School House Road

        Beacon Harbor's first schoolhouse was located along a narrow dirt
road that has grown, as the city has, to be a four lane thoroughfare. The
original schoolhouse is still located along the north side of the road,
the Beacon Harbor Preservation Society allowing tours between noon and
four every weekend. The sprawling campus of Beacon Harbor University
dominates most of the southern side of the street, then on for many acres
southward. Known for its expert faculty, award winning programs and top
notch development, it is the highlight of the academic growth of city and
situated nicely across from the old schoolhouse. Dormitories and other
student housing line the northern side of the street, as well as the
occasional Fraternity or Sorority house.

Kitty's left a couple of messages on Seishi and Holmes's answering
machine, but given that there's no telling how frequently the thing's
unearthed, they've largely been nonspecific. The house isn't giving any
answers, either: with the snow covering the lawn - and equally covering
the car parked in the driveway - and only a couple of lights on, one
upstairs and the living room down, it looks like it might have settled in
for a good solid couple of months of hibernation. Still, Seishi can at
least tell for certain that there /is/ somebody around downstairs.

Enveloped in a long, heavy-duty grey wool coat, Seishi tromps through the
snow up to the front door and, encouraged by that handy awareness, knocks
firmly several times. Tap, tap, tap. Then she shoves her hands deep into
her pockets and waits, entertaining herself by breathing out thick clouds
of white steam into the cold air.

For once, the door is /not/ opened promptly. There's a few moments' pause
and the twitch of a curtain at one of the nearby windows - /then/ it's
opened. "Seishi, hey." Kitty's dressed pretty much as usual for her, with
the addition of a heavy knit sweater in green and black. She flashes a
quick grin and holds the door. "How're things? Besides cold?" At least
she's gotten enough sleep that the dark circles under her eyes are mostly
faded, and she's not looking so pale. Somewhat, but not /that/ much.

Seishi flashes a quick, crooked grin. "Cold," she answers dryly, and
doesn't ask if she can come in, just waits for the doorway to be cleared
so that she can step through. And gets straight to the point. "Listen, I
have some news for you that may help with that thing you said Claire was
trying to tell you about."

Kitty's eyes widen, and the door is closed even more promptly than normal
- she doesn't bother with the normal politenesses about 'sit down' and
'tea?', just turns and takes the couple of steps back to her desk. Paper's
stolen out of the printer, a pen is rustled up from where it was hiding
behind the laptop. "Okay, you now have more of my attention than I thought
I was /capable/ of today. What's up?"

Seishi does pause briefly to begin unbuttoning her coat, but starts
talking before she's finished shrugging it off. "Unless my memory deceives
me, you specifically mentioned black feathers and a red balloon, right?"
With the coat in her hands, she begins looking for a place to hang it up,
occasionally glancing over her shoulder at Kitty to see the reaction to
her question.

There is, thankfully, closet space available - quite a bit of it, really,
given that the residents haven't had time or inclination to collect a lot
of clothing yet. Well. One of them's had inclination, but she hasn't had
time to shop in a while. Kitty's perched herself on the corner of the
computer desk, watching Seishi intently. She's grabbed one of the
tenth-hand textbooks to serve as backing for the paper. "Right. A little
girl with a red balloon, black feathers - sometimes they change back and
forth into each other."

Seishi nods decisively as she turns back from stowing her coat. "Right. I
visited a friend some days back, and he mentioned to me that he'd seen a
little girl with a red balloon in his apartment. I gather he'd have
thought less of it if she hadn't been knee-deep in piece of his furniture.
He said she spoke, but he couldn't hear what she was saying - like she was
a long way off."

Kitty comments, almost absent, "Jack said he saw her, too. Down at the
Point." But that's a tangent, more of a hopeful prompt toward Seishi
continuing than anything else. She's still watching, focused on Seishi -
paying, as she said, a startling amount of attention.

Seishi nods, more in acknowledgement than anything else, and goes on.
"While I was there, my friend went to open a cabinet. Black feathers
started pouring out - hundreds of them, in this thick cascade. When I
tried to touch them, they melted away. I thought you'd want to know."

Pen glides over paper, absent - long straight lines rather than the quick
scribble of writing. "Like snow, but not quite?" Kitty questions. "Melting
away, leaving something like ash for a second, then gone?" Her eyes are a
little widened. "Want to know - yeah. Yeah. Thanks. I wonder what they're
after your friend for."

Seishi spreads her hands, replying, "They just kind of... dissolved. I
told him you might want me to bring you to meet him sometime, so he's
prepared, if you'd like to talk to him yourself. I don't know what part
he's supposed to play in any of this, though."

"I'd like to." Kitty bends her head for a moment, studying the paper, then
puts it and the pen /and/ the textbook aside and slides off the desk. "To
quote Claire, 'the more you know, the less you panic,' right? And - some
of this lunacy is starting to make sense, believe it or not. Or possibly
I'm just losing my mind. Feel free to point it out if you think so. Want
something to drink? Tea, coffee, hot chocolate, anything?"

Seishi shakes her head. "No, that's all right. Thanks." A very brief grin,
and she adds, "If at any point you'd like to attempt to share the sense
that it's making, feel free, because I'm very confused."

"In that case," Kitty replies somewhat wryly, "you'd probably better sit
down."

Seishi obediently turns and settles herself down on the couch, bracing the
heels of her hands against the edge of the cushion and leaning forward
attentively. "Okay," she says, "I'm sitting down. Hit me."

Kitty comes over to the couch area, snagging the facing chair. "First
off," she says, "I could be wrong about any or all of this; this is based
on Claire, dreams, weird hallucinations, people with good reasons to lie,
and stuff /Constantine/ told me, for heaven's sake, so it's not exactly
reliable." She flashes a grin. "I think, though, that we're getting
dragged into yet /another/ fight that under saner circumstances we'd take
one look at and find polite ways to run away. Claire's trying to organize
us on one side, and give us the information and preparation we need to get
things to one of the positive and stable futures she sees. The other side
is possessing people, trying to talk Jack into suicide - Jack's not having
any of it, fortunately - and, with that failing, I think it's starting to
consider murder a viable option. There's a good chance that anyone Claire
talks to, and probably anyone who runs into the girl and the feathers and
so forth, is on its list. It seems to /prefer/ driving people to despair
and getting them to give up on their own rather than killing them
outright, though. At a guess."

Seishi listens to all of this, a crease forming in her brow around the
phrase "getting dragged into another fight" and deepening as the
explanation continues. When Kitty's done, Seishi rocks back a bit in her
seat, frowning, and finally pronounces, "Shit."

Kitty says cheerfully, "Oh, it gets better. You know all too well," and
all too personally, "how Constantine runs across, now and then, references
to stuff that needs to be dealt with or kept down or whatever or the world
comes to an end in some creatively nasty way..."

Seishi sighs heavily, frown turning into something even less pleased.
"What is it this time?" she wonders in tones of deep resignation.

Kitty turns her hands palm-up. "No idea. See, this tower that Jack's been
dreaming about - it seems to factor into this somehow; something's trying
to tear it down, and apparently if Jack can get there, he might be able to
stop it somehow. Constantine /thinks/ he's run across references to it.
He's not sure, because even the complete and utter psycho nutjobs who
write the kind of stuff he reads aren't willing to talk about it
directly."

From the kitchen, the crackle of radio-static, the lowest hum of a low
frequency. Can it even be heard? Somewhere in the distance, far, far away,
Linda Ronstadt sings, mournful and crooning. "...'cause I've done
ev'rything I know... To try and... make you mine. And I think I'm gonna
love you... for a long, long time..." Was the radio even /on/? Feathers
and red balloons. Roses. The tower. Pieces, like a puzzle, falling all
together. It fades out again, easily enough; perhaps it was only a stray
AM transmission.

Kitty glances over her shoulder at the kitchen, looking uneasy for a
moment - then back to Seishi, then toward the kitchen again, at which she
mutters under her breath, "Oh, /fuck/ you."

Seishi blinks, head turning instinctively toward the kitchen and the sound
of the radio, as her expression shades between disgusted and pensive.
"...I think that was playing at James' apartment, just before we saw the
feathers," she muses. "I'm not sure. I didn't really notice, because the
radio was on anyway."

Kitty grimaces. "I'll have to look it up and add it to the list, then.
Sometimes it's apparently easier for the people involved to talk in
somebody else's words. Which I suppose I can understand, but - figuring
out what's relevant to which is a /pain/."

Seishi agrees, very wryly, "No kidding." She hasn't forgotten the dream.

Kitty musters a glance of amused apology. "Sorry?" She leans back in the
chair. "We're getting someplace, though. We finally are. It took
Constantine being an idiot and accidentally putting himself into a coma,
and a /lot/ of help from Claire, and Claire's opposite number slipping up
- but we're finally starting to get a clue. Which, of course, is just
going to make us bigger targets, but it's not like /that's/ anything new."

All the same, Seishi is still frowning. "What you said before," she
begins, finally, "about what this unknown tries to do to people - James,
my friend who saw the girl with the balloon - he's really not in great
shape right now. I don't think it would take very much."

"Then we'd probably better try and keep an eye on him." Kitty's focusing
on Seishi again, leaning forward herself a little. "Reassure him he's not
losing his mind, for one thing. And - well, an eye on more than his state
of mind. One of this thing's targets got hit by a car a few days ago."

Seishi nods, still frowning a little. "I already made an effort on that
first part. He was pretty relieved when I told him that this stuff happens
around here, and that it wasn't him. But I need to drop in on him tomorrow
and talk to him about this. If you want to come, I can call you before I
go..."

"Safety in numbers?" Kitty quips. "Love to. Moral support if nothing else
- and I /promise/ I won't do any talking to him from partway inside his
furniture."

Seishi drawls, "That would probably not help his state of mind."

Kitty agrees, "Thus the promise. See? I'm all behaving." She flicks a
grin, then bends forward further - leaning down and stretching, fingertips
almost brushing the floor. "And so not used to having free time. What with
finishing one project and putting another one on hold - /oh/! Almost
forgot. I'm exercising the great and solemn duty of passing the buck:
could you tell Holmes that Erik would like him to stop by? Erik, uh, has a
Hulk he doesn't know what to do with, and wants to beg for advice. He'd've
come by himself except for the broken leg problem."

Well, THAT floored her. Seishi blinks at Kitty - and blinks again - and
finally says slowly, "Well, I'll tell him, but I don't know if he'll
really be any *help...*"

The expression on Kitty's face is unmistakably a desperate attempt not to
laugh. "Yeah. I've been trying to figure out some way to get /that/
conversation on tape for sharing around."

Seishi grins wryly. "Yeah. I'll tell him - and go with him to keep him
from being excessively rude - but Holmes-sama's own MO is to catch them
and let everyone else figure out what to do with them, so I don't know
what help Erik thinks he'll be. Is Erik okay, though? You said broken
leg?"

Kitty shakes her head ruefully. "Broken leg, fractured arm, quite a few
cuts and some very impressive bruising. I dropped off the last of our
prescription painkillers and sicced Pete on him. He could really use a
hospital visit, but that's, well, not really an option." She pauses. "Oh.
And, uh, don't try to call his apartment? He, uh, apparently incinerated
the phone. Probably when they told him not to bother coming back to work."

Seishi winces. "Oh, dear. All right. No phone calls. I wonder how Emma
dealt with that. Or is she still staying with him; do you know?"

"Well," Kitty muses, "she was when I talked to him day before yesterday.
He was ... not looking forward to trying to explain the injuries. Among
other things." Bright green casts, for instance.

Seishi can't help but laugh. "I bet. I'll pay him a visit and see if I
can't help him smooth things out a little. He could probably use a hand."

"I think he'd appreciate it, yeah." Kitty leans back more comfortably in
her chair, absently tugging at her sweater. "Since, well, spectacular
amounts of pain. Poor guy."

Seishi admits, "I might be able to help with that, too. We'll see."

Flicker of a blink from Kitty. "... Well, cool." She hesitates a moment
longer, but settles on not asking.

Seishi inclines her head for a moment, then looks up again. "Any other
news?" she wonders. "I haven't seen you in a while..."

Kitty gives in and pulls her feet up onto the chair, crossing her legs and
letting her knees rest against the arms. "Well. Constantine stopped by and
gave us a Chanukah present - a Tropical Caribbean Menorah, complete with
jellyfish. Be proud; I did /not/ hit him with it. I need to get the sanity
together to send out wedding invitations - the only ones that've actually
/gone/ are the ones headed overseas. Jack's not doing any better, but not
doing much worse. Kate seems to've stopped panicking. The Humanity's Fist
group got rounded up without too much damage - Pete's frayed nerves and
the lot of us coming to Raven Darkholme's attention was the worst of it.
Sorry I didn't tell you about that before, but Raven's a nasty piece of
work, and I'm /much/ happier without her knowing what the lot of us are
capable of - so we only took people she already knew something about.
Which meant me and Pete and Piotr Rasputin, didn't let her see anybody
else." Kitty takes a breath. "And I, um." Suddenly her lap seems to be
fascinating. "Quit. Um. Stealing things."

Seishi blinks again. Several times. And takes a deep breath, and addresses
points of interest in order: "I'd be more interested in whether or not
*Pete* hit Constantine with the jellyfish menorah, I've *met* Raven
Darkholme, and," beat; another breath; and finally an emphatic, "*good.*"

The grin Kitty cracks at the first of those shades into worry at the
second - not helped by the pause - and then, finally, relief. "No, no,
Pete doesn't throw things at people when he loses his temper. He just
yells." Well. There was one notable exception that comes to mind offhand,
but there were significant extenuating circumstances associated with
/that/. "And in this case, he was more amused than anything else. Made a
crack about the candles burning off the tentacles." Flicker of that grin
again, then it's gone. "And - yeah. I've been ... wanting to get out of it
for a while now, but - I kept thinking that we needed just a /little/ more
margin, a little more reserve, and then I'd quit." She shrugs. "Like a
smoker saying he's gonna quit, really, right after things get better at
work. Then Constantine started hacking up his lungs after we got him
dragged out of the coma, and I did a lot /closer/ thinking about that
smoking analogy. No more, thanks." Beat, and another breath, almost after
Seishi's pattern. "You've met Darkholme?"

Seishi quirks an answering grin at that, inclines her head, and chooses to
simply answer the question: "She runs the shelter called Solace House. I
volunteer there occasionally. Mostly to keep an eye on things. It was
endorsed by the mayor, for one thing, and Holmes-sama mentioned being
suspicious of it."

"In that case," Kitty replies with a quick half-smile, "I'm /really/ glad
I didn't try to talk you into coming in with us. I was expecting her to
have an /interest/ in what we were doing that night - I wasn't expecting
her to /show up/. And, to be honest, I don't trust her as far as I can
throw Andersen Plaza."

Seishi laughs quietly as she says, "I'll be very careful while I'm at the
shelter, then. Wouldn't want to get myself into any more trouble than is
strictly necessary.:

Kitty makes a brief face. "Yeah. I mean, Holmes could probably figure out
something to do about her, but she's not an amateur and she's got a whole
lot to draw on if she decides somebody's trouble. Pete and I are pretty
much trying to convince her we're not, maybe get her eye off of us a
little." She pauses, glancing back at Seishi. "We're being careful."

Seishi returns dryly, "One would hope."

Kitty snickers. "Look. We're /not/ John."

Seishi laughs. "I know that."

"We are /not/," Kitty adds amusedly, "going to do the equivalent of 'What
are we doing tonight, Brain?' 'The same thing we do every night, Pinky: a
high-powered divination ritual on an uncontrolled clairvoyant!'"

That does it. Seishi cracks up laughing, doubling over on the seat of the
couch with her arms wrapping around her midsection.

Kitty regards her delightedly. "And somehow, really, it's only that funny
because you /know/ he /did/. You really should've trademarked that
'colossal idiot' line - you could probably double your income on the
royalties alone."

Seishi finally manages to gasp, "Don't I know it. Oh, God. Is *he* all
right?"

"Probably more so than he wanted to be." Kitty's eyes dance. "I /told/ you
he was hacking up his lungs. The healer that brought him out of the coma?
Fixed the smoking issues, too. Which is great for his health, but -
coughing up /how/ many years of carcinogenic crud? All at once?" She's
taking positive glee in saying that.

Seishi shudders, clearly thinking of that very thing. "I don't want to
know. Although maybe we should display him to Holmes-sama as a warning."

Kitty looks thoughtful, then angelic. "And maybe to Pete too, for that
matter. Better hurry, though; it supposedly was only going to last a few
days."

"Ah, well." Seishi shrugs good-naturedly. "I doubt it would stop him,
anyhow. He *is* a scientist; one assumes he knows what he's doing to his
lungs. He just doesn't care."

"Or," Kitty completes, faintly amused, "is waiting for an actually
effective method of quitting to be developed, so he doesn't waste his
time. Or something."

Seishi agrees, "Or something like that."

Kitty confirms sagely, "Some arcane working of the male mind." Pause. "I
mean, it's /gotta/ be a guy thing. None of /us/ smoke."

Seishi objects, "I know a lot of guys who don't smoke." Pause. "...Not too
many *here,* but..."

"A weird English guy thing?" Kitty suggests helpfully. "Admittedly, I know
a couple weird English guys who don't smoke, either. Including one who
makes our bunch look ... normal. But."

Seishi shrugs again. "Who knows?" she wonders cheerfully. "Not me."

"Philip Morris," Kitty decides. "Clearly. How /are/ things between you and
your pet smoker?"

Seishi considers her response carefully before replying, with a quirked
brow and a vaguely rueful expression, "...Interesting."

"Now I'm curious." Kitty leans forward again, elbows resting on her knees.
"Share? Or mock me for being nosy, either way."

A bit more hesitation. "We went out on a *date," Seishi says at last.
"It's all very peculiar."

"Normally," Kitty says cautiously, "this is the sort of peculiar we refer
to as 'good.' I hope."

"Well, yes," says Seishi. "It was good. It's just... surprising, you know?
Very strange. I haven't quite figured out what's going on yet. And
neither, from what I can tell, has he."

It takes a few moments for Kitty to consider that. "Weirdly," she admits,
"that sounds like it might be a good sign. I mean - I'd /worry/ if he
suddenly seemed to think he knew what he was doing. It's /not/ the kind of
thing you can learn out of a book."

Seishi has to grin at that. "Well, I don't know. Barbara once suggests
Dating For Dummies."

Given the strangled sound Kitty makes, it's probably a /good/ thing she
didn't wind up making tea. "You're /kidding/!"

"Well," Sei amends, "not to his *face.* But it was a thought."

"A thought to be sealed in a lead vault someplace if I ever wanna be able
to keep a straight face in front of him again," Kitty protests. Funny how
it doesn't sound like a complaint.

Seishi makes a "pffft" sound. "Oh, come on. If I can deal with it, and I
*live* with the man, you can cope."

"True," Kitty admits. And grins. "You /still/ win."

Seishi's grin could almost be described as cocky. Or smug. "I do, don't
I?"

"You do." Kitty shakes her head mournfully. "You do. 'Way out in front of
the rest of us. I don't know how you manage."

Seishi settles back against the cushions, grinning. "Want to know my
secret?" she asks brightly.

Kitty eyes Seishi warily for a moment. "You sound way too cheerful for my
own good. Yes. Desperately."

Seishi leans forward, confidentially, bracing her hands on the edge of the
seat, and says in conspiratorial tones, "I have no idea either."

Okay, now it's Kitty's turn to collapse back in giggles, leaning against
the arm of the chair. "Clearly," she manages, "it's a miracle. Somebody
tell the Vatican or something."

"But," Seishi protests, wide-eyed, somehow managing to keep a straight
face, "I'm not Catholic."

"That's okay," Kitty replies, equally wide-eyed and innocent. "Neither was
Peter, and they made /him/ a saint, right?"

Seishi has to think about that one. "...Good point," she finally concedes.

"Fortunately," Kitty adds cheerfully, "I don't think /any/ of us are
Catholic. So you're probably safe."

Seishi nods thoughtfully. Or, at least, mock-thoughtfully. Or something.
"There is that," she agrees. "Half of us aren't even Christian. So."

Which prompts a thoughtful look on Kitty's part as well. 'What /do/ people
do for the usual winter holiday season around here?" she wonders aloud.

A little more serious, Seishi remarks, "Well, last year, Holmes-sama made
Christmas dinner. It was very Dickensian. Goose. I'm sure you and Pete
would be welcome this year."

"Goose," Kitty repeats. "And I remember you mentioning quail once." Pause.
"Sometimes I wonder where that man shops. Then I reconsider and flee back
to sanity."

Seishi agrees sagely, "'Don't ask, don't tell' is a good policy in these
situations."

"Not to mention 'flee in terror if necessary,'" Kitty contributes. "But I
suppose that's usually from the stuff that /isn't/ intended to be food."

"Yes," Seishi agrees dryly. "The food tends, surprisingly, to be very
good. When we're not living off peanut butter and instant ramen, that is."

"What, no Chinese takeout?" Kitty teases. "That's the one terrible thing
about living down here - the takeout food may be fast, but it's /awful/.
Too many students." Oh, yes, she's amused. And then she pauses. "Wait. You
just said - You said it /twice/, and it didn't even occur to me." Pause.
"Holmes can /cook/?!"

Seishi grins broadly. "He in fact can. I think he mentioned doing a stint
at a four-star restaurant once. I wouldn't put it past him. Christmas
dinner will be especially grand; he likes Christmas."

Kitty has to pause for a moment again. Finally, she admits, "It seems a
little strange to think of him liking anything beyond puzzles, the violin,
and you. He makes it kinda hard to remember that he's still a human being
sometimes."

Seishi quirks a brow and says, grinning, "You're telling *me?*" But after
a pause, she reconsiders that, admitting, "It's not *so* difficult for me,
any more. You get used to him, I guess." Another pause, and then she adds,
mischievously, "I believe he also likes baseball."

Kitty blinks at Seishi, at that last. "You /have/," she says slowly, "to
be kidding." Pause. "/Please/ tell me you're kidding." She tries for
something coherent beyond that, but somehow, nothing seems to be coming to
mind.

Seishi does no such thing. Instead she says cheerfully, "Well, it only
came up once. I think he called it 'astonishingly perfect.'"

Kitty lets out a breath and slumps back again, looking vastly relieved.
"/That/ kind of like. Okay. Cessation of brain function no longer
imminent. Aesthetic appreciation I can believe."

Seishi laughs quietly. "If it helps," she puts in, "I've never actually
known him to go to a game. And I know he doesn't watch them on TV, because
he hates TV."

"I noticed the lack of one," Kitty agrees. "He's definitely anything but
the couch potato type. I mean, sitting and staring at the screen doesn't
exactly lend itself," bright eyes, "to theatrical gestures."

Seishi laughs again, brightly. "No, it doesn't. I gather that watching
television is actually something of a learned skill. And really, it must
all seem very fake to him. He's used to reading so many tiny cues..."

"Not to mention," Kitty picks up, "that it's largely dependent on the
people writing the scripts being brighter or more knowledgeable than you
are, and - well - no. Just no. Not happening. Anyone brighter or more
knowledgeable than /him/ is /not/ gonna be putting out product for a
network. So he loses out." She pauses. "Or, from his point of view, we
do."

"Either way," Seishi agrees. And muses reminiscently, "I scared him last
Christmas. I gave him a lot of books in a TV box. When he first unwrapped
it, he was afraid I'd given him a TV. I made fun of him for it, I think."

Kitty manages to stifle her giggle - barely. "Well. He earned that one. He
should've known you better than /that/." She pauses. "And I'm going to
make myself /not/ wonder 'what in the world do you get as a present for
/Sherlock Holmes,/' because that way, as with so many, lies madness.
Different question instead. Does he mind the mocking he gets much? I mean
- well, Pete stopped cracking up every time the name comes up a while
back, but ... barring you and Jack, 'respect' is a word most of us only
seem to seem to think about in crossword-puzzle terms. 'Archaic
seven-letter synonym for regard.'"

Seishi spreads her hands. "It's really hard to tell," she admits. "I think
most of it slides off the impenetrable shell of his vanity. But he can
give as good as - often better - than he's gotten when it comes to
snarking. So..." She shrugs. "Your guess is really about as good as mine.
I know it bothers him more that so many people have read the books and are
familiar with that version of him."

"Sounds like if it /did/ bother him much," Kitty muses, "he'd probably let
the person involved know." There's something pleased in her tone. Yay,
snarking! Ahem. "Can't really blame him, either. The bits that are wrong
have to be annoying, and - well, some of the bits that are right would
probably be annoying, too."

Seishi nods to that. "As touchy as he can get about privacy... well, there
are reasons I've never read them."

Kitty says wryly, "The hazards of being particularly interesting /and/
particularly plausible. Poor guy." She pauses. "I can't believe I just
said that about /Holmes/."

Seishi laughs briefly, and suggests, "If the shoe fits..."

"... in /this/ city, if the shoe fits, it was probably made by a
leprechaun."

Seishi's response to that - after she gets over looking blankly at Kitty -
is dismay. "Now there's a frightening thought."

Kitty gives her an apologetic look. "Sorry. I've been on the fruitless
quest for decent winter boots; clearly it's affected my brain." No, she
can't manage to keep a straight face through that.

"Don't ask me for help," Seishi says promptly. "I remember the last time I
went shopping with you."

"That /wasn't/ my /fault/!" Kitty protests promptly. "... much. Mostly."

Seishi grins. "Yeah, well. Unfortunately I can't give you any advice; my
hiking boots came from the Salvation Army."

"There's something oddly appropriate about that," is all Kitty says.
Blink. Blink. Innocent blink. Salvation, all right...