Went down to Santa Fe, where Renoir paints the walls

“Hive o’ bees on a stick, I’ll have ter remember that.” She joked. It was growing increasingly common for her to be half way to somewhere and straight up forget why she had gotten up in the first place, which then often resulted in frustrated tears and more vomiting. Although Sedna supposed Otis would be within earshot and would probably be taking notes for her. The possum had been ridiculously protective since her new situation had resolved itself.

The Archer-Lyall allowed her eyes to drift shut when paws wrapped about her in a hug, a warm grumble leaving her chest at the strategic preening that made her bones want to melt. For a moment at least, it felt like the world was slowing in its incessant rocking and maybe she wouldn’t throw up for a few more minutes yet.

“Abaven? Tha’s th’ one with th’ school isn’t it?” She’d only heard snippets here and there, but it had caught her attention at the end of the day. “I might ‘ave somethin’ ter trade fer it, if they don’t know what it’s for, they’ll have a good time figurin’ it out.” She offered with a smirk, it wasn’t like she would be caught short offering up a little of what she had in mind.

“Speech”