xp_logs | Lockheed and Remy have a... misunderstanding.

~God bless Lorna,~ Remy though for the third mouthful in a row. He was sitting on the back porch rail, wolfing down the stew that she'd put aside for him. Especially since Miles, Remy's wariness of the mansion and its residents had gone back to their most heightened state. Lorna had simply e-mailed him that she'd leave dinner in the small drink fridge at the far end of the kitchen, near the door, without prying into what was wrong. A few minutes in the microwave, and the rich smell had surrounded his perch outside.

It was, of course, the smell of food which distracted Lockheed from his flight. Kitty wouldn't worry if he stopped for a bit - he was little and his wings still got tired sometimes - and who knows, whoever had food might give him some of it. He swooped over to where he could see somebody on the porch and thumped down onto the rail almost gracefully. Graceful was still a little beyond him.

Remy stopped with the fork in his mouth as the small dragon landed beside him. He'd taken it in stride that Kitty now had a dragon. He'd been to Hell. Who was he to argue with insanity? The more he'd seen of it, the more common it was, like an eternally hungry dog.

Remy was not a dog person. He held the bowl closer to him as he ate.

Oh, this did not look promising. He knew the person had seen him, but he hadn't made any of the welcoming noises Lockheed was familiar with and he definitely hadn't offered him any food yet. Just making sure the person knew he was there he went, "Mer?" in his cutest voice.

~Now it's talking to me~ Remy scowled as he finished, just knowing the thing probably wanted to lick the bowl or something.

"Dat Kitty must feed you. Go ask her. Shoo," Remy said, waving one hand in a shooing motion as he fumbled for his cigarettes with the other.

The hand didn't really come close to him, but he ducked down closer to the railing anyway - even a light touch could pretty easily knock him off his perch. Getting food out of Kitty was an option, but it would mean he'd have to fly back to where she was and then convince her he was hungry, and then convince her that she should give him something even though he already had had lunch. Besides, the person was going for the little food sticks Lockheed had seen people with out here before and he was curious. They must be food - people put them in their mouths and they got smaller and smaller - but they smelled strangely and no one had given him one. Cocking his head he watched what the new person was doing.

Remy lit his cigarette and took a deep drag as Lockheed cocked his head back and forth, watching the movements. He sighed. The little flying rat just wouldn't go away, first begging for scraps and now just staring at him.

Lockheed stared in wonder as the person cooked his own food stick right there in front of him. Everyone else had to go into the kitchen (home of all the food in the world) to cook food, but he had a little portable cooking thing. And it clearly worked, cause the food stick was steaming now. And it really did smell strange.

"Dat's it. Alors, go away you little batard volant," Remy said, waving his hands. This time Lockheed fluttered into the air from his perch, but just hovered, still transfixed on his cigarette. Remy rolled his eyes.

"For de love of-- fine. You so facsinated wit' it..." Remy took the cigarette and flicked it at the little dragon.

Ah ha! This just went to prove Lockheed's theory that it was, in fact, impossible for any person to not feed him eventually. He was just that cute. Lockheed snapped the food stick out of the air, then dropped out of the air like a stone, landing on the railing with a thud. Hot! Hot hot hot hot hot! He swallowed the food stick before he even really had a chance to process the taste.

It ate the cigarette. The thought flashed through Remy's stunned mind. Any other animal would have torn off as fast as possible. Could this little rat eat anything?

Lockheed clutched at his stomach, and a queer look came over him. Remy bent down, a second horrid thought of what would happen if he had inadvertantly killed Kitty's pet.

Oooh, hot and burning and ow! Cold air. Cold air was good. Opening his mouth he took a deep breath and the in rush of air definitely did not help. The little dragon coughed deeply, his head jerking forward, and a small puff of fire shot out of his mouth... straight on to Remy.

Well, at least his stomach didn't hurt anymore.

From Remy's perspective, the dragon had reared back, and suddenly his world was full of smoke and flame. He smelled the burning hair first as he reeled back, fetching up against the door. He eyes strung from the smoke, and as he wiped his face, Remy came to the conclusion that there was a lot less eyebrow than normal.

"You little--" Remy started forward, and the little dragon hissed, giving Remy a mental image of a second and larger bout of flame. He spun with all his mutant agility, yanked open the door and raced inside the house.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, this was bad. This was very, very bad. This could very well be Rule number one bad, or no more food bad. Ohhh, and the man was going inside. Maybe he was going to go tell the green haired Queen of All the Food in the World what Lockheed had done. He had to explain! He launched himself from the railing and tucked his wings in just in time to sail through the door after the burned man.

Remy raced down the hall, occasionally looking behind him as the dragon flew after, mouth open and claws unfurled. Remy took a corner sharply, vaunted over a couch to the shouts of an annoyed Amanda and Clarice, and went out the opposite doorway, dragon still at his heels.

"Meep!" Lockheed cried, dodging around another corner. Flying inside was hard. He couldn't do this! "Meep!" he called out again, wings getting tired.

It even had a damn growl! Remy thought bitterly as he reached the lounge. He darted quick looks around and grinned.

"Alright you rat. Now we play dis Remy's way!" Lockheed turned the corner only to see Remy racing towards him, grinning like a madman, fireplace poker in hand.

Oh, definitely, definitely not good. "MEEEEP!" Lockheed backwinged and reversed, shooting back the way they had come and flapping as fast as he could. The door they had come in had been left open, and that was the only way he knew of that he could get out. "Mer!" he cried out as he swooped over Amanda's head racing for the door.

"What the--" Amanda said as Remy came crashing back over the couch, firepoker in hand and cajun curses echoing around him.

"Dat's right, batard! You better run! Remy gone make Tante's blackened dragon!" He said, racing through the door. Amanda and Clarice shared a look, and turned back to the television.

The door, the door, where was... Ah! Shooting outside he took a sharp left and arched around the corner of the Mansion, making a bee line for the spot Kitty was waiting for him. "MEEEER!" he cried out, and Kitty's head jerked up.

"Lockheed! What's wrong?" She held out her hands and the little dragon tumbled into her arms, shivering.

Nathan took a step back as the dragon zipped by him, and held his coffee cup to his chest as the seemingly deranged and soot-covered Remy followed, yelling and waving a firepoker.

Remy pulled up as he got to Kitty, watching the little winged engine of fiery death in her arms. "Back away, chere! Dat thing's a killer!"

Kitty stared at Remy, horrified. "What the hell happened to you?" she asked, even as she stepped back out of fire poker range.

"Dat things tried to kill me!" Remy said, increasingly aware of the attention on him, the hysterical edge to his voice, and the creeping realisation of exactly what this must look like. He lowered the poker.

"I mean dat, well, I-- look, it breathes fire and has dese claws. Dere like--well--you know--" He made hooking motions with his hands. "Like a killer, and pointy. I mean... just look at de flames!"

Kitty's eyebrows shot up, but at least he'd lowered the poker. "He is not a killer. There are very strict rules about this sort of thing, aren't there Lockheed?" The little dragon made an affirmative sort of sound and his head moved up and down, although he didn't turn away from where he was hiding his eyes. "And what flames?"

"You little--" Remy growled at Lockheed, but Kitty's sharp look cut him off. The area was starting to fill up with people watching them, and Remy realised that he was black from the neck up, half his eyebrows gone, his hair singed, and was waving round a poker. "Think dat maybe Remy leave. But you keep dat batard away from Remy, oui!"

Lockheed did look up at that, staring at Kitty and going, "Mrrrch."

"I think," Kitty said, "that if you leave him alone he will be more than happy to leave you alone. You scared him."

"I scared--" Remy voice cut off with a strangled choked. Visibly getting a grip on himself, he turned around and glared at the people sneaking peeks out the door. "Remy don know what you all find so damn interesting." He stormed off.

There was a long silent pause, as everyone exchanged puzzled looks before Remy walked back. "Forgot my poker," he said solumnly, shooting a nasty look at Lockheed before striding off again.

"I think he's gone quite mad," Kitty muttered. "Let's go back inside. Are you ok, Lockheed?" The little dragon just snuggled in closer to Kitty and went, "Meh."