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"Ye wouldn't happen tae know where there be stream or pond?" He finally releases Cadence's tail when the Guardian manages to catch hold of his sleeve and begins to tear at it -- grasping it in his teeth and shaking his head back and forth like a dog. The fawn seems incredibly excited about this game, and can be heard squeaking through the fabric, his tail back to wagging like it may never stop. "Took him once. Found mud." The faint irritation in this terse description may say far more to her than just his few words .. judging from Cadence's enthusiasm with everything else, he found a great deal of mud, and brought most of it back home with him.

"And .." He pauses, obviously hesitant now, glancing first to Oberon almost nervously, then back to Rajani again. " .. wouldn't mind asking ye a question or twa, if ye've the time for it." He sounds awkward, as if both embarrassed by the need to ask and not entirely certain that he should be asking in the first place. Every time he brings up the subject of the Guardians he gets in some sort of trouble: the first time he'd met Warwick and talked about why Guardians should appear, he'd made Warwick upset. Then he'd tried talking to pretty little Eluf, and not only did he never manage to bring up the subject, he'd gotten himself in trouble as well! But Rajani's an adult for one, and a clever lass at that. Maybe she'd take it better than either of the others.

"Hain't found a toy he cain't destroy yet," Macaire agrees absently, lifting his arm up so that for a moment Cadence pulls up on his back legs, following it. A second later the fawn drops, does his little victory dance, and peeps for further attention. "Usually wear him out of evenings." Doing what he does not say -- nor would he wish to just yet, not standing in the middle of the street, not when he hasn't even broached the topic to her. He flushes a bit, rubbing at his hair with one hand, and then glances off down the street. "Cookshop on corner," he says awkwardly after a moment. "Got a garden, and benches in it." In other words, they could sit outside without leaving their Guardians, and enjoy a meal in their company for once. "'Tis on me, in trade fer talking."

Should she accept, he'll nod with relief and turn to lead the way -- but only after he's leaned down and scooped Cadence completely off his feet, setting the fawn over his shoulder. Despite being so far from the ground, and draped over his Chosen's shoulder like a sack, Cadence seems to find this great fun as well, to be running without getting anywhere. "C'mere ya daft thing. Ye can chase moths in garden."

At least -- although this may be a disappointment to her, depending on how she feels about him -- it does not seem to have anything to do with confessions of romance. Chances are he'd have been even more awkward if that had been the case, or he'd be more nervous when she agreed to dinner and not relieved. But that begs the question as to what it might be about: clearly something that both embarrasses and worries him.

The cookshop is, of course, a simple place, little more than a glorified tavern where the food just so happens to be edible. The outside garden is lit with torches and if the lighting is poor, they can at least see the food that soon gets set in front of them .. and Cadence will indeed have great fun blundering after moths. Macaire will wait until food and drink have been set before them, talking about nothings until then: the weather, how he's adjusting to city life, whether or not she's been busy or doing well. Only once their food has been delivered .. along with drinks for them and bowls of water for the Guardians .. will he begin to talk.

" .. oi'm sairry for it, oi cain't say enough -- but there were a reason, back when oi met ye, that oi dinnae quite believe ye when ye said yon handsome lad there were a Guardian." He keeps his voice low, and speaks far more seriously than he has about anything before now: there is an intensity to the speech that makes him sound like another person entirely. With his broad accent and cautious ways, his words are generally gentle or slow, and this abrupt shift perhaps warns her as to how serious he is about this. "Since oi got me lad Cadence, well, oi cain't stop thinking 'bout it. How me reason might not be sae wrong after all."

Being a practical sort, Macaire probably wouldn't be offended to be thought of as less than a friend: just as Rajani provided fodder for his books, he'd hope that she'd think of him (if nothing else) as potentially useful in some way. Though that would be before Cadence: now that he has the Guardian, he'd swear that he feels a connection to her that wasn't there before, something they share that most of the rest of the world isn't privy to .. and in fact, often doesn't believe in. He continues to be nervous, nodding in agreement and putting a hand to the little totem he wears at his throat, rubbing his thumb across the back of it.

" .. ye cain't laugh at me -- well, ye could, but d'ruther ye not." He pauses briefly, and finally shrugs, leaning back a bit to watch as Cadence trips over his own feet, goes sprawling, then bounces up again. "T'is wolves, lass. T'is the wolves. All them old tales, they say Guardians came 'cause of wolves, aye? Sae if there be Guardians comin', shouldnae we be askin' ourselves why?"

He relaxes minutely, taking comfort in the fact that here at last is someone who takes the situation as seriously as she: she isn't laughing at him, nor squirming uncomfortably away from the situation. He knew he could trust her to be practical about it! He doesnae know why them as look for wives look for foolish ninnies that don't know their arse from their nose, but gypsies -- oh, them women got spirit, nerve, and will!

" .. been thinking 'bout that," he admits sheepishly, hunching over his dinner, glancing sidelong to make sure Cadence hasn't wandered off too far, then looking back again. "Could be, jest like there be ainly a few Guardians, 'tis ainly a few wolves, and them as has been taken either not be known, or them that find what's left think 'tis ainly normal things, that it cain't be Wolves. Could be Guardians be trying to beat them, be ready for 'em. Ye met many as has got Guardians? They be wee things yet, all bright-eyed and wet-earred."

"Oi'm nat saying 'tis all there'll be." He shrugs, finally giving his food some attention while she speaks, and swallows to continue his answer. "But mayhap all there be is a handful tae start. Ainly a few, loike first few raindrops afore a storm." He shakes his head, looking even more serious now, and when he looks away at Cadence the ache is clear in his expression. In a way, even Cadence seems innocent to him, though surely Cadence is better suited to warfare than some of the children he's encountered: to expose them to war is to break them in a way that can be healed from .. but never truly repaired.

"T'isn't melodrama," he tells her in a softer voice, rolling the word around in his mouth until it becomes broad and rich, a presage of doom in and of itself. "'Tis ainly that me and thee, lass, we seen bad things afore, and we marched along 'thout shelter oft' enough tae recognize when a storm be coming. Oi dinnae yet what sort, but me bones ache with it, oi tell ye true."

There's a bit of a twitch at one corner of his mouth, a smile that isn't quite happy, that tells her he can understand. There's a rising anticipation that comes with the knowledge of battle, sometimes, an impatience that tingles across the skin and sings through the blood. But this seems too cheerful a place to talk much on it, and with their Guardians near he cannot bear it, so instead he nods. Now, with relief, he is ready to confess what has been itching at him for quite a while now, a hidden secret that he is almost ashamed of, considering the bright young faces of most of the Chosen. His body seems to tip forward, as if he is going to apply himself more seriously to his meal, and in fact he takes a small knife from his belt to spear a small chunk of potato -- but it sits there for a moment as he glances up across the table at her.

" .. been trainin' me lad, there. Quiet-like. Bit've stuff used fer war-horse, bit've stuff used fer dogs, roight? They be smart-like, enough fer stuff horse nor dog couldnae do." He glances down at his meal, apparently having lost his appetite for it, and then looks back up at her before his glance slides over to Oberon. "Got me lad wearin' packs, tae be stronger. Training on targets, tae knock targets down with a charge, ainly once he gets grown, a rack as that won't do nae harm." He tips his head gravely to the older Guardian, wondering as he does so how much the Guardian understands -- and what Oberon thinks of this, the possibility that he could be forced to turn warrior, instead of merely protector.