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At first there had been no visible change between Chauhn's behavior inside protective walls versus outside on the Imisese streets. He walked about with small delicate steps, gulped often, and often flinched or made motions to turn and flee if he were approached too closely or gestured at too quickly. Though, with the addition of warm food, as much as his hunger could stomach, and cool drink, he began to quell, and with the offer of a wet towel to wipe off the soot and dirt, the general grime of being a waif, Chauhn was nearly to a point where he could sit down and talk without twitching at every loud sound. He still glanced about quite worriedly, though now with more curiosity than utter fear and he kept a protective watch over his Plague, who was skittering around his shoulders, leaving little footmarks and hand prints of ash over his worn clothes.

Having cleaned himself a bit, it was easy to see now the wanton blush of life in his cheeks and the sallow bags of stress beneath his eyes. He had the skin of a hard Imisese worker, olive in hue, and his eyes were a strange green in the almond shape often reserved for those of Imisese descent, an obvious marker of his Mishkanite father. Though more combed out than usual, but still in some state of disrepair, his dark almost brown blonde hair was hanging about his neck in frays and loops. He was every part the son of an unfortunate coastal Imisese trading family, long since dead and gone.

But, little by little, his charm was beginning to show itself through again, small signs of the golden heart hidden far beneath his cankered layers of defense.

"Ah don't know what ahm going to be able t'do ta thank you for all this, sir," Chauhn said honestly, holding Clurie in his hands as he gazed up at Yizhaq. "Ah won't let myself get away with a free meal, no, sir. Even if from a fellow Grimm 'n' all, ah won't allow it. It's a kindness you've done me, sir, an honest kindness. Ah may not 'ave much, but ahm a hard worker...Even if the Council doesn't see it..." Chauhn's face fell, suddenly overshadowed by the reminder of his trial at the Council.

Clurie, warm and happy in Chauhn's hand, was content, for the meanwhile, to stay with his brother, peering about in all directions from his lofty perch in uplifted palms. They had been traveling about lately, from Council to abandoned buildings, to alleyways, to bridges! It was all so much to take in and yet Clurie wanted more...He was ever so curious.

And that drape over there looked like it would burn quite nicely if he were to just...snag a hold of it's hem...

Clurie's mind suddenly flared alive with memories of the recent fire in the tunnel way of the Council, the yelling face of the man that had taken care of them up until that dreadful moment. Clurie still had a hard time figuring out why they were so mad in the first place, but he knew for sure that he didn't want to encounter either that man's rage, or, for that matter, his brother's anger, for a long time yet. So, urges set aside, Clurie contented himself to remaining a perch in Chauhn's palms, offhandedly warming his cheeks with his hands.

"Where's the Plague?" Clurie asked, not really waiting for their conversation to be over, "I smell it, but I don't see it."

Chauhn felt himself give a shy smile in response to the dark skinned man's kind assurances. There were only so many kinds of kindness on the Imisese coast, a kindness for a favor, a kindness for debt owed, or kindness that was false, but rare was the kindness for the sake of being kind. The Clemmings boy really didn't know how to respond to it, since he was brought up on a regiment of constant give and take, earn or lose. Instead, he simply bowed his shoulders and glanced away whenever Yizhaq laid his eyes upon him. He felt like he didn't even deserve to make eye contact with the man.

"Ah really don't know wha' t'say, Mister Yizhaq, it's a lot of good you're doin' for a street waif, like me, sir," Chauhn said lamely for the fifteenth time that hour, "A lot o'folks 'round 'ere just like to use boys like me...Ah 'ope you're not like one of those mean men. Ah heard, stories, sir, stories about other kids who were treated kindly 'n' then never seen again. But ah 'ave 'ope tha' you're not like those men. You're a Grimm."

But his list of observations and compliments was stunted as Chauhn had to juggle his little brother as he tried to scramble up out of his hands. Clurie, with his interest rocketed to skyline level at the announcement of the other Plague, could hardly keep still, trying to find the best vantage point to see the plagued item.

"Brother, please, oh please, lift me higher, I would like to see her! I can smell her, but, I would like to see her ever so much." Clurie begged, turning up his eyeless face to Chauhn and clasp his hands before him in a gesture of pleading.

"Alrigh', alrigh', 'old on, Clurie," Chauhn cooed, lifting up onto his knees before he was able to levy himself onto his feet. He showed Clurie the precious egg, and he had to leap and catch Clurie again after he attempted to jump to the egg's side. "Clurie, don't do tha'! You could ge' hurt!"

"But I want to SEE her," Clurie wined, by which he meant "touch" and "rub his cheeks against" and "clambor all over".

Chauhn shook his head, "No, Clurie, she's very delicate. You can play wit' 'er when she's ready, ok?" Cupping his hands tighter over his brother, who gave a dejected "...Fine." in response, Chauhn turned again to Yizhaq to find that he was offered another cup. Lifting his Phasmas to his collar to deposit him within the folds of the fabric, Chauhn gratefully took the offered drink. After inspecting it to make sure there wasn't any suspicious things drifting within, the Clemmings boy took a sip and shrugged his shoulders.

"Ah...Ah thought o' goin' to Shyregoad, m'self, t'be 'honest, sir," his stature perking with hope, "Ah know Sloane, 'e saved me, 'e did, from men who were gunna 'urt me 'n' take m'brother away from me. 'E saved me 'n' told me tha' ah could come back to 'im 'n' the Fellowship. So...'Cause the Council won't take me, ah was gunna go back there, to where Sloane is."

He stepped closer to Yizhaq, foregoing his fear of being near others in return for clasping onto the hem of his jacket, a trait of a good begging urchin, staring at him with intensely hopeful eyes from underneath his unkempt bangs, "Can ah go wit' you, sir? Ahll do anythin' you need, sir, ahm a hard worker. Ah can work for everythin' you give me if'n ah can get safe to Sloane."

"I want to work too!" announced Clurie from Chauhn's collar, scrambling to lean out from underneath his chin, "I want to help!"

The first thing the Clemmings boy did was choke.

The second thing he did was drop the tea cup and what little was left and the third thing Chauhn did was jump on the offered hand as if he were jumping for a knotted life line. It was as if he were wrapped up in the tossing sea of a young waif's life and reaching for that of a young assistant. He couldn't help the tears that sprung to his evergreen eyes, and his almond shape squinted up from the pinch of his cheeks that raised up in a happy smile. "Oh, sir!" he said, shaking the man's hand and squeezing it tight with his both of his own, "Ahll be the best page you ever did 'ave, you can be sure of tha', sir, you can be sure o' tha'!"

Jostled in his place in his brother's collar, Clurie did his best to tuck himself in, but his excitement was so grand that he could hardly work to keep himself in place. His chest was burning alive with happiness, leeching off of the glee that was in his brother like fire fed off of air.

"We're going to be PAGES?" Clurie asked, his voice a high squeak amid Chauhn's promises, and with another yelp he dropped free from Chauhn's collar. Luckily, Chauhn was possessed by a protective brotherly skill that granted him the speed to let go of Yizhaq's hand and snatch his brother from the air with the careful cup of his hands.

"Clurie!" the boy laughed, worry easily tainting his voice. "Be careful, ah can't lose you. Keep 'old o'me, Clurie." For a moment there, there was a dangerous kind of shock in Chauhn's voice, the worry of one who was too involved in that of another, but it was brief before it was overcome by another joyous wave of celebration. He carefully put his brother back in his collar before realizing that he had dropped the cup with his excitement. Choking on a gasp, Chauhn set to work cleaning it up with a napkin he snatched from the table.

From the floor where he was cleaning up the mess, Chauhn looked up at Yizhaq, "Fit me? For new clothes, sir? And...Groomed, sir? Ahve...I can't remember when ah had m'hair cut last, sir."