsthand."

There it was again, that flirting, that borderline vulgar flirting. Yet, as Clara's face and neck warmed, she found that she didn't dislike it - so long as he wasn't referencing Katz in her bed. Was it from the grief or loneliness or just not having had any romantic endeavors like that for...well, more years than she cared to admit? Clara decided, perhaps a bit belatedly, that it was just practice. He was practicing, as she had to, at honing his skills in flirtation for the scams in the future. Practice his charm, she thought, and she would practice responding to it. Of course, the shy refusals were one thing, but she'd have to lay it on thick back at him eventually - for practice, of course. It had been a lifetime since she had to engage in play so it would take a bit for her to return to her top game. At least, that was what she told herself.

"Good." She looked at Katz who had a bit of a red spot on his cheek where Cajun's first had met him. First his broken nose from her, now possibly a bruised cheek from the fox. Well, it wasn't like he didn't deserve it. "Katz? What do you say to that?"

She could see the wheels in his head turning, his mind weighing out a few possibilities to say. She wondered, not for the first time, if he had something he would like to say and would say alone, but shied away from it given their...company. "If we are to make a serious attempt at this," he gestured to 'this' with a wave of his arm, "then fine, I agree. I also plan to obtain my own mattress in the near future though."

Why did disappointment bite at Clara from his words? She brushed it aside. "Fine, whatever, first big win and you can spend your pay on a mattress." With that settled, her shoulders lowered and she felt deflated. "I can wash dishes in the morning...but for now, I will be going to bed."

Cajun waved a hand at her, his own face a dark red from Katz' fist. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about that, cherie, I'll handle it." Who was Clara to argue with that? "Sweet dreams, sugar plum," he called out, his voice sing-songy like a lullaby as she walked out.

Clara walked upstairs to brush her teeth and retire. Katz would follow when he was ready. As for possible violence, she didn't think either would engage for the remainder of the night. And even if they did, she hoped she would be asleep so heavily that she wouldn't hear it. Her slumber at Courage's had been peppered with nightmares, just as her nap this morning had. Combine that with the news of someone wanting her dead, another breaking into her house, and the long walk, she hoped she'd sleep soundly tonight. After all, she had slept soundly for all the nights before up until she left to Courage's yesterday. That had to be mean that her bed was magical or something, she thought as her head hit the pillow.