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With the coming of short days and progressively harsh weather, everyone seemed to be in the spirit of the holiday that was just around the corner. For many it was the simple anticipation of an extra day off, to be spent with friends and family, and to eat and rest. It was no exception for a certain weary Okrainan making his way 'home' from the docks of the Thrithing River, who was indeed looking for the chance to take a break. It wasn't that Zharkov was lazy (not usually, anyway), but the cool, damp weather did not favor his old injury, and his limp was slightly more pronounced as he strolled quietly back to the Fox and Hounds, the inn at which he'd been living ever since he arrived in the city. Things had been quite different for the past few weeks, however; it certainly was different rooming with someone else.

Despite his initial reservations, Kozel had turned out not to be so bad of a roommate as Zharkov had been afraid of. He was horribly guilty for thinking that way in the first place, but who could deny that the little Katchian could be so fiercely strict when he wanted to? He had every right to be, too, since his generous act was the only thing that had kept Zharkov from becoming a vagrant. His room, his rules. They'd taken a while to adjust to it, but at the very least, their routines didn't clash too badly. Up at dawn, only to toil away at their respective occupations...Kozel didn't seem to like it much when Zharkov happened to come in later, and so he had tried to keep late-night cavorting to a minimum. Not too hard, when his own job did enough to wear him out, most days.

But, yes, it would be good to have a little break. Sunderland's celebration of the holiday was not nearly as colorful as it had been in Belestrana or his homeland, but he could still enjoy the subtleties of it, and the cheerful atmosphere it seemed to bring with it. Hopefully there would be plenty of food, and he quickened his pace at the thought, eager to get out of the cold and back to the warmth of the inn, where (relatively) good food and drink awaited him. Before long, he could see the sign, and he hummed an old carol quietly to himself as he went.

Despite rooming with a criminal, Kozel did not find himself regretting the decision. In fact, that very label began wearing off as they lived in such close quarters—not that Zharkov might have been able to tell with how freely he was berated behind closed doors. But it was only a sign of Kozel's lessening fears, as he grew to trust the man would not bite the hand that fed him, so to speak, a benign desire to look after his friend hidden behind sanctimonious spiels. Relative peace reigned, ideal for the holidays, and though not usually a festive man (to absolutely no one's surprise), Kozel had decided to partake in a little more of Sunderland's traditions that year.

The Katchian had learned from his employer that offerings were left out for spirits. Mr. Varick had kept a straight face when saying it, too, not that he ever really dropped that stony expression, so Kozel just had to believe it wasn't some joke on the foreigner. In any case, it was a good enough excuse for him to place the totem outside once Zharkov left, almost hoping the spirits did exist and would take the stolen trinket and erase his fears forever. More likely, a passerby might take it, and that was just as acceptable.

Perhaps it was a bit of a lazy effort, but Kozel had tried to go so far as to throw the damn thing away once, right out of his window with as strong of a pitch as he could muster, but... the wolf had brought it back. Dozor, the most terrifying of all of Zharkov's creatures, only convincing him further that there was something much deeper, and darker, at work.

But just leaving the toy goat out, with the spirit of the season in mind, why, Kozel was only trying to assimilate further! It couldn't be helped if it disappeared forever, and the servant continued on the rest of the day as he normally did, thinking of it only with the hope that someone surely must have taken it by now.

He was wrong, naturally. The very inevitability that Kozel was trying to put off had happened: the fawn had manifested from its totem before it could be spirited away after all, blinking bright blue eyes and terribly confused by the still surroundings, chosen nowhere in sight—because he was inside, blissfully unaware and putting the finishing touches on some sweets. Curling up against the cold with ears flattened back, the fawn would just have to wait obediently until Kozel realized his mistake and retrieved him, or the spirits took him back after all. Somehow, the latter seemed more likely.

Fortunately for Kozel, Zharkov had been completely unaware of his attempts to rid himself of the totem. True to his offer, Zharkov usually kept it stowed in amongst his belongings, safe and sound, and out of sight. He'd hoped that doing so would provide peace of mind to his worried friend, who never seemed to mention it much after that. It would have irked the Okrainan deeply to have known the truth, but perhaps Kozel couldn't be blamed; the little creature that had bestowed its presence upon Zharkov likely served as a constant reminder. And what a rambunctious little reminder he was turning out to be! Once the little beast had found his legs he was always up and about, cavorting around Kozel's room, chewing on the bedsheet edges and tipping things over. That part of the adjustment period had made things a bit harder...

They'd worked through it though. By some miraculous turn of events, none of their strange quadrupedal companions seemed to clash horribly. It had taken a lot of convincing to even begin to let Dozor into the room, and he still didn't get to stay indefinitely. The fox seemed to have some strange affinity to the fiery little 'goat'. He was as patient as any hand-reared hound (a detail that had Zharkov baffled), gentle and calm as the incorrigible youngster nipped and headbutted. Barred from remaining inside on the grounds that he would devour Kozel's precious pet rabbit the moment their backs were turned, he would often spend long stretches curled up on Kozel's doorstep, watching and listening quietly.

The silvery canine was asleep when Kozel managed to carry out his sly deed, or else he might have righted it immediately. So what else should Zharkov see curled up amongst the little candles and tiny saucers of cream left out but - was that a cat? The Okrainan squinted as he drew near, and then could hardly believe his eyes. It wasn't a cat at all.

"What is this. How dare he do this." Zharkov's lip curled into a disgusted sneer. He stooped to gently lift the tiny being, tucking it into the crook of his arm and snatching the little toy as well. Had Kozel really left the toy out in the cold? Had he dug through his things to get at it? Why now, of all times? Zharkov was baffled, and angry. The irony of the fawn's appearance on the evening of its abandonment was lost on him, and he stormed into the inn to find the conniving, infuriating man, intent on calling him out. It didn't take long; there he was in the kitchen as usual with the other servants and workers all bustling about. He paid them no mind.

"Kozel!!!" He glowered across the room as his hulking shape darkened the doorway, and everyone seemed to stop and watch for a moment. "I must have a word with you. Now." He growled, ignoring the taunt from the head chef (something about him getting his drunken self out of the kitchen) before retreating back into the hallway. He would be generous, with it so close to Christmas and all, and give the man a chance to heed Zharkov's request.

Having been hoping for its chosen, it came as a bit of a disappointment to the newly-manifested Guardian that a stranger should suddenly appear and pick it up instead, but it did not kick up a fuss. Glad at least to have been hoisted up out of the cold, it snuggled appreciatively into Zharkov's grasp and looked about with interest as it was then carried into a whole new world that surely, surely must eventually lead to the man it wanted so badly to know. The fawn was oblivious to any tension brewing, as...

The raspberry Kozel had been in the process of placing so delicately and artfully onto the plum pudding slipped right out of his fingers as he jolted upright in surprise, startled by Zharkov's sudden appearance and, further still, his dangerous tone. The actual words took a moment to register as he gazed in bewilderment, tinged with fear, though the looks and comments of the others brought him back. He could not ignore the head chef's jeer and, mortified to have the Okrainan, his responsibility, making a scene, his shock turned quickly to anger as he stormed out after the man. If it was he fight he wanted, it was a fight he'd get. Kozel knew very well how much Zharkov owed him.

"All right then, let me hear that word—" he began impatiently, then stopped short, catching sight of the fawn in the other man's arm. Immediately paling, the Katchian did not look horrified so much as guilty in that moment, though he snapped his gaze upwards to meet Zharkov's, not wanting to acknowledge the creature any more than he had to. Setting his jaw and trying not to seem rattled, he managed "I do not want this." Still, he could not help but feel like he had lost the argument before it had even begun as he heard the fawn bleat. It lifted its head and perked it ears as though eager to catch every incomprehensible word of the confrontation, icy eyes watching adoringly.

Zharkov was far too angry to be able to tend to the little animal properly, not before confronting his friend for the slimy deed he had done. This time, Kozel's anger provided little deterrent toward Zharkov's own temper, since he was so sure this time that it was Kozel in the wrong, and not him. The kitchen returned to its bustle even after Kozel had exited out into the hallway, and Zharkov glowered at him disapprovingly.

"Da, you have made that much clear." He nearly spat the words as he lapsed into their native tongue, cradling the young creature delicately in his arms, giving it a fine view of its negligent 'parent'. "I said I would keep it safe, but you have to go and throw it away! What made you do such a thing? What if someone had stolen it?" Zharkov's voice was still a growl, seeped with anger and disappointment.

"You knew what would happen, and you still did it. You would hurt these tiny little things who have harmed no one? We do not even fully understand them yet!" he snapped, and then hugged the fawn closer suddenly, glaring as one of the other staff walked past. He gave the younger servant the stink eye until he was gone, and covered the fawn with a hand so he couldn't be seen.

No matter how many times he tried to explain it to Kozel, he just couldn't seem to articulate the connection he shared with his own beast, the fiery little goat. That was all Zharkov could think to call it, a very strange connection, and it baffled him more and more every day. Perhaps Kozel would finally be able to understand, now, too.

Kozel had long fancied himself something of an experienced polemicist, ever-eager to engage in heated political debates or simply provoke arguments he knew he could win, which was really just about every one. And yet, he suddenly found himself forgetting his lines and his position as Zharkov brought out the language. Oh. He was really serious. It was a complete role reversal that had the Katchian humiliated as he was, yes, scolded like a child who had been caught doing something naughty, and he couldn't help but feel his ears burning with shame as he dropped his gaze, praying no one else could hear, not that anyone would understand—

But he kept his mouth shut, only tensing his shoulders and frowning indignantly down at his feet as another servant passed, mortification only deepening as he struggled to cobble together an explanation, or an excuse, or his reasons why, stinging from the accusations and hating the beast all the more for it. Huddling under the large man's hand, that very beast seemed suddenly less jolly, uttering a distressed little sound but unable to add anything more to the discussion.

Which was just fine with Kozel, who finally spoke up, determined to have his say once the coast was clear. "I do not want to understand them, why can't you understand that?" Despite the weak glare he managed to level at the Okrainan, there was pleading in his tone. "I would have preferred it stolen than turning you so foolish and womanly." Regretting it as soon as he said it, still there was no taking it back, as he tried his best to look disgusted instead of hurt.

Zharkov reeled back slightly at the insult, bristling for a moment before letting his temper smooth back down. Oh, how he wished he could call Kozel out on that one, but no, they were here to argue about who was more or less masculine. He was glad to see Kozel averting his gaze somewhat, though, as he continued to lecture the younger man.

"I said I would keep it for you! We didn't say anything about putting it outside!" He snapped in hushed tones, returning Kozel's glare with a dark scowl of his own. It wasn't as if he'd expected Kozel to help care for any of the little beasts, though it had been difficult to get his own rambunctious beast to settle down a bit. He had his own little corner of the room on Zharkov's side of the bed, and they got along well enough. Zharkov didn't see the issue of having two of them. Hell, they could probably become playmates!

"You didn't even ask me. I thought you were more responsible than this at least. You are more sensible than this." He argued, subconsciously rubbing the poor little thing's neck. It did feel foolish to argue so vehemently, but it was only because his own bond with his unusually colored 'companion' felt like it was growing stronger by the day. He had an understanding with the beast, even if he couldn't completely comprehend or explain it. Couldn't Kozel see by now that there was no harm in having him around? "If you will not keep him, I will."

When had the argument turned from being about the bizarre baby goat to questioning Kozel's virtues? Or had that been the objective from the start? It certainly felt that way, as Zharkov's remarks cut through him like a knife. Wincing and shrinking back, he wished to keep arguing, but the apparently too-real threat of losing his friend's esteem looming on the horizon had the 'experienced polemicist' floundering desperately to defend himself. "I am perfectly responsible! And sensible! It makes more sense to put an animal outside, where it belongs."

That fox that looked like a wolf while acting like a dog (when really it was a demon beneath it all) should have been the worst of Kozel's fears, but Zharkov's newly-acquired goat, with its blazing eyes and grotesque, spindly legs carrying it rollicking and colicky about their shared room had proven to be the greatest terror of all—and as the servant stared wide-eyed and wondering in horror at the newest intrusion, too-perfect a replica of the toy when such a thing couldn't have been possible, he could only see his life falling apart, all order and structure thrown to the wolves, so to speak, ruled now not by strong ethics instilled in a proud and noble household but by a wild pack of mismatched beasts from the forest (and wherever the grimalkin had come from, probably from the gutters) and the madman who had collected them.

If only Kozel could learn to relax as easily as the newest blight, the spotted fawn did under the larger man's caress. Blinking slowly once, twice, it finally allowed its eyes and drift shut and drowsed contented again, surely dreaming of the chaos it would cause as soon as it was put down. No, in actuality, the creature might have just sensed a change, a tension ebbing as its negligent parent indeed deflated a bit. "...I am responsible," the Katchian repeated sulkily, half-turning away and crossing his arms. He didn't want to look at either of them "But, I—I am sorry. I am simply... afraid. Of them." It was hard to admit even if it was the most obvious thing in the world, but he only wanted Zharkov to understand.

Zharkov's anger slowly melted away as Kozel changed his tune. He was appreciative as ever of the ease at which Kozel could be made to back down, especially when he knew he'd done something wrong. It wasn't even so much that he didn't want the little beast, but...

"I would have taken care of it for you. You didn't have to go and get rid of it behind my back, you know." Zharkov pointed out, also hurt by his friend's dishonesty. Had Kozel thought that he wouldn't notice? That he was stupid? He wished he could convince Kozel that they were harmless, but after a few weeks of trying he'd given up on that altogether. Perhaps the youngling in his arms would be a little more laid back than the other little hellion. He could only pray that that was the case. If it wasn't, Kozel might never acclimate.

"You are responsible Kozel, but you should not fear so much what you don't understand. That is a dangerous thing." Zharkov felt a bit cheesy for spewing such a novel piece of wisdom, but it was so true as far as his fearful companion went. As reliable as Kozel could be, he could also be horribly inflexible and had a hatred of the unknown that was almost enough to make Zharkov roll his eyes with disgust. Of course caution was warranted sometimes, but Kozel took it to a new level.

"I am going to try to find out more about the situation, Kozel. I don't know how yet, but I will try." he murmured solemnly.

Miffed that he should still be scolded by the man who really had no right to do so, Kozel pursed his lips, hand tightening on his sleeve, but he listened and that was an improvement. He couldn't quite appreciate the criticism offered, about how fearful he was when really Zharkov was too laidback, but it was an established difference in the two men by now and he saw no point in trying to argue it. After all, Zharkov was offering to do him a favor in looking after the animal, as much as he would have preferred it wasn't an issue at all, and he felt comforted by how serious the Okrainan seemed to be taking it.

Flicking a glance over at man and beast, he remembered, yes, Zharkov really was just as much in the dark as he was, and he softened up a bit himself, though his tone was rather begrudging. "It will not happen again, then. I am sorry." Sure, the little goat didn't look so threatening now, dozing off in the larger man's hold, and it was much less frightening in looks than the other monster in the room, but the whole situation was too unsettling, and he feared—"Let us hope there is something to learn of this situation," he sighed, giving Zharkov his back and clearly impatient to flee back to the kitchen, a brief escape from the inevitable troubles that awaited him with the introduction of this new goat into their ragtag bunch. "I would like to return to work now, if you've had your word."

"Thank you." Zharkov sighed, anger now replaced by weariness as he hugged the little animal in his arms closer to his body. He was anxious to get it out of sight, safely hidden away where it could rest in the relative safety of their shared room. He would have liked to discuss things further with Kozel, but he was already turning away, too eager to return to the unending stream of work he was always tending to. Once again Zharkov found himself wondering where he got all his energy.

"Yes, Kozel, but, ah...could we have tea, tonight? It would be nice to talk later." He offered a weak grin, merely hoping Kozel would acquiesce. Despite the negative start to their evening, Zharkov hadn't meant for it to happen that way. There were more pleasant things in store, and he was planning on taking advantage of the season to attempt to cheer his friend up a bit, even if he could not so easily smooth over his fears.

The request managed to give Kozel as pause, as he did so enjoy his tea with Zharkov, but evidently he was set on withdrawing and wouldn't let go of his sore feelings just yet, throwing the Okrainan a wary look over his shoulder. "Very well," he answered in clipped Common again, then gave no chance for further distraction, striding back into the kitchen, the comforting sounds of barked orders (or harsh scolding when said orders were ignored) and hasty bustling leaking out for just a moment before he disappeared into routine again.

As for the season, it was completely forgotten to Kozel, even as he returned to preparing holiday classics. A cold stone of dread crushed whatever cheer might have existed in him, as he could think only of the gift that had been presented to him: a sleeping fawn, ignorant to what a homewrecker it was, snuggled up close to its savior, its legs twitching in restless dreams. If only—the Katchian was almost tempted to ask if baby goat could be counted as a holiday dinner in Sunderland.

Zharkov was vastly relieved with the answer he was given, and let out the breath he'd been holding, heaving a quiet sigh. With that settled, he turned and slunk quickly down the corridor to where the servant's quarters were. The door was quickly unlocked, and was immediately met by their little hoard, who he swore seemed to recognize it was him before he even came in (his own goat child most of all). The firey little demon bounced out from behind the bed, bleating, and Whisky emerged from beneath it with a yawn.

"Hello my little hellions." He murmured, stepping over around to the little bed of scrap fabric he had made for his own manifested beast. "There is another of you now, so be nice." He nestled the newcomer down into the little bed of rags, and stroked a hand down his back, rather hoping he would stay asleep. Nestling them down beside the bed, where Kozel couldn't see them as much, seemed to help the problem at least a little bit. Now that that the older one was more steady on his feet, though, they'd been going so far as to take tea in the kitchen or the tavern itself, sometimes. Zharkov felt guilty, but what could they do?

"Now we must all settle. We're very tired, da?" He scooped up the gangly animal and sat down on the bed, brushing a hand down his back as well. He would really need to think of a name for it soon, so they could stop calling it 'goat' all the time. The real problem, though, would be finding out more about why they had happened. If it was something spiritual, why would it happen to them, of all people? Zharkov didn't even know where to start. With another tired sigh, he set the little goat down and reached for the bag he kept his belongings in. Yes, still there. He retrieved the little paper-wrapped parcel, smiling quietly. If he could just get the goat to go to sleep, perhaps Kozel and himself could have a relaxing teatime afterall.

So the toy goat had turned into a real goat. Melding back into the routine of work did not keep Kozel's thoughts from wandering, and in fact, how vivid the sight of the animal made the reality, the reality only sink in further. The servant was at once stunned by the idea, and still, he could believe it. After all, the very same thing had happened to Zharkov, though his demon had apparently been born—that is, unnaturally summoned—during his night in jail. And the more he thought about it as he went through the motions of work, merely a background process as he drew closer to facing his fears, the more Kozel despaired.

He had been so close to avoiding the same fate. Why hadn't the daft beast wandered off once it had manifested outside? Goats could live in cities, surely. Or if not, it was a wild animal; they always knew how to find their ways. Some bizarre homing instinct should have led it back to the massive tree from whence it came. Animals were supposed to love freedom, and yet Zharkov had found it and had probably already begun its indoctrination into the captive creature cult..

The arguments Kozel thought up seemed perfectly sound, but he knew no matter how reasonable, it would be futile to argue with the Okrainan, for his stubborn inclination for mischief had brought them to this ruin in the first place. The new goat duo weighed heavily on Kozel, most literally slowing his half-hearted preparation of the Sunderland staples, but as his thoughts turned to the attacks Zharkov had made on his character, that somehow seemed worse.

He brooded and sighed through his kitchen duties, completely inconsolable, working with the unenthusiastic short-cutting of the other, underachieving servants. He could not find it in himself to put in the effort of chasing off a particularly bold mouse with an apparently intense lust for raspberries, and even making snide, backhanded comments to the Gallian chef held little joy or meaning now. A particularly concerned fellow, noticing Kozel's uncharacteristic quiet, guessed he was homesick for the holidays and went so far as to ask him what Belastrana was like. Belastrana. He hadn't even heard of Katchia when corrected.

With tea leaves left to steep, Kozel ended his shift with his spirits at an all-time low, trudging to his room full of animals with the tortured resignation of a martyr. Meanwhile, the little creature that was the very source of so much grief was yet still ignorant to the sorrows of man. It did not stir, not even at the cry of its fellow fawn, snoozing away as though killing time until the return of the other, less-warm man, another try at becoming acquainted. It did not stir even as a particular bunny, normally withdrawn and oblivious, poked her head out to blink at the new arrival with near-recognition, a former home shared. She had found some tasty mushrooms near the massive tree, anyway, and the creature somehow smelled of the forest after soft rain.

Now, the goat finally did stir when the door to the room opened some time later, creaking its eyes opened only to be overwhelmed by the array of new sights and smells that couldn't possibly fit in so small a room, and for the moment, Kozel was spared the approach as it looked about timidly, huddling in the nest of rags. The man himself similarly stood hesitant in the doorway. "Zharkov?" Apparently unsure of where they stood regarding their latest squabble, he tried for a safe topic. "...Where shall we have our tea?"

Zharkov spent the extra time taking a well-deserved rest, and babysitting the tiny pair of young animals. Or, one of them at least. The new one seemed content to hunker down in its bed and rest, and Zharkov was thankful for it, remembering how his own little one had spent most of its first days sleeping. The fiery-footed fawn was greatly interested in his new 'friend', but when the younger failed to rouse, he returned his attention to Zharkov so that his new comrade could snooze. Zharkov found much guilty pleasure in the hours spent after work, relaxing in their shared room while Kozel carried on his duties at the inn. To bond and play with the little beast was somehow incredibly soothing, something Kozel had scoffed over when he had dared to mention it.

Something would have to be done very soon, he figured. The best way, perhaps, would be to ask about the forest itself. An indirect approach would keep anyone from getting any strange ideas. He would ask one of his acquaintances at the docks, perhaps, or one of the men he had drinks with at infrequent intervals. Part of him felt it was a miracle no one had yet found out about their little zoo, but then, no one probably dreamed of disturbing Kozel's domain for fear of the backlash it might bring. The thought made him grin as he watched his lightning-eyed kid prance about the room.

He nearly fell asleep, sitting cross-legged on the floor, back propped against the side of the bed so he could be close to the fawn, and jumped when Kozel finally returned to their room. Shooing the fawn off behind the bed, Zharkov could only give a tired, sheepish grin as he struggled to his feet, and stretched for a moment to get the kinks out of his neck and back. "Ahh, yes, the tea. Shall we go to that quiet spot in the kitchen? I bet the tavern is still busy." He gathered up the little package on the bed, and quickly approached the door, not wanting Kozel to have to deal with seeing the little ones. It was a shame he hadn't been able to calm the little lightning eyes down, but he was certain if they stayed in the room he would torment Kozel the entire time.

Zharkov's anger, at least, had seemed to have dissipated completely. Making sure that no one was trying to get out, he exited the room so that he was in the hallway with Kozel, and shut the door. "I hope they have not been running you all too ragged lately. Surprised this place receives so much business for the holiday." Zharkov commented, trying to make some good 'ol small talk to take Kozel's mind off of what he knew was there.

Kozel was relieved to find Zharkov had apparently moved on, no longer angry—not because he knew he had done wrong and would not have been able to argue his side; he was simply tuckered out and hadn't felt like arguing. Yes, for once, the notoriously overbearing servant let something go as he remembered he was far too maudlin for a fight anyway, turning away quickly and missing whatever Zharkov might have been hiding. He felt awkward, appreciative as he was for the neutral topic, and started for the kitchen at a brisk clip.

"Not everyone has a family to go home to, I suppose," he mused (with just a hint of sorrow for his own situation) as they walked the familiar way through the inn. It was quieter than usual, but sure enough, occupied all the same. The most devoted of regulars—Kozel might almost have called them friends of Mr. Varick's if he thought his boss possible of such a feat—would probably be enjoying the very holiday feast he'd been preparing as alcohol flowed generously, lips talking loose as tricky business settling in-between bellowed songs and ridiculous games involving what was that fire? The servant was glad Zharkov had requested the kitchen instead, as it could get quite spirited out in the tavern, especially when the younger brother was around. "...But the Varicks takes this holiday seriously."

Kozel intentionally avoided making his own bitter thoughts of the solstice known, still unusually pensive, but he was cheered to remember the pudding he had set aside along with the tea, and found his own bad mood dissipating as he walked along with Zharkov, nearly forgetting the demonic creature left behind in the room. Said creature was heartbroken at how abruptly the large man had gone, another chance missed, as it was left standing at the impenetrable barrier that was the door. Well, perhaps it would not be all bad. Even the baby goat would not be spending the holiday alone, as it was left with new friends to make, turning a curious eye onto its new apparent home. Maybe someday it would be given an opportunity to wreak havoc in the kitchen, but today was not that day.

And that was good thing for Kozel. Though the kitchen was by no means pristine now, it was at least a manageable mess. He was almost itching to get started on clean-up, but dutifully led Zharkov to their usual spot instead, a counter he had claimed and where they would certainly not be disturbed (because no one wanted chewing out, least of all on this cheery night). Stools set and motioning for his companion to sit, the servant tried for what he hoped was a charming smile but probably made him look nervous. "Let us make the most of it also, da?"

Zharkov's anger had melted away long ago, soothed by Kozel's apology and his interactions with the young animals. He stepped from the room and quickly locked the door shut before following after Kozel, having to quicken his pace to keep up. There was no sense in staying angry, not when nothing had come of Kozel's mistake, anyway. It might have been a different story, if the little goat had been injured or lost. Zharkov didn't like to think about that, and banished the thoughts from his mind, too happy now over the prospect of spending a pleasant teatime with his friend.

"That is true. Do they ever leave to see family? The Varicks, I mean. I hear they have property out in Oldcastle." Zharkov had heard it from the younger one, of course, who was always happy enough to run his mouth about the horses they raised out in the countryside. He wondered who managed the inn in their absence; surely Kozel knew what went on, as he always seemed to know just about everything that happened, whether it was out of the ordinary or not. Still, it was only an offhanded question, as Zharkov continued the idle small talk in favor of the more heavy issues at hand...

Part of him was still nervous. Kozel seemed to be in a much better mood, but he couldn't help but wonder if it was some kind of act, out of good will or the desire to avoid conflict. It stirred a guilty feeling in the Okrainan's chest, and he tried not to look glum as Kozel steered them to the stools that had been set out for them. "Da, I agree...Kozel, I want you to know that I am sorry, too, for what has happened. I know it is hard on you." He blurted out quietly, his dull green eyes flickering down to look at the counter. "I am going to do my best to try to fix it, but, ah...I just wanted you to have this." He set the little package down on the counter, finally mustering up the courage to look Kozel in the face again as he took his seat. "I found it a few weeks ago, and it reminded me of you. I just want you to know that - I appreciate all the help you have given me." Zharkov stumbled through the admission, quietly slipping into their native tongue as his eyes fell once more. He could only hope that he didn't sound too foolish or sappy, by saying such things, but after all that Kozel had done, he knew it was the least he could do.

"Ah, yes, Oldcastle. The very same..." While Kozel seemed hesitant to get onto the topic of the town where it all began, even if it did lend the opportunity to gossip a bit, he was glad to be talking and even gladder to got through the familiar routine of setting their space and serving tea. Anyway, the Katchian was spared of the potential pitfall of mentioning the strange forest near the town as Zharkov suddenly spoke up, when it was Kozel who usually did most of the talking.

He remained standing, surprised and confused to hear an apology when he was sure he was the one who owed it, had been psyching himself up for, feeling himself burning with shame and gratitude at once. Kozel could hardly look the other man in the eye too long, meeting his gaze for only a moment before ducking his head, trying to hide the smile—not the usual self-conscious twist of his lips, a half-hearted try at expressing the strange sentiment of 'pleasure' but an honest-to-goodness grin—growing on his face.

"Oh, Zharkov, please—this is wholly unnecessary a-and..." turned modest by the gesture, when Kozel was known for being anything but, he fiddled with his hands as though afraid to touch the gift, but he spoke more confidently in their language. "You do not have to thank me; it is my moral obligation as... That is, any comrade would do the same." When he looked up at the Okrainan again, his smile was a bit more subdued, more his usual controlled self, but there was—along with the tears he was blinking away—very real gratitude in his eyes as he finally took a seat, taking the package delicately in gloved hands.

"Giving me a gift when I do not even have one for you... How absolutely shameful of me," he chided himself bashfully, but, well—he actually had been working on a gift, knitting the man a waistcoat when he was sure he would not be caught, when he had free time (which really afforded very little time at all), and obviously he had not made it in time for the solstice. Only further embarrassed by that private thought, he began slowly and carefully unwrapping the paper from the present, blue eyes flicking back up to Zharkov as though wanting to make absolutely sure Kozel deserved this and not, say, coal. "It is... not another dog, I hope." A rare joke, truly a solstice miracle.

Zharkov certainly hadn't wanted to linger on the subject of the strange little town, which he was sure would be a sore topic still for the stressed-out Katchian. It was why he had hurried his apology, slouching slightly in his seat and folding his hands on the table after the neatly wrapped parcel had been set down. It was ridiculous to feel the slight heat rising to his cheeks, but since when had he last given a present such as this? He hardly counted the friendly exchange of liquor and alcohol he had regularly with his old companions and countrymen during the holidays; he was sure Kozel wouldn't have appreciated such a gift either.

"It was quite necessary. I know you put up with a lot." There was so much more he wished he could say, but the heat in his face and ears had caused him to clam up for a moment. The look in his friend's eyes said enough thougj, and Zharkov knew that even if he didn't like the gift, at least the sentiment was appreciated. Kozel's grin was returned, as he finally shook off the momentary shyness to return to his old confident, irreverent self. Showing such a level of gratitude was still somewhat foreign to him. He had never relied so heavily on a friend for years, and Kozel had gone above and beyond as far as he was concerned.

"Hardly." He chuckled nervously at the joke. Two would be quite enough, he figured, and had to force himself to pay attention instead of letting his mind wander. As the twine and brown paper were peeled away, and the little box opened, the present easily revealed itself. Nestled within the box was a little white teapot, painted around the middle in lacing blue floral patterns. "It reminded me of the kind they make back home." He explained quietly, a pleased little grin on his face as he forced himself not to look away, and hoped Kozel's reaction would be a positive one.

Oh. Yes. Very much like the ones back home. For the moment, Kozel was struck dumb by the reveal, freezing with a quiet intake of breath as his eyes widened, then blinked over incredulously at Zharkov. Regrettably, his first thought was how much could this have cost his friend?, especially after—well, no, no need to bring up that incident, and certainly not at a time like this, but all the same, it was difficult for Kozel to believe that the man he so often scolded and disparaged could be so... thoughtful.

Anyway, he was brought back by the sensation of a tear finally escaping and quickly looked away, wiping at his face even as he smiled self-consciously. "It reminds me of a set my mother had," Kozel blurted out, knowing he was probably only further embarrassing himself, but it was the next thing he had thought of and finally, his words tumbled out just as fervently as the overflow of affection he felt for the man.

"I always insisted on serving the tea when she had guests, and now, to think I have my own teapot she would be coveting!" He carefully, downright venerably took it out of the box to place it before himself, and only felt further delighted by its design, laughing more openly and no longer bothering to chase away the grateful tears, hands now far too preoccupied with gently tracing the lovely design on the teapot. "I am not sure if I should use it, or display it! I love it."

At that understatement, Kozel suddenly composed himself again, not because he didn't feel at ease, but if only to more sincerely express his sentiments as he looked to Zharkov more seriously, even if he did still feel giddy with his first solstice gift, and what a gift it was—no, no, he was composed, gazing at his friend with restrained, but still very-much-blazing adoration. "Thank you, Zharkov. You are a good man, despite what I say—and, and a good friend," he fumbled, offering his hand for a hearty shake even though the gesture seemed weak compared to what he really wanted to do, but perhaps a hug would be a bit much.

Certainly, what more Kozel wanted to say seemed inappropriate, foolish, all manner of things, and he might have felt his joy dampened a bit by his usual troubled thoughts if not for noticing the uncharacteristic blush to the usually so intimidating Okrainan's countenance. Another stupid grin broke out across Kozel's face as he couldn't help himself, laughing again, more than he had in a long time, liking the look immediately.

Zharkov looked away as Kozel finished opening it, a little smile of relief crossing his lips as he fidgeted with his hands, looking shy again at the reaction his gift was garnering. There was a deep feeling of relief as well; he'd been afraid, perhaps, that Kozel would reject such a thing. He was a rather picky fellow, after all, and who knew what level of tea time expertise he had? The little teapot had cost a good chunk of one of his meager paychecks, but it was worth every shilling to see the usually uptight man smile and gush, as he was doing.

"You are welcome, Kozel. You have done too much for me, I only wish I had more to give." He accepted the handshake firmly, composing himself as well, and clearing his throat in a rather bashful way, amazed at Kozel's emotion. It was such a rare thing to see his uptight friend in such a mood, especially after what had transpired earlier, and his smile was infectious. Zharkov returned it warmly and relaxed in his seat. He could only pray that it would last, and he knew for a fact that it wouldn't. The moment they left for their shared room, Kozel's anguish would no doubt return, and it hurt to think about. They would have to enjoy their time, as Kozel had said.

"It is fully functional, I was told, so you could use it if you pleased." He added in a late response to Kozel's previous pondering, reaching for the tray to pour them both a cup, not wanting it to go cold. With a little grin, he held up his cup, as if to toast, though he knew it was not something one usually did with tea, of all things. "Cheers, to a good solstice spent with a good friend. Hopefully the new year will bring us some...solutions, to our problems." He added quickly, flashing his teeth as his smile widened.

"Oh, no, nonono, Zharkov really! You do not owe me a thing!" Kozel's usual rapid-fire speech, so effective for the scolding he usually did, was somehow even more dizzying in such a lighthearted tone. His words were modest enough but, well, a part of him did seem to be reveling in the appreciation. "There is no such thing as doing too much." He tried not to fixate how strong the Okrainan's grip felt when they shook, how mismatched their friendship seemed when he sat down and thought about it (and it entered his thoughts more and more often, during those quiet times), gladly taking up his cup to return the toast.

Kozel might have found the gesture silly any other time, but even the reminder of their troubles did not dampen his spirits. It tickled to him, to be called a good friend when he usually had none at all. "Cheers, to a good friend who made a good solstice. And, I hope, the new year will not bring too many problems that need solving." He gave Zharkov a look at that over his cup as he took a sip, a lifting of his eyebrows that just oozed that means you, too, mister, before remembering his own little surprise as he set his cup back down.

"Ah, excuse me!" he blurted out, quickly lifting from his seat. "I almost forgot—I will be right back." Offering no explanation for his sudden departure, Kozel scuttled off to retrieve the desserts. Sure, a couple of puddings wasn't as grand a gift as the teapot, but he was sure Zharkov would enjoy the treat. That, and the bottle of brandy the servant picked up along with them. It wasn't stealing, really, as he was still technically serving a guest. Just not one of Mr. Varick's.

On returning, tray in one hand and bottle in the other, Kozel felt a surge of naughtiness, almost wanting to tell Zharkov of his minor misdeed. But, he played it cool, placing them down onto the counter. "There we are. I thought we might celebrate like the Sunderlanders do. Plum pudding and, well, what is the solstice without some spirits as well?" Spirits, indeed, but his thoughts were now far from the day's bad start, as the Katchian's holiday cheer was in full swing.

Zharkov could only chuckle quietly as Kozel tried to convince him with his mile-a-minute banter. The man's insistence on the fact let him slip further into relaxation, and he was grateful that they had dropped the animosity from earlier. He knew Kozel was a prideful creature, but he was so much more endearing when he was being humble, and Zharkov quietly sipped from his cup for a moment, looking thoughtful as well. Why couldn't it always be this way? If only their little beasts weren't so troublesome...he would have to find a way to get to the bottom of that mystery, and soon.

"Oh, da. To the coming year, as well." the Okrainan grinned sheepishly at the look Kozel shot, knowing immediately what it meant. Too bad the playfulness of it wouldn't last long. He was about to pour himself a refill when the Katchian all but leapt up, and he watched with lifted brows as the man hurried off. "Do you need any help??" He called after Kozel had left, wondering if he'd been baking something. His eyes shaded at the thought of sweets, and when Kozel popped back in, it was as if his wish had been granted.

"Ohh! I did not think you would be the one to indulge on such a busy night." He joked slyly, eyeing the drink as well as the treats. Kozel was too good, really. "Now we can have a drink...and a drink."

Kozel didn't even have the decency to look sheepish, sitting back down as primly as ever even as he tried to bite back a self-satisfied grin. "You would be surprised, sir. Sometimes it is all I can do to survive such busy nights." He thought to throw in a wink to show he was only joking right back, but, wisely realizing he wasn't smooth enough to pull that off, Kozel instead allowed himself to smile, trying to talk himself up. "Why, even I enjoy a little 'extra' in my tea from time to time. "

They both knew Zharkov could easily drink Kozel under the table any day, but it was his own way of opening up and trying to relate to the man he scorned just as strongly as he admired. They had their difficulties, and thanks to the very recent developments, there would no doubt be many more, but the servant seemed to share his companion's sentiments. Maybe it could be this way more often. It had turned out to be the warmest winter night the Katchian had had in, what, years? Zharkov seemed to have a gift at turning things around.