| It's All I Got |
| Summary: | Wolf shares some difficult stuff, and blows Kathleen's simple world wide open. |
| Date: | 1942-07-21 |
| Related: | None. |
| Players: |
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Wright Residence, Higsi
Fri Jul 21, 1942
Built by the late Basil Wright, this beautiful Craftsman-style house overlooks the intersection of Cooper and Butler. A huge porch, flanked by two shade trees, is the first to greet visitors. It is set up seasonally with quite a few comfortable chairs and a large wooden table that looks rather archaic.
The immaculate interior presents a large kitchen with pantry, open dining room, den, full bathroom and two multi-purpose spare rooms. Closet-space is ample, appointed in nooks and crannies throughout the house and never given to clutter. A sturdy stairwell, with hand-carved designs set into the railing, ascends into a large second storey. There, one shall find a master bedroom, another occupied bedroom, a small bathroom and a large sitting room from which one can observe the street below through two large windows.
Departing the house and following a walkway around toward a fenced-in back yard, an addition from the late 1920s is accessible. There, two functional and comfortable rooms are located for usage as rooms-to-let to passing visitors. A large shed serves as a workspace for the home's owner.
Weather:
It is summer. The weather is warm and drizzling.
Wolf has had a long week just getting here. It feels so good to get into the tub, that she stayed there for quite a while. Poking her head out the door to check, Wolf decides that everyone's out for the evening, and she relaxes the rest of the way, and the Raphael face sags and contracts to her natural face, or what's left of it. Wolf washes her natural skin very carefully. It's beat up, and relaxing like this it can be fragile, especially if she doesn't care for it now and again. Eventually, when the water gets cold, she listens again, still alone, and just puts on her pajamas - a button down shirt stolen from some man at some point in her life - and slinks back to her room. She climbs under the sheets and relaxes into the pillow, and picks up a book to read.
The lady of the house was gone for most of the day, leaving Wolf to settle as she saw fit.. and needed.
It was a day. From dropping Maddie off at a friend's for the night, to shopping for groceries (Kitty hates it), to encountering a friend who was not well and seeing to it that said friend got home safe. The evening has encroached upon Higsi well-and-truly, though it isn't too late for Kitty to be pulling up in her driveway. Unfolding herself from the truck, the woman goes indoors to unload her groceries and get changed for the night. Having a very old man in one of her rooms in the extension, Kitty sees fit to bring the old fellow a snifter of brandy and see to it that he's comfortable. Which he is. A companionable chat with Ernest spans about fifteen minutes, and it is then — departing — that Kitty looks upon the adjoining room that houses Wolf.
It'd be good to see how she's settling, too. Holding her fancy bottle of fancy booze, Kitty raps on the door to Wolf's rented room. She's polite, she does not barge in!
Wolf starts, and ducks under the covers immediately. Knife. Where is her knife? She can't shift faces without it. Finally she sighs. Her voice is barely recognizable as human, but the accent is exactly the same. "I'm not decent," she says. "Who is it?"
The carpenter can neither hear nor see Wolf's startle, and she was honestly about to turn on a heel to leave in case the woman was already asleep. She HAS been through a lot, afterall! But then.. a voice! Kitty pauses, grinning a bit. "Just me," Her own accented voice calls through the door. "Just seein' how yer keepin'. I've been gone all day, so m'sorry if ya were needin' me for anything." She offers, leaning into the doorjamb of the locked door. "I can leave if need be, just askin' before I go into th' house for the night."
Uncorking the brandy, Kitty takes a swig straight from the bottle. Heat pools pleasantly into her guts.
Wolf 's ears perk up at the sound of the cork. "That sounds…like drinkin' stuff. Is it any good?"
Knew that'd break the ice. Kitty grins sharply, "A'yup." She drawls, unable to hide her laughter at Wolf's ability to hear and surmise that. "Willin' to share for a bit before bed, if yer of a mind. But don't let me intrude none." She chuckles again, amused. "It's the stuff I had at the diner, to make their shitty coffee better."
Wolf thinks about it. On the one hand…her face. On the other hand, what's left of her relaxed mood would do very well indeed with the warm burn of alcohol in her stomach. She vacillates back and forth a while, then finally says, "You'll sleep nights better if you don't see my face how it is right now. But since I'm obliged to wear it on the Lord's day, sooner or later you're likely to see it. And brandy would do me wonders. So come on in, if you like." She ducks back down under the covers. It would be a waste if Kitty dropped the bottle in shock.
Huh…? What could that mean? Kitty blinks once, twice; patiently waiting while Wolf decides. "What can ya mean by that now? Yer worried about makeup, is it? Bah," She handwaves, sounding tired but in decent cheer. "I ain't gonna fault ya for going without, Wolf. Neither am I gonna insist.. if yer tired or needin' rest, I—-" What DID that mean?! Wolf sounds like she's conceding and Kitty looks at the brandy, noting there's about half the bottle left. "I'll come in for a bit, won't keep ya." She offers, and finally she just lets herself into the comfortable, peaceful little spot that she has worked so hard to provide.
Only to see the woman hiding under the covers. The sound of the bottle being set down. "Aw wow, can't be that bad! I swear I ain't one to judge."
Wolf says, "Yes, well. You ain't seen it yet. People in town… don't know. I'd be much obliged if they went on not knowin'. You may want to sit down for this." She takes a deep breath. And another. People have seen her face…just her face… before. Sunday at church, her veil doesn't cover it completely. They stare sometimes, but only children ever say anything unkind. She draws the cover down and sits up slowly. The sleeves cover her arms, and the covers are over her legs."
Hearing out the covered woman's warning, Kitty yet remains confused. Golden eyes observe all-the-while and the carpenter decides to seat herself upon the small chair that she has left in this room in particular, usually nestled in beside the dresser. If it helps Wolf, so be it; how bad can it be? Kitty has seen quite a few things in her life: the results of accidents on-site, lost fingers, lacerations… this one boy in her grade, back when she attended school, ended up being burnt on one shoulder in an accident at home with scalding water. The scars were pretty bad, but even then…
So when the covers come down to reveal the other woman's cross-hatched, scarred face… Kitty startles. Not necessarily due to being squeamish but just surprise… what happened to cause this?! And how the hell had she been able to cover it up so masterfully?!! Kitty blinks hard and paws at the side-table for her booze, bringing it dumbly to her lips for a deep swig before asking huskily, voice breaking.
"Who did this to you?" She manages, suddenly grateful to be on her ass on a chair. Her heartbeat pounds in her throat, but Wolf shall see a look of shock, not disgust.
Wolf looks Kathleen in the eye, and her eyes are cold, cold blue, even though Kathleen is a friend she's trusted enough to show her face to. She nods slowly. "You've got a good eye," she croaks. "I tell most people I was in a car accident, and they don't look close enough to see that it can't be true. This was done to me. And I was the worst sort of damned fool to volunteer for it."
It never occurred to Kathleen to look 'closer'; when she met Wolf under her Raphael guise, all she saw was a very attractive woman — albeit tired — with a killer smile. But this here is… what happened? How? Car accidents usually render a person's body devastated, without much reason. No no.. even from here Kitty can discern a sort of… well, these scars seem stitched in spots. Kitty needs to have a good eye for her job.. and sometimes that can be a blessing and a curse. Somehow when Wolf tells Kitty that this was done to her, that's even worse. Kitty takes a quick, fierce swig of the brandy and feels it pooling in her guts, hot and roiling. She's not squeamish; she's gonna stand right up when she feels ready and pad over toward the bed, seating herself upon the side and handing the bottle of strong, expensive liquor over to the scarred woman. "Volunteer… ya volunteered for this? What happened here, Wolf?" She asks quietly.
Gotta hand it to Kitty.. she has some guts. Her skin still looks lighter due to shock, her eyes rounded and fierce.. but she's hanging in there and looking angry. Just imagine the story she's concocting in her head!
Wolf takes the bottle and takes a long pull. She smiles, weakly. It's not exactly an improvement. "There are things in this world that are beyond science. Things that are covered in ritual and called magic. This was part of a ritual. I volunteered for it because I was not happy with my face before, and I was not happy livin' with the limitations of bein' a girl. I was sixteen. You couldn't tell me nothin'. You catch me talkin' to your sister, tellin' her she's beautiful and to love the face she's got…now you know why. There's people out there willin' to make you in to what you want. For a price." She takes a slow breath. "The woman who did this got paroled from prison in Chicago at the top of June."
This is beyond Kathleen; it's the wedge of wood driven into the firmly-shut door of her mind, now propping it open and letting in the thoughts of extraordinary. It's a scary thing; an unfamiliar thing. No, she's not completely against imagination and strangeness. In her youth, before having to pull up the big girl pants, Kitty enjoyed flights of fancy into books. But the thought of strangeness; of magic, ritual and the like…. to be applied to her everyday life. Kitty can be seen grappling with what Wolf tells her. She expected a jealous lover or someone equally malicious, going at her with a knife. This is…. is…
"Holy fucking shit." Comes her ladylike proclamation. She lets Wolf take what she needs from the brandy, not reaching for it. Though there is something in this scary tale that resonates with Kitty. "I-I.. can.. understand ya. It's hard bein' a woman sometimes.. but I never thought.. how." Yeah she's struggling, but not running away. "What.. who was this woman? Some kinda monster? Is this a kinda… conjure…? I couldn't see any of this in the diner, when I met ya—"
Wolf closes her eyes and hands the bottle back. "I told you you'd sleep better if you didn't see," she says quietly. "This is something I've studied since I was rescued from her. I'm used to it. Growin' up in the circus, we all pretended we knew magic at one point or another. That's what you go to the circus, especially the side shows, to see. You could go your whole life without seeing real magic, and you'd probably be better off. It's a kind of paranoia after a while. You always wonder what invisible wheels are turnin' that you can't see. She was a witch. There's a taxonomy of witches. Some can use magic because that's how they were born. They're from families like that. They can be trouble, but they can as easily be good, use their…powers to help others. There's another kind that makes deals with outside powers. Old stories are full of witches like that. They are always bad. That's what she is." Wolf leans back against her pillow. "This is my face, how it really is. The work she did was so I could change it. Be someone else. A lot of someone else's if she'd finished. I only have four, unless you count makeup and hair, which can multiply those faces quite a lot.
"That…" Kathleen starts, is trying to lend voice to this payload of 'WTF' that she is being dealt. But she does not look troubled; not like, troubled in the sense of wanting to get apart from this unreal stuff and give Wolf the boot. No, no.. she's troubled in not being able to grasp it immediately; Kitty does not like not knowing. Her eyes remain wide and astounded, fringed by black lashes, her mouth dropping open before she catches herself and presses her lips together, swallowing hard. "I never woulda thought… would have expected something like this to be… possible." She finishes weakly. Silences, to hear tale of witches… witches.
"I—I always thought of the witches like in that ol' book, Wizard of Oz.. all green and cackly an' stirrin' their cauldrons. W-was this a witch that looked like any ol' woman on the street?" Kitty asks softly; she is not afraid of questions and trying to know more. She watches as Wolf leans back and concurs that this is her natural look. "Yer look ain't scaring me Wolf, I promise. If I'm scared of anythin' it's that someone out there can do this… w-what other faces ya got?" Kitty pauses, blushing a bit as she pulls one long leg up to curl beneath the other.
"Does it hurt t'change yer… yer face?"
Wolf looks at the ceiling. "Does it hurt?" She ponders that. "Some. It's like my face and body cramp for a few seconds while everythin… readjusts. But it ends. It costs me a little blood, too. Mine, or someone else's, if it's handy." She squeezes her eyes shut. Tears leak out. "I've told you too much already. It'd be easy to just say "Wolf's crazy." Maybe I am. We only just met, and I'm trusting you with…this. With how it got this way. If I give you… my other three faces…it's all I got. I can't hide from you. And I've been hidin' and lyin' since I was sixteen.
Tears, Kitty's weakness… not like she was about to swing the axe anyway. She's not used to this reassuring 'contact' stuff but she reaches out to rest a palm atop one of Wolf's knees, atop the cover. She learned this gesture from Leona and it helped her! This is Kitty trying to be reassuring. "I'm gonna admit Wolf, I ain't versed in this spooky magic mumbo-jumbo stuff… ya had me at the admittance t'being born in a circus… but I didn't send ya packin' then, did I?" She asks quickly, her grin shaky but nervous. She doesn't want to say the wrong thing, on account of being such an idiot to these matters. "My life is simple.. wake up, make sure my sister ain't in trouble, go t'work… go t'bed. Maybe go for a wag at th' Gallows. Come home. Repeat." A pause, her golden eyes glint once in the lamplight of the comfortable, pretty room. "This is something I ain't ever expected but I ain't gonna throw ya out. Yer not crazy, ya just… yer life took a turn and yer dealin' with it now. I'm honored that ya would trust me.. ya could've said through the door not t'come in. But ya trusted me, so.."
She tilts her head, meeting the other woman's eyes. "I trust ya.. and yer other faces too. Something tells me it's a fine idea to be trustin' ya, and trying to help ya get a leg up in this life. I ain't gonna force ya to show me these faces.. but ya know… could be good to know who they are so I ain't comin' home one day to see a stranger."
Wolf starts a little as she's touched, sitting up quickly and reaching out to take Kathleen's hand in hers. "I hate this face," she says quietly. "The rest of this body…is worse." She kisses Kathleen's knuckles softly and listens to what she says. "But if you'll promise to look away…because the last person who watched vomited on me…I'll show you the others. For the love of God don't tell no-one about me, about what I'm showin' you." She reaches over to her nightstand and retrieves a hat pin conveniently placed there. Then lets go of Kathleen's hand and turns away from her. "Don't. Look at my body," she says, as she unbuttons her shirt.
Blush. Kathleen, as noted, isn't much used to being received in such a manner. Her hand is caught up and held and she will not pull it away, not wanting Wolf to feel cast off. Worse? The 'rest' of her is worse? Kitty's gaze takes on another glimmer, something that speaks of wanting to draw and quarter whatever or whoever could inflict this upon another. Mind you, Wolf admitted to 'volunteering' to such treatment on account of not liking her lot in life as bestowed by genetics.. but still! How can her body be worse? Wolf bids Kitty not to look at her body in her concession to show her the other 'faces', and the blonde's head nods once, twice. "I promise." She pledges on a few different fronts: not to tell others, not to look where she mustn't look solely because she was asked. Just as well.. to give into curiosity may only trouble her more, make her angrier.
"I got a strong stomach, I ain't gonna be pukin'" Kitty assures, voice husky and anxious but still level. Her hand drops back into her lap as Wolf takes the hatpin and begins unbuttoning her shirt. Hopefully it will reassure the scarred woman, how Kitty's amber eyes remain completely and wholly trained upon her face.
Wolf looks over her shoulder at Kathleen, then back. She comes up on her knees and stabs her index finger with the hat pin, then does some combination of touches to her torso. From such close range, Kathleen could hear a wet sucking sound from each one. It's obvious when the process takes off, because Wolf's body snaps taut, and a soft grunt comes from her. There are crunching sounds here and there as joints strain and adjust. If Kathleen has watched her face, the bones of it move around slightly - the differences between human faces aren't all that big - an inch or two of deflection is all that's required. The skin darkens, the nose changes shape, the jaws thicken, and her hair twitches of its own volition and curls into tight ringlets. It takes only a few seconds, and then it's gone, and she sags back into a more normal posture.
Wolf turns to face Kathleen, her sleep shirt falling open, her body now unmarred.
Is this happening? Is it really, truly happening? Kitty can't help but look away, her eyes snapping sharply to the side toward a pretty painting on the wall that Madeline had picked out, specially for this room. It's some sort of butter-churning doo-dad sitting idly in a patch of sun; something innocent and pretty and unexpected in a room where something so arcane and strange is happening. Kathleen focuses on this as she hears the sounds; stares hard at the colors. With every wet sound, the carpenter's skepticism is being cast out like a shadow at dawn.
Against her inner fear at looking back, she does; it is not the scarred and sad Bernadette that sits before her but now, an elegant chocolate-skinned woman with nary a scar to be seen! What! What!? True-to-form until one sees the blue eyes… Kathleen looks up into Dori's face, riveted with shock and amazement, before dropping unabashedly to her unscarred and undamaged chest. She bites her lower lip, hard, and looks up at her again. Silent. Astounded.
No puke.
"I.. I… holy… shit." Kathleen starts, then exhales again.. she's not upset; she's amazed. "Holy shit!! This really happened!" She looks as if she wants to jump up but instead remains seated, clenching the covers. "I.. wow… d—do ya have different names for each face?"
Wolf nods. "Yeah, I do. I'm Dori." she says. Her accent is changed, from habit. A Chicago South Side accent, smoothed and purry with a lower, sweeter voice. This is the voice Wolf sings with, on the rare occasions when she does.
The blonde seems momentarily lulled by so sultry a voice, but she yet resembles — and this is rare — the curious girl she once was. "Dori." Kitty echoes, committing the name to memory. "Wow.. o—okay…" She trails off, blushing still as she adjusts the collar of her own shirt. "So yer face that I met ya with… that first time.. does she have a name too? A different one?" She's trying, she really is! Trying to know, to understand.
Wolf smiles, a soft, warm smile so different from Raphael's. Kindness and acceptance? And she didn't get barfed on? So good with that… "Her name's Raphael. Or just Wolf, these days. That's my regular face from now on. I realized I need to be someone, not just a collection of cover identities." She sighs and turns away again, flesh growing pale. Her body seems to relax back into the scarred face. She picks up the hatpin and jabs her fingertip again, making a different pattern over her torso this time. As her body rearranges itself, even the modest bust and curves of Dori disappear into a lean, whippet-like musculature. Her facial bones thicken, and her nose, good lord her nose. It grows visibly quite a bit, going from almost no nasal spine to a hawk-like beak. When Wolf turns back to Kathleen, shirt falling open again, it's abundantly obvious that she is now he. Well, as obvious as it gets from the waist up, at least. He's pulled the covers up that far.
Wolf 's accent is shockingly British. "And I… am Dorian." He smiles a relaxed smile."
Here's where shit gets really strange for Kitty: she assumed that all faces would be female. By now she is waiting raptly for what comes next; the shock of what is actually happening in front of her is replaced by sheer wonder, not too unlike what she once felt when reading a riveting story. She is actually leaning forward and she catches herself; eases back a bit and folds her hands into her lap. By then Dori's lovely coloration has faded back into pale skin, and the hatpin pierces a different pattern altogether. Expecting another female silhouette to emerge — maybe a redhead? — Kitty is shocked to see a… a.. male face—-
Golden eyes flit to the open shirt, devoid of a swell of breast and now obviously that of a man's lean frame. Kitty's guts flip-flop and her eyes rove up to 'Dorian's' face… stop there. "W… oh… huh…" She trails off, and blushes deeply. Kitty doesn't blush often. The accent does it.
"Jesus, good thing ya got me in on this… I woulda' tried to climb ya like a fuckin' tree if I caught ya in the bar." Kitty admits and rubs her face ruefully. How awkward would that be? She peeks between her fingers. I didn't expect ya to t'be able to switch.. over. Do d'ya got like.. u—uh… the… parts." She mimics male anatomy with choice fingers.
Wolf takes Kathleen's hand and pushes it down in his lap far enough that she knows the answer to her question. "Madam, I assure you, I am anatomically correct. And if you feel the need to climb trees, I will oblige you happily." Which probably implies there was a lot more to Wolf's desire to change than just her face. "Or shall I show you the next?"
Oh dear God between what she's feeling and the British accent — Kitty has never heard one in person before — the poor carpenter just doesn't know how to react just yet. When her hand is moved obligingly to give her the answer, Kathleen looks visibly astounded. Straight up, utterly floored. "Well I'll be—" She starts, before having the decency to blush. She'd better pull that had back before she takes this … this… whatever he is up on his offer. Ahem. But deep down in Kitty's mind, the fact does not go unnoticed: how Wolf can slip into the very psyche of her faces, it seems. Not just disguises, but personalities.. beings.
What manner of being — of 'witch' — could bestow such things upon a single unhappy person?
"Ya better show me what else ya got.." Kitty says huskily, taking another swig of brandy. Christ, a gig with this drink of water once a week or so would pay for the room for however long Wolf wants… insane as that is to admit. COUGH.
Kitty waits for the next face, unable to look away.
Wolf curls a smile. He knows about Brit accents. That's why he wanted one, worked long and hard to learn one. He can't read Kathleen's mind, that's not one of his abilities, but if she knew the truth, the personas are strictly Wolf's creations. Accents, backgrounds, cover stories, all of them. Except her own. He turns away, body rippling back to skinny, boney, scarred Wolf. It's tiring to go through all of them at once, but she's willing to oblige. A quick jab of the hatpin, and another progression of touches, one of them giving a slight "pop" like pulling a finger out of your mouth this time. Her body tightens hard, bulking up again into a masculine physique, craggy jawed, considerably hairier, and perhaps a few hours since his last shave, when the face stops moving around. The accent is Wolf's Tennessee accent once again as he turns his new face toward Kathleen. "I'd be much obliged… if you'd share some more of that brandy with me," he drawls.
Wolf says, "My name is Ray. Short for Raphael. I recon you can see the pattern.""
Okay, maybe now there will be a redhead… buxom, surely. That's what is supposed to come next right? Kitty is busy trying to cool her ardor following an eyeful of lean British man followed by chocolate-skinned temptress. And ugh.. UGH. Indeed, this final face is another man! Another archetype who meets Kathleen's approval! Dorian would have been the one to woo with fancy drinks that Kitty has no patience for pronouncing… this is the rough-and-tumble one, she's sure. The down-home accent is equally appealing and Kitty hands the remainder of the brandy over to 'Ray' obligingly, lips pressed into a line. "I think I'm catchin' on.." She admits, voice still laden with borderline shock, desire and absolute.. well… yeah.. mostly shock. "Finish it off, th' drink. I can even go get more.." She trails off, and considers.
"Does it tire ya out, this…? What's… happening t'cause this? Do ya need somethin' to eat?" She asks, trying to take her mind off of all that she just saw, all of it appealing if you don't count the magic at work to warrant it. Kitty won't sleep easily tonight, but not due to nightmares.. just wonder.
"I… t-thank ya for trustin' me…" Kitty finally concedes, breathless with astonishment.
Wolf reaches out to touch Kathleen's face, and if she doesn't seem to object, rub a fingertip - the one he keeps pricking with the hat pin, in fact - over her lips. "It takes a lot of effort…I ain't done this kind of a demonstration in years. But I never minded spendin' effort to catch a lady's eye." He curls a smile with a flash of blue eyes. "So now you seen 'em all. Tell me. Which one do you like best?"
Oh snap. Now he — Ray — is getting touchy, but it's not something Kathleen minds. Brandy adds that element of relaxation and deep down, she knows that this person — cursed? is he/she cursed? — is trustworthy. The purely superficial part of Kathleen would outright blurt favor for that which sits before her, all hairy and Tennessee-like.. someone who can handle her. But despite the late hour, despite the booze and the physical appeal of sight alone… Kitty doesn't have to think for too long. The blush hadn't faded, especially after having her lips touched, but her voice is sound.
"I reckon I like the one they all come from, th' best. THe one that had the guts t'show me what surely can't be easy to show, the one I barged in on. Because all this, all these personalities, gotta come from somewhere, huh?" Kitty asks, her tone kind. Yup.. she means exactly who she says she means: scarred, anxious Bernadette.
Wolf blinks, as though astonished. He doesn't bother to turn away, or even to take his hand away from Kathleen's face, just a quick tug of the shirt to cover as he becomes she once again, body relaxing into the battered face. The shirt's open enough that one might catch the glimpse of a scar across the throat, which would explain the gravelly voice. The reason for the sudden shift becomes obvious. Boys don't cry, but Wolf's eyes are shining. Nobody has ever, ever, ever said that to her. Very few even knew as much of the truth as she's given Kathleen, and no-one ever failed to prefer one of her prettier faces, male or female. "They're all me," she admits. "I've kept them separate so long it's reflex to speak the way Dorian speaks, or Dori speaks… to move the way they move, to think the way they think…but they're all me." She draws her hand back, deftly buttoning her pajama shirt back up, still holding the collar closed, clutching it.
Blink. Watching Ray's transformation back into Wolf, Kitty finds herself… is surprised by herself, not being upset or otherwise bothered. Oh, it'll hit her later; she'll be in bed trying to settle into sleep and it'll hit her. There is someone living in her home, for a time, who can do things like this. Things that Kathleen cannot comprehend and up until a half hour ago, even believe. But there ya have it. Wolf sits before her now, shiny-eyed and scarred and affected, and Kitty smiles gently. Gently for her; few people see this smile. She reaches forth to place a hand atop the hand that clutches the collar closed, looking into the other woman's blue eyes. Sometimes words aren't entirely needed. "Yer in for a tough night, after all this.. I asked a lot of ya." She says pointedly.
Maybe it's best Wolf not be alone.
"Come on into the main house and have a bite to eat." She offers, standing up from the bed and stretching slowly like a content cat. "Maybe take on one of those faces.. I'm partial, secondly, to Ray.." Kitty grins wryly. "We can negotiate rent." Offered with a wink. Wolf can read into this however she wishes; the long and short of it? Her presence, all of them, are accepted.