Stone's Throw

[GamesMaster]

"Ah, good, good. do you have a lot of cousins? I'm an only child myself."

[Andreas Amell]

"About a dozen or so, depending on what you count?" Dreas explains with a shrug. 

[GamesMaster]

Cameron's eyes widen. "that's quite a lot," they admit. "Anyway, do you need a bath before you head home for the day?" 

[Andreas Amell]

Andreas hesitates, then nods. "Well, a basin with soap and a towel at least. It's really just my head."

[GamesMaster]

"Alright. Come into the kitchen, we've got hot and cold here," they boast proudly, not realizing Dreas has never known anything else.

[Andreas Amell]

"That would be helpful, yes," Dreas agrees, nose wrinkling a little at the idea of trying to get tacky paint out of his hair with cold water. 

[GamesMaster]

By the time he's all cleaned up, damp though his hair and face may be, it's time to go home. He expects to see his mother working on Light business for his grandfather in the study, so he can head right up to his room and sketch out some changes to the mural, but when he arrives, Beth's lady's maid -- Susette, who has been employed there Dreas' entire life and is basically a best friend to Beth, a confidant she can trust and sometimes-tutor when he was small -- pulls him aside. "Go get dressed, there's Light business," she hisses. "Quick now. They're in the parlor taking tea."

When he arrives, the air is heavy with some unusual tension. A man Dreas has never seen before sits opposite his mother, sipping from the good teacups; he is catfolk, pureblood, his tabby fur starting to pale a bit with age. He is dressed to the nines, wearing a suit, a vest, tailored pants, but his hat is off revealing his ears, and his tail slips freely out a small tailored opening in the back of the suit. He makes no effort to disguise what he is. Dreas can place him after a moment without too much trouble: Adonis Naodi, The Cat, the only catfolk Light. 

[Bethany]

"--dare I hope that perhaps your business here today is in regards to the Adventurers' Legacy Fund? So many widows and orphans are left struggling after the deaths of--" Beth's bright and cheery patter breaks off sharply as she spots her son stepping into the room. "Andreas! I didn't realize you were home?" Strangely, the light tone that Andreas knew was fake has been completely stripped away, leaving behind surprise and... unease? Wariness?

[Andreas Amell]

"Yesss? Only just, Mother," her son replies carefully, his ears flattening for a second before he forces them back to a neutral position. Stupid emotive ears. "My apologies if I intrude, I merely meant to pay my respects."

[GamesMaster]

"Please, stay," the man says, in an unusually tight and soft voice. "What I have come to say concerns you as well, Andreas."

[Bethany]

Beth stiffens, her eyes flashing. "Is that so, zi'Naodi?" she demands, each word spoken like a curse.

[GamesMaster]

"Yes. It is his right to know this." He takes a deep breath, unable to meet Beth's eyes. "After all, he has been raised like a human. In the way that humans count things, this concerns him." 

[Andreas Amell]

Andreas looks from one of them to the other, then squares his shoulders. "He is also in the room and would appreciate an explanation."

[GamesMaster]

"Surely you are aware that you have family among the Catfolk of Nyra, in the way humans count family," he begins, his voice subdued, quiet. "They have not claimed you, as they do not do so in their culture when one parent chooses to raise the child alone, but they do exist. And... in my middle age, I am coming around to some of the human ways. Perhaps it is sentimental of me. I do not know. But regardless, I wanted to offer the chance to get to know your grandfather before he passes. Given the short amount of time he has left, this is a matter of some urgency." 

[Bethany]

Made briefly speechless by her emotions, Beth finally flares up as Don finishes. "How dare-- you have--"