#foxventures

"But he ate ALL the cookies!," she said. And Mister Ruthven and I both looked her up and down... and... had to come to the conclusion that 'all' might be an overstatement, judging by the amount of crumbs all over her dress. She seemed rather agitated, though. And our guest looked over to me. I shrugged with a little eye-roll, I would let the lie slide. She had it hard enough, and dinner was some time ago, still. "And then didn't want to play anymore, mh?," he petted the raccoon anyway, tuged him away from his shoulder and placed him securely in his arms. The petting motion seemed to help,somewhat. the animal relaxed. Matia still looked unsure-unhappy-angry, which was an interesting mix, since her acting abilities - this time about the rightfulness of her anger - still needed to develop. "...yeah, but... the cookies and-," she really seemed to fight with herself, there. "Ah. Well. How about I play with you for a while, then?," he still petted  the raccoon. Matia stared, "... if your mom is okay with it, of course" And now they both looked at me. ... make that three, the raccoon looked as well. And I laughed and shook my head: "Sure. Sure you can. We're almost done, after all. A break can't be too bad" He smiled and held the raccoon up: "Will you take care of the culprit, then?" He looked terribly overeaten. And I could have sworn it looked like he tried to make big eyes at me. It threw me off a little, but... fine. Fine, I could deal with it. "He'll be in coon custody," I nodded at him, and said to Matia: "Be careful when playing outside" She nodded emphatically and ran off, saying she'll get things.

I looked to the raccoon and how it... actually seemed to sort the books. Grabs them with his tiny raccoon-hands... drags them to the side... runs back (faster than I've ever seen the raccoon run before), looks at the next book and drags it off again. "You okay?," I raised my voice a little, to get his attention. He stopped dead in his tracks. His ears twitched. He started to clean his whiskers and face. And then rolled up on Matia's back. Apparently sleeping. I was... a little speechless. And stared. Then I asked Matia: "Does he... does he do that often?," my tone was almost as disbelieving as I guessed it should be. Matia turned and petted the rolled up fluff: "Sometimes, sure!" I frowned: "Uh... no I mean... does it... carry books around?" And my daughter looked up with those doe-eyes of hers and says: “Sometimes, sure," in an exasperated, kid-tone of voice that just wants to read her book that her raccoon picked especially for her. Apparently. That... was probably all I could do about that, wasn't it? With a frown... I settled down and looked at the book-stacks that had formed in the short two minutes that it had taken for me to come up. At least they didn't make much sense.

There was poetry and languages mixed up... and a biology book laid atop Nietzsche (again, that guy...) So... maybe the books smelled different. When I sniffed at them, they didn't smell different at all. But one book full of recipes laid there, all alone, so maybe there was something to the theory. I wouldn't know. I might have to keep more of an eye on the little bear. It's... just weird. Weird is alright. Right? ... what could I do about it, after all. I reached over and petted it's fur. It purred. And stretched a bit. Normal raccoon, flopping on it's side and down from Matia's back, wriggling it's legs in the air before it got back in a horizontal position (it took several tries). It earned some more pets with that action. Then it curled up against Matia and got auto-petted by her. That... that seemed to work just fine. It continued doing the raccoon-purr it did. Very well.

And, worse: I somewhat liked it. "If it helps to defeat your greatest fears, it might be a good thing. To bridge the waiting time until the storm starts, how about you tell me some about your home country?" Here I pulled back my hand, in favour of leaning my chin on it - still a little closer than before, space-wise. I hoped I followed the proper flirting-rules, there. It's been quite some time. "Oooh my home," he chuckled, "Like I said, it's been some time, and I was pretty small. So... not everything might be accurate anymore, do you still want to hear?" I shrugged: "I didn't ever travel this far. And it's part of your history, no? One day I might see for myself, until then... paint me a picture," let the other know you are interested, actually do react to the fishing, it's in the rules. "Ah. Well then," he scratched the back of his neck ad leaned a bit back, "Where do I start?" Apparently, he wanted to take this question serious. "The biggest difference is probably... the food. No one here eats rotten beans for breakfast," he looked like he was haunted. "... rotten... beans...?," this sounded... strange? "It's about as bad as you currently imagine," he shook he head, "Smells like it, too. It's Japan's cooked boar" "... what's wrong with cooked boar?," I said, very decidedly curious and innocent. He narrowed his eyes, slightly: "... ... ... you know... I almost believed that" "At least it's not *rotten*," we got cheese for that. But... I avoided that as well, "But that's not appealing at all, you don't recommend a visit?" "Not for good Christians I don't, no," he shook his head with a chuckle. "Oh? Why's that?," I was not going to subscribe to a 'God is Dead'-philosophy and I did go to church every Sunday, but... well... I might have had some thoughts. "Because they were mostly hunted when I was visiting last," he laughed. "...oh," that... was different. "I mean, you don't have to wear your religion on your sleeve, either. But it's difficult around here, so... it might not be an option," a slightly apologetic grin accompanied this. "... so... what do you- did you believe in?," because that was some time ago, right? "Spirits!" "What... like fae?," we had those. In the old times. "Aaaah, almost, yes, but more... nature spirits? Animal spirits. Mostly. Foxes get very old and powerful, raccoons - different from the ones living here - are up to mischief and are shapeshifters, crows watch over the afterlife, dragons are everywhere, tigers watch over the living... ad take sacrifices. And of course there are the ghosts of dead people. Just about everywhere. And the forest-spirits... oh, all the forest spirits," he chuckled again. "... it... seems crowded?," I frowned, we had enough to do with only one god. "They are easier to deal with than yours. They actually answer when asked. For better or worse, the funny thing is, that you can find some here, as well," here he looked worried. "... do you actually believe that?," because it was a little strange. Another smile-y shrug: "It's just something you don't get rid of. Like the pictures of swamped rice fields... or the many, many cherry trees that let their blossoms fall. Of course, once again attached to some spirits. They were very good stories, when I was small" "I suppose it's like the stories of Titania and Oberon?," that I could somehow, somewhat relate to. "Shakespeare did make those popular again, didn't he?," another laugh. We both looked over to the door at the same time. "Oh boy! My foreign spirit has arrived!," he said with theatrical flourish and stood up to walk over to the raccoon, picking it up. I smirked at him: "Didn't you say Japan had different raccoons?" "Ah, we ex-japanese can't be picky. Now I have to deal with those little rascals," he petted his fur, holding him secure and comfortable, "Can I borrow another cookie?" "Is that one of those 'offerings'?," I smiled, it wasn't serious enough to not joke about it. "Something along the lines. I mean... have you ever seen a raccoon actually eat cookies?" "Not often, no..." "See? It must be a spirit," he had found the cookie jar, "So, can I?" "Might also be we were always fast enough to take them away. But sure. Grab one," I shook my head.

“But he i well-behaved, isn’t he? You did apparently keep him for the whole month,” he slanted his head.

“Yeah, Matia likes him, it’s a good critter,” I said.

“Well, even better, then. I suppose he wanted to tell us it’s time to go to bed, though. Tomorrow is another day and all... work for you... travel for me,” he did not look happy. 

But... it was none of my business: “Well, then I bid you good night. It... has been a nice evening”

“Likewise, lady Jibril. We’ll see each other tomorrow,” and he disappeared with the raccoon in tow.

I leaned forward on the table: “And what, pray tell, might that be, mister Ruthven?”

“Ah, admittedly, it’s more a who than a what, so maybe I cheated there…”, at least he backpedalled a little bit.

“I see. I hope they are good company then”

“Oh, the best, I assure you”, he nodded happily.

“Just as smooth a talker as you are, then?”, I smiled sweetly.

“At least as much”, his eyes crinkled again, something between pleased and excited. Suited him. He also came closer, leaning on the other side of the table.

“Well, enlighten me, are they from the same place you are from?”, I said, still trying to figure out one thing or another about him.

“Oh, I wouldn’t think so, they don’t exactly look Japanese”, he scritched his nose.

He… didn’t look Japanese either. North African, maybe? I frowned a little and asked: ”So that’s where you are from? It’s a little hard to believe”

It earned me another embarrassed chuckle: “Well. Actually, I don’t know where my parents were from, originally. But I did grow up in Japan. Not that much of that upbringing stuck, either. One day we just… kind of shipped our way towards Britain, I was still pretty young then”

“Must have been quite a journey”, I nudged.

“Aaah… well… it was. A journey. A long one. Weather isn’t always stable on long journeys”, he ooked a little away, there.

“… so that’s where your fear of thunderstorms comes from?”

He winced a little: “I would say so. Almost drowned. Tickled in my toes, too… It’s not great, really”, but then turned fully towards me, showed a smile that only started to be genuine and grasped my hand: “I bet the company of a lovely lady would make everything a lot easier”

He looked uneasy, still. Bad memories, apparently. So, I shrugged, deciding to humour him: “Then we should be grateful thunderstorms are rare. But, I promise, if there is one while you are here, I’ll keep you company”, and, to top it off, clasped his upper hand in mine, looking at him intently.

Apparently, living in the mountains reduced your ability to feel shame.

I was the slightest bit speechless.

“A blush also suits you very well, it compliments your eyes”, he tilted his head slightly, “At least I think so, it makes the grey shine”

Before he continued with this, I said: “Alright, I… heard you. I… should get to know you a little bit better, now that we have time and you’re actually sleeping in my house”

“Well, I do pay rent”, he pointed at me, “And it’s such a lovely place. With such lovely people inside”, he said, looking at me again.

Huh.

“Mhmh, well, still, for now I just know that you own dogs, like to read and live on a mountain”, I pointed back, because… he was getting ridiculous.

And then he laughed. Now I also knew that he looks like he was laughing a lot. And that his eyes were laughing with him. Since I paid attention. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

“Well, that is already a little more than most. I… also appreciate beauty and good company, if you must know. But I think I already confirmed that much”, he shrugged.

And I raised a brow, huffing: “That’s not what I-“

“Oh! I also don’t care much for thunderstorms, it’s a bit unsettling, so far away from people”, he piped up.

I looked at him until he was silent when I said: “What I did want to know is where all this money you throw around comes from. It’s unusual and for all I know you could be a highway robber”

“Oh?”, he grinned, “Do I look rogue-ishly handsome?”, he wriggled his brows, which…

“… maybe a little”, I admitted.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, beautiful”, and managed to look smug. At being called a highwayman.

A laugh bubbled up from my chest and I gave in, shaking my head: “Ahaha. I… you really have no shame, do you?”

He chuckled as well and lazily opened his eyes to look at me, attention all on me, and said: “Honesty is more important. And so… I might have to answer, don’t I? I inherited the house from the people that pretty much raised me the British way. They did mostly forgive me for turning out the way I did”, he winked again. And… yes, maybe he needed a bit of forgiveness, there.

He continued: “The money? Well, of course there was some attached to the house. And then some more came with my skills. It never hurt to barter and have friends, either. So, there’s that. The only robbery I ever did was theft of food. I would have been tempted by your cooking, certainly”

Mh. If you were rich already, you didn’t worry too much about money. Admittedly, I was the same, in some ways. I certainly worried less than most people: “So you just throw a month’s pay around because you got it?”

He shrugged: “I don’t get much opportunity for spending it. And I got a discount from Alexander this time around. Plus the information that a few bachelorettes are looking in the city. It’s information, not that I was interested in any news on that front”, and he looked at me again.

“Really? Because you said this philosopher had good points, that he was worth reading and you like reading him!”, I frowned

“Told you to keep an open mind, too, didn’t I?”, he looked almost apologetic.

“You did”, I frowned, “And I got confronted with ‘sickness is a weakness that only befalls the weak. This weakness needs to be overcome’, and good lord, a superhuman? Just… what did you make me read?!”

He did not seem phased much by this, relaxed as he was when he said: “It really is notfor everyone, then”

“Especially not for women. ‘Husbands always need a concubine, a woman can’t handle work and sex, they aren’t built for this!’, what was this person even thinking?!”

He made a bit of a face: “Really? He got this obvious this time around?”, he made a hurt noise, “May I invite you properly to lunch, then? To make up for it?”, he tilted his head.

And I let a puff of air out: “I already came, didn’t I?”

“Truuue, but you did not actually agree to me paying for your meal and… it’s the least I can do, isn’t it?”, he looked properly apologetic.

“It is”, I had wasted time on this!

“A done deal, it is”, he nodded, “And I vow to recommend better books in the future”

“Mh”, I raised a brow.

His slow smile was back: “You will look out for asshole writers a little more now, won’t you?”

“I found one first try, did I not?”, seriously.

“Touché”, he chuckled again.

And then continued to eat his goulash.

He was such a strange man. And had bought the complete set of barrels of books again. I thought about how Matia actually had talked with him. And seemed quite happy.

“… I suppose you could still come and sort out the books at my place again”, I huffed, blowing over my own portion.

He lit up, his grin turning into a lot less sleazy, actually sitting up properly: “That is a very generous offer, thank you very much!”

For the rest of the day, he was my Carrier of Groceries.

And bought absolutely everything that he was remotely interested in.

Even honey.

And cinnamon.

Asked questions the whole time.

When he got his hands on rice he bought ten kilograms.

I didn’t even really know what to do with all these grains!

But fine, fine.

In the end, we were done and drove home.

Matia had a raccoon on her lap and read for him. She had really improved in the last four weeks.

This time, I could show Mr. Ruthven around myself. He was impressed by the pigeons, petted a chicken – and got pecked for his efforts.

He just laughed it off, scratching the back of his head.

Dinner was spend with a begging raccoon – who brought Matia to bed on his own and curled up next to her.

Mazin just shook his head: “I didn’t expect the critter to actually stay”

“Well, you did wash it”, I said while washing some dishes myself.

He grabbed a towel and started drying them: “That I did…”