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As it happens, Macaire does not seem inclined to anger over this incident. In fact, as Patrek regards the twins pointedly and makes his little "suggestions," a corner of Macaire's mouth begins to twitch suspiciously upward. Like the guardsman, he seems to find the whole thing really rather funny, without even knowing the history of the boys, and the twins themselves are no help.

Last's mouth drops open when he mentions teaching Unwanted some social graces; First's follows suit when Patrek mentions paying for any lap in grace which the fawn might have indulged in. They both regard the guardsman with expressions of bewildered shock, mouths hanging open for several seconds before they snap closed as one and flush with what is perhaps a hint of anger. If this is indeed the case, they are not angry enough -- or, at least, foolish enough -- to express that anger directly. Instead they flush and do their best not to scowl and try not to look at either man.

"Yessir, Guardsman," Last mutters.

"Yessir, Guardsman," First follows suit, then looks sidelong at Macaire.

Macaire only nods amiably, then glances thoughtfully at Patrek, addressing him instead of the boys, since it is Patrek that is plainly in charge of them. "T'was naught broke but me sleep. 'Twill count meself fairly served with ainly their word t'will nae happen again. But if 'tis activity the wee bairn be lacking, there's training tae be had at the Swan. Informal-like, ye unnerstand. Jest to kip them as is active out of trouble." He trails off, suddenly aware that he is speaking with not just a Chosen but a Guardsman, who could very well take offense to weapons-training taking place under someone else's tutelage.

"Oi found it worked well enough with me lad," Macaire agrees companionably, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he watches the two boys. Though they are trying to hide it, horror is creeping into their expression -- training? Discipline? They seem perfectly aware that although technically speaking the two older men are discussing Unwanted, the implication is that the ones who really need a little discipline is them!

" .. really, that's all right," mutters First uneasily, looking back and forth between the two. He doesn't at all share Patrek's uncertainty about manipulating them; he figures it the guardsman wants them in training, he'll somehow be able to do it. After all, he's with the guard. All he's gotta do is report their attempted theft; his word is going to be trusted over theirs, no matter how many people they pay off!

"We got plenty a-keepin' us busy," agrees Last. "Got a tavern to run."

"We'll keep him out of trouble," promises First, as fervently as he can manage.

Yessir," the pair choruses again, and already they have begun to inch away from the older men. Last has bent down to get one arm around Unwanted's middle, lifting him bodily off the ground. The fawn does not much care for this, and tries to set his teeth in his Chosen's arm to show his dismay -- but catches only his sleeve, and Last does not even notice in his hurry.

"If that's all gentlemen we'll be going have a nice day," First tells them, the words practically running into one another in a rush; their edging backwards becomes a full-on flight, as the two youths turn about and dart out of the alley and around the corner.

Macaire snorts, giving voice to his amusement as they move out of earshot .. and taking the opportunity to give Patrek a closer look. "D'ain't think oi'll be getting back tae sleep," he says easily, rolling his shoulders back to stretch the stiff muscles there. "Fancy a pint? Wouldnae mind hearin' how ye met yon mischiefs."

Macaire returns his grin, running a hand through his hair and leaving it looking even more rumpled then before. "Right, then. Give me a wee moment tae find me a shirt." He turns back towards the stairs that lead up to his dwelling, though he pauses at the door and glances back at Patrek. " .. er, me laddie-buck 'twill be about in a moment, so donnae warry when ye sees him. He's a good lad." With this warning, looking vaguely embarrassed Macaire ducks inside of his flat, presumably to complete his dressing.

And indeed -- as if summoned by some silent call -- an unfamiliar Guardian will step delicately around the building, stretching and walking slowly as if he too has only just awoken. It is easy to see why Cadence himself was not up in Macaire's second-story flat; there is no way this large beast would ever fit! He is huge compared to most Guardians, as he would need to be to carry Macaire, and indeed he has a peculiar look to him, with a long elegant face and a twitching, curling tail stretched out behind him. But he is more than just amiable, he is in fact overly friendly; he will happily approach Patrek and snuffle his hair and push his head into the stranger's hands for a scratch, and nibble at his shirt. If Careo protests he will nuzzle the young thing and transfer all of his affection to the smaller Guardian, his tail twitching all the while with purest pleasure to meet them.

It's the strangest thing. When he speaks Cadence not only seems to listen -- which, admittedly Careo does -- but to understand him fully. His ears perk forward at the sound of his own name, and his snort sounds almost like a man's amused huff of laughter at the guardsman's remark. He even bobs his head in a way that is so like a nod of agreement that it is almost uncanny. But it is so simple, to nod, that it will be easy to doubt that that's really what has just occurred.

After enjoying Patrek's attentions for a few moments more, Cadence will turn his head to examine little Careo: snuffling his ears and head and back, his great warm breath smelling of the flowers that are his favorite treat. He will if allowed stand close to the little Guardian, and nuzzle him, as if reassuring him that despite the vast differences in their sizes, they can still be very good friends.

Macaire will soon come thumping back down the steps from his flat, now fully dressed. Buttoning up his vest as he goes, he stops by Cadence to give the Guardian a hearty thump on his shoulder by way of greeting, then ducks (as if by habit) when Cadence tries to get a mouthful of his thick hair. Although this succeeds in keeping his hair from the Guardian, Cadence instead gets his teeth on the collar of his Chosen's shirt, gnawing and slobbering happily, making a deep noise in the back of his throat that sounds suspiciously like laughter.

" .. geroff, ye lout! Oi bain't nae playtoy, yer making the fool o' me affront of guests!"

"Nay," grumbles Macaire, finally tugging his collar free of Cadence's teeth. "Not this one. Useta worry he were head-sick, when he were a wee likkle thing, and he b'ain't changed all that much. Ye mind a short walk? There's a tavern what's got benches outside, down and over the way -- they'll not mind having yer sweet little lad there, and so far they've put up with this great big oaf sitting hisself beside me table." This causes Cadence to snort, as if he finds this all very funny, and Patrek may be able to guess why -- Careo and Patrek are not alone in being both intimidated and awed by Cadence; with the current mood of the city being what it is, the tavern keeper is probably ecstatic to have Cadence on the premises. No doubt Careo will be just as welcome there, a gentle counterpoint to Cadence's greater bulk; the tavern keeper will be able to sell drinks for days to come simply by the virtue of being able to tell his custom about the pair of guardians that visited his tavern.

This first statement causes Macaire to bark a laugh, going so far as to slap Patrek's back companionably before settling into an ambling walk down the street with Cadence trotting along beside him. "Now there's what oi loike tae hear! We'll get along jest fine, oi'll be thinking." All of this is something of a relief to Macaire, who finds oddly enough that he rather misses the camaraderie of being a soldier in a fighting group. It's all well and good that he's got a posh job being intimidating for a jewel merchant now, but there's just him by hisself. The only one he's felt recently that he's got even a little in common with is Rajani -- and sometimes what a man needs is the company of other men.

"Tsh! Wouldnae be against ye having yer lad teach mine some of that; he ain't never been serious. Only way oi could get him tae do anything useful were to turn it intae a game." He pauses, thinking that since he is talking to another man he needn't worry about subtleties or being careful about bringing up potentially awkward subjects. "Speaking of getting lads tae be useful .. what's the story of thonder mischiefs? You fancy they might be set tae sommat useful, roight?"