Chapter 24: Sleeping Arrangements

McKale was fidgeting, plopped down in the room's only armchair and twiddling his thumbs madly, stopping every once in a while to reach back and tug the end of his ponytail. Like his hands, McKale's eyes refused to stay in one place, flitting between the two strange men, the size of which he had never seen before (although McKale was desperately trying to restrain himself from asking about their coats, rather dashing looking things, really), and back to Shar and Cy. Shar had returned to his natural form and curled himself up on the arm of the chair, more than one of his many limbs forced to trail down to the ground. He was getting too big for that. What was taking Jeffrey so bloody long? McKale stirred, leaning back and craning his neck to stare down the hall. BANG, Jeffrey's door would open and out he would come, Bishop fellow in tow, and clear up this whole rummy sitch. "Shar?" McKale jerked his head downward to see Cyilume trotting toward their armchair, tugging urgently on Shar's tail. Shar lifted his head from their cradle of arms, brow raised. "Do you know what's going on?" Cy glanced over her shoulder at the tiger-men,” Do you know who they are?" "Yes!" said McKale, rather loudly. He slapped a hand over his mouth before lowering his tone and speaking again,” I’d rather like to know as well, what?" Shar flicked his gaze between them and shook his head, before lowering his chin back to his arms. He did know, of course. He knew perfectly well. Not through any amount of research or excessive observation, but simply because Jeffrey's mind was painfully open to him and he could read every thought and flittering emotion that he was feeling. Erich Emmanuel Bishop, as Jeffrey's mind was happy to inform him, was someone who Jeffrey did not like, and with good reason. The man, through Jeffrey's feeling and thoughts, seemed to be something of a dirty scoundrel and a spoiled brat. No one Jeffrey enjoyed making company with. Shar wished to hell and back that Jeffrey was here right now to tell them that himself. "So, um, What-ho, chaps,"McKale's voice finally broke the uneasy silence that had descended down upon them. He shifted forward in his seat, waving a hand tentatively at the two tiger-men across from them. One of them, the one sporting a white pelt, allotted a little smile to cross his lips. He nodded his head, just as the second (in fashionable orange) lifted his meaty hand and wiggled his fingers back at McKale. "Why, you're not unfriendly at all, are you?" McKale grinned and slid off the chair, striding across the room and offering his hand to them. They took it, one by one, and gave him a quick, firm shake. McKale ceremoniously plopped himself down between them with a grin,” I’m Tierney McKale, and I'm most pleased to meet you." "Tor,"said the one in the orange, shifting toward the arm of the chair to give McKale a little more room between them. "And Dagstae,"said the one in white, who didn't bother shifting much at all, but did turn in his seat to face McKale,"We're brothers." McKale squinted his eyes at them. They did seem to have a few likenesses between them, didn't they? Both big and brawny, with those pale blue-brown eyes and very little hair on the tops of their heads. He could see the resemblance. It was somewhat of a relief that there weren't more than two fellows running about making chaps the size of that. Jeffrey's bedroom door creaked open. Instantly McKale, Shar, and Cy were up out of their seats and scrambling toward the edge of the hall. Bishop strode out first, chin held high and cane thudding against the floor with every step he took. He tipped his head to McKale as he passed, flashing him a bright, toothy smile before showing himself into the living room and taking up the seat McKale had only just vacated between Tor and Dagstae. Jeffrey's appearance came a little slower, but when he did venture out into the hall he was fully dressed in suit and tie, with hair brushed back in customary ponytail. McKale could see the ribbon, matching his own, from his spot against the hall corner. Shar ventured forward, touching his mind to Jeffrey's, no words or thoughts, just an attempt to make his presence known. Jeffrey gave a shiver at it and looked away. "Jeffrey? You all right, old thing?" "Yes, sir,” he stopped short of them, straightening his suit jacket and absently brushing at a wrinkle he must have missed while ironing,” Sir, I would like to request Mr. Bishop reside with us until after Christmas holidays, if you have no objections." "Oh!" McKale looked a little taken aback but quickly composed himself, straightening a little and puffing out his chest,” Certainly, Jeffrey, I've never denied you the company of a few friendly old chaps for Christmas ever before, have I? Just today, in fact, I've invited that nice bartender, Burnig you know, over for Christmas dinner." Jeffrey pressed his lips together and nodded,” Very well, sir." McKale wrinkled his brow. Jeffrey looked tired still, perhaps more so than before although McKale could not fathom why. Having a couple of large, dangerous looking fellows barge into one's house is certainly exsaughsting on the nerves, but McKale rather assumed it would get the adrenaline pumping through one's system. "You look like you need a bit of lie down, Jeffrey," McKale curled his hands against the crook of Jeffrey's elbow,” Perhaps you should get back to that nap, what?" "N-,"Jeffrey cleared his throat, coughing into his fist,” No, sir, if it is preferable I'd like to begin the evening's meal." McKale peered around the corner at the clock. "A late supper is preferable to none at all, is it not, sir?" "Ah, yes, very well, Jeffrey. A cooking you shall go, if you're so insistent. But right to bed afterwards,” he wagged a finger at him. Jeffrey frowned, but nodded,” Very well, sir." "Now!" McKale extracted his arms from his and clapped his hands together, rounding the corner,” I’ve got guests to attend to!" .:.:.::.:.:. So Jeffrey cooked. Shar had been shooed back into the living room at his insistence ("keep McKale out of trouble"), and Cyilume had stayed put with him, refusing to listen to his prodding to tend to McKale and that he was fine. (Not that Shar believed it either, but if keeping McKale company would ease his bond's mind, if just a little, he'd do it. After all, he could speak to Jeffrey about his...current frame of mind, when settings were more private). "So,” said Cy, hanging upside down on the kitchen counter, her head pressed against one of the bottom cupboards,” Who’s Mr. Bishop?" "An old friend, Cy, he's not important." Cy frowned. Jeffrey hadn't been being very open with her, and a quick check with Shar said that Jeffrey's thoughts were as willingly given as his words, at this point. "Why's he upsetting you?" "He's Erich Emmanuel Bishop, Cy, anyone who knows that name, and what it implies, is upset by it." Cy could hear the barely restrained growl threatening to lace itself with his words. She shifted a little closer to him and craned her head upward,” Why’s he here?" "He believes himself in danger and needs a place to stay until the...situation subsides." "He doesn't seem to be all that unpleasant." Jeffrey whipped a carrot out of the fridge and slapped it on the cutting board, taking a knife to it rather vigorously,” He never does." "McKale seems to like him." Jeffrey froze, his knife stilling against the cutting board. He turned his head slowly to peer across the dividing counter between the kitchenette and the living room. Indeed, McKale seemed to have gotten rather comfortable with him. One of the two men had moved to the armchair, allowing for McKale to take a seat beside Bishop. Their chatter rose up about the living room, interrupted only by the occasional chortle or bark of laughter. Bishop raised his head from McKale, locking eyes with Jeffrey. He shot him a quick smile, eyebrow quirked. Jeffrey looked away hurriedly. Cy wrinkled her nose and flipped herself upright, leaping down from the counter and resting beside Jeffrey's legs,” Jeffrey?" Jeffrey opened his mouth to speak, but McKale's voice floated over it. "Jeffrey!" He slid off the couch, sauntering toward the kitchenette. Jeffrey set his knife down a second time and turned to face McKale,"Yes, sir?" "We're trying to figure out sleeping arrangements, you don't have any preferences, do you?" Again, Jeffrey prepared to speak,"S-" "I mean,” said McKale, stirring a little,” We were thinking of leaving you, Shar, and Cy alone, seeing as you've already got yourselves worked out, then perhaps Tor or Dagstae could sleep on the couch, and the other, and Erich, of course, could bunk with m-." "No!" McKale stumbled backward a little, gaping,” Jeffrey?" Jeffrey shut his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He exhaled hard enough to make his arms shake, and pressed his hands against the dividing counter,” My apologies sir, I was simply concerned about the possibility of you...compromising your gender, by bunking with a pair of strangers." "Oh,"McKale's eyes widened and he nodded his head,” Of course, Jeffrey! I mean, bugger, I wasn't thinking at all, was I Jeffrey? That won't work at all well, will it?" He tapped a finger to his chin, brow furrowed. Behind him, spread across the couch and toying with that blasted cane of his again, Erich rose his eyes to Jeffrey's and licked his lips, before flicking his gaze back to McKale. Jeffrey bit his tongue, dropping his hands to his sides so he could curl them into fists without anyone (other than Cy, who was watching intently from the floor) from noticing,” Sir?" he said, finally,” May I make a suggestion?" "Oh, certainly Jeffrey! Go right ahead." "Perhaps it would be best if you shared your bed with Shar and Cy, whilst I take the couch, and Mr. Bishop and his companions take my bed." "Ah,"McKale chewed his lip, brow furrowed,” That’s all well and fine in theory, but I don't think both Tor and Dagstae will fit in the same bed with another person,” he glanced back at them, before leaning across the counter,” They’re rather...large, after all, Jeffrey." .:Jeffrey?:. Jeffrey had never been terribly good as sending his own thoughts through the bond link, finding it much more preferable to let Shar do that whilst Jeffrey spoke aloud. Now, of course, he would not be allotted that chance. .:Bishops' going to suggest something. I think you should agree with it:. Jeffrey's brow furrowed..:If I may....why?:. Shar did not reply. He did, on the other hand, slip off the arm of the couch to join Cy at their bond's side. "I think I have a solution,” said Bishop, rising out of the seat. Instantly Tor and Dagstae were standing as well. Bishop rolled his eyes at them and signaled for them to sit down. He strolled across the room, pressing himself against McKale's side, and smirked,” Perhaps you, myself, and your employer could take residence in one bed, Tor and Dagstae in another, and Shar and Cy could take the couch." Jeffrey's eyes shot toward Shar. .:Shar?!:. .:It's all right.:. .:Mr. Tah, it is very far from being-:. .:Wilbur Winquist wants him:. Jeffrey stiffened, brow furrowed .:I know:. Of course he knew that, but how, by Jove, did Shar? .:If you get close to him you'll be able to give him to Winquist. McKale will keep his...her watch, of course, but you won't have to deal with Bishop ever again.:. Ever again. Jeffrey uncurled his fists, letting one hand sink into Shar's mane. He locked eyes with Bishop,” Very well, Mr. B- Erich, if Sir McKale agrees to the arrangement I will as well." "Right-ho, Jeffrey!" McKale beamed at them,” Sounds rather sporting to me." "Very good, sir,” Jeffrey bowed his head and turned back to the cutting board. "Shall vee continue with our conversation?" "Oh, most certainly, Mr. Bishop. Gulliver's travels, excellent book." .:I do hope:. thought Jeffrey, eying Shar out of the corner of his eye .:That you have a plan, Mr. Tah:. Shar grinned and looked away.