The sun had long ago set and with it came the fae creeping into the door like a phantom. The chill that has settle over the town does not seem to bother him as he wears little more than a white cotton shirt and his loose silk pants. His long hair is pulled back into a tight braid, a golden circlet placed a top his head. There is a strange look on his face when he spies Catch, his berry-stained lips pulling up at the corners until he is grinning at the back of the man's head cruelly. The expression is carefully dashed away before that one good eye of his can see it and he calls out to a bar maid to bring him a bottle of brandy. Instead of avoiding the mad man, he gravitates towards him, pulling up a chair just out of arm's reach of him. "Good evening, Catch." He takes note of the wine and stops the barmaid before she comes round with the bottle, requesting another bottle of wine to go with the brandy.
Catch does not see Cloud-hair as he came in, though he felt the breath of cold against his skin, delicate hairs rising on his arm as he shivers. Even if the insides of the tavern were warm, Catch sat in front of the hearth itself, so that he baked and basked like a cold-blooded lizard, and any breeze at all was a cold one. It was a bit of a relief, as he sweat profusely, though it wasn't from the heat. His bottle was empty, for he was obediant in most things, and he loved Miss Niall. He had almost dozed away when Cloud-hair greeted him, and his chin came up abruptly, his black eye owlishly blinking as he twists his face towards the source of the words. "... oh," he says, though he only sounds tired, and not angry or upset. "Hello, Cloud-hair." Even in his cups, Catch is polite, but it is more than the bare minimum of greeted. Catch acted as if he and Zilliah had never had any quarrel, and turned away to huddle against the couch's hard base-board.
"I didn't know that you drank wine, Catch. When did you pick up this habit, I wonder?" His own voice was as cool and calm as the breeze that washed over them. He too acted as if nothing were amiss between them. The fine hat was inspected next and then the bandaged eye. It looks like Glenn put up a bit of a fight before Catch had slit him open. He leans forward and places the wine bottle next to Catch and then settles back in his own chair, legs crossed daintily like a woman as he opens his own bottle of spirits. He takes a slow, thoughtful pull of it as he decides the best way to handle the situation. It looked as if things were going to be easier with the poor man's mind a haze with alcohol."They dress you up like a man, they teach you words and morals. "They give you wine and try to make you a real man. What next, I wonder? Taking you to a brothel?" He laughs darkly at this idea. "Tell me Catch, has anyone ever explained to you what a tea party is? Do you even want to know or do you like them teasing you about it all the time, laughing behind your back at your innocence?"
A simple, soft robe was drapped over the redhead's shoulders, too large for her lean frame, but also long enough that even with her height it caressed the floorboards and flopped down steps as it trailed behind her. She gripped the bannister firmly with each careful step, watching the trecherous stairs and not looking up until the bottom step had been conquered. A fair smile had returned to her face, she seemed at the very least to have somewhat recovered from the shock of Catch's actions against her employer. All the same, she looked exhausted and at such an hour, still being awake, was it any wonder the dark circles under her eyes began to show? It was more an attempt to speak in the Fae's mind that sent a flash of protective anger his way. But the words eventually just came out, plain as anything, over her lips. "I ...v-very much doubt you have to explain it to him.. he boasts about his ideas on the matter far too often to not know," she was also a smidge upset with Catch from their last encounter... which had ended on a similar topic.
Cloud-hair had brought him wine. Perhaps things were, if not well, then at least stable between them. Perhaps Catch had given Zilliah a small amount of respect, opening his mind as he had, even if Cloud-hair had pulled his flowers, later, out of spite. Or the Sky Lady had shamed him into not being wicked, at least around Catch, and that's really all the addled man could hope for, was it not? Either way, Catch takes the bottle as it was offered, not wishing to be rude, and takes a mouthful, because he doesn't know much better. Even if the spirits are starting to stick in his throat, and made him too warm for fires. "Iron Shoes g-gives me some, s-s-s-sometimes," he says, his words slurred and sad. He missed Iron Shoes. When would she come back? When would everyone come back? There were people he missed that had not come for awhile. And into this frame of mind, Zilliah threw his words, and Catch twisted his head to peer up at him, both drunk-muzzled eye and filthy bandage, with a slow, studious frown on his lips. "What's a brothel?" he asks, though the fae's other words are not lost on him, the way his fingers tighten on the bottle. But here is Genny. Catch can smile brightly at Genny, there in her soft robe, and he grins a silly grin, and can turn back to Cloud-hair in a better frame of mind. "I know. whu-whu-what a tea party is. I've h-h-had them, you know."
Whatever mood the fae seems to be stuck in would not be easily swept away by the arrival of Genny. His pale eyes slide over to her with a wry grin. "A brothel. Well. Around here they call brothels Tea Houses." He swirls the brandy around in his bottle and looks back over to the drunken man. "No Catch, I don't think you have had the sort of tea party that everyone snickers about." He takes another drink of his brandy and then looks back up at Genny. There was no mercy to him tonight and even if she tried, she would find his mind shut tight to her. "Tell me then, Genny. What is a tea party? I don't fancy you have ever had one either but I think you might know what happens at them, yes?"
Catch reeled around giving a tipsy if not drunk smile to her, but all she saw in it was the filthy bandage. The quest for tea to send her off to bed would have to wait. Nearing Catch she'd gently set her hand on his cheek, hoping not to alarm him - his normal state was bad enough, but with alcohol, who was to say how he'd react to the touch. If he didn't reel away she would try to pull if face and inspect the bandage, unwrapping it to inspect the wound. Surely if it was bad she would redress it, there had been enough salve made to last the remainder of the year, not that so much was necessary. The banter didn't seem to bother a focus mind, and though she flinched a little when Zilliah asked, her lips would merely purse either because she knew and didn't want to answer or felt no good reason to. "Catch, have you changed this or cleaned it since I set the last bandage?"