Pushing Papers


delilah_icon.gif weasel2_icon.gif

Scene Title Pushing Papers
Synopsis Delilah and Weasel meet up again to get Weasel registered — as well as an application for citizenship.
Date November 30, 2018

Eric Doyle Memorial Children's Library

A restored, 19th-century carriage house, this library rests between two much larger buildings. Opened in March of 2018, this Library serves the public. This 2,600 square foot building acts as a learning space for the youth of the New York Safe Zone. The services and books within catering primarily to children and young adults, with classes and clubs to enrich and entertain.

The library is quiet today, with librarians busy doing their jobs and the few people visiting tucked away into little corners with their respective reading materials. It’s rather peaceful, a delightful place for those less inclined to noisy activities to escape to when the world gets to be too much.

Clara Winters isn’t one of those people — she’s only here because Gillian directed her to meet with one Delilah Trafford to find out more. The name rings a bell — possibly the gross chick who made Ron foam at the mouth when he bit her. She might not be gross, but if Ron had that reaction to biting her, that’s enough for the orphaned girl to think otherwise.

Weasel wears a pair of jeans and a random t-shirt, with a hooded jean jacket to keep her warm. The most striking part of her wardrobe, however, is the skunk that is using the young woman’s hood as a makeshift hammock, his clawed paws and chin resting on his human’s shoulder.

Before hunting down the woman in question, Clara’s inquisitive nature drives the young Musteloid Telepath to explore a little; idly, she trails her fingers over a row of books, coming to rest on Into the Wild by John Krakauer. Idly, she picks it up, rotating it in her hands briefly before leafing it open, quietly reading over the blurb inside of the front cover. This should be an interesting read.

Gillian knows that she can trust Delilah with practically anything, this included. Lighthouse kids that need officiating? No problem. They are both working women and so spreading such things between council members is expected. She told Dee a bit about who it was she was meeting, and there isn't a lot of trouble in remembering a girl like that in recent memory. Hanging around the other teenagers was also kind of a giveaway?

Until Clara arrives, Delilah has busied herself making some copies and collecting some of the library's pamphlets on registration. It makes things easier to digest. She is reading over her phone when she looks up and notices the skunk first. It's so incongruous that she is drawn right to it. Realization dawns just after, and the redhead leans back in her chair to wave for Clara's attention. Her clothes edge on colorful, matching of her grin of hello.

“I thought it might be you I'm here to see! Right?”

The girl blinks a bit, looking up from the book to see Delilah. She pauses for a moment, before turning, moving over to the woman quietly. “Yeah, I think so.” She hangs her head a little — possibly still feeling bad about the bite incident. “I’m not an American Citizen, but Lance said I should get registered and start a pest control business.” She doesn’t seem to like the word ‘pest,’ if the way she says it is any indication.

“Sorry again for the hand. Is it healed okay? Ron has a bit of a mean bite.” He kills rabbits three times his size on the regular, at least, so that has to say something for his bite strength. “He was sorry for a while after, too, if it’s any consolation.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s alright…” Dee lifts her hand to show the fading bite mark. “He didn’t go too deep, but damn…” She pauses at the last, a small laugh for it on her voice. “Aww, bet it was more cause of what I tasted like, but I won’t deny the little dude any remorse, heh- -”

Delilah gestures openly to one of the seats next to her at the library table, inviting the girl to sit. “Tell you what, we’ll worry about jobs and stuff once this gets done. I expect you know how to take care of yourself, sooo…” She isn’t worried about not hopping into Clara’s Pest Control right away. “Not wanting for food or shelter right now, are you? We have problems with some slipping through the cracks, but I know the Kids are around town…” Capital K, Kids. Delilah just assumes that they clump together in times of need. “And who is your friend there? Maybe I better make nice first this time.”

A look of relief passes briefly over the girl’s face. “Oh, good. It was bleeding a lot, I was worried he got you worse than he did.” The girl offers a sheepish smile. “He’s curled up in my pocket right now, hiding from you. His remorse was probably a lot because of how nasty you tasted, but that’s just kinda how he is. I might be able to coax him out to make up with you later.”

After a moment, she settles into her seat. The skunk doesn’t waste any time, crawling over her jacket and onto the table, where he promptly flops his rear end down and starts grooming himself. He carries the faint stench that comes with a fully intact skunk with functional stink glands, but otherwise, he is mostly inoffensive. Weasel reaches out, gently scratching his head. “This is Pepe Le Pew. He’s an old man, been with me since the first time I found out I could talk to Musteloids.”

She shakes her head. “No problem with food or shelter. I stay at Lance’s place most of the time, and camp out at Park Slope when I don’t. Food isn’t a problem, either — Ron usually kills rabbits and the occasional squirrel, and I sell extra rabbits for other food money.” She certainly seems to have the basics covered.

Delilah would be lying if she said the weasel wasn’t cute, so the possibility of seeing it again is worth a chuckle. She watches with interest as the girl sits, and her skunk companion clambers onto the table. “I see those gray whiskers, yea.. Well it’s nice to meet you both, officially.” She clicks a pen against the table in an idle fidget.
“Hailey’s in Park Slope too sometimes, isn’t she?” The more of them that collect out that way the better. If they’re going to insist on being wild people… well, numbers. “I’d be worried about seeing you outside in this weather, so if the others have a place for you, it would be safer.” Delilah has always been the Mom Friend, and that will never change. “You’re lucky to have eyes, ears, and needle teeth on your side out there, for sure.”

A stapled pack of copies gets slid across to Weasel, the pen resting on top. “You can fill out as much as you can while we talk… the first few are to start the process for citizenship, and the last is a preliminary registration for your ability, to just kind of, ah, overview it for the board before the heftier stuff? I can give a reference for your control, so that’ll be a plus.”

“He probably wouldn’t be alive if he were in the wild. But I take good care of him.” She smiles fondly at the skunk as it grooms its front legs; briefly, the creature pauses as Delilah offers a greeting, letting out a soft but gravelly squeaking sound at her, before going back to grooming himself. Meanwhile, a little fuzzy nose pokes out of Weasel’s jacket pocket, followed by a pair of beady little eyes that give Delilah a rather skeptical look.

“Yeah, she’s brought a few animals with her, too.” She pauses, watching the woman thoughtfully. “It’s cold, but I’m used to it. There’s lots of raccoons out in Park Slope, and they thankfully enjoy snuggling.” That’s one way to keep warm, it seems. “The fat ones are the warmest, obviously.”

The papers are looked at with a slightly intimidated expression. Weasel can go rough it out in the wilderness with the clothes on her back and a knife, but paperwork is an entirely different challenge in itself. After a moment, she reaches out, picking up the pen and pulling the papers closer to herself. She briefly looks it over, before starting to fill it out.

“I mostly just talk to Musteloids. Skunks, Weasels and the like, and Raccoons.” She pauses, tapping the pen on her chin. “I think I read somewhere that I can probably talk to Red Pandas, but I’ve never met one to try.” She sounds disappointed that she’s never had the opportunity to talk to them. “They’re so cute. Anyhow, I can tell them what to do, and they listen to me most of the time.”

Delilah is hesitant, but she sets her hand flat on the table between herself and the critter; if he wants to get a sniff, he can, but she’s not getting any closer.

“Raccoons? Be careful with them? I don’t know if you can tell sickness in these animals, but raccoons are definitely one of the rabies vectors out this way.” It’s not a command to stay away from them, of course- - but she is clear about the possibility of danger too. Dee knows she can’t boss around certain folks, and Clara seems one of them. “Gillian said you go by Weasel too? Which do you prefer?”

For her part, Delilah talking casually hopefully helps the girl’s mind away from the vastness of her task ahead. One thing at a time! Baby steps!

“Red pandas, huh? You’ll have to ask Hailey about that one.” There’s a small, earnest laugh from Dee, and she tips her head as she notices the tiny sheen of eyes and wiggly whiskers staring at her. “Hey there, Champ.”

“Can’t sense when they’re sick, but their minds are different when they are. I’ve met a few with Rabies, they’re in a lot of pain.” Sadness touches at the corners of her expression as she mentions this. “They get really thirsty but they’re afraid of water, and everything hurts. It’s a really awful way to go. I usually put them down if I find them.”

She quietly fills out the forms as she talks, occasionally pausing to recall details. “Yeah, I like going by Weasel better. When I woke up in the hospital, all I remembered was that my name is Clara and I was seven. Don’t know anything about before.” She shrugs — she’s had twelve years to come to terms with her lack of a history.

“There’s no way there’s any of them out here, they probably wouldn’t survive.” She quietly fills out another field as Ron slinks his way out of her pocket and onto the table. He doesn’t approach, however; instead, he moves over to curl up next to Pepe Le Pew, staring warily at the woman who tastes really awful. Pepe, on the other hand, pauses in his grooming, leaning forward and giving Delilah’s hand a few sniffles, his whiskers tickling against her fingers. He lets out a snort, then, leaning back and resuming his grooming, apparently satisfied that Delilah is okay.

Despite the subject matter, Delilah is ready to listen for the description when it comes. She’s never really asked people like Weasel what the communication is like, so when she relays the rawness of it, there is a furrow of brow and a hum, chin resting on the back of her hand. Clara is merciful, at least. Maybe she can make a dent in some of the more questionable spots? That’s for another time.

“Shit, seven?” Delilah murmurs, freckled nose crinkling in a frown. Brown eyes move to watch the skunk give her a cursory snuffle, and she seems satisfied when he resumes his business. “Things like that are why the war happened, I suppose. Evo kids misplaced in the jumble of…everything.” It’s not the politically correct term, but- - Delilah doesn’t seem to care. “I knew so many of the Lighthouse Kids when they were small like that, and these days I just shudder thinking about if my son lost me when he was small too. It sounds like you’ve accepted it, though. Losing whatever it was.”

“Honestly, it’s probably better not remembering what happened before. I mean, better than remembering everything and missing it, or whatever. At least all I have to mourn is not knowing, instead of remembering my parents dying or throwing me out or whatever.” Weasel shrugs, finishing one set of paperwork and turning to the next.

“I jumped around foster homes a lot. Nobody really wanted me until Brian came along and told me I belonged with them.” She smiles faintly. “I took his last name instead of Smith, because he was kinda like a dad to me.” She glances up from the paperwork, smiling at the little skunk. “And Pepe Le Pew has been with me almost as long. I ran away one time and manifested when I met him.” She reaches out, scratching the little creature on the head. “Sprayed Brian when he tracked me down. He was mad.

She giggles softly, then goes back to filling out the form. “Ron is young, barely a year old. His mom got hit by a car, and I couldn’t just leave him there to die.” She pauses, scritching along the little tiny weasel’s back with the end of her pen. “He wasn’t any bigger than a mouse back then.”

Whenever Weasel eventually finishes the first section on citizenship, the second starts touching on her genetic status. It’s a necessary evil, really.

“I get that. Not wanting to have known.” Delilah certainly had more pain knowing things, and even was happier before Richard informed her of her father’s old circle. She grins widely at the mention of Brian doing what Brians did, laughing along when the anecdote of the skunk comes around. She also makes a note to not get on Pepe’s bad side, if he’s intact like that. “It really sounds like you fell right in with Brian and the others. I’m surprised there isn’t an entire platoon of Winters..es.” A wave of a hand. Anyway. They both know how Brian is.

“Looks like he’s yours now, for sure.” Hands fold in front of her and Dee leans in a little to look at the tiny weasel. “You’re lucky, he’s like a fun-sized guard dog. Sometimes I wish my gift was a little less… ah, messy, but I’m used to it now. Still would be pretty damn cool to know what animals are thinking. I had a dog years ago- -” Dee sounds like she misses him even now. Dogs are like that. “I would have loved to know what was going on in there. Huge guy, sweetheart, wasn’t afraid to protect us. I wonder what we were to him.”

It might be a roundabout route, but Delilah has a tactic; she hopes talking openly about Expressiveness helps Clara fill her registration out as truthfully as possible. It matters, in a way. Best to be honest.

The questions of genetics prompts a slight frown, but the girl dutifully fills out what she can — Lance is really good at influencing her, thankfully, and she really would like to start her own pest control business, if only to protect the poor raccoons from being harmed by humans and their lack of desire to share space with critters.

“Well, Joe took on Brian’s last name, too. So I at least have one brother with my last name.” Weasel smiles. “He was a good dad figure growing up, when all was said and done.” She never really got the maternal relationship that Gillian has with the others, thanks to joining with the Lighthouse after the decision to start combat training.

“I can’t say what dogs are like, but Musties are interesting. It’s not like talking. There aren’t really words, not like people use. It’s a lot of feelings and pictures and basic ideas. Like, when I tell Pepe to do something, I just kind of…think what I want at him, without the language. It’s hard to explain, really. And they’re different with love, too. Dogs love more, I think. Musteloids love, but it’s like…” She pauses, tapping her chin with the pen. “They’re greedy. They survive, and they do it well because they think about themselves first, you know?”

She smiles fondly to the skunk and the weasel, who have busied themselves with snuggling up to each other for warmth — though Ron is clearly the one who benefits the most.

“I once had a friend with a ferret, and that thing loved her to death. I think.” Delilah muses out loud, resting her chin on her hands as she watches the girl begin the portion on her ability. “So you’re saying it’s more impressions than anything? I guess it’s not like they understand English, huh.”

“Those animals mean badgers too, right? How can you guys figure out which ones you can talk to?” Curiosity gets the better of her, just a twee bit. “Otters, wolverines, martens, minks, fishers…” Something makes Delilah pause, and she snickers into her hand. “I have a friend who goes by Sable, I wonder if you could control her. She’s pretty wild too.” She laughs as she speaks, imagining just that. Dee did her part to tame the other woman years ago, but between war and the road it sort of loosened up again. Not that Sable’s still a wild thing, but she kind of can be? “Have you encountered many other psionic types? People that do brain stuff?” She waggles her fingers at her temples. Brain stuff.

The girl grins. “Yeah, impressions is probably the best way to describe it. It’s life without words for things. Pepe thinks that grasshoppers are great, but he doesn’t know them as grasshoppers — they’re just a tasty bug that he loves to eat.” Weasel fills out a bit more as she talks. She has a few passions in life, and her animals are the biggest of them all.

The question of badgers prompts an eager nod. “Badgers, otters, wolverines, all of them. They’re all different. Like, I’ve met a few Wolverines, and they’re cool, but they’re mean. I tried to befriend one, but he wasn’t having it. He took my food and left.” She grins. “Badgers are cool. Grumpy assholes, but I love them.”

She tilts her head to one side. “I want to find either a mink or an otter. They can help with fishing. If I get a mink, it can help with rats, too. You know, for the pest control stuff. Minks love killing rats, and they kill muskrats and fish too.”

Delilah keeps part of her attention on the progress and hopes the passion comes through the same way on paper. It will help when she wants to use her skill commercially, she knows that for sure. Mean wolverines sounds about right, and the commentary on the badgers gets a giggle in return. “American badgers seem terrifying! Like they want to mug me and leave me in the dirt. European badgers look like they want me over for tea and cookies.” Dee clearly has a preference.

“I expect trappers get minks sometimes once they go out as far as Staten, or even closer. The wilds down here are a lot more wild than some give credit for. There are some settlements outside of the safe zone, you might be able to talk to some hunters there for some, ah, mink intel. Otters I’ve seen, but not often. Same for them upriver and inland, could find some intel out there.” Delilah tries to be helpful, even if hunting and trapping and wildlife are not her wheelhouse. She has been to visit the Amish and Mennonite communities which moved in closer, and the settlement of non-Safe Zone New Yorkers closeby. She keeps those lines of communication open. “Whatever you want to try, good luck. If you need directions I can help with that.”

“They’re not that bad. They just look a little meaner than the European ones do.” Weasel grins. “A lot of American animals are like that, scarier looking than the European or Asian ones. Like Opossums, they’re terrifying here…but totally cute in Australia.” The girl pauses in writing to chuckle softly.

“I’d love to rescue a mink from a trapper or something. That’d be really cool.” She shrugs a bit, scribbling a few more answers in. “I’ll definitely look into that, though. Maybe see if I can’t get Lance to come with me or something — I’ve heard about the traffickers taking people, so I probably shouldn’t go to Staten on my own.” Then, she’s back to scribbling more answers in.

“That’s true. Lance and the others have been here long enough to know how to get around, so I’m sure someone will spot you.” Delilah links her fingers and leans forward to glance over Weasel’s progress. She pushes some of her hair back, brown eyes scanning.

“As you get towards the last parts of the registration there should be some space for you to write about any commercial use you might be thinking about- - that’d be where to describe it if you want to do that animal control thing.” Dee pointedly does not say ‘Pest’, and she pauses a moment to reach into her bag on the floor to pull out a handwritten paper card. It’s for her seamstressing, but… “Here, this is my information, you can put me down under the references in that part. That way they can give me a letter or a ring and I can be all glowing about you, hm?”

Weasel takes the card, looking it over for a moment, before setting it down next to her papers, scribbling the last few answers part before the commercial use section. “Probably Lance. He’s always down for some exploring.” She grins up at Delilah, before turning her eyes back to the papers.

Then, she’s scribbling out an answer — writing about her desire to use her ability to help with animal control, mainly clearing raccoons out of buildings that they are not wanted in, and possibly rat control in the future — especially if she can get a space with enough room for her to keep some of her animals in enclosures outdoors.

“Thanks for helping me with this,” she remarks as she also scribbles in Delilah’s information, peering up at the woman with a small smile. “Never thought I’d go all legit like this.”

“Yeah?” Delilah gives Weasel a sympathetic look, smile a bit crooked under the crease of her brow. “If it helps, I wasn’t when I was about your age, Registered, anyway. It basically took me getting hospitalized or something like that, it’s a bit fuzzy?” The redhead waves her hand a bit, cringing at her own words. “Technically being a terrorist and a general malcontent doesn’t help when the world is angry and hateful at you for it? Imagine that. But Phoenix kept me under the radar for a while despite my ability always being… unfortunate. After I was registered I got shuffled around, eventually ended up in Eltingville before the war… if I hadn’t gone with the Ferry to Cambridge, I know I would’ve been caught in the riots. Anyway, what I’m getting at- -”

“You’re not the only one to have been or be nervous in this situation.” Delilah cuts off her storytelling once she realizes she’s yammering on, instead punctuating the tale with that. “If I’d had the options that you have now, I know that I would have loved to have someone on my side, showing me the ropes- - so I help sometimes. Gillian knows me well enough to shuffle me a lamb now and again.” She flashes a wide grin, the corners of her eyes crinkling, freckles caught in the indents of her smile. “So you’re welcome! I’m glad to see you getting into it.”

A large part of that rambling history gets a bit of a blank look from the girl — not out of rudeness, but out of pure unfamiliarity with the events of the war. “I never really got immersed in all the stuff that happened during the war. I joined the Lighthouse up in Canada, after they fled from the war, and I watched most of it happening from afar. Brian taught us how to defend ourselves and how to fight, but kept us away from the bad stuff. I met a lot of people who came through during the war, though.” She pauses, tapping the base of the pen on the table.

Then, she’s back to writing out her answers. “I wouldn’t do very good in a war, I don’t think. I mean, I could probably do, like, reconnaissance or something with my animals, and I can fight and stuff, but I don’t really like fighting. I’m more of the ‘disappear into the wilderness to avoid war’ type of person, really.” She pauses, scratching the top of Pepe’s head with her free hand. “I don’t like putting them in danger, anyhow. It hurts me when they get hurt.”

“Bet they had some stories, huh.” Delilah remarks on meeting refugees, folding her hands and watching Ron and Pepe amble around as they do. “Yeah, that’s usually how it works with empaths of any kind…” She puts her palm out on the table to offer a sniff to Ron. See, she’s nice… and god you are cute as heck.

“They make bonds with animals- - or people, too, I guess? With regular old empaths?- - and if something ever happens like they get hurt or die or whatever, it seems to really affect them from the inside out.. One of our friends in the Ferry… she had such a connection that when she died, we think it imprinted on them. It is heartbreaking to think about. I expect Hailey has stories like that, and I don’t really need to tell you how it feels, right? But I get it. You’d never want to put them in harm’s way.”

The tiny weasel suspiciously eyes Delilah’s hand as she offers it out. A small glance is cast toward Clara, his whiskers twitching a bit as if to ask if it’s safe. Apparently satisfied with her answer, the little creature inches forward with his belly low to the ground. He presses his face into her palm, little whiskers tickling at the woman’s palm as he sniffs her and investigates her to make sure she’s not gross again.

“Yeah. I can talk to other animals, but I don’t talk to them as well as I talk to Pepe and Ron. They are always with me, or nearby if not.” She pauses her writing, smiling fondly at the two little creatures. “I don’t like being apart from them for too long, because it’s like our bond kinda…crumbles? I can feel it degrading. So I keep them with me.”

“Kind of like familiars or something, I guess…” Delilah is definitely not gross again. She smells normal to his little nose. There’s a smile between the critter and Weasel when he seems to acclimate to her this time. “Are we good now, champ? I’m not goopy, you’re not mad, it’s almost like we could be buds.” The redhead is talking at him as if he can hear, but that’s just how she acts with animals anyway- - “How’s that last bit coming along?”

The little white creature stares up at Delilah for a moment, his whiskers twitching; then, he reaches out, placing his paw on the bkzk6 sutrzswoman’s thumb. He goes to bite again, but this time it’s a soft one that doesn’t break the skin. “He love bites a lot,” Weasel says right as he goes in for said nibble. “It means he’s okay with you.”

Her eyes turn down to the paper, and she scribbles out a little bit more, before sliding it toward Delilah. “Done!”

The nibbles remind Delilah of a hamster she had for approximately six months before it got loose in the garden. She wanted to walk it. There’s a small laugh for the tiny paws and the nibble itself. “Thanks.” Dee lets the weasel nose at her fingers until his guardian finishes up, sliding the finished stack back to her to give a glance through it. She doesn’t really read it, she just makes sure that Clara hasn’t missed anything.

“This is a good start. Looks like you got everything you need to get this ball rolling… any questions about it? It’s a straightforward process, for the most part. They’ll want to do an interview at some point, but those aren’t big affairs. Just you and a caseworker having a chat, kinda like this.”

“I think I pretty much got it. I hope they approve my business idea, I think it’d be really good.” She grins across the table at the woman. “Thanks for helping me out on it, even though our first meeting wasn’t the best.” She reaches out, gently running her fingers along Ron’s back; the little white weasel responds by disappearing into the sleeve of her jacket.

Pepe, meanwhile, finishes grooming his belly, lifting his head and letting out a rattling squeak sound. His claws scrabble against the table as he stands, and the friendly little skunk promptly saunters over to Delilah. And then, she suddenly has a skunk leaning rather heavily against her chest, demanding pets. “Pepe thinks you’re cool.”

“It was no problem. Gillian has pointed a few people to me, she knows I'm good for it..” Delilah seems about to add something when Pepe comes over to her, clickity-clacking up and padding across the tabletop. She laughs quietly as he presses up against her, exhaling a breath in relief that he does like her. No worries, she's just a little hyper-aware he's a skunk.

“Aw, thanks.” Dee puts some fingers behind tiny ears to rub gently behind them. “You're pretty cool too.” The grin for the musky little thing gets passed to Weasel too. “No hard feelings from me, he was just doing what weasels do. I'm glad you didn't get shy when Gilly sent you to me. It was great to sit down and really meet you properly.”

Weasel grins across the table. “Skunks are kind of like big, stinky cats, when you get past the smells they sometimes give off. Pepe really would rather just sleep a lot and eat all day. He’d be fat and lazy if I let him.” Gently, she reaches out, touching Pepe’s fluffy tail. “Thankfully, I don;t let him.”

She leans back in her seat; a tiny white face pops out of the neckline of her jacket, before disappearing again. “I’m not really shy, so much as I’m…well, I’m a little like Ron here. I think hanging out with Musties in general has kind-of influenced me a little bit? I always got them better than most people.”

One hand reaches out, and after giving Dee’s hand a gentle nudge, Pepe clicks his way over the table again, climbing up Clara’s chest and settling into the hoodie-hammock, his tail resting against the back of her head. “Is there anything else I need to do right now?”

Delilah gives Pepe one last scratch before he wanders back to his Clara and nestles back into his hammock. Cuuuute. But never let Walter see him, he’ll want one. Saying no to the puppy has been hard enough!

“Not right now, no. I’ll deliver this before I head home today, and it’ll be a couple of weeks before you hear anything- - you know how bureaucracy is, I’m sure.” Plus the scattered sort of way the city is anymore. Dee sets her bag onto the table and glances up over a shoulder as she slides things into a folder, tucking it away. “Hey, you hungry? Could see if Gilly’s got some snacks stashed here.” It’s a twee bit conspiratorial, but mostly it’s an attempt at friendly.

At mention of possible food, Weasel’s stomach betrays anything she might say by letting out a growl. She girl blinked sheepishly, before grinning. “I’m almost always hungry,” she replies with a small smile, reaching up to pet the skunk that has made a nest of her hood.

“Thanks again for the help,” she adds, smiling. “I really do appreciate it. I’m glad I got the chance to get to know you better.”

"Me too." Delilah taps the table with her knuckle as she stands, a lopsided grin on her face. "Hopefully next time we bump into each other- - " Literally. "I won't get a bite. Come on, then, let's do some sniffin' around." The redhead slings her bag across her chest and beckons Weasel along to investigate the not so public spaces. Maybe Ron can help with that sniffing.

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