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"Of course it's alri--ghhkk!" Moult's beak snaps shut at the sudden unexpected interruption, and the hunk of Skurri he was trying to swallow gets momentarily stuck on the way down. With a monumental (and extremely loud) horking cough, he finally manages to gulp it down... but it's painful. Probably for everyone involved. He coughs twice, then smiles in what is meant to be a winning way at the entering Medic. Moult instead manages to look fairly sickly. "Ah-- heh, heh-- erm, ahem. Lichen! I wasn't expecting you..." That's pretty obvious by now, but the old Ghost attempts to salvage the situation, not deigning to notice when the Mist female takes away his last bit of Skurri.

"Hrm, um... Lichen, I suppose you've met Tousled, yes?" Of course they have, considering the situation. "Er.. she was just visiting. This-- this wasn't her idea." Very smooth, Moult, this is going quite well. "I-- well, that is to say, I was-- you see, it's just that..." He bumbles over himself for a few awkward moments, then gives up with a visible slicking of his battered feathers. The old Watcher drops his wobbly head sheepishly.

"Er... I've been a bit peckish lately."

"Yes yes, quite good," she replies absently, poking at Moult with her Will. He'd be used to the sensation, at least, and hopefully doesn't find it to be quite as intrusive and creepy as most of her patients do. Granted, he has had an awful lot of experience compared to her other patients. "It's quite alright, my dear, he just knows full well that the food I have prepared for him isn't as much to his liking. Even if it is for his own good. My own meals are always more delicious to the old coot, I swear he thinks I'm trying to poison him."

Lichen clucks her beak, turning her attention and her Will away from Moult as she begins to poke around in the shelter. A new leaf-wrapped package is delivered to the old Ghost - this package was not hidden away at all, by the by - and is unwrapped to reveal an assortment of convenient bite-size and delectable morsels. "Have you been here long, dear? You do know how we need to keep his strength up. Silly old fool doesn't know how to pace himself." Is Moult still there? She's certainly talking as if she isn't... or at least, as if she expects that he'll be too busy stuffing his face to raise much protest.

Tousled, on the other hand, does not meet Moult's eyes this time. Her yellow eyes seem glued to Lichen, and her ruffled feathers are still quite tightly sleeked back in worry and embarrassment. She shyly clears her throat and half-whispers:

"Um... No, I haven't been here for very long... We've only talked for a little while, actually."

She studies her talons for a brief moment, before clearing her throat again and addressing the issue that has made her so subdued, this time.

"That-that was your food? I didn't... when he said 'Lichen's store', I just assumed that it was food that you had left there for him. I-I didn't notice that other package... Oh my." She eyes the tidbits that she had intended to eat herself, and feels only slightly less embarrassed by the fact that Lichen hasn't made any effort to remove them yet. Still, she mumbles nervously, with a small gesture at the food. "Are... are you sure it's alright?"

Then she glances over at the special food that Moult was supposed to have, and can't help but raise her ear tufts in confusion. It doesn't look much different to her eyes than the food they had just eaten, except that it is cut down into smaller, more easily manageable pieces - and considering the speed with which the old bird had been gulping down his food, that can only be a good thing.

She can't help herself: "What's wrong with it?" she asks, in a slightly less quiet voice than before, and leans in a bit closer to see if there's something about the dish that she hasn't noticed yet. Like some sort of foul-smelling medicinal herb or something...

Moult, who had been watching Lichen talk to Tousled with a surprisingly spiteful look on his face, becomes aware of the medic's sudden interest in the other female. In an instant, his entire demeanour changes-- his beak clacks sharply, and the battered Sentinel now draws himself up to his full size. The patchy feathers which had finally settled even in Lichen's presence now stand on end again, and it is far more alarming now that real anger glints in his eyes.

"Last time I checked, you only had one patient to look after!" His tone is clipped, and he lurches warningly on one leg while bracing himself with the opposite wing. His head bobs sharply and every inch of the normally genial Watcher's posture suggests that Lichen is very close to being attacked. ...but this is Moult. Moult doesn't get angry-- not like this-- and even if he did he's certainly in no physical shape to make good on his threat. It's like watching a Mus scream at the Brigadier-- either funny or deeply disturbing, depending on who's watching.

Even taking into account his fondness of Tousled, this is a major over-reaction to the situation... especially from a bird rarely caught without a smile on his face.

Lichen's immediate response to Moult's aggressive actions is quite instinctive - alarmed and defensive, she draws back, hunkers down, spreads her wings a little, and fluffs up. Her eyes widen in surprise, the nosy medic is clearly off-put by the strength of his reaction, and then her posture and demeanour abruptly shift to... embarrassment?

"N-no, I only.. It's just.. What if I could help, it's not like what happe-" she stammers, stumbling over her words in her haste to explain her actions, "I didn't think tha-" and then Lichen cuts her own reply off sharply, shaking her head and forcing herself to relax. She closes her eyes briefly, taking a deeper breath to force the following words to come more slowly, and positions herself to face both Moult and Tousled.

"I'm sorry, that was unprofessional and inexcusable. If you had wanted my counsel you would have come to me as a patient, not as a visitor. It was not my place to pry."

Tousled does not immediately react to Moult's apologies, because she is no longer looking directly at either sentinel. She must have frozen up sometime during the heated exchange, and her expression has slowly shifted to an intense expressionlessness - there's really no other way to describe it - even though she physically remains in her crouched, frightened position.

"Sit. Down." The words are surprisingly short and clipped, and even the little Deep Woods herself seems to notice the unpleasant ring in her voice, because she snaps out of the odd reverie and finally looks up at the old Ghost with a small and only slightly forced smile. "Please?"

Clearing her throat, she pulls herself up a bit and continues, in a subdued but much more normal tone: "It's-It's alright. You're not healthy yet, Moult... you shouldn't get so worked up. Sit down." She then turns to Lichen and smiles again, albeit still with that slightly forced element to it.

"I think I understand now," she says, the calmness of her voice belied slightly by the various small signs of discomfort that she's valiantly trying to hide. "You're curious about my feathers, right? It's okay. I can understand that. Apology accepted."

Her demeanour pretty clearly conveys what she is not saying, though: 'Okay, now let's not talk any more about that, please.' Still, she does give Moult a thoughtful, curious glance, for a moment looking as though she would like to ask him a myriad of questions - but then apparently decides to silently scrutinize her own feet, instead.

Sit? Moult sits, with a thump that probably hurt as much as it sounds like it hurt. His one scraggly eartuft flattens to his head as he flicks his eyes between Lichen and Tousled; the former receives a glare, which fades into tired sheepishness as he turns his attention to the latter. There are hundreds of waspish retorts he could fling at... pretty much everything Lichen is saying, but out of respect for Tousled's unspoken wishes he keeps his beak tightly shut.

Except to say, quietly, "I've heard that before."

The ghost male makes no attempt to stop Lichen's retreat-- in fact, the look on his face clearly encourages it, and he refuses now to make any sort of eye contact. He now wants nothing beyond a quiet moment to explain himself and apologize to Tousled. ...And, perhaps, for a tree to fall on Lichen.