"Junior" has been getting a bit out of hand. But at least he stays in his "corner" of the room, for the most part. And, all things considered, he doesn't take up as much space as a roommate would. Just a fair deal more than a potted plant.

The pot has long since disappeared, as vines have crept outward, and the smiling little flower has disappeared in that tangle as well. Now, at the heart of the tangle of vines is just a big emerald-green pod. It doesn't look particularly disagreeable, as giant emerald-green pods go, but it doesn't look edible, either. Just as well, since this is Junior we're talking about.

Of course, the sight of vines poking out of the window has brought the attention of the occasional professor, but – after all – this is a Chaos Mage we're talking about, so inevitably there was something weirder in the same School to occupy their already strained attention spans. It's been a real conversation piece for getting information (but not much food) out of Earth Mages, at least.

It's late in the day, though the plant serves so nicely as a screen as to hog up most of the sunlight that would otherwise get into the room, so it's kind of hard to tell anyway.

The door cracks open and shoves several knocked down books and bits of trash out of the way in its sweep. A raccoon with a Vermite tenatiously chewing on his tail steps in and staggers towards the bed. He plucks the bug/rodent from his tail, flings it into the overly-full wastebin, and falls down in a heap. "I really must tell Wyckyd that his world domination plans really fuss with my schedule sometimes. You'd think he'd be a mite more considerate."

Junior doesn't have the courtesy to wave, nod, smile, or otherwise show any response to Fenter's entrance. Honestly, he's been a fairly dull companion since he's gotten to look like this. Well, that is, unless you compare Junior to the average houseplant, in which case he's fairly average company. Some leaves rustle, but that was probably just the breeze coming through the open (It's nigh impossible to close it) window.

The raccoon stares at the ceiling for a bit, makes a face and then pulls a bottle out froom undr hm that he'd accidentally lain himself upon. He stares at it contemplatively as though trying to remember something before it finally sinks in – he needs to water Junior. He rolls out of bed again, almost trips over a set of books on the floor and sticks the bottle under the spigot of the sink. "Hey Junior… do you want the blue fertilizer or that red stuff that the Earth Mage told me to feed you for dinner tonight?"

The leaves rustle again. Hmm. It wasn't breezy at all, come to think of it, when Fenter was outside a bit ago. Maybe the wind picked up.

"Jolly good idea! Let's try both!" Fenter dumps a couple of spoonfulls of each of the ppwders into the bottle and then vigorously shakes the mixture. "Now if I can remember where your roots are. I really hope they don't make me move soon, I'd probably have to have the walls you've claimed torn out so I can take them with me."

Blue and red don't quite make purple. More like black. Looks pretty vicious. But then, most people don't like sampling fertilizer anyway.

Fenter contemplates the bottle'c contents and wanders over to the wastebacket and it's current resident vermite. He peers down into it, "Um… excuse mein there, could you come out for a moment?"

The vermite makes scuttling noises, desperately trying to clamber its way out of its current prison in the wastebasket (which, amazingly, has been emptied recently, and therefore isn't packed full of rubbish for it to climb on to get out). It makes as vicious-sounding a squeak as a vermite could possibly make. That isn't saying much, of course, but it's still no fun getting bit by the little varmints on the nose or finger or something.

"I just wanted to offer you a drink, just to make sure this stuff won't turn Junior into a fox or a lawyer or something unplesant like that. Here you go." And with that the raccoon carefully lets a couple of drops fall down towards the Vermite.

The vermite squeals angrily and falls back into the wastebasket. The stench released makes the room smell like … well … fertilizer. If the windows weren't open already, it would probably be a good idea to open them to air the room out. The vermite doesn't seem to be adversely affected otherwise, though. After all, everyone knows these things live in the sewer, and one can't get much more vile than that.

Satisfied, the raccoon bows to his unfortunate captive and wanders back to the windowsill. "For being such a good sport I'll try and scrounge up something edible for you someplace. Hopefully you won't chew my ears off inmy sleep or something." He lets the liquid ooze out of the bottle and into the windowbox where he last remembered Junior's roots to reside. "Dinner's served, I hope it tastes better than it smells. Yick. But at least this smells better than the compost heap I tried to build in here for you. I wonder why I got in trouble for that?"

The room stinks all the more. Some pounding can be heard on the wall dividing Fenter's room from that of his neighbor. "Hey! Wot's here? Do that outside, ya drunken sot!"

Leaves rustle some more. And given that the wind doesn't seem to be doing the least bit of good against the odor, perhaps it's just not actually windy at all.

"Oh stop complaining! Someday YOU'LL have children to feed and you'll understand this sort of thing." Fenter hmphs and recorks the bottle, tossing it over his shoulder where it will probably rest until the next time he sits or lays on it and remembers to water the plant. He shuffles over to the large pod in the center and gives it a pat. "They really don;t understand us eccentric heros, do they, Junior?"

The large pod gives … and then a small split forms right where Fenter patted it, letting out a strange odor … It's very hard to place it, especially with the fertilizer making competition, but it's quite probably the more agreeable of the two scents dominating the room now. It smells … uh … very plant-y.

The raccoon jerks his hand back, "Ack! I broke Junior! I broke my only progeny!" He steps from foot to foot nervously and then bends his face down to more closely inspect the crack. "You're not going to explode or anything like that, are you?"

A jet of air gusts in the raccoon's face, full of a flowery scent … and probably spores or something else that should irritate the allergy-prone. The split widens, and the pod loses its roundness just the slightest bit.

Fenter sputters and flails backwards, breaking into a fit of sneezes. "Ackppbt!"

The split continues to widen, until the pod is cleft not merely in half, but into trifiburcated portions … not entirely unlike the mouth of a Gooshurm, one might think, before the portions split open and lay out entirely. More spores fly out, clouding the room for a bit … but they slowly clear … revealing something green and fuzzy rolled up in a ball in the center of the opened pod.

Fenter says, "Whu-AAACHOO!" The raccoon squeaks. He fans the air to clear it and creeps back over to the plant. "What's this?" He sniffs at the fuzzy thing, "Ive never heard of plants getting hairballs, although the ones I've caught have made me cough something violent as well. Maybe I should wash the watering bottles better before I use them again.""

The green fuzzy thing slowly unrolls, and a little fuzzy raccoonish-looking head – raccoonish, save for the fact that it's entirely green, with a mask and markings of a darker shade – turns to blink with emerald eyes at Fenter. Why … it's a little green Rath'ani kid! Looks quite a bit like Fenter, actually.

Fenter's left ear tilts sideways, "Here now! What were you doing living in my plant? I thought you only showed up whenever I try drinking all the leftover bits in the bottles together at once."

The little raccoon kid's left ear tilts sideways, and he smiles as he mimicks Fenter's posture.

"You know, you look familiar and I can;t quite place where, ahwell… I'm sure it'll come to me." He picks up the smaller cub, "Best come out of there, the vermite might chew on you. Hmm… where's your parents? Maybe I can get them to pay me for babysitting."

The cub doesn't fidget the least bit. He just smiles up at Fenter.

Fenter turns the cub around. "Did you realize you're not wearing a strip? There's laws against that, you know." He pushes his wat through the garbage on the floor and sets the cub down atop his dresser. "I think I have something in here for you to wear, then we'll try and locate your parents. Hopefully they won;t be upset that my plant swallowed their boy and then spat it out again all greenish." He glances up at the little raccoon, "Er… not that green doesn't suit you. Lovley color it is."

Actually, the 'coon's eyes are a lovely shade of turquoise right now. Perhaps it was a trick of the light.

The rest of the cub is most certainly green, though. He might be, oh, four years old, by the size and build, and light enough for even someone who works out as little as Fenter to carry.

"Ah-HAH! This will do nicely." The raccoon pulls out a tattered blue shirt with an image of a large bug painted on it in red. The remnant of a promotion for a stand in Little Babel that had long since folded. The shirt never fit him, but who was he to turn down a free shirt anyway? "So, do you have a name? Where do you live? And how by the great gear did you end up inside my plant?" He pulls the shirt over the cub's head and tries to figure out how to get his arms thorugh the sleeves.

The little green raccoon looks right at Fenter, with his royal blue eyes, and says, in a squeaky voice that matches Fenter's accent exactly (if not the pitch), "Junior!"

Fenter rubs his nose. "Er… was that the answer to question one, two, or three?" He continues to dress the cub as best as he can manage. Luckily there are a few useful (if not mismatched) bits of cloth under all that rubbish.

"One!" squeaks the cub, still maintaining a mimicking of Fenter's accent and inflections.

The raccoon sets the cub down and takes his hand. "You know I really have to say, you're the handsomest boy I've ever met. you look a lot like me when I was your age, and you sound a lot like me… and your eyes change color a lot… like… ""

For a moment, Fenter just stares off into space. The sound of things clicking togetherin his head is almost audible.

The little green cub looks up at Fenter with red-violet eyes. "You look a lot like me," he squeaks, mimicking the tone in Fenter's last exchange.

( Plant… Uncle Agnes… plant get big… plant spits out cub that look like me… cub has same name as plant… ) Fenter looks down at the cub and then over to the pod that the cub emerged from.

The pod hasn't moved much, though the leaves occasionally rustle. It doesn't look dead or anything. Just deflated.

Fenter's eyebrows pinch together, and then he abrubtly bends down and sniffsniffsniffs at the cub.

He definitely smells like he's been rolling around in the grass and flowers. And even that shouldn't totally cover the scent of a Rath'ani … but he doesn't smell quite raccoon-ish.

"Er… um… Junior. I'm just wondering, and you can laugh at me later for this if you like… most everybody does, but… er… you're not the same junior as my plant, are you? Nooo… that's silly." The raccoon straightens himself out and dusts pollen out of his robes.

"Um Junior!" squeaks the green cub. Or maybe he said I'm Junior. His eyes are now golden orange.

Fenter grins one of those grins that he wears when he's trying to make folks thing nothing's wrong or he's trying to convincehimself that his tail really isn't on fire. "And… um… where did you come from, Junior?"

The green cub points at the deflated pod, then points up at the sky, smiling all the while. His eyes are now bright yellow.

Fenter says, "You mean… um… Uncle Agnes?" The taller raccoon's eyebrow starts to twitch."

"Uncle Agnes?" squeaks the cub. "Where did you come from?"

Fenter scoops up the cub, "I've asked my grampy that several times. He said I was created by the First Ones to bring misery and gray hairs down upon him."

"You know… Uncle Agnes. The big planty guy that gave me those berries. I have some growing by the south wall I could show you as long as you promise not to tell the Creens about it." the chaos mage adds.

The green cub pokes at Fenter's robe. "It is not a dress!" he says, in a voice that sounds like he's protesting against such an accusation.

"And a very bright little cub you are." The mage beams. "Hmm… maybe I can see if there's a scrying mage around here who can lend a hand at finding your parents. I'm bound to get into trouble if the staff finds out I've been keeping someone's child here and turned them all green with my plant."

"I hope this won't affect my allowance," squeaks the cub, blinking with eyes that are emerald green again, sounding terribly forlorn as he says this.

The cub rubs his nose absently. Or maybe he's picking it.

"Buh." Fenter answers, itching his hat. He takes the cub's hand again and heads out into the hallway. "don;t worry, mister vermite. I'll feed you when I get back if the help doesn't chuck you out the window or anything like that." He scoots through the dorms with the cub in tow looking for a scrying mage, a life mage, or an earth mage… or all three if he can manage it.

The raccoon almost smacks right into a Jupani in the hallway. By the cut and color of her robes, it looks like she's an Earth mage. "Iona", if Fenter remembers the name correctly. One of those nosy Jupani interested in why a Chaos Mage has taken up gardening. "Oh! Hello there, Fenter. I was going to warn you not to mix that fertilizer with any other products, before you fed it to your plant."

the chaos mage looks down at 'Junior' up at Iona and back down at the cub. "Er… Of course not. Because it might make the pod crack open and cough up a little green raccoon that looks like me, sounds like me, and has eyes like me. I'd never do anyhing like that! Er… are you busy right now?"

Iona blinks a few times, but then smiles, apparently deciding that it's perfectly normal for Fenter to blather about things that make no sense whatsoever, by now. "Why, no, not at all, since I was on my way to visit you with my advice on the fertilizer anyway. Why do you ask?"

"Never do anything like that!" parrots the green cub.

Fenter smiles as innocently as he can manage, although he looks like he's forcibly trying to spit out his teeth.

Iona says, "My, what a cute little … uhm … Why is he green?" She then furrows her brow, as if she's contemplating something. "Didn't you just say something about little green raccoons?"

"Gkkkh." The older raccoon grits through his teeth. "This is just some… er… apprentice that stopped by my room. It's not like the big pod opened up when I mixed the fertilizers together and he rolled out or anything. And the Vermite didn;t seem to react badly to the fertilizer either!" He shuffles his fet. "Er… you wouldn't mind having a look at him real quick like, would you?"

"Bring misery and gray hairs down upon him!" says the raccoon cub with a big friendly smile.

Iona giggles, and says, "Now, little cub, I'm not about to do something like that." She looks to Fenter. "Why, I think he's adorable. And why … " She frowns. "Why are you telling me everything that … ah … didn't happen, pray tell?" Her ears twitch.

"Er… um… uh… Just don;t want you to worry or anything. Um, you wouldn't mind doing a quick little cantrip on the lad, would you? Make sure he's getting enough sunlight, healthy root system, enough chlorophyl in the fur and all that, would you?" The raccoon mage tugs at his collar.

Iona looks at Fenter. She looks at the cub. She sniffs at the air. She looks at the cub. She looks at the cub's eyes. She looks at Fenter. She sniffs again.

Iona blinks several times. Slowly.

Fenter's smile tries to grow bigger, but the edges of his mouth seem to be heavily affected by gravity at the moment and keep pulling his mouth into a very very pained looking grimace instead.

Iona grabs Fenter by the lapels of his robe, and if it weren't for the cub in his arms, she might even be inclined to haul him bodily off of his feet. "WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT'S GOOD HAVE YOU DONE?!?" she howls directly into his face. She does look fairly alarmed right now. Maybe a teensy bit agitated.

The cub, meanwhile, seems not the least bit disturbed. He smiles.

"I broke my plant!" Fenter bawls in responce. "Please don't make flowers grow out my ears! Pleasepleasplease!!!"

Iona just breathes in gasps for several tense moments, still clutching Fenter. Then, she slowly collects her wits about her, and lets go of his lapels, giving his shoulders a token dusting off. "Ahem. Terribly sorry for my outburst. Ahem. *COUGH* Ahem. Now. Ahem. What. Ahem. What did you mix the? Ahem. What did you mix the fertilizer with?"

The raccoon almost loses his baland as he's released but manages to steady himself. "Er… some tapwater in an empty Danberk's bottle along with that blue powerdy stuff that the Skreek gent with the peg-leg said would make Junior grow hair on his chest." He pulls his hat down over his ears. "Er… does this mean I'm a daddy? I think I brokw my promise to Grampy if I am… "

Iona seems to be deep in thought. "I … would not have foreseen this as a possible side effect of abuse of my instructions."

"Well, the vermite didn't blow up. He didn't seem like a happy chap either but they rarely are." Fenter pushes the cub towards the Earth Mage. "Er… could you have a look at him now?"

Iona seems a bit taken aback as the cub is shoved toward her, but she gathers up the fuzzy creature. "I … I suppose I could, yes. Hmm. This could make a fascinating study, really. You wouldn't mind if I write an article about my findings, would you?"

Fenter chews on his lip. "I'd rather you didn't. Grampy won't be happy once he finds out I've become a daddy." He eyes the cub, "Er… study?"

Iona says, "Why, yes. I can't recall any documented evidence of a humanoid life-form being produced by a plant. I do recall a couple of fables, but those hardly count."

Iona starts walking away, down the corridor. Presumably, once she reaches the exit, she'll start heading toward the overgrown School of Earth.

The raccoon rushes ahead, trying to intercept the Earth mage. "Begging your pardon, but what would this study entail?"

Iona says, "Oh, a few magic circles, some exploratory cantrips, that sort of thing. I'd like to find out the nature of this entity, of course."

"And how long will that take? It… er… won't hurt the lad, will it?" Fenter glances down at the cub.

The Jupani looks down at the green cub. "Well, I certainly hope not. That would be awful."

The raccon relaxes. "Well that's a relief to hear. I'd hate to see something happen to such a handsome little chap. Could you use a chaos mage in the mix? If he's my boy I'd like to make sure he gets the best, afterall."

"Well, normally, I'd say yes, but … " Iona gives Fenter a wary glance. "… but I think that in the realm of Chaos, an influence of stability would be more useful than … than … well … your knack of making things … ah … interesting."

the raccoon huffs, "Here now! He's my lad, I'll probably do a better job than anyone else here. I've twelve years of experience in the guild, afterall!"

Iona raises an eyebrow. "Well … you were responsible for bringing him into the world. But if things get too interesting … well … let us just hope they don't."

"Woohoo!" Fenter squeals. "Just remember, Grampy Verdigris isn't to catch a word of this, understand?"

Iona's ears flatten momentarily. "Secrecy usually involves a certain degree of quiet." She continues, finally reaching the front door, with an ease that only comes from having learned through trial and error and many previous visits how to avoid the various accidents that seem to plague those who inadvertently wander into the dormitories and the lingering effects of countless miscast cantrips and more potent spells by the students.

The chaos Mage slaps his hands over his mouth, "Mhut… " he peels them away just a smidgen, "But aren't you supposed to make a lot of noise when you become a father? Hmm… I wonder if I need to give cigars to everyone or something."

Iona says, "Maybe … but not when I'm around, all right? And please don't try to get any from the fire mages." She makes her way in long strides across the campus, having shifted her earthy orange cloak to hide the bundle of green fur (?) that she carries.

The raccoon nods, whistling happily to himself as he follows along behind the Earth Mage.

The two mages make their way across campus, sometimes intentionally taking detours in order to avoid presently unwanted run-ins with well-meaning but possibly nosy fellow students, journeymen and instructors. At last, they reach the School of Earth, a brutally beautiful construction that is crawling with vines and encircled with a nearly impenetrable wall of trees … save for the archways formed by sculpted trunks (by magic or patient gardening) that make a break in the barrier, revealing an imposing structure that at first suggests a collosal unfinished stone sculpture … a building being chipped out of stone, still in the rough at its base and fading into crudely-hewn blocks … but gradually forming into stone architecture of such detail and form that would defy mundane attempts at constructing a duplicate.

Within this college is the lupine's dormitory, in which one can find all manners of plants – including a number of the glowing variety to provide light to supplement that of the setting sun. While the Sphere of Earth is a wide-encompassing one, yielding shapers of rock and even masters of the rare metal elements, Iona is obviously a specialist in the greener part of that sphere.

In fact, the floor is covered in a carpet of moss. There's no telling if there's a solid floor under there. This is on the ground level, after all. Iona sets down the green cub in the center of a bare circle of earth, ringed by flowers.

"Uncle Agnes had some of those glowy plants. They tasted interesting." Fenter comments idly.

"Please don't sample them, Fenter," sighs Iona, making a worried look. "They're not that easy to replace."

The wolf begins scattering about some seeds, placing some polished stones in the soil, and otherwise doing things that would surely get any little kid in Rephidim a paddling if she were to do the same in her bedroom. But it's obviously just Iona's version of the preparations for a magic circle, in the Sphere of Earth, and she chants in a sing-song way as she goes through her preparations.

"Yes ma'am," the raccoon glowers. "You know, your room is much more interesting than my room. Although I'd be afraid I;d wake up with fungus in my ears or flowers sprouting in my pockets if I slept here. That happened once, those flowers tasted funny too."

Alas, Iona is already deep within the casting of a spell, so she's not much the conversationalist. Fortunately for Fenter, and his impatience, however, it looks like she's not going for a full-blown ritual … which would put them well into the night, at Rephidim's low level of magical power. It's just a Spell, apparently, though one she chose to amplify with some more preparations than are usually necessary. The green cub seems to have dozed off in the middle of the circle … or something like that. He doesn't snore or any such thing.

Iona sits, eyes closed, brows furrowed in concentration. Every once in a while, one ear or the other twitches, or she sniffs at the air.

Fenter continues to babble about edible plants and mishaps with his pockets and other things… more talking to himself or jabbering to keep himself occupied than anything else.

At last, Iona opens her eyes. "Amazing. Positively amazing. You're certain you'd rather I not write an article about this?" She looks almost beggingly in Fenter's direction.

The raccoon pulls his hat over his ears, "I'd get recycled if Grampy found out, or just whapped really hard with the wrench again, or maybe disinherited… gack!"

"Is that a maybe?" asks the wolf, looking hopeful.

"NO!" Fenter sputters. "I don't wanna get recycled! My parts are still usable… well… I think my spleen might be broken but I can't be too sure about that and grampy always said that my liver… " He shakes his head, "No. Why, what did you find?"

"Well," says Iona, sighing as her ears droop in disappointment, but still maintaining a tone of interest in the subject at hand, "he's most definitely not a Rath'ani, though he looks like one … and even acts like one, more or less. His body is made of plant material … yet I do believe that he is a real, living – and even breathing – creature, just like you and me. That is, I mean to say … of course plants are real creatures, but … well … you know, this would drive the Technopriests positively mad, to try to classify just what he is!"

Iona ponders, then says, "They'd probably just give up and claim he's an Exile."

"Er… so I need to keep feeding him that fertilizer? should I build my compost heap up again so he can have a place to sleep?" The raccoon's tail swishes back and forth.

"I'm not exactly sure about that," says Iona, looking pondrous. "I would presume he has some way to gather nourishment. Sunlight alone won't suffice, of course, though he will need plenty of that. It seems that he still has some sort of link to another … well … another plant. Hmm. I'll have to study my findings, of course, to make more sense of it all."

Fenter snaps his fingers, "Junior! Er… the other one… it's still around. Oh dear, so what will happen to the poor chap if someone decides to prune the plant that's overtaken my room?"

Iona says, "Well … I suppose we'd rather not find out. I'd recommend that you keep just as good care of your plant as … hmm … let me rephrase that. I'd recommend that you take good … ah … well … How about if I just stop by every once in a while and check on how your plant is doing?"

"Okay!" Fenter beams, his tail wagging. "So what should I do meantime? Should we try to relocate the other Junior someplace safer?"

Iona ponders. "Well … I suppose hiding him in your room for now is probably safest. Nobody could find anything in there anyway."

The raccoon makes a face and then lets it fade. "Er… one last thing. Should I not mix those fertilizers anymore?"

Iona barks, "YES! I mean … NO! I mean … Oh, don't ask negative questions! And don't mix those fertilizers, either!" Iona blinks, then tries to regain her composure, brushing at her hair and absently trying to pry up her folded-back ears.

"I suppose I'll need to get a bed for the lad to sleep in, and some clothes. Sunlight or no I'm not letting my son walk around in his bare fur." Fenter moves over to pick up the cub again. "I'll get you the key to my room as soon as I can have another made. Bah… I'm going to have to extra time with the tourists to pay for this."

"Tourists? Oh! Your talent for tongues, yes?" guesses Iona. The cub opens his eyes, blinking, but doesn't fuss as he's picked up.

"Well, also offering a few tricks for pocket change or making good luck charms. There's something of a market in enchanted iron coins right now." He adjusts the cub a bit, "I'm finding the life of a chaos mage to be somewhat chaotic."

"A market in … enchanted iron coins?" Iona puzzles over this. "I suppose several of my fellow Earth Mages would take an interest in that… " She clears her throat, then gets up and digs through her supplies. "Now … take this pouch along … and FOR THE FIRST ONES' SAKE, DON'T MIX IT WITH ANYTHING! Ahem. Now, where was I? Oh yes … Just sprinkle this on the cub, oh, once a day. I may have to adjust the instructions later on, since I'm new to dictating the care of animated plants and all. In any case, this should provide … well … I don't know if it will be ample nourishment, but it should help."

"Yes ma'am." Fenter nods. "And I'll try to make sure he gets plenty of sunlight."

"Yes, plenty of sunlight! And water … though I would suppose he should be able to drink his own. Hmm. Well … take a note of how he behaves, I suppose. Maybe, being a plant and all, he might even know his own needs better than we do!" Iona giggles for some odd reason, then pauses, putting her hand to her mouth and looking as if she's forgotten something. "Oh! If you're going to be going around with him … you really need a cloak or something to cover him up with, so nobody notices. I mean, a green Rath'ani could be rather conspicuous." She rummages around through a trunk, and pulls out an old tattered cloak. "Here. You can have this. I'm just keeping it for rags anyway."

"I might be able to conceal that with a spell, I've done some when I've gotten into trouble. But they tend to be unpredictable." The raccoon takes the cloak with his teeth as his arms are occupied and manages to toss it over his shoulder. "I suppose I'm all set then. Er… if you need a good luck charm or anything let me know."

Iona's ears snap back at the offer, and her eyes go wide. "Oh! Oh … no, no, I … ah … No, that won't be necessary! Ahem. Well … " She rushes over to the door, and opens it for the raccoon. "You probably ought to be tucking in … Junior … for the night now. He's bound to get lethargic when the sun goes down, I suppose. Take care! Don't mix the fertilizers!"

"Yes ma'am. Thank you… er." Fenter adjusts his bundle as he steps out, "By the way, are you part Titanian by any chance? You have the most impressive lungs if I do say so, and you seem somewhat… er… strong for a Jupani."

Iona grits her teeth, and forces one of those "smiles" that isn't really any better than Fenter's attempts today. "No," she answers. She then smiles a bit more genuinely as she stoops down to wave to the green cub … and she closes the door.

The raccoon lets out his breath and then sneaks back to his room under cover of the growing night. The prospect of being responsible for another person leaves something of a weight in his usually unshakable outlook. Taking care of a cub looks to be much more difficult than taking care of a plant. Those thoughts weiging him down more than the burden in his arms, Fenter vanishes into the night.