"Not used to bringing girls home, are you?"
Considerably reduced from what they must have been when this place was /actually/ running at full capacity, there is nevertheless a hefty amount of garden space tucked away behind the main cabin of the compound. Somewhat haphazard in its organization, the rows of plants -- mostly vegetables, with some herbs lining the borders -- seem to be chosen somewhat at whim. Despite the disorganized mishmash of crop selection, the ground seems well-tended, fielding the occupants a decent cache of produce three seasons out of the year. To one side, a fenced-in area with a raised coop houses chickens, often noisily squawking throughout the day.
Surprisingly ground-based tonight, Anette walks through the gardens, following the sound of terrified chickens. She really doesn't look terribly concerned though, just curious, especially when her theory is confirmed. Upon seeing the border collie, she merely rolls her eyes and yells out, "SIT!" in a commanding voice. Taking advantage of the seasonally warm weather, she's out in only a sweater and jeans, her wings tucked out of sight underneath. Over her shoulder hangs a cloth bag, with something inside though it's small enough to not be seen. "Afraid I don't have any presents for the dog today," she says.
The dog stops at the command, a sudden jerk to a halt. He doesn't sit, but she certainly didn't fail to catch his attention. Chickens, catching a break, flee for coop. The rooster on the other hand catches his chance and charges. Wings a'flurry, he runs full-tilt towards the dog who, watching Anette instead, gets nailed on the side. Killian jumps with a yelp in surprise, and then books it, the rooster in pursuit for half the length of the garden before it relents. Border collie doesn't slow until he circles behind Anette. Running past her as a dog, when he circles around to reappear from behind her, he's standing as a man. Huffing, winded, the shapeshifter is caught up in breathy laughter even if one of his hands holds his side where he just got assaulted. "One point for them." Killian notes as he straightens, his head shaking, amused. "Hope it's worth that lost battle. I almost had 'em."
Anette can't but grin as Killian gets attacked by the rooster, showing little concern despite the yelp. She seems content to wait for the dog to exact his revenege, simply watching him as he runs around the yard. "Do we need to enroll you in obediance school?" she teases once the dog approaches. "Well, if I'm interrupting, I could just leave. Wouldn't want to be trouble, just felt like saying hello." As she speaks, she reaches into her bag and pulls out a wrapped gift. "And to give you this," she adds, holding it out to him with a faint smile. The box is approximately twelve inches long, flat, and wrapped in blue wrapping paper.
The fluster of the chicken chase drains away as Killian catches his breath, and amusement fades to be replaced by his more typical grin. Slightly narrowed eyes come with a quiet 'tsch' as he steps towards her, too-close. His hands reach to hold her waist, head canted just a touch to one side. "Obedience school? I didn't think you wanted me to behave." But to the gift she offers, his attention falls and he adjusts to take it with one hand, the other not quite ready to give up that perhaps-inappropriate embrace 'lest she evade or deny him such. "What's this for?" Seems earnest, and maybe a bit surprised.
"Mmmm, the human is perfect the way he is. The dog could use some training," Anette responds, her voice a bit more tired-sounding than normal but the flirtatious effort is still there. There's also no sign of her deeming the embrace 'inappropriate' or wanting to evade. Her equally tired looking face seems to get a burst of energy as he holds her. "I just thought with all the craziness lately, gifts would not go amiss. I also came into a small fortune recently that's been burning a hole in my pocket." Her voice suddenly drops in volume and she speaks just above a whisper, with a more serious tone. "It's also an apology for my part in some of that crazy. And a thank you for being there."
"Fair 'nough." Comes a soft chuckle, his hand on her lower back squeezing gently, playfully, before releasing her. Killian tears at the paper, a little more awkward at it than one might expect for a simple wrapped gift. "With us 'round," He makes it unclear if he's talking about his multiple 'selves' or the other Brothers, "No reason to want for anythin'. We got all the resources we need. Life's shitty enough as it is without stressing about crap like money." The rest of her reasoning gets a slow shake of his head, his blue eyes watching her in a sidelong observative way, "You know how I feel 'bout apologies. But I won't say no to this. You got a good track record bringin' me good stuff."
"Fine then, it's not apology. Just a thank you and an attempt to brighten the mood," Anette says, watching expectantly as Killian opens his gift. The removal of the paper reveals nothing but a black box. Once the lid is removed however, a knife comes into view. Six inch steel blade, black handle. Its edge is razor sharp, curved up to a fine point. Apparently Anette is no stranger to knives as it's also incredibly sturdy, balanced, and well-crafted. Quality was clearly a priority. Beneath it is also the leather sheath. "I wasn't sure what your current arsenal looks like but I've found you can never have too many," she says, patiently waiting for his reaction.
Killian's expression betrays him in the surprise and apparent approval this gift brings. The smile lacks sarcasm, his blue eyes a little brighter. He trails a thumb over the blade, and then lifts it from the box with his free hand, tossing it up once. A single spin and fall, he catches it by the hilt- a test of its balance. "My arsenal is…thorough, but you could say I tend to lose the good blades quite often when I gotta get the fuck out of a place fast. You picked a pretty damn good one." He's still manipulating it between his fingers, ending with the reverse edge of the blade to his wrist, hilt palmed. "I could thank you in my own way." A smirk, a pause, and he adds, "Or a drink. Either way, excited enough to do something about it."
Anette's own expression betrays her also, a sudden smile revealing the relief she has her gift is approved of. "Well, I haven't always had talons. Had to learn to make due," she responds, an eyebrow going up as she watches him test the knife with a playful smirk, seeming to enjoy the show. "I can make do with either of those thank you's," she says, stepping closer to Killian again now that he's finished playing with the blade. "So what've you been up to lately besides terrorizing livestock?"
Killian moves to reclaim the hold he'd had on her waist, leaning to kiss her on the forehead while the other hand slides the knife somewhere behind his back beneath his leather jacket, assumedly in an empty sheath that lies there. "I could do with some rum. Too damn sober lately." He starts, with intention to move them both in the general direction of his cabin. But he doesn't seem quite rushed as he speaks, rather he claims a grimace in the place of where the smile once was. "There've been a lot of calls from people besides Z, but every one of the hits has been a goddamn mutant, the asshats putting up the jobs targeting 'Wanted's for cash. We shut down a pretty good corner of the drug market, so the rest are bein' awfully fuckin' quiet for a little while." After all that, he huffs a faint bit of a chuckle, "In other words, bored outta my mind. Dog's taken to the chickens for entertainment."
Anette walks beside Killian as he holds her and leads her towards the cabin, listening to his words. "You're telling me," she mumbles under her breath after his comment about being sober. She does thoughtfully listen to him speak about his job offers. "You don't target mutants? Didn't know you had a moral code." This is said simply, with no hidden tone or attitude in her voice. "Granted, any mutants with prices on their heads are probably one of us." His final sentence is met with a grin as she looks up to him. "Well, I'll do my best to help alleviate some of that boredom."
"Ain't for moral standards, love." And her conclusion that she draws gets an approving smirk and a wink. "Mutants are more fun. It's the lists they're usin' that bother me. Conflicting interests and all that. Humans looking to kill mutants, and wanting to use a mutant to do it. Just doesn't give me the warm fuzzies." Her offer is given a squeeze around her waist, a thoughtful 'hmm' with it as he turns his attention to looking out across the dark island and over the visible bay. "And you? You look like you're feeling not too terrible today."
"Ah, no morals then. Well, as long as I know where you stand," Anette says, turning to look out over the water. "If constant cravings, insomnia, and nightmares are your idea of 'not too terrible' then yeah, I'm not too terrible." She takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly in a quiet sigh. "God if I had known it was going to be this rough..."
"You found a reason to smile. That seems like somethin' not too terrible." Killian responds, voice even, though still skewed slightly with the faint grin he keeps. "Well you got people to keep you company for the nights. Surely /someone/ can tire you out enough to get you some sleep." He starts moving in the direction of his cabin again, "Wouldn't be too much trouble for me to volunteer on occasion."
"Doesn't take much for me to smile. It's getting it to stick that can be tricky," Anette says, casually walking beside him and letting him lead. "Though you make it sound as if I have a line to the door. The zombie apocalypse has narrowed my options a bit." His volunteering as tribute gets a faint grin and she looks him over as if sizing him up. "I suppose you'd be acceptable. Til something better comes along." She turns to face forward again, her voice taking that forced tone, suggesting this is a topic she doesn't necessarily want to talk about but feels she needs to. "As long as that's all there is. I'd rather not have a repeat of Pedro."
"My feelings are hard to hurt, sweetheart." Killian releases her to open the door to his cabin, all gentlemanly, though with a raised brow and ushering gesture that makes it sarcastically 'too much'. "If I'm your 'every other Wednesday' guy to get your mind off shit, by all means. You put my neck on the line again though in some over complicated avoidable situation, and that might be another story."
"I wasn't worried about your feelings. I was worried about your answer," Anette says, stepping in the doorway as she's ushered through, grinning and shaking her head at his overenthusiastic ushering. "I can always enjoy an every other Wednesday guy. The problem is when they start wanting more. I don't do love." She turns to face Killian, resting her hands on his waist as she holds him close with a grin. "But as long as you promise there won't be any problems..." she says, before leaning in for a kiss, feeding a strong hunger and need within her.
"I don't make promises." Killian states, stepping in close until they're touching as she puts her hands on his waist. His arms curl around her lower back to keep her there. "Just more words. And you should know by now, just being around me-" He chuckles under his breath, touching his forehead to hers, his words almost a growl, "An unstable murderous shapeshifter-" His grin becomes broader, lopsided, sinister, "There will be trouble." He steps in again to step her back, intentionally to a wall beside a door as he meets her kiss, somewhat aggressive in response to her request. Killian lets a hand leave her to swing his door open- the interior a curious, not-so-normal space given the large bookcase covered in weapons, boxes and holes in the shelves. Locked metal boxes are stacked nearby it, a giant wooden perch looking meant for a raptor sits near the window, and a laptop with GoogleMaps up on the floor next to various papers and sketch pads with names- some crossed off, others not. Fortunately there's a futon meant for humans (if covered in a fine layer of black and white fur). And the floor, of course, is littered with dog toys.
"Funny, I thought I was bringing the danger," Anette whispers in response to his warning. "An unstable, psychotic bird of prey." His mention of trouble is met with a grin. Not the flirtatious or happy ones she's given all night but an excited one, to match her pounding heart and quickened breathing. As she's pressed to the wall, her hands leave his waist and press against the wall behind her, her kiss even more passionate and hungry, a soft moan escaping her lips. If his warnings were an attempt to steer her away, they seem to have had the opposite effect. Once the door is opened, she breaks free from Killian just long enough to slip inside, taking a quick moment look around at the toys scattered about and general clutter. "Not used to bringing girls home, are you?" she teases, though judging by the way she takes his hands and leads him to the futon, she doesn't seem to mind.