The Bewitchment of a Bonny Lass

[Roderick Douglas]

He doesn't have much else to do in mind, so he pulled up in his beat up old pickup truck and parked it outside. None of the usual bars sounded interesting and the dance hall was boarded up for termite inspection, pesky critters. So what was available was a trip into town and hang out at the Arena for a bit. Brushes his hand through his hair and makes his way down to take a seat at the bar, ordering himself a simple beer and then turning to do some people watching.

She'd barely slept at all last night after making her way home, halfway with a worried Highlander and the other half on her own. The change to her vision, or what she was diagnosing it as, had the typically buoyant redhead somber and introverted. Was she epileptic now? Had someone slipped her something in her drink? How does one see a room and all of its furnishings one moment and the next they are standing upon a bluff overlooking a loch? And what of those terrifying pixie like creatures with all of the teeth and crazy eyes? These were the thoughts rattling around in Kenzi's head as she descended the steps and made her way almost vacantly to the bar to await the arrival of Jason. Who was right there, being bumped into since she wasn't watching where she was going. "Oof."

He was people watching and since it wasn't terribly busy, he was able to hear the door open and he looked over while taking a sip as Kenzi came in. She seemed to have a pretty preoccupied thing going on, as determined by how she came in and headed right for him without seeing. He had the presence of mind to switch hands with the drink and reach out when she finally bumped into him. He blinked, set the beer down and reached out to a shoulder. "Hey, Red. You alright?" He had half a boyish smile going on and a raised brow as he looked to her. He'd known her for a while and couldn't recall any time she seemed this out of touch, for lack of a better term.
He signaled to the bartender to make a jack and coke for Kenzi, having it delivered for her when she was ready.

She wasn't a Jack and Coke girl typically but offered no complaint when the drink was handed to her. Lifting the glass halfway to her lips, she paused and looked up at him. "Hey Bumpkin. How's...things?" Those deep ocean hued eyes narrowed as she stared at him, wondering if he would turn into one of those little flying monsters that had tried to attack her. Or had it? Was that real? Was he?

Her reaction puzzled him a bit. She didn't seem like her normal... insane.. spontaneous self. She seemed more reserved and suspicious? His reaction would be easy to read as being confused at how she was acting. Maybe she was just tired after a full night of partying. That was it. He nodded as he thought he had the answer with a smile. "Things are things. They got more space in the barn for the bare knuckle fighting the guys are doing. Was considering trying it out and was going to see if you were interested in checking it out sometime." Waits a moment and sips his drink. "You out late partying again, last night? Wonder if you corrupted another young, innocent country boy." He chuckled, referring specifically to himself.


Her gaze narrowed even more as she stared at him. "You're gonna be one of them people? If you're gonna fight, why not do it here where there are officials to regulate instead of in some back woods damn barn where some redneck drinks one too many and doesn't know when to stop pounding away." Frowning, she did seem to become more focused at the thought of her friend getting his head caved in. Then she stuck out her tongue at him. "No, I wasn't out partying late and I swear you are the only innocent, country boy I've ever seen 'round here. And I didn't corrupt you. All I did was provide alcohol and those ladies corrupted you. With their money. Down your pants." Shaking her head, the redhead managed to giggle a little at the memory. "Oh nosir, you will not be pinning your lack of moral conduct on me." Sip.

Well now, he didn't expect that reaction so was kinda taken aback by it. "Uhh.. okay. So I'm guessing you think bare knuckle fighting's a bad idea?" He paused and then broke into a grin. "We ain't all rednecks, you know. Just about... half of them. Maybe three quarters. But you're right, they do kinda get it into their drinks too much." He thought about the second part a moment. "You might have just provided the alcohol but come on, Red, you had a direct contribution to that corruption. Can it even be called corruption if I don't remember none of it? You just had pictures. I don't know if it counts?"

"Nah, I like the fighting just fine. I just think you need to do it in the Outback instead of some redneck hellhole where the police are too scared of the banjos and squeeling to save your butts. Literally." She took a healthy drink of the jack and shook her head. "Listen, Jase. I didn't tell those ladies to pay you $600 to take off your clothes. I didn't watch you take them off. I took some pics while you were mostly clothed because I needed blackmail material. If you're gonna hang out with me and my girls, you better stop being a baby and blaming us for your good time." She grinned impishly to soften the tone of those words.


"Uhh, the cops ain't afraid of the banjos, and you're thinkin' the 'bama area, not country. We got guitars. And there's at least two officers who're wanting in on the fightin'." He chuckled and drank more of his. "I'm not bein' a baby about nothin' cept the fact I can't remember getting 600 bucks... and you didn't watch me take my pants off? Not even a little peak?" He seemed slightly disappointed? Maybe? Nah. "I don't even remember what happened to that 600..."
"You bought something for that steel deathtrap you drive..." she offered quickly.

"Probably a new rear suspension. I can't remember none." He laughed and finished off his drink. Stops and stares at her a moment. She answered that pretty quick. Country slow. "Waaaait a minute..." He shakes his head. Like, whatever. It was in the past right? "So how about you, Red? What've you been up to lately?" He signals for another beer and happily accepts it.

She hadn't spent all of his money, if that was what he was thinking. Had she let him spend all of it on those "ladies" he had been spending time with that night? Uhm. Maybe? Would she tell him they were hookers and not just women that had fallen all over him? Nope. It had done his self esteem a world of good. "Uh..." Going crazy and seeing things that aren't there. At least that is what she said in her head. "You know. Nothing interesting. At all. Just like...work and school." Seeing Unseelie trying to kill her. Standing in the Highlands while in the Annex. "Nah, nothing big."

"Just work and school? Man, Red. Must be tirin' you out to make you look how you're lookin' now. I'd ask for a raise and maybe try balancing that school schedule of yours." Siiiip. Had he known they were hookers, he'd probably never be able to show his face again. "Nothin' interesting with you? Come on now, Kenz. I ain't no idiot now. I may be a bumpkin, as you like to say, but I know you. You gotta have something interestin' going on." He chuckled.

The inside of that full lower lip was chewed at as she thought over how much she should tell him. He would likely think she was intoxicated. But Jason was one of her very best friends, if she couldn't tell him, who could she tell? Leaning forward, her mouth close to his ear so no one could hear, she whispered. "There were pixies with little swords and millions of needle teeth and crazy death eyes trying to attack me in the Annex last night."

[Roderick Douglas]

That was weird. He pulled back after she whispered and if it wasn't a look in her eyes that changed from distracted to really worried in regards to at least his reaction, he might have thought she was imaginging things. "Uhh.." She made him speechless and he reached up to tug on his earlobe as he absorbed this new information. Being the land that it is, it's not really an impossible thing to happen right? "Well, you've said some things that might make me go 'huh?' but nothing like this, so it's gotta be true." Not that she'd have made it up for his benefit, either, so still absorbing and looking her over. ""Doesn't look like they got you or anything.. any idea why they were coming for you? I mean, you alright? I mean.. that's some crazy **** to be having happen to you, are you okay?" He wasn't sure what to do, really, didn't know how to really react. They were close besties so support would be the first thing he could think of. "We could fight'em off if they come back again." He nods, determination on his face. Helpless determination, but determination.


A distant sound of whistling might be heard from beyond the door leading down to the Arena, just before a large Scotsman pushed his way past it. Whistling died out as he passed his eyes over the room - a brief frown noting the lack of caller, but here there were people, and alcohol. Not a bad place to park himself for a time. He took the stairs down two at a time with his long stride.


"I mean they weren't like there. Not really? I don't guess. I saw them and they definitely were coming after me after I hit my head on the cooler and fell down. It was after my fight with the punching bag and then I was in the Highlands in Scotland on the realm of Earth. Then they attacked." This was all rushed out as soon as he spoke. And to top things off, there was the mysterious stranger from last night that she was still certain had something to do with it all. "Oh gods. Oh gods. Hide me,Jase. That's him. The guy from Glenfinnan...I think they came because of him. I dunno though. I dunno." Her voice was reaching a high pitch as she started to duck around him. Hard to hide that mop of waist length fiery hair, though, especially on a frame so small.

He got to the bar shortly, and spied a shock of red hair from the corner of his vision. Kenzi seemed to be hiding from something though, so he opted not to out her; a dusty bottle of single malt and a large glass were his current goals, and soon occupied his calloused hands for a three-finger pour.

He was now getting rambled at quickly and she was fast to move and try hiding behind him. He wasn't a hulking person, so her hiding wouldn't work all that well. He shifted as he tried to hide her though and tried coming to grips with everything she just said. "What, you got attacked by a punching bag that knocked you into a cooler in Scotland on Earth while these critters attacked you with Glenfiddich scotch and they.. wait, I'm confused, Kenz..."

"Er.." Another glance to the side. What in the Lord's good name was going on over where Kenzi was hiding behind that gent?


Kenzi looked up at Jason with an incredulent stare. "Are you batshit crazy or what, Bumpkin? That just sounded completely ridiculous!" Of course, not understanding how crazy she sounded, or rather, just not caring. Noticing Roderick had seen her, she huffed under her breath, "Damnable observent Scotsman, ugh..." and came out of "hiding."

"Hey, that's how it sounded like to me when you said it, Miss Kenzi." Moving to allow her to come out from behind him. He looked around and thumbed at Roderick. "He the one bugging you with all this insanity?" A little indignant because that's how it sounded to him when she said all that.

"Not bugging me, so much. Eh. He uh...I..." Frowning. "I dunno. He was here."

Though he had the same friendly smile for Kenzi that he had for anyone, he did raise one black brow and offered her and her friend a toast. "Evenin' t'ye."

Leans close to Kenzi, mutters in her ear. "Need me to take'im out back, kick the crap outta him?" He gave a polite smile and upnod to him at his greeting. He'd defend Kenzi's honor even if she was at fault. Plus, he knew her and not the Scot. Not to mention, he probably could only last a little bit in a fight. He's not exactly built for long term skilled brawling. More like.. regular basic fistfighting.

She stared at Jason as if he'd grown three heads. "You do realize he is a giant, yes? And did you hear that accent? That is the accent of my people and...they're all crazy with superhuman strength and skin as thick as a dragon's hide. How're you going to kick the crap outta him when his arm looks bigger than your head?" She shook her head, obviously settling down from her near hysterics. "This is a bad idea, Bumpkin."

"I could hit him with my truck."

"..." She just stared open mouthed.

"You'd have to owe me for damage."

"You are crazy. What is wrong with you!?"

He stared at her a moment. "Guess I just been hanging out with you too much." Big, goofy grin.

If Roderick could hear all of this? She'd likely die from embarrassment. Really. "You are not putting this nonsense on me! I do not run over people with trucks."

"You don't even drive a truck. I'd do the running over. I'd just be doing it as a favor to you."

So, the two of them were looking at him and whispering. His ears were not observant as his eyes, and he really was not the type to try to eavesdrop. A smile for the gent, and... a strange look at Kenzi. She seemed much better than last night, though. He opted to drink more scotch as he pondered, and while it may have been abuse of the mother's milk, a Scot had every right to slam single malt. Another pour came soon after, the bottle kept close.

"I'm not going to jail for you. I wouldn't last long. Neither would you."

"They ain't got no law down in here, Kenz. Okay, tell you what, I'll hit him with my truck enough to distract'im, you run. If he gets up, I'll back up and hit him again and then peel out. That oughta give you enough time to get away." He smiles back at Roddy since he smiled again. He wasn't serious about hitting anyone with his truck. But it seemed good to be encouraging Kenzi, helping distract her a bit.

"He helped get me home last night. So...I guess if he was intentionally trying to cause those things to get me he coulda done it then, yeah?" She was curiously drawn to the Scotsman, likely because of the explanation he had given her last night...he reminded her of home. A home she couldn't remember much of.

"Oh, so if he helped ya, maybe it's a bit too soon to think about hitting him with my truck." He nods, putting his hands on her shoulders in a slightly protective manner. "You want I should say hi or somethin'? Have him talk to ya?" Made sense. If he took her home then he coulda done her in at any point. A simple push off a bridge or into traffic or even a big rock. Or razor teethed critters. "He looks totally harmless." Yeah, sure. That's why he offered to hit him with a truck.

[Roderick Douglas]

Ah well, the hell with it. The second scotch was sipped at, and he took it with him as he made his way over to Kenzi and her friend. A huge man, but he had no threat in his eyes, only lingering concern. "'Ello tae ye tae, Kenzi Davis. Yer feelin' better thes eve, aye?" To the man, he offered, "Roderick, clan Douglas, at yer sairvice," by way of introduction.

"Harmless. Right...." spoken softly as that massive, harmless form drew closer. The barely there scent of Scottish heather suddenly permeated the air and Kenzi's eyes closed as she breathed in the scent. The vision of the brilliant purple shrubbery came to mind and Kenzi found herself smiling mildly, relaxed by this sudden bombardment of her senses. Thick pale lashes fluttered open to expose the seafoam kissed eyes of blue and she offered that smile to Roderick. So far so good...no creatures gnashing their teeth at her quite yet.

Straightens up, as if trying to look more intimidating than his 185 pound frame indicated. Puffed out his chest, stuck a thumb into his belt and tipped an imaginary hat to Roderick. "Jason, clan.. uhh.. Bacashihua. Not really a clan, just the last name. How're you doin, sir?"

"A fine eve tae ye as wull, Roderick Dooglas..." the greeting fell from her lips in imitation of his brogue with her own voice lending difference. It seemed to come natural to her as it had the eve prior.

She seemed calmer, that was only partially noticed by Jason because he kept his attention on this possibly harmless threat in front of him. He was about to say something but turned his head at her Gaelic greeting. There's that puzzled expression again.

Reaching a huge, calloused hand out toward Jason for a shake, he replied to him, "Well met, Jason Bacashihua. I'm guid, thank ye, je's off work. Lookin' fer a scrap. En the rings, that es, but seems I'm late again." He shrugged; and smiled at the brogue Kenzi offered, replying with a wink. He could tell already she was far, far better than she'd been the night previous, which wss most of the reason he'd come over to chat.

"Right, work, looking for a fight. Too late. Gotcha." He was guarded as he took the mans hand, shaking it with the most tough confidence he could muster. Course, in his head he's thinking 'Please, lord, don't let Kenzi need me to hit him with my truck, I can't pay for that much damage.' "Good to meet ya. Umm.. yeah guess it's too late, something about the Caller having a hot date or something?" Did he know? No. Leans in to Kenzi, whispers softly. "He doesn't look as harmless as you led me to believe."

The scent was gone, and she realized it hadn't actually been part of his own scent but something else entirely. The more she tried to puzzle out the strange occurrences when he was around, the more pieces she came up with that just didn't fit. Her gaze remained upon him, very slightly narrowed as if concentrating, as she heard Jason. Had she not been so completely focused on figuring out what it was that tickled at the back of her mind about the man, she likely would have jabbed an elbow into Jason's ribs. She offered a noncommital "Uh huh" instead of the elbow, however.

He maintains his protective posture, you know, just in case. He nods to Kenzi, then looks to her and sees she's distracted. He purses his lips just a moment in thought.

"Aye, that'd be Dris fer ye, always on a 'ot date er somethin' nae?" He laughed, eyes twinkling and crinkling slightly at the corners during his mirth. And no, he didn't smell like Scotland, unless you counted dust and the lingering...fragrance of the stable. He'd come here half-expecting a scrap, why shower? "Sae, wot're ye two up ta thes eve, then?" A lame attempt at making conversation, but he had nothing else. Strange times - it was Rhy'din, after all.

"I dunno. Don't know him too well.." He sounded slightly distracted too. He wouldn't notice any of this Scotland stuff, his heritage was French Canadian. "Uhh, Kenz asked to meet me for a drink last week cause we hadn't hung out in a while and she said today to meet her here so I did. But, I think she's distracted or something. Flighty." He grinned at Kenzi, seeing if he'd get a reaction out of her for that. He certainly wasn't going to bring up anything Kenzi told him that she thought she saw. Even if she said that Roderick was there the previous night. That's secret friend stuff.

She was in her own world right now. Pretty literally, at that. Her eyes closed once more and she could swear that she could feel the cold air of the moors wash over her, thick with moisture and the scent of the River Ness. Mixed in was that heather, and the tall Highland grass billowing about, being whipped against the voluminous heap of soil stained skirts. The lengths of copper red waves lifted and snapped within the wind, smacking against her face with a sting that brought tears to her eyes. Not another soul in sight, she was there alone in physical form but she felt the crowding of a hundred hands reaching out to touch her. Her sense of peace didn't fade and instinctively she knew these were not the creatures that had come for her last night.

While her spirit had transported back to that Highland bluff overlooking Inverness, Scotland, Kenzi's physical body stood beneath the pressure of that "mental" trip for several minutes with a blank expression upon a face that had suddnely become ashen in its paleness. Then she crumpled into a heap. Where she was spiritually, her "body" did not suffer the same fate and she remained so at peace, experiencing a sense of fulfillment she had never felt before.

He looked over at her since there was no reaction coming. His head leaned in a bit as he called her name. "Kenz? Kenz?" And then he glanced back at Roderick before looking back to Kenzi and reaching his hand out to wave in front of her face. "Yoo hoo, Kenzi? Anybody home?" A moment passes. "She wasn't this distracted when she came in." Glances back to Rod.

Another lift of a brow as he studied the lass, in her reverie. For his part he chalked it up to her being a Celt - he would never, even in his own mind, disparage all women as 'crazy' - and probably touched by some of the old blood. Something urged his voice to stay low as he said to Jason, "Well, she's no screamin' annaway." Entirely. Lame. Thing to say, but Roderick's glass was always half full! Except now when he was urged to finish off the scotch. "P'raps now's no the best time." Just watching Kenzi's 'fugue' was giving him the heebie jeebies, and after all she had a good friend here to look after her.

then a look of surprise and shock as what he thought was Kenzi just.. collapses. Momentary lack of reaction cause it was such a surprise and then he's down beside her trying to shake her awake. He's no doctor but this seemed normal."Kenzi? Mackenzie! The hell girl, wake up!"


First things first. Checks for a pulse.. he's had enough accidents happen on his farm that he knows some basic medical stuff, because sometimes you can have something happen far away from the house and farther from a hospital. He's got a pulse and there's breathing. He feels her forehead for a fever. Nothing there.

It was then that Roderick decided it might be a good idea to step back, though his sense of concern would not allow him to simply leave without making sure she'd turn out alright. Once, having a strange fit near him, was coincidence, perhaps. Twice? Was enough to make him think. "Ye need me tae get 'er somethin', Jason, some water, p'raps?"

"I dunno.. this ain't never happened before but she ain't responsive. Umm..." He looks around quickly, then curses. "Dammit. Look, can you stay here and watch her and I'll go run and get a doctor or something. I mean they gotta have one in one of these bars around here right? People getting hacked and slashed all the damn time. Can you do that?" He looks up at Roderick.

[Roderick Douglas]

"Aye, sair, I c'n do tha', nae problem," he replied without hesitation. "I'll ah...take 'er over tae the couch, then, the bar floor's nae place fer 'er. Unless ye think tes a bad plahn ta move 'er?" Roderick had some facility with injured horses, none at all with lasses crumpled into heaps for no apparent reason - except in this case he thought there might well have been a reason: his presence. It was all quite disconcerting but he was not the type to shy from trouble.

"No, that should be alright. I don't think she's broken anywhere. Couch'll be alright. You go ahead and do that while I run for a doc." He gets up and starts toward the door. He stops and turns a moment. "You take care of her..." He had that 'or else' lined up, but didn't say it. Though his look did. He stared at him a moment before nodding at the unsaid agreement from his part and then ran out to look for medical attention.

"I'll do tha', Jason." His reply was very direct, combined with eye contact, displaying no shiftiness on his part. But then, the shiftiest people were good at hiding it, sometimes. "Ye've me word." He was already stooping, then, to scoop up the wee lass from her undignified heap, very gentle for all his size. He knew his own strength rather well, through long and sometimes painful experience. She was rather easy to heft, and he moved with her past the bar's break and onward to the caller's couch.

Upon the Highland bluff her spirit roamed free. She hoisted her skirts and danced upon the grass and heather, the contrasting deep green and purple hypnotic in the way they drew the attention. She was free; floating, dancing, and humming when the wind began to die down and she could hear the faraway, urgent voices calling her name. She didn't want to go back there yet, she wanted to dance and explore this peaceful place. The urgency in the voice grew more intense and then it was gone. She smiled and had just launched into a spin upon one foot with the other leg tossing around the excessive cloth of her skirts when she felt herself being....pulled? She couldn't explain the feeling other than someone was forcibly yanking her from this serene place as she watched the heather fade. The grass no longer tickled along her ankles and the feel of the air whipping her hair against her skin was gone. She opened her eyes several minutes later, laying upon something soft, her lashes fluttering open as her gaze attempted to focus upon the only face she could see.

"What happened?" She started to sit up and immediately turned her head and emptied the contents of her stomach just as she had the night before. Apparently leaving one's body and returning was quite difficult.

Roderick, at first, was really, really hoping she had hurled over the side of the couch rather than on it, because he really didn't want to have to explain to the officials how a puke stain got there when the Arena was officially closed - but that was silly. His true concern was for this poor woman, and his presence's 'effect' upon her. So far he knew that when she was near him, she screamed (last night), passed out, then vomited. It was hardly encouraging but he would not break his promise to Jason nor flee from trouble. He didn't comment on the sicking up, instead answering her, from the end of the couch, "Ye passed oot again, Kenzi. An' afore tha', ye looked like ye were seein'..somethin' nae there, and crumpled. Aire ye sick? Worry nae, I've the 'ealth of a 'orse, I'll no catch et er avoid ye fer et." It was true, that the big Scot had never been 'sick' in his life, even when exposed to the aftermath of battles or around the Black Plague, which yet lingered during his former life in Scotland. He had no fear of viruses, nor was he anywhere close to the mark with the question. But it bore asking. A gentle hand grasped her shoulder - that had seemed to help, before.

What luck! She had, in fact, turned her head so that the vomit didn't hit the couch. It was very considerate of her, yes? Just as it had occurred the night before, the touch to her shoulder seemed to draw away whatever difficulties she was experiencing as her spirit completely returned to her body. Thankfully, whatever had occurred didn't seem to involve the scary creatures this time either. She still appeared a little dazed, but not too worse for the wear. Shaking her head, she held onto his arm to pull herself to a sitting positon next to him. "I didn't think I was sick, no. But, I don't know what is wrong." She wanted to ask him a hundred questions about what had happened but first..."Where's Jason?" Looking around.

"'E went tae get a doctor fer ye, an' asked me tae look over ye meanwhile." That was a simple answer for a simple question. He had to take her at her word that she wasn't sick - and aside from vomiting, she didn't *look* sick. Either forgetting his hand yet rested at her shoulder, or deciding that it was not upsetting her, he left it there. "'E's a guid friend t'ye, I gather. 'E was a tad frantec when 'e left." Roderick was actually touched, in a way, that the man had trusted him with her.

"So that was who made me come back..." she mused quietly, though certainly still able to be heard, though she didn't elaborate on where she "came back" from. She looked up and nodded at Roderick. "He's probably my best friend. Gets him into a lot of trouble." The hand upon her shoulder felt oddly...comforting and secure, as if holding back a tide of something she couldn't begin to explain.

And so the hand would remain where it was. Something about touching her soothed him as well, though why wouldn't be something he could consider on any conscious level. But last night, after parting ways with her, the nightmares, night terrors really, had not been so bad, had not interfered with his night's rest too much. Curious, that. But something Kenzi said had tickled some part of his brain, and he asked, "Came bahck? Where...did ye go, then?" He knew enough about magic, about the strange paths of the mind, to understand she was talking about a mental place. After all, he and Jason had been right with her during the fit, he knew she had not 'gone' anywhere in truth.

Thin brows were drawn together in concentration and she shook her head slightly. "I...don't know this place. I was upon a grassy cliff, so green and purple with flowers. The air was cold and thick and it clung to my skin and whipped my hair around..." Her gaze seemed to turn inward as she remembered. "There was this wonderfully blue river or lake and I was so at peace. I felt as if I belonged there." Her gaze kept staring for another few moments before she blinked and shook the memory from her head. "Then I heard someone calling me frantically and I wouldn't come back. Until I seemed to be pulled back. Then I opened my eyes and saw you." She looked down at her hands in her lap and chewed at her lower lip, certain she sounded insane.
"I should call Jason and let him know I am alright..."

"Aye, well, ye shuid, put 'es mind at ease, Kenzi. D'ye 'ave yer phone er need mine?" Roderick was *so* advanced these days, having a fully functional smartphone with him at all times. Odd, how the years had changed the Highland bumpkin. "Sounds like a summer's day in Scotland on the shores o' a loch, yer vision." Daydream? He didn't know what else to call it. Thus far he was sure no one who had been in the Arena when it happened had done it, but beyond that... He put a hand on his jeans pocket,ready to fish out the phone as needed. The hand not holding her shoulder, that is.

She shook her head and pulled the phone from her pocket and dialed the Bumpkin's number. He answered on the first ring and she forced her typical perky tone so that he wouldn't know how shaken she was. After several minutes of convincing him not to bother coming back here and that she could get home just fine and she wasn't riding in the deathtrap, she finally was able to hang up. "He's relieved." Nodding a little, she stared at him for a moment. "Shores of a loch in Scotland..." she nodded slowly.

[Roderick Douglas]

His eyes, especially at this close range, could be said to be exactly that loch-color, the clear blue of an unsullied Highland glen's water. And when she stared at him, he stared right back, unblinking, caught up in her gaze for a moment. On a deeper level, he was beginning to realize there was something to this girl that was far, far more than met the eye, that there was some...power in her he would never be able to verbally describe. It was disconcerting, but intriguing at the same time. "Guid, glad ta 'ear et." He puffed out a breath, more a relieved sigh, and with some effort took his gaze from her face. "'Ow's yer stomach, then, lass? Ye keep emptyin' et aroon' me, I'm feelin' like I shuid buy ye dinner er somethin'." Though the smile which touched his lips was playful, the offer was sincere. "At least get ye somethin' tae drink, some water?" He was still successfully ignoring the nearby pool of icky, aside from referring to it obliquely.

She had noticed that his eyes were the color of the loch she had seen in her "vision" and found herself staring for just a little too long and perhaps a little too intensely, coaxing out her own memories and spurred on by the deep seated power within his own gaze. There was something drawing her in, pulling at her that felt so similar to when she was being pulled back to her body that it made her gasp softly and avert her gaze. Whatever that feeling was, it stopped the moment she averted her gaze and she took a moment to apply logic to an illogical situation. She'd not felt that pulling happen before until she was staring into his eyes for too long, so logic dictated that she not do that again.

"So long as you do not force me to eat haggis, there will not be a repeat of that." Her head canted towards the vomit upon the floor and her body began to scoot towards the edge of the couch so she could get something to clean up the mess. As she slid off of the couch, Roderick's hand slipped from her shoulder and the result was almost immediate: she smelled the scent of the Highland wind mixed with the scent of the heather.

"'Ere now, 'old on a mite, lass, don't ye be runnin' aboot je's cause ye feel a little better," he said, leaning forward to try - try, gently! - to grasp her shoulder and urge her back down to the couch. "I'll get et fer ye, okay? An' ef ye don' like 'aggis, well, yer in the vast majority." He grinned, then, rather amused; the number of haggis jokes he'd had to endure here in Rhy'din alone was uncountable. And, he liked haggis but that was beside the point. "An' ,aire ye sayen' yes ta dinner, then?" He realized he was actually sort of asking her out, but the words, once spoken, could not be unsaid. What a way to ask a lady out; he really was not as smooth as he might once have been, at least not around this curious lass.

Whilst still within that near daze that always accompanied the aura she experienced, she could hear Roderick speaking but it wasn't until he gently grasped her shoulder that she managed to decipher what he was saying. "No, nono, you will not be cleaning up my puke!" She felt a bit dizziy but attempted to stand anyway. Which led to feeling quite a bit more dizzy...which led to sitting right back down. She realized something at that moment...she was ravenous.

Being a fireball of energy kept her metabolism revving constantly and required frequent refueling. When moments like this occurred and she lost all of that energy giving food, she was very much like a car operating on fumes just puttering along.

"Ehh. I...I should probably tell you that I'm a vegetarian. So, I dunno what it is exactly that you eat but I probably won't eat that." Turning slightly on the couch, she looked up at him and nodded, noticing again the intensity of his eyes. It took several moments before she realized she was very rudely staring at him as well as...did he just ask me out and I told him I don't eat what he eats? Oh god, you dummy. Kenzi chastised herself and quickly cleared her throat. "I...I'll drink something wherever you take me to eat. Or if they have like...bread." Bread? She was ready to facepalm but couldn't help the ball of nervousness in the pit of her stomach. There was something different about him, something that connected to all of these weird symptoms she was having and Kenzi planned to get to the bottom of it.

She certainly was a fireball of energy, from what the Scot had seen. Be it punching bags, dangling from them, having visions and fits, and even losing the contents of her belly, she seemed to do everything with gusto. Not that he was an expert on women, having failed one marriage already, but he could sense her nerves when responding to his rather offhanded offer of dinner. "Well, lass, I knoe a place er two that sairves people wot eat nae meat an' all. Or there's me 'ome ef ye like, I know 'ow tae cook." As soon as the words were out of his mouth he found himself blushing, ever so faintly; already ruddy-cheeked from long days spent out of doors with the horses, but a little deepening of color might be seen.

In part, however, it was funny. And humor broke some of the nervousness he felt - he couldn't recall the last time a woman made him nervous, by the by - and he grinned. "Wot es et ye think I eat? Bairns?" The amusement flowed into an easy laugh, brief but merry. "Wotever ye like, Kenzi Davis, I jes' feel bad I make ye see thin's an' sick up." For that could be his only assumption at this point, that it was he causing her malady. Mirth, humor, faded from his face as such thoughts took a darker turn, a flash of a nightmare, a flash of fear, being pursued, causing him to tense up. That tension could be felt through the hand on her shoulder, though he didn't squeeze hard. "Let's get oot a' 'ere, aye?"


Well color her surprised! "Do you now? That's rather surprising. Most people just look at me like I have three eyes and six noses or something." She felt herself beginning to relax a little beneath that touch, as if his calm was being transferred into her simply by skin to skin contact. Of course, when he immediately followed up with the invitation to his home, she tensed a little and was brought crashing right back to reality. She didn't really know this man. Had seen him twice and both of those times had some fierce reaction to his presence which was oddly enough cured when he touched her. The ocean in her eyes cooled, much like an icy glacier had emerged from the warm waters, and she leveled that gaze upon the giant of a man, utterly undaunted by his overbearing physical presence. "I am not sure what sort of witchcraft you are practicing, Mr. Douglas, but I can assure you that it will take more than your foul magic to get me to come home with you for whatever it is that you have planned! And don't think that being hot will help either! Did you just magic up that face and those muscles?" Good thing she was feeling so under the weather or she would probably have tried to poke and prod at him to see if she could ruin the disguise. Oh and what terrible timing to be joking about eating children!

Forgive the girl's paranoia, she did have a rather valid reason for being suspicious of him.


Though she did not poke him nor prod him to check, he blinked as the tide of her words went from playful to accusatory - blink, blink, blink. Combined with the lurking darkness which threatened, though did not come to full light in his mind (perhaps held at bay by her presence, even if the same incited it) he was reeling from the onslaught. Terrible timing to be joking about babies indeed, but her own timing could have been better in calling him a sorcerer. Even taken aback, he was gentle with her, and the hand didn't increase the strength of its grip, as he replied, "Now listen 'ere, Kenzi Davis, who aire ye ta call me a wizard? I'm a God-fearen' Scotsman, I donnae 'old weth the dark arts!"

He had not strengthened his grip, but his voice had raised a bit. Never mind he had lived with a Mage, in a magical tower - he had *never* cast any sort of spell on anyone, and never would. "I airned me muscles through 'ard work, and battlin' Anglish, and wraistlin' wit' horses all the long day," he continued, more quietly. "An' yer a bonny lass tae," he added, sheepishly. He already regretted his brief outburst but he was ever a passionate man. Instead of looking away though, he met her gaze squarely, almost challengingly. "Ye need ta eat an' I'm the mahn ta feed ye thes eve. So choose where we go, I'll no lure ye inta some trap." Hmph!


She frowned heavily, thin brows furrowing as her nose crinkled. "If you are no wizard, then how do you explain what happens to me when you are around? I...lose myself and you bring me back. There were creatures..." That he had effectively saved her from. "Your eyes, though.." The quick flare of her temper had burned out as he spoke and she found her pale features flushing heavily under the compliment. It wasn't as if she hadn't been called beautiful or gorgeous or even sexy more times than she could count...but this was the first time she'd ever been called bonny and that seemed to mean something far different. "Well, fine then!" She might be less angry, and was physically unafraid of him as she did notice that he didn't use that large hand upon her shoulder to get her under control. A man with a flare of temper that managed to keep himself under control. It was rather fitting, really. "You earned your muscles fair and square then. Good to know you aren't some puny, warty wizard under all of that." She waved a hand and stood up, half reeling from the dizziness but determined she would not appear any weaker in front of this man. "I'm so hungry I could eat a freaking cow. If you're feeding me then let's be on with it. But I am not going to your home. Hmph." Her feet were moving along at a much quicker pace than she felt was actually safe for her to move, but she was certainly not going to let this man think he was going to lead her about.

[Roderick Douglas]

The more time he spent around this woman - not that it had been long by any measure - the more he realized that she was a true Scotswoman. He'd been dealing with soldiers, warriors, and steeds for most of his life, and though she did not look a swordswoman, she had an undeniable strength of spirit. And so gallantry and understanding waged a brief battle within him, too brief to really be noticed. His was a deceptively quick mind.

Her rise to her feet was shaky, and he at least kept a hand nearby in case she collapsed, but she seemed not to want the arm he would normally offer a lady. Sharp eyes kept watch as her strong spirit forced her weakened body upright. "Aye, no ta me 'ome, foine. Smells like a 'orse anyway," he muttered almost to himself. "Sae, ye like falafel then, d'ye?" That was vegetarian, he knew from experience, and he knew of a place not terribly far from the Arena. Not that he was ignoring her question. He continued, "Yer 'avin visions, lass, an' I'm nae expairt on such thin's. 'Tes fer priests an'..the fae, back 'ome, no a thin' o' warriors." His brief hesitation before saying 'fae' might have been telling. Pieces in his mind were clicking. Something about a woman in his nightmares...

But he knew better than to say anything about the shade of a woman to one standing just before him, moving too fast for her own good. Damned Scotswomen.


She arched a brow and looked over her shoulder. "Why does your home smell like a horse? But more so, what is so wrong with the smell of a horse? Horses happen to be wonderful creatures with real intelligence and spirit and they just smell kind of earthy." Except for some parts. Hopefully his home didn't smell like that though.

"Yes, I like falafel." She paused for a moment and looked back at him. "That sounds very good...thank you." Her voice was a tad bit softer and the edge seemed to have worn off a little. Her steps slowed and she placed a hand upon his arm as it was now time to climb all of these steps, though hesitated as she looked up at him as if questioning if it was alright.

Softly, "Visions...I've never really done that before.." her voice trailed off as she tried to piece together all of the pieces to this puzzle while putting one foot in front of another.

Before they got moving, she asked her question - more like commented upon horses, and if he hadn't been keen to not upsetting this feisty woman, he could have hugged her. His smile was warm, and yet pride filled his face when he replied, "I own me own stable, an' live on the grounds, ye see. I deal en 'orses, trainin' 'em for New 'Aven's wealthy fops, by 'n large. Ye..ye like 'orses? Nae finer beast ded the Laird e'er create." He was still beaming with pleasure when they reached the steps.

She may have been hesitant in looking to him when she sought his support, but he displayed no hesitation whatsoever in offering her one of those treetrunks he called arms. Grasping him would be akin to using a tall oak for support. Relief flooded him, then, as she responded to the falafel idea quite nicely. Hooray for saying something right! And falafel was delicious. "We'll get ye all fed up and feelin' right, afore we talk aboot these visions, Kenzi Davis. Fairst thin's fairst." He was a man on a mission, now. What the mission was may have been unclear, but food always helped. "An' ef ye stumble agin I'm carryin' ye," he warned, guiding her carefully up those steps.

Just when she had been certain there was something off about the man, he ruined her snap judgement of him. His words caused her to stop for a moment to consider something and it was quite evident in the slight narrowing of those oceanic depths that she was reassessing him, as well as her own prior misconception. Kenzi had always believed, and likely always would, that no really terrible person could become close to an animal. They might be able to gain their loyalty out of sheer need for food or other need being met but they wouldn't earn the affection. In her experience, no one as awful as she had started to think Roderick was, could really feel the sort of pride and affection that he obviously did regarding his horses. Kenzi trusted animals far more than she did humans or humanoids. And she trusted her own gut, as she had learned to do many years prior.

"You have your own stable? Really?" Yes, that was what she sounded like when impressed. And the ever-so-slight arch of one pale brow, the quirk of one side of cupid's bow lips into an almost smile, and the relaxation of her stance so that her back wasn't as rigid as a tree were the physical aspects one might notice about the redhead when she was properly impressed. Not impressed for the ownership, though that honestly was impressive in its own right, as much as for the obvious adoration of the beasts and for the change in Roderick's countenance. She couldn't seem to help herself when that smile fluttered upon both sides of her mouth and turned them up. "I absolutely adore horses. Far more than people, generally. They have a power that could knock most men on their arses, though likely not you, yet rarely display it unless feeling threatened. People use their power to control others and horses use it to be free. How could I ever think a person to be more deserving of my respect and attention than a horse?" She paused for a moment, the bridge of her nose now dusted with a bit of pink that was spreading along her cheeks. "I'm...I'm sure that sounds terribly silly and naive." She nodded, having shared her opinion on this subject before only to be stared at as if she were a bit daft. "At one of my jobs, the one where I walk the twin baby dragons, my boss owns horses. I spend as much time with them as I can."

And just like that, Roderick had managed to bridge the communication gap between them and set Kenzi to a more relaxed mood, even if just a bit. "Fairst thin's fairst, Roderick Douglas," she agreed in a perfect representation of his brogue.

Of course, being a man, he had to ruin the peace, or at least test it out. "Ye think ye will, do ye? I'd lave tae see ye try, I rightly wuild. Then ye'll see whot 'appens tae a man whot's bain stoopid. Oh aye, ye well." He was given a look that was a cross between stern chastisement and merry mischief. God save the poor Scot's soul.

Oh so it was *him* ruining the peace was it? It had *nothing* to do with this fiery and undeniably attractive young lady, none at all. Conversation with her seemed like a whirlwind, dancing easily from one topic to another, but Roderick was himself a keen listener when the speaker had his full, and undivided attention. Her comments about horses confirmed to him - if what she said was true - that she was not only a Scotswoman, but amongst the best of people: horses, all equines, were emotionally sensitive creatures, and better judges of character than the most powerful wizard or mindreader. He'd surely have to get her back to the stables, soon, just to see. In Roderick's world, if a person didn't get along with his beloved steeds, they did not get along with him - even to the point that he would refuse the wealthiest buyer if a potential steed did not react well to them. But getting this girl back to his stables was honestly not his top priority right now - he almost never had a devious, sneaky bone in his body and would act according to his spoken word. In that way even the modernization of Rhy'din had failed to quell his Old World, old *Scottish* sensibilities.

But something she'd said was enough to check him out of his thoughts, even as he led her past the Arena's door and hopefully right past the Red Dragon's common room - a place Roderick most often avoided, preferring the city's smaller, quieter taverns - and into the night without incident. He kept his strides paced to hers, never rushing her, no matter the nature of their bantered exchanges. "Wait, ye *walk* baby dragons? 'Ow many jobs d'ye 'ave again? Six? Do ye sleep, Kenzi Davis?" he finished with a soft laugh. His mood, by the moment, was improving - it seemed that when she was close, despite the darkness in his mind, the lingering taint of nightly terrors, that she actually soothed away the murmurs of whatever it was that affected him. He'd come to realize something was wrong in his mind, but like most warriors assumed it was the lingering stress of battles fought and chose to suffer through it. Indications that something was severely wrong in his mind were there but...Kenzi's presence was a balm for his mood. Even when (especially if) she lapsed into her sassily delivered brogue.

"Aye well, je's ye try fallen' down then, Kenzi Davis, an' we'll see wot 'appens," he replied to her last with a still-mirthful tone, and sly grin. "The falafel stan' I knoe es just down the way 'ere," he commented, reassuring her they'd not have far to go to reach a brightly lit market square, one of many smaller ones which dotted the Dragon's Gate district.

[Roderick Douglas]

"Yes, I certainly do walk baby dragons. Sometimes they walk me..." she grinned a little sheepishly before rushing on, "the point is that they get their exercise which is what I am paid to do. I also bathe them because lemme tell ya, Roderick Douglas, dragons are quite smelly creatures if not bathed regularly." She nodded and then pursed her lips as she thought about her various jobs. "I have six usually, yes. Sometimes I take on a little extra work if I need a little extra money...for school. I have my full time blogging job with KLIT and then the others are mostly part time. I also go to school full time."

The fiery redhead, who was known more for partying and being wild than anything else probably, was shrugging as she answered his question. "There's not all that much time for sleep, no. But for whatever reason, I have found that I can meditate myself into a very deep sleep for a few hours and wake completely rested. I mean, I don't have a lot of choice. I pay my own way, don't like to rely upon anyone." She gave a firm nod at that last proclamation and the party girl was nowhere to be seen in the stubbornly serious set of those blue eyes.

They continued along the path at a comfortable pace and Kenzi found that walking next to the giant, dark haired man felt like the most natural thing in the world; she had visibly relaxed. Of course, at that obvious challenge, she stopped and stared at him. Then *very* deliberately dropped to the ground. "Oh dear. It seems that I've fallen down..."

It may have been that she had distracted him enough with her descriptions of walking (and bathing!) baby dragons, or her admission that she was essentially a workaholic - like he with his stables - or with her hand on his arm, and the scent of her, so close... She smelled clean, and not just in the sense that she was a woman. In some inscrutable way she was clean of spirit, and Roderick had become far more sensitive to the unseen, to spirits and undercurrents, in his temporally twisted time in a fae realm. This was the *only* reason he would not be able to catch her before she 'fell' to the ground beside him.

He gave a start when she did that; drawn from his brief reverie he nearly gasped, a huge hand nearly snatching at her shoulder. But it was soon obvious she was being playful, and that the spill had been intentional, when she looked up at him. With those eyes, those bloody beautiful eyes. A man could lose himself in those before he even knew what was happening. He covered his bedazzlement when their eyes met by smiling - a playful smile this time, his blues twinkling to meet the stare of her own. "Well, ye asked fer et, didn't ye now?" he posed rhetorically - just before dipping down to grasp for her waist. His goal? To heft her slight (to him) weight and scoop her right up against his chest, in his arms.

She was probably going to fight him, too. Hopefully the 'rough' play didn't make her sick again. Her stomach's salvation from hunger was nigh at hand; passersby on the evening street were giving the two 'crazy' Scots a wide berth, though.

Those "bloody beautiful" eyes contained the mirth and mischievous spirit of a Scot without a doubt. There was a hint of something else, mysterious and quickly hidden, when their eyes met and she briefly felt herself being pulled in again. It was the shaking of her head that had distracted her from his movements and had made her such easy prey. If it wasn't for those serene blue eyes, she obviously would have scooted right between his legs and then up to jump on his back. That wasn't exactly how everything panned out, however.

For one of the longest moments of her life, Kenzi found herself nearly face to face with the owner of those eyes, clutched up against his chest with her legs dangling as if she were simply a rag doll he had lifted from the ground. Her typical quick wit and street smarts had abandoned her because she had never experienced quite this type of "fight" where she felt her entire being drawn in. The worst part? She didn't seem to mind at all...it felt natural to begin leaning in, her gaze lowering to search his face before lifting to meet his own. Closer she moved, the moment dragging out and dangling her heart precariously on the precipice of...what? Disaster? Understanding? Passion? Her hands met his strong jaw and caressed along the slight stubble, sliding backwards as she continued to inch forward. Lips parted ever so slightly and then...blinkblinkblink. "Oh! Oh goodness!" She gasped softly, as the spell broke and she leaned back, still blinking a little wildly.

Going entirely still in his arms, she stared for a long moment before the hell of a redheaded Scotswoman was unleashed upon the poor man. It hadn't been his fault but that was little consolation. "You...I...you bewitched me!" A smack was given to the rock wall of his chest before her hands balled into two tiny fists and began to pummel in earnest.

Poor Roderick might have a difficult time following the change in mood and action but it all stemmed from feeling herself lose control of something she didn't even understand in the first place. "You...those eyes...your lips were...UGH!" She uttered in disgust. How comical it must be for the man to realize he was being beaten for being irresistible.

If she hadn't struggled, he might have scooped her up with one arm behind her back and one under her legs, as he'd *intended*. But, even in picking her up as he had, he was being playfully gentle with her, knowing well his own strength. Not that she was a wimp, but a guy like Roderick could break things if he wasn't very, very careful. And a passionate nature had not made him careless.

Still, it was not hard to lift her...and then their eyes met again, those eyes that were filling his mind with stray thoughts, drawing something from him at the same time that the depth of her gaze filled something else. Not even had another Scotswoman, in the young immortal's relatively short life, been so damned interesting, or so captivating. And he'd only just met her! Lingering internal trauma gave way in her presence, the dreams had not been so bad, and though he'd had - even this very night - a few internal episodes, it seemed that whatever battle enchantment and Kenzi's aura were waging inside him, Kenzi was winning.

It was the first time in months, since he'd 'escaped' from the Unseelie witch, that he'd felt anything like emotion toward another woman, for though he knew it not, part of the dark Glamour upon him had everything to do with his desire for the opposite sex. It had enforced a state of celibacy, for it that Unseelie, that dark sorceress, had 'claimed' him in soul and spirit, if not in body. He was fighting it, fighting it with everything he had, but he didn't even really know there was a battle.

All of these thoughts came and went in a flash, during their playful struggle, which left her lips so close, her face so near, and it was all he could do not to crush his own lips against her in that moment. Gentleman or no, in those heartbeats, all he wanted to do was kiss this strange, lovely, wild, *bonny* lass full on the lips, and lose himself in the taste of her.

But, just as quickly as he'd decided he *was* going to kiss her, and damn it all if he wasn't, the spell broke and she was beating on his chest, and berating him, though in her offhanded way complimenting him too. He knew he had a spitfire here in his arms; had known, some part of him had, since the moment they'd first met. And he wasn't scared, nor even really upset when she began punching him. Instead, oak of a man that he was, he endured it - and refused to let her down just yet. Though she was clearly frustrated, his voice was surprisingly calm, when he said, "Look who's talken', Kenzi Davis." And then he pressed his mouth against hers, and oh, she could struggle, and flail, but the sensation of her fingers on his stubbled chin, just moments before her tirade, was like a delicious heat on his face still. His breath was hot, his heart racing, and his mind whirling, but she would have a difficult time refusing the Scotsman's hard pressure of lips. Despite the butterflies in his stomach, part of him fully expected her to slap him silly - but oh, was it worth it.

Bad Roderick, the bloody black Douglas that he was.

[Roderick Douglas]

The pummeling of his chest was half-hearted at best; Kenzi's heart was not at all in abusing this man, which of course led to further confusion on her part. It was true that she was fiery, even fierce at times, but at the moment that feisty spirit was fueled by some other emotion besides genuine anger. Sure she was angry, perturbed more so, but it was directed at herself more than the man that currently had her bound so easily, and effectively, against him. What was it about him that drew her to him in ways that she felt she had little to no control over? She constantly felt bewitched or beguiled whilst in his presence yet he lacked the deceptiveness and trickery necessary to cause this. He "felt" just the opposite, really, as he was always able to soothe with something as simple as a touch upon the arm.

The press of his lips, hard against her own in what was nearly a bruising of delicate flesh as well as ego, caused a ripple of shock and flood of something far warmer to course through her. Her body went rigid for the first several seconds, the small fists no longer banging against the monolith of his chest, eyes wide and staring. Then came the rush of butterflies turning a thousand somersaults within the pit of her belly. Arms lifted, hands unclenching, to wrap tightly around his neck with those hands entangling into the thick, unruly shock of dark hair. The onslaught of emotion finally bubbled to the surface causing her to bite that lower lip of his with the same rough need he had displayed. That bite quickly devolved into a far more sensual and soft sharing of her mouth that would last but a few tumultuous moments before she drew back and slapped him with what was meant to be a force to make his ears ring.

She was going to have more to slap him for than just that kiss, for he shifted one large hand's position, lowering it along her back during that first hard press of mouths, that soul-dazzling first kiss; grasping her like a rag doll against his chest just wouldn't do, and with a firm grip at her bottom, he was hiking her up against him, with his other hand holding her waist. It may have been a 'brief' pressure of lips, in the grand scheme of things, but to the Scot's mind time seemed to slow to some delicious crawl, in which the nothing existed but the two of them. The sounds and sights of the street's stalls, the passersby, all faded to a dull, insignificant hum when the fire of touching her mouth with his shocked up and down his spine.

And whilst the butterflies careened in wild flight through his own belly, this was the first time in weeks - months even - that his very spirit had felt some relief from the nightly terrors, the lack of sleep, the sense of being hunted that would have shown as dark circles beneath the Scot's eyes were he not who he was. Immortal's displayed no injury, even one that minor, even if he had yet to fully understand what his 'immortality' meant. Bruising of lips, became a soft pressure, in which he explored against her partially opened mouth with his tongue, daring just a touching exploration to the tip of hers.

It was quite simply one of the best kisses of the Scotsman's life, and who'd have thought such a thing would happen in the tawdry night streets of a place called Rhy'din City? That was a mystery far beyond the ken the two involved, to be sure. A mystery which, even if pondered by Roderick, would have to give way to the shock of her sudden slap. He couldn't hope to avoid it, swirling in this heady dizziness as he was, but it was enough to cause his eyes to finally blink open, though even the sting of her hand was strangely pleasant.

He had the grace to look ashamed, his cheeks red from more than just the smack she'd applied, and he said, "Och, lass. Kenzi.. Fergive me, I.. dinnae knoe wot I was thinken'." His words were soft, almost an awed whisper, as he very gently set her down to the pavement, removing his hands from waist and bottom. He couldn't summon any further words just then; his look was one of the shame of what he'd dared, but there was wonder in his loch-blue eyes. Little did Kenzi know but she was the first woman, since his escape, he'd ever even *wanted* to kiss, let alone had.

With chest heaving, the spitfire redhead stared eye to eye. Thighs held tight against his sides, though she knew he would not drop her-not with the way he was holding onto her backside. Even while delivering that indignant slap, that her sense of propriety dictated she deliver, she was still drowning in the depth of those loch blue eyes. The connection she had noticed between them now felt like a tie that bound them, something far more compelling than the accused witchcraft and deeper than a simple attraction. It was inexplicable so far as she was concerned and like most things that confused or threatened her, Kenzi was ready to run.

The moment she was released she would have done so if not for that look upon the Scotsman's face. The damnable man had her heart racing and thumping, her face flushed, her belly fluttering, her blood burning with something to which she was unaccustomed that caused her legs to feel weak, and now...her sympathy. Sympathy for slapping him for touching her inappropriately? Exasperating! Yet here she was, immediately reaching out to place a soothing hand upon his chest. Because she could not deny that she just wanted...needed to touch him.

"You should be sorry. Hmph..." she tried to be more harsh but her voice betrayed her emotion and came out without the bite she had intended. Then there was the matter of those eyes lowering to peek up from beneath a thick frame of lashes; that was not the look of someone planning an assault. More like her own senses had been assaulted by something she couldn't explain.

"Are you really sorry for kissin' me?" The situation dictated that he answer 'yes' but the way she swallowed and chewed at her lower lip, insecure and unsure of herself, made the question mean so much more than the simple words.

Before she placed that hand on his chest, one of his own was drifting in half-shock, half-wonder, to where she'd slapped him. But the red flush and handprint from the contact of her plam was soon gone, more quickly than might be natural, if a person were paying attention to it. Even his blush faded quickly enough. Small things, simple things, but enough to set his physiology apart from normal men.

In other ways he was precisely like normal men however, and he noticed in some part of his mind, a part still self-analytical, that not only was his stomach fluttering in her presence, and from the kiss, but he was feeling another strange burn that he had not in far too long, longer than he could actually remember, with Glamour's recent mind-fog: he was feeling desire. It was only the second time he'd met this lass! Part of him was scared, too, scared of getting close, instinctually afraid of the sorcerous benumbing which usually restrained him.

It was all so very strange, this effect this Scotswoman was having on him, far too strange from him to parse out. He blinked out of his thoughts at her posed question, and a hand slowly drifted down to rest against hers, where her slim, pale fingers settled upon his barrel-chest. "I.. no, Kenzi Davis, I'm no really sorry," he admitted. At first his expression, his eyes, bore lingering traces of guilt for the act; soon enough the slight, almost mischievous grin which turned the corners of his mouth belied it. Not a boy, but a fairly young man, he still had quite the brat in him. "Yer a guid kesser, lass," he added with a wink. This time, he was ready for another slap though, should she try! He tried to distract her by saying, "Now, aboot tha' falafel.." He dared a glance around, his eyes narrowing on a stall not far off. As if it would be that easy to distract the feisty lass!


The touch of his hand upon hers caused the self-doubting woman to glance up and actually meet his eyes and a hint of a smile played about her lips. A last chew of that lip and she managed to nearly squeak out, "I'm not either..." and then wanted the ground to open up and swallow her, not only for the admission but also for how she sounded so much like a child. Clearing her throat, she thought to redeem herself, "It...it was...nice." Minus the slapping, of course. When they spoke nearly at the same time about the kiss, she giggled, relaxing visibly. "Yer a guid kesser tae, ye lout." She didn't slap him but she did give him the slightest of pushes.

"Right....falafel..." she tried to look in the direction he was looking but only gave a cursory glance. "Food. Right. I remember..." She drew in a deep breath and exhaled with puffed out cheeks, trying to stop focusing so much on this bewitching Scotsman.

For all his size and supposed 'bumpkin' nature, the Scotsman was keen to the meaning behind her words, very sensitive to her body language, and facial expressions. Even the 'punching' and 'slapping' (he knew she could hit harder than that if she *really* wished to), the playfulness, the adorable display of nervousness, all spoke to him just as had her words.

Daring the kiss - and surviving its aftermath - was an icebreaker for the Scotsman. Before he had led her toward the market square with a gentlemanly arm; now he reached out to grasp one of her hands in a warmer, innocent yet somehow more intimate gesture. He was breaking some of the 'rules' on his mind, the hesitance melting away, and little did he realize it was the subtle power of this mysterious lass as much as any other reason. Somewhere, the Unseelie sorceress had become aware, even through the veils of worlds, that her 'property' was being impinged upon, but when Roderick touched Kenzi, that dark, subtle energy had no true power.

What it would take for him to consciously realize this was unclear, but he knew he wanted to hold her hand. "Lout, es et? Come along, Kenzi Davis. Ye need food then rest, I've put ye throo enough already these eve, aye?" Returning to his voice and eyes was the playful twinkle, perhaps an effect of some - temporary - lifting of his soul's burden.

Taken from live play. Thanks to the player of Jason for collaboration.