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Chert protested loudly as she revealed the book. His eyes flinched away from the large, bold picture of the rodent on the cover as if it physically burned his retinas, and he was glad when she carelessly tossed it onto the floor. It felt less like he'd been caught with a non-fiction book than a magazine with a centerfold featuring Miss December, but Antony's calm demeanor allayed his shame somewhat. Instead of immediately retreating back into his shell, he rubbed his rough palms over his face and growled quietly. "I met Zach again. It sounded like the changes had screwed with his head," he said. "I guess I... didn't want to be caught by surprise."

Even the indirect admission of his fate tasted bitter, but he tried to keep any trace of self-pity out of his voice. Antony had already suffered through one change and moved on without clinging to dramatics; he should be able to deny Moreau the pleasure of visible discomfort, as well.

A small, lop-sided grin crept across Chert's face. Strong personality? "That's just a nice way of saying I'm a stubborn a**," he said wryly, moving with her to accomodate her change in position. There was no doubt in his mind that she'd made an exceedingly comfortable pillow, but for the snuggling-impaired the thought was just a bit daunting. Instead, he reached up to gently grab one of her wrists, bringing it down to the level of his chest. His calloused thumbs made slow circles across the surface of her palm as he stared at her hand and listened to what she said. For someone so used to roughly shoving people away, understanding was a slightly troubling thing to recieve from someone else, and he felt as if he lacked the neccessary tools to deal with it. But Antony didn't seem the type to voice empty words of reassurance, so he paused in simply brushing them aside.

"Us kitchenware's got to stick together," he said, returning her smile faintly. A school of unvoiced thoughts swam behind his turquoise eyes, unable to find a vocal outlet, so he simply patted her hand awkwardly before releasing it and joined her in staring at the ceiling. It didn't seem to offer many answers.

Chert's eyebrows gave a faint twitch, but he managed to keep his expression mostly neutral. After all, indignation was what had originally secured him a rock as a second namesake- the more you resisted, the funnier it was. Only maybe she truly was fond of the nickname, in which case failure to protest might end up with similar results, when it was all said and done. Antony's mischevious expression suggested one scenario over the other, though, so he said noncommittally, "It's not much stranger than Chert."

The n** caused Chert to expel his breath in a startled snort, the muscles in his abdomen tensing briefly. Weren't squirrels supposed to be herbivores? "Having someone slap a name on a birth certificate doesn't make it yours," he said. A ghost of his customary frown darkened his brow as he watched the path her finger traced.

Antony's deft switch of subject matter erased the stormy expression and replaced it with a blink of surprise. He shifted slightly and shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe if you promise to return the favor." The corners of his mouth quirked upwards in humor. Insults were easy to deal with. Compliments? Not so much. But somewhere in the back of his head, his ego puffed up its chest and preened its feathers cheerfully.

"I- uh-" Chert began, but the words scattered in all directions like marbles poured from a bag, and suddenly he couldn't quite remember out how to string them together into a sentence. There probably weren't many snappy retorts with which to counter, anyway; Antony's pretty much topped the bill.

Chert stared at her suspiciously for a few seconds before he complied. One hand rubbed at the back of his neck uncertainly as he tried without success to divine what she was up to from her expression.

His muscles complained at first, every bit as stubborn as the man they were attached to. A back as full of knots as a crazed boy scout's attempt at a merit badge was the price one payed for being perpetually defensive, but Antony's clever fingers gradually coaxed the stiff muscles into submission and Chert's suspicion was put to rest. A quiet rush of air escaped his body as he felt his shoulders relax for the first time in... well, a while. In the next moment, though, his spine reflexively straightened when he felt her hands slide around to his stomach and her lips brush against his back. He couldn't supress a shudder of pleasure as she slowly worked her way upwards, the soft surface of her skin pressing against his own. The sensation was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Distantly, he heard Antony pose a question. "That's fine," he breathed.