Welcome to Gaia! ::

This grimalkin is a bit more mellow than Gwen, apparently: he makes a small noise when he is lifted, a surprised trill, but no sharp-clawed violence ensues. He will set his claws out to hold himself in place on Reese's shoulder, but so long as his shirt is not paper-thin this will cause him no great pain. The jerky pleases the grimalkin; the scratch pleases him even more, and he begins a great deep rumbling in his chest, his slightly huskier body making him a heavier weight than Gwen. He cannot see the female grimalkin now, and does not know that he has crossed a line in receiving these attentions; his tail sways only slowly back and forth.

Outside, there is a high, happy cry as a new angle is attempted with great success; the thumping changes to a faster rhythm, until there's a scratching sound -- and something hits the floor with a loud crash. Apparently the lovers have been a little bit too enthusiastic. But this is not good for Reese: as the lovers curse in whispers and shuffle with their clothing to try and flee, they have put Reese in equal danger of being caught should someone come to see what the noise was.

Fortunately the grimalkin turns out to like this huddled position very much, and a big, thick purr starts up deep in his chest. Reese might be going through all this trouble simply to entertain the feline, so far as he is concerned. His claws will dig in a little to keep himself steady, but there is none of Gwen's touchiness there, no intent to harm. The only thing that disappoints him is that there are no more scratches, no more treats, and yet after a moment he finds distraction from this, and sticking his whiskered nose behind the thief's ear, begins to lick thoughtfully at his skin.

There will be belated footsteps in the house, and the distant sound of someone muttering complaints: the secretive servants are not caught, but a good guess seems to have been made about the likely source of the bumping, thumping noise. Lights go on here and there, but do not stay on: after stuttered, sleepy curses, the candles and lanterns are eventually blown out.

But if his kicks do not silence the little flea-bitten mongrel, now the grimalkin on his shoulder finally shows a fierce interest in its surroundings. It will probably be a painful moment for Reese, for the feline digs its claws in suddenly in reaction, and hisses and spits with such ferocity that even the little dog may be taken aback. If that hiss does not keep it quiet, a low growling sound, the precursor to something truly terrible, begins gurgling deep inside the male grimalkin, promising death if the little mop gets close to the Giver-of-Skritches again.

Although this might briefly silence the dog, it may lend even more urgency to Reese's plight .. because from the sound of it, if he doesn't get the grimalkin away soon, there's going to be a fight.

And a light goes flickering back on in an upstairs window.

He may have time to hear a muffled curse, he may not, but surprise will make his pursuit clumsy and precious moments too late to stop him. When Reese gets to the corner Harmon is not there -- probably for the best, if he'd been wise enough to hear the noise and run instead of coming to see what it was. There is someone disappearing around the corner at speed, and the faint and fading sound of a whistle now that he is outside. If Reese follows this shadow, he may eventually find Harmon .. unless he thinks it best to simply return to where the two first met, the tavern where Harmon first engaged his services.

Either way, Harmon will not wait for him. He wants to be no more than a distant shadow to the men from the manor house, if that. He has no magic to protect him, and he is .. distinctive.

The door is flung open with a jangling clash, and shouting follows it. "Stop! Stop! Thief -- there's been a thief -- Stop!"

The grimalkin has stopped hissing. He huddles down against Reese, startled, his ears flattened against his skull and his tail tucked up and around.