Wine and Dine

Dorothy sets the plate of food, and jug of milk on the side table, retaking her seat. After a few cautious sniffs, Cuu begins madly scarfing down the selection of dinner rolls, dried meat, and even the little pastry Dorothy had put on the side. The jug of milk was next to go, chugged down without relent by the famished Tale. Cuu gasps for air after setting down the empty jug; bits of food and spillage dotting his face.

"Thank you. " He says, the furrow in his brow lessens.

Dorothy, horrified at the mess her patient had made, near-lunges at the poor man with a piece of cloth; wiping his face. "Who taught you table manners? That was like watching the local pigs in their troughs!"

Cuu simply looks confused as his face is wiped clean. "Table... what?"

"Manners! How to act? Being presentable?" She chides, wiping off the last bits of mess. "Honestly, did your mother never get you past smashing your face into the plate?"

The air sours as the man's expression grows sullen. The ears atop his head flicker angrily, but his amber eyes seem to glaze over. He scoots himself a few inches from Dorothy, eyeing her like a cornered animal does its aggressor. He moves his gaze to the stuffed toy on the bed, softening his glare.

"I never knew my mother." Says Cuu; his mournful tone telling Dorothy all she needed to know.

Her eyes went wide, and her mouth somewhat agape, as she began screaming internally.

"You idiot! Why did you say that!?" She thought, inching her seat away from the bed nervously. "I'm sorry to hear that."

The Wolf seems to notice her discomfort. "What about you?"

"What about me?" She asks.

Cuu looks back to her. "Your mother; what is she like? And what is it like? Having a mother, I mean."

"Oh." Dorothy processes the weight of the question; thinking for a moment, she says. "Well, she is very caring; highly supportive of me and my father. She'd show me how to cook, how to clean; oh, and weaving, too. When my father left to do his work in Roundtable, she went with him, leaving me here with Gran. I was ten, I think, when she left. They visit every now and then; holidays, and the such."

Her patient's ears twitch at the name "Roundtable."

"What does your father do?" He asks, cocking his head to the side; like a confused hound.

For Dorothy, an idea arises from the conversation just as his words leave his mouth; a way to learn more about her patient, gain his trust, and cheer him up. Plus, it was one of her favorite games with her guests; oh yes, this was an excellent plan.

...

Cuu was extremely uncomfortable with this; then again, as far as he saw it, this was mostly his own fault. Asking about the Storyteller's mother was opening the door to more questions about himself, and all because she had told him off over those "manner"-things. Adding in the fact that this woman had been nothing but considerate to him, if a bit annoying, left him with no real choice in his mind but to play along.

"Well?" She asks, tapping on the small table she had moved between the two; the old empty wine-bottle that she had just spun pointing right at him. "What's your father like?"

The gears in Cuu's head were nearly audible as they tried to churn out excuses to end this "spin the bottle" game; sadly, he found none.

He sighs; defeated. "Stern. Strict. Wise. A good father."

The girl smiles, and motions energetically to the bottle. "Ok, your turn. Spin it!"

Cuu grumbles, leaning over, and flicking the tip of the bottle. It spins around, ending its dizzying display pointed to Dorothy's half of the table.

"Are there other Tales in this town; if so, what are they?" If Cuu was going to be interrogated, then at least he should know of any "problems" in the area.

"Just one, besides Gran." Says Dorothy; her expression turning somewhat sour. "Bellodor. His Tale, as far as I know, is called The Beauty. He moved here a month ago. I'm not familiar with the story his Tale is from, and I've never seen him use any strange abilities, so..."

She shrugs, getting an annoyed groan from Cuu; he had been somewhat hoping for a sign of that damned cat.

In a tired tone, he says. "Just spin it already."

The bottle spins once more, coming to a stop pointed at Bobo the Bear. Seeing as the stuffed mass of colorful thread couldn't speak, Cuu would have to do.

Dorothy thinks for a moment, then asks. "Where are you from?"

Finally, a topic he could be proud of; as well as one he didn't mind disclosing. "I am from the Great Caravan. We are a large group of nomadic travelers, who move as a single unit; we go from place to place, plying trades of varying kinds. We never settle down for more, or less, than a full week. There's around... one-hundred of us, I think. The main thing we're known for is the carnival troupe, one of whom was a close friend of my father. Besides that, merchants, hunters, and craftsmen make up a large portion of our number. In my twenty years of life, I have been all across Grimmarchen; from the mountain ranges of Elysium to the coasts Nevermore."

"Woah... that sounds incredible." Dorothy stares off out the window; imagining the lands beyond her shallow horizons. "I've never be outside of Antiquity, if you can believe it; aside from trips into the woods, I mean."

Her wonder is stifled as a dark thought crosses her mind; one she pockets for her next question. Cuu taps the bottle once more, which lands on Dorothy's half.

He takes his turn. "I'll ask again; what does your father do in Roundtable?"

"Oh!" She seems surprised by the question, snapping out of her daydreams.

Dorothy grows visibly paler once her mind had processed the question; she answers slowly, with a careful tone. "He works in The King's Court as a scholar and advisor."

Cuu begrudgingly accepts the answer, although the hairs on the back of his neck were standing tall at the mention of The King; a Tale that his father had taught him much about. It answered his question as to how this woman could afford such a nice home, though; so he had one less question to ask.

She spins the bottle, although, this time it lands on her half of the table. "Aw..."

The Wolf thinks on his next question; with the one about finances gone, he had to pick his brain quite a while. Then, it comes to him, a question he found to be of highest importance, now it had come up.

"How much do I owe you for the medicine and food, Doctor Oswald?"

...

Dorothy couldn't believe someone could have a fit about not having to pay for having their life saved. Yet here she sat, with a rabid Wolf demanding that he pay his non-existent debt.

"You really don't need to pay me, Mister Cuu." She repeats. "My Father finances my work, and my Gran doesn't ask for salary over her medicines; I'm quite fine for money."

"It's not about money." He says; his voice riddled with venomous disdain. "Its about not owing anyone a debt; be it in coin, or in blood."

This conversation was already exhausting, and it would get worse if Dorothy didn't end it soon; she could tell. "Fine. Lets say a months work around the house. Chopping firewood, cleaning floors, and maybe a few odd jobs around the town if someone needs help."

"My debt is to you, not this town of yours." Cuu says sternly.

"-and you can repay me by doing things I'd be doing myself; like helping around town." Dorothy says; putting her foot down, and ending the discussion. "After you've fully recovered; One month, anything I say goes."

"Within reason." Cuu adds.

"Yes, of course. Within reason."