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"Could be I've a place or two in mind," he says to her, and what sort've man would he be if there weren't no big grin on his face, one he can't seem to lessen nor put off? Rosalie just brings that out in him, a happiness that don't always shine out through the coarse, sometimes mocking manner that he and his twinsib are so well known for. There is also just a bit of bemusement, as if somewhere along the way he's realized how strange it is that he should be doting so over anyone at all. It ain't as if either he nor his brothers have any sort of reputation for romance: quite the opposite, really. They been heard to swear off the whole thing, more then once, and yet here he is trailing after Rosalie like a puppy, and while he's probably bought trinkets for whores in the past, he's never spent the whole day with a gel, taking her one place to another, buying things for her on a whim.

Even better, for once there are no animals in sight! No Unwanted to tug at his belt and ask for carrots, no rooks to silently judge or steal his dinner off his plate, no Guardians staring suspiciously as he takes up the smith's hand and kisses each of her knuckles in turn. It's near as paradise as he can figure it can be.

"Best place, though, it'll depend on how good y'might be at climbin'." He's lowered his voice, but someone close enough could still hear -- though there are few people who'd guess what he's implying. The Freds don't often go roof-walkin', but considering their backgrounds, it's a safe bet that if he's asking his lady about her ability to climb, the location he's considering taking her is somewhere that people are not supposed to go.

"Oh, won't need no ropes," he assures her airily, and if this response makes it seem that he does not get her analogy, that is probably correct. As Jay himself intimated, the Freds aren't ones for literary studies. "It's easy climbin'. Well." He pauses, looking at her sidelong with an odd little smile. "Easy for you'n me." It isn't the first time he's hinted that he knows that Rosalie isn't like other women, but like every other time it seems to be a compliment. Other women couldn't do what Rosalie can: and he for one appreciates the difference.

So he will, provided she obliges him, turn their stroll in the direction of the better streets of Palisade, where those folk a bit higher up dwell. Neither of them are entirely out of place here; after all, they could be gawking at the pretty houses, or simply passing through. But before they get too far in, he intends to duck down a side street with her, and take her scampering through the allies, over walls, and to a hidden alcove, tucked between a rich man's park and a graveyard. But that's only if they don't get caught ..

"I'm more than willing to learn." It's exciting, it's new, and she doubts she could have learned from anyone else. After all, there's no telling when it could end up being useful. She doesn't care how many scrapes or bruises she ends up with learning, just knowing she can will be enough.

Who's to say he won't end up taking her somewhere interesting, anyway? It doesn't make her the slightest bit nervous when they pass into the nicer district, and her excitement only bubbles when they finally make their way into the alley. But of course, with so many good things happening, there's no doubt that something's going to happen to disturb it. That something just happens to be the last voice she wanted to hear.

She's about to watch and learn, about to give it a shot of her own, when she looks up to see Raj, obviously a bit surprised. While she's known for quite a while that the gypsy knows her way around a knife (oh god does she know, how could she forget?) she hasn't suspected in the least that she'd also know things like roofwalking. There's a nervous laugh after a while, and she gives a nervous glance to her companion, though she does her best to relax.

"I didn't know you of all people would know how to do this. How're you doing, Raj?" But no matter how hard she's trying, that nervous edge just doesn't seem to go away. Perhaps she's still worried that there's disapproval from the gypsy about her choice of paramour?

Ah. That's right. The smith does not know of Rajani's mostly former profession. Nor, it seems, has she deduced it. Makes a gypsy wonder how Rosalie figured she had ended up as head of intelligence in the first place. Surely having such a job suggests a certain amount of...skill in certain areas. Ones that a wandering singer, not even a wandering gypsy singer, would possess. Well. Perhaps Rosalie would learn, yet.

Rajani does not respond to the comment, however, she does feel her the corner of her lips tilt up. Particularly when Last makes his own comments.

If her smirk is a little smug or a little feral, well. Who can blame her? Torchlight catches on the silver metal as it dances across her fingers a moment before disappearing back into whatever nook in her clothing it had come from. "Just a trick of the trade," she says, though she fails to mention which trade. "Besides, a smith should know how to use what she makes."

It does seem like he's relying on the smith for some sort of protection: he ain't near loud as he usually is, but it ain't been a great few days in the Grimm family. Jacob's in town, supposedly making threats, certain brothers are embarrassing themselves mightily with unintentional confessions, and there is the ever-looming threat of the wolves, the looming guilt of being caught between family and the obligation that others suggest they ought to feel. But he keeps his eyes on Raj, steady-like, and seems relieved that Oberon isn't poking his big furry snout into the situation, since he figures Obby could only make this conversation worse.

He usually does.

"Huh," cuts in the Grimm brother, apparently not much liking the fact that Rosalie feels that she has to ask Rajani for permission to have a day off of work, but not quite possessing the courage to remark upon it. "I'm half a mind t'send Georgie off with you, so's he ain't unnerfoot again, him'n that scaredy-cat of a deer of his." While this comment could perhaps be construed as a touch cruel it is -- unfortunately -- quite true. Little Georgie's valiant Guardian is anything but valiant, and is in fact terrified of most everything.

There was certainly a more protective attitude the smith was taking towards him, she's standing much taller, and just a little bit in front of him almost. Have things really changed that much since Jacob's come to town, or has his brother really put that much fear of Rajani in to him? Or is it perhaps, something Raj has done herself?

"I've been rereading all my old books on the subject yes." She replies, voice still teetering on the edge of fear, "I've got a list compiled, though I don't want to send it off to you just yet, I'm not quite done with all of them you see." She hasn't personally mentioned her new job to the twins yet, that she's going through and working for Rajani. "Another few days and I'll have Shuu bring it personally to you." If the twins haven't heard by now about their arrangement, they'll certainly find out soon with this meeting behind them. She glances briefly to her paramour, almost concerned about the time this is taking, though returns her gaze up to the rooftops.

"Where's Oberon anyway? He having a good time keeping in tip top shape?" Or so she'd assume. The wolves would be coming soon, there was no doubt about it, and certainly Oberon would want to be ready. "Or is he having a nice, leisurely day as well like our two?" Not that it was an invitation for him to show up.

The gypsy hummed at Rosalie's response. Reasonable enough, she supposed. At this point, and especially with this topic, being thorough was more important than being swift. She shrugged at Rosa's question. "He's otherwise occupied," was all she said. Perhaps he was exercising, or perhaps he was paying someone a visit. True, they were rarely apart. However, she had been on a trip she had needed to make alone.

Deciding that, if their conversation was going to continue for any length of time, it was a little ridiculous that it carry on this way, Rajani leapt cat-like to the ground, landing with little more than the soft tap of boot on paving-stone and the quiet rustle of cloth. She straightened and leaned against the brick wall of the building she had previously been standing upon.

Turning her attention to Last, she said, perhaps unhelpfully, "Depends on what you want them to learn." Though they were speaking normally enough, their body language said it all, and Rajani was growing weary of the way they were cowering. "Perhaps you should ask Macaire."