Someone is in the treehouse when Ren gets around to returning there. The flickering light of a candle wavers and sways, casting shadows that dance on the walls. The strumming of a guitar can be heard within, along with a lilting voice singing softly. It's hard to catch the words, but the tone is sweet and light.

Serendipity stands beneath the tree for a while, listening to the combination of the singing and the wind. Climbing the rope to the house would definitely give Sandro advance warning of Ren's arrival, but -- depending on his assumptions -- there may be warning before that; after a good fifteen minutes or so of listening from below, Ren pads back out toward the lake, to one of the larger rocks, and sings something himself. The words are hard to make out from the treehouse, but the tones carry well enough -- joyous, then mournful, then joy again. It's followed by a howl at once too human and not as human as it ought to be, a couple faintly replying from a distance. A few minutes after that, the treehouse creaks with the weight and pressure of someone climbing up, and the trapdoor flips open to let the kin in.

Some words drift on the wind as Ren listens, mournful and low. "... spirits white as lightning would on my travels guide me. The stars would quake and the moons would shake whenever they espied me..." Pretty voice. Powerful, mournful. Feminine. When Ren starts to sing himself, the music abruptly cuts off. The candlelight wavers as someone above bustles about. By the time he has howled and made his way up to the trapdoor, Sandro is sitting on his bedroll, which has been neatly made, and his guitar has been put away. He's watching the trapdoor, looking so casual he could make a killing in the professional loitering circuit.

"Evening, cutie," Ren greets as he pulls himself up into the place, closing the door behind him against the night's chill. He seems a touch subdued, despite the characteristic greeting. "Don't stop what you're doin' on my account."

Sandro shrugs amiably and says, "I'm just sittin' here." The sheer innocence radiating off of him might cause one to wonder how many of his clones could dance on the head of a pin. "Do you want to have those scones?" he asks. "I'm kinda hungry, but I didn't want to eat 'em without you."

Serendipity glances over to the little protopicnic, and nods. "Sounds good," he agrees, sounding somewhat more cheerful, "...just let me get wrapped up in somethin' warm, first. 's cold out there."

Sandro nods a little, then offers over one of the blankets from his bedroll. "That's why I'm in here," he says reasonably. "The candle doesn't offer much heat, I'm afraid. Still, it's better than being out in the wind."

Serendipity pages the room: Serendipity doesn't know if I got to describe the inside of here to you...
Sandro pages the room: Is it different than the desc?
You paged Sandro with 'yes, a bit.'.
Long distance to Sandro: Serendipity didn't build it and hasn't gotten around to looking into redescing now it's been claimed.
Sandro pages: Ah! Then I have no clue.
You paged the room: 'Mostly what's different is that Ren's managed to get his hands on a whole lot of blankets and pillows of various description and states of wear, and a large portion of the floorspace is thus now a big nest of warmth. Also, a couple blankets have been tacked over the 'window' to keep out the wind.'.
Sandro pages the room: Okie doke! Nothing needs changing then. :)
Long distance to Sandro: Serendipity nodnods. It just occurred to me. ;)

"Why didn't you light the pot?" Serendipity asks with a hint of concern, glancing over at it. "It helps." He waves off the blanket with a half-smile, lifting up one of his many own in reply. "...feel free t'use any of these if you want, too. Warmest's if you've got someone t' share body heat with, but." It's not a come-on, not even flirting, for once, just statement of fact.

Sandro shrugs again and draws the blanket around his shoulders, snuggling into it. "I didn't want to presume," he replies. He must be up to something -- his voice is well modulated and the accent has been beaten back to only a slight lilt on his words. "Besides, it ain't so bad in here, out of the wind. I've slept in colder places."

Serendipity tosses over one of the thicker blankets, and a couple of the pillows, as he molds the others into the night's nest. "Figured," he nods a little, "...so've I. Anyway. It's not presuming, I invited ya, didn't I?"

Sandro gathers up the blankets and nudges the guitar case out of the way as he begins to construct a nest of his own. "Yeah, but I didn't know if I was still welcome after last night," he admits sheepishly.

Serendipity half-grins a touch sheepishly himself, and shrugs. "Yeah, 'course you're still welcome. I mean, we're good, yeah?" He looks over his shoulder to Sandro, checking.

Sandro nods quickly, his hair now-clean hair bobbing where it's come free of its tail. "Sure," he says lightly. "I mean, I don't see why we wouldn't be, right?" His amiable expression dims somewhat, his head tilting curiously. "Right?"

Serendipity grins something a lot closer to his usual grin, a bit relieved, but more pleased. "Right," he agrees, with a nod. "...well, a'ight, I =could= see why we wouldn't be, but I'd rather be, given the choice, y'know?"

Sandro nods again and replies, "Yeah, same here." He pauses, then glances aside to where his clothing is piled neatly. "Um. You brought me a dress," he says. He might end up deed-named States the Obvious yet.

Serendipity's grin widens a little, this time with amusement. "Yeah," he confirms, and makes his own entry into the Stating The Obvious competition, "...but I see you're not wearin' it."

Sandro shakes his head, half-grinning as he fidgets a bit with one of his blankets. "Nah," he says. "I, um..." The grin, such as it is fades, leaving his youthful face solemn, his eyes wide. "I thought about it."

Serendipity laughs once, quick and startled. "Yeah?" he asks, "...before or after you found the rest of the stuff?" Despite the laugh, it's not mocking. Conversational, really.

Sandro gives Ren a Look. "I just thought about it," he says irritably. "When I saw it. I don't know. Don't you laugh at me, Ren." From conversational to defensive in the course of one statement.

"Not laughin' =at= you," Serendipity assures calmly, "y'just surprised me. 's a nice dress, I thought. Would suitcha, actually." He stretches out, getting comfy, and grins again, "...you heard we got unicorns about, yet?" It sounds like a lead in to something else.

Sandro's brows lift a touch at the topic change, but he seizes upon it readily. "Yeah, I've heard somethin' about going after unicorns and askin' 'em stuff," he replies. "Never saw one, myself."

"We got a virtual =infestation= of 'em," Serendipity replies, "...fewer of 'em now, I think, but they had this thing where they wanted three of us to vote which group of 'em got to protect Katahdin, a convocation with, man, more unicorns than the eye could see." He smirks, "...Robin turned my clothes into a wedding dress right before it. 'cept my coat. She turned that into this white fur. ...and I looked pretty hot, too, I don't mind sayin'."

Sandro glances toward the pile of clothing again, brows lifting ever so slightly further. "Why did Robin turn your clothes into a wedding dress?" he asks. "Do the unicorns only talk to virgins, and in your case drastic measures had to be taken to present that as a possibility?"

Serendipity snickers at that. "She woulda had to make me twelve, too, t' get away with that... not to mention it woulda made their whole judging thing difficult. They had t' have three judges, which fit certain roles, which was Robin as the Virgin, Miki as, lessee, the beautiful young man of the world, I think, and Justin as somethin' else. Anyway. So this unicorn came by t' pick them up, and Miki wasn't sure he wanted t' speak up and be in his part and all, I guess, so Robin was sayin' he better, 'cause I'd prolly be second choice, y'know? So anyway he decided t' do it, and I said somethin' about, y'know, always a bridesmaid, never a bride, and, well."

Sandro rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he turns away slightly to crawl into his nest and cuddle into the blankets, so that only his head can be seen, sharp eyes watching Ren over the corner of a pillow. "It sounds nice," he says, "All these people workin' together for stuff. Did it all turn out okay?"

"What?" Ren asks, tilting his head slightly, at the rolling of the eyes. "...anyway, yeah, I s'pose it did. They picked us some unicorn champions, and the resta them are supposedly leaving town, though it seems like a lotta 'em are still around."

Sandro shrugs a little in response to the 'what.' "Never saw unicorns near the mountains," he says. "I mean, never saw 'em at all. Must be something about this here mountain. Like that white-haired guy said, it's weird." Slight paraphrasing. "I wouldn't mind seeing one, just to say I had."

"Miki," Ren informs, "...the white-haired guy's Miki. Majlath de Holtsapadtbolyh Miklos." So he does know people's names, even if he doesn't use them at them. "And yeah, it's weird. Unusual. Interestin'. The unicorns I met're nice, but it seems like mostly most of 'em wanna sleep with Miki and Justin. But hey, just like everyone else." Shrug.

Sandro wrinkles his nose distastefully. "The unicorns want to sleep with Miki and Justin? They're horses! I mean..." Now he's sputtering. An overactive imagination can be a bad thing. "The logistics are horrifying."

"It's been done," Serendipity informs him seriously, "...there are pictures." A pause, just to let the Corax digest that, before he grins and shakes his head, "...nah, though, unicorns can shapeshift, take human form."

Sandro makes the most interesting series of expression, from the abject rejection of the idea, to mere disbelief, to... ah, there's the visual. He squeals with disgust and hides his face against his pillow, writhing within the nest. "Even so," he says, muffled, "Ew!"

Serendipity grins again. "What, you never heard of someone bein' hung like a horse?" he asks innocently. "Anyway, the unicorns in human form are... definitely somethin' to see. And you kinda seem t'think it's all pretty ew regardless."

Sandro snorts, emerging from the nest, hair rumpled and expression carefully nonplussed. "I don't think it's ew," he says a touch defensively. "I just don't want to lay back and spread 'em for just anyone." He shrugs, then asks, "Are all the menfolk here peculiar? Or is it just on account of there bein' no womenfolk?"

"...'peculiar'?" Ren asks, arching a brow, "Compared t' who? ...I'm pretty sure Danny's a girl's-only kinda guy. I think Rowan and Miki maybe got somethin' goin' on, but pretty much everyone's queer for Miki. Tristan's a vampire, they're not inta it anymore. Oh, Jack, Safi's guy, he's way straight. Higami implied he doesn't particularly have too much interest in either, too. Bryce I barely met, so who knows... Lotta the older folks, I guess, mostly married 'n' all..." He trails off, thinking. "...think most everyone else likes both."

Sandro wrinkles his nose at the mention of a vampire, but lets it slide in favor of discussing the love lives of people who aren't him. "I'm not queer for Miki," he says solemnly. "But he's a looker, yeah." A smile lights upon his features, fleeting and swift, a devilish dancing in his eyes. "Should think about importing womenfolk. I bet they'd fetch a nice price. And peculiar ain't bad. It's just... what it's called."

Serendipity smirks. "Where =I= come from it's called normal," he comments mildly, "...and daaaaaaamn, yes he is. 's distracting. Anyway -- I figure the way things're goin' with people showin' up, there'll be more women soon enough."

Sandro toys with a loose edge of his blanket, glancing down at the fidgeting rather than watching Ren. "I'm a girl," he says, casual as can be. Like one might confide that he's feeling a bit peckish.

Serendipity looks Sandro over thoughtfully, taking in the cleaned face, the clothing, the refusal to be seen topless. "...yup," he agrees after a few seconds, "I s'pose you are." He grins again, suddenly, "...'splains plenty, that."

Sandro shrugs carelessly, still studying the loose string he's found on the blanket's hem as if it were by far more fascinating than the topic at hand. "No one's gonna hire a girl on the docks," he says quietly. "So what can ya do? Servin' ale or whorin'? Not this bird."

Serendipity nods, with a little shrug. "Don't blame ya. Though servin' ale's not that bad, though you gotta put up with drunkards who're hopin' you got a second line. ...nah, I mighta done the same thing 'f I were you. So. You stay here, you gonna tell people? 's not the docks, that's for sure."

Sandro replies awkwardly, "I'm tellin' you, ain't I? I figured you were on to somethin' or you would be, the way you carry on. Thought when you got me that dress you might've already known. Dunno." He glances at Ren briefly, then away again. "If I stay, I'm gonna hafta. That's why I always gotta move on. People start to wonder, then start askin' questions."

Serendipity stretches a little. "Yeah, you're tellin' me. And maybe I did know. I don't always know what I know, y'know." He grins again, lacing his fingers behind his head. "...people here won't care much one way or another. And hey, if you'd rather stay a guy -- what with Miki around, I dunno they'd start askin' questions too quick."

Sandro laughs a little, and he even smiles, but only briefly. "I dunno," he says. "I been acting like this so long, I don't know if I even know how to be a girl. But I kinda want to. I mean... you know. Running all the time, it makes me start to wonder. Is this what I'm gonna do all my life? And what'm I gonna do when my voice don't ever change? And I don't ever need a shave? How many times can I be sixteen til that don't make sense no more?"

"Eh, so screw how to act like a girl," Ren replies, shifting one of the pillows under his head to prop it up better. "Act however the dark you wanna, whether you're bein' Sandro or -- Sandra, or whatever. I don't think anyone here's gonna complain you're acting too butch, or anything." He glances over, giving Sandro an appraising look. "...so how old're you =really=?"

Sandro's lips quirk a little at 'Sandra' and he utters a small laugh. "That ain't my name neither," he informs Ren. With a sigh, he crawls out of his blankets and over toward the scones, complaining, "You're gonna starve me to death yammering away." The scones are gathered, along with the clotted cream and jam, and he makes his way toward Ren's nest -- let him get the crumbs. "I don't remember," he admits. "Lost track after so much lyin'. Reckon either nineteen or twenty."

Serendipity nods once, looking satisfied. "=Thought= so," he replies, and shifts over in his nest, making more room for the imminent picnic. Crumbs are probably not the most annoying thing he's ever had in his bed. (Then again, much of the town would probably say =he= is.) "So what =is= your name, or d'you not wanna say yet?"

Sandro lays out the spread. He's that courteous at least, and as he breaks open one of the scones and slathers it with jam and clotted cream, he offers it to Ren before making one for himself. "Aurelia," he replies. "Aurelia Corwin. All my folk come from ravens, so the last name ain't much, just something to tell the folks who wonder."

"Aurelia?" Ren repeats, "...Aurelia. That's pretty." He accepts the scone, lifting it in a salute of thanks. "Not real butch, granted." He grins, and takes a bite. "...mm. Nice scone. Thanks." He watches Sandro prepare his -- her -- own, munching quietly. "...so. You gonna take a few days t' think about the switch, or is your mind made up?"

Sandro nibbles a bit at the edge of the scone -- for all his (her?) complaints of starvation, he eats, well, like a bird, little bites, picking away. "Hell, I don't know what I'm gonna do, Ren." Now that the piece of the puzzle has fallen into place, it does kind of make sense. The voice, the overall smallness. As a boy, he's terribly underfed. As a girl, she's merely petite. "I mean, I don't really know anyone yet, and I can't get to know 'em for real without them getting to know me for real." Nibble nibble, pick pick. "But I'm already here, and what're they gonna think? That I got somethin' to hide?"

"Well," Ren points out, with a pointed glance at Sandro's chest, "You do. At th' moment. But I figure people'll understand -- y'know, with the dock work an' travelling alone and all." He grins wryly, "...hell, me 'n' Rex were just goin' t' Millenockett and we got trouble."

Sandro eyes Ren sternly. Then he sets the scone aside carefully and withdraws from the nest. "Speakin' of which," he mutters as he crawls back to his own nest. "You look the other way. I got something I gotta get off my chest. As far as what people are gonna think, you know 'em better than I do. "

Serendipity complies, dramatically staring at the wall behind him. "My, what a fascinatin' crack in the wall. It kinda looks like... a crack in a wall," he remarks, and polishes off his scone while he waits.

Sandro turns his back to Ren just in case the kin has grown eyes in the back of his head. It never hurts to be cautious. There is the sound of clothing rustling, then Sandro letting out a long, relieved sigh. "Okay, you can look now," he graciously invites, and before crawling back to Ren's nest, he tosses aside the tight fabric band he had Ren wash the other day. "Damn thing gets smaller every year," he mutters. There isn't a huge difference in Sandro's appearance. He's just a little more, uh, buoyant around the chest. Lots of loose clothing helps conceal that.

Serendipity turns back around, and looks. Hey, he was invited to! "That's gotta be uncomfortable," he remarks, shifting the blankets to give Sandro more of a space and some more warmth. "Though I s'pose you're useta it. Y'clean up real nice, by the way."

Sandro reaches for his scone, so he can pick pieces off it and nibble. He ducks his head, grinning a little, crookedly. "Thanks, I think. Yeah, it chafes somethin' awful, but after awhile, it ain't any worse than the trail dust n' skank from not getting to wash yer hair."

Serendipity laughs, suddenly. "Y'know what'd be funny? We could make a big deal outta tryin' t' do some kinda magic thing, pretend it goes haywire an' poof, you're a girl. 'cept then they'd all prolly be tryin' t' turn you =back=..."

Sandro laughs, spraying a few crumbs before he manages to move the scone away from his mouth. "That would be hilarious," he agrees. "Except the part about being turned back into what I ain't. Though I guess I could get a job on the docks whenever I wanted that way."

"See?" Ren replies, "Bright side to everything! 'course, you could always come clean if it looked like they were actually gonna find a way -- or say you decided you liked it better as a chick." The last bit's getting dangerously thoughtful.

Sandro eyes Ren dubiously, but the air of defensiveness has relaxed some. Now it's mere speculation and a healthy dose of wariness anyone in the presence of Coyote's own learns to develop as a means of self-preservation. "Way I figure," he muses, "Since all the fellas in this damned town are peculiar anyway, maybe I can tell 'em I like it better as a girl cos I won't get hit on."

Serendipity smirks. "You could try, but I dunno there's =any= of us who =don't= like girls," he warns her, "...I mean, can't speak for everyone for sure, but I know it doesn't make a difference t' =me=."

Sandro points out, "You gotta snowball's chance on Helios, so I ain't worried about you." She shrugs and reaches for the second scone after polishing off the first, slowly but surely. "It's just we gotta find a way to make it funny without me ending up a boy."

Serendipity pouts at Sandro. It's actually kind of cute. "Aw... can't I at least have a snowball's chance in summer? ...anyway, there's lotsa ways to keep you femme. Prolly best way's lettin' 'em in on it after they've had time t' panic but before anythin' gets done, I s'pose..."

Sandro says dolefully, "I suppose, but lettin' 'em in on it ruins the fun. Then again, getting turned into a stupid boy won't be any fun neither." She then reaches out to pat Ren on the arm as she says consolingly, "It ain't personal. I just know your ways, and they wouldn't make me very happy."

"You sure?" Ren asks, "I mean hey, don't knock 'em 'til you've tried 'em, right? They work a'ight for me..." He bats his lashes at her, and stretches a little, then curls in more comfortably in his nest, facing her. "..and lettin' 'em in on it =ends= the fun, but them findin' out eventually =is= parta the fun, usually. I mean, we =could= not tell them..."

Sandro considers this over a thoughtful nibble of scone. "Nah, I'm pretty sure your ways ain't my ways," she decides. "I mean there ain't nothin' wrong with bed-hopping, but that ain't what I want. I wanna matter, ya know?" She shrugs. "I don't know. I could go on like a boy, but then I couldn't stay because people would wonder."

Serendipity glances toward the blanket-covered window. "Just 'cause I sleep with a lotta people," he responds a touch quieter, "doesn't mean none of 'em matter. Some more'n others, obviously, but." He shrugs slightly. "'ventually... maybe some of 'em I won't lose." He studies the ceiling a moment. "Still don't think mosta 'em'd clue in to the girl thing... though, kinda surprised if the shifters you've run into can't smell it, y'know, in animal form."

Sandro shrugs a little, picking at her scone. "I ain't run with shifters in a long time," she says. "Been around normal folk, mostly. They can't see what's in front of their noses anyway." She scoots away a little, frowning faintly. "Look, I ain't sayin' your ways are wrong. It's just... you don't understand, Ren. And you'd probably just laugh anyway."

"Nope," he agrees, "...but I promise not t' laugh. Coyote's honour." Serendipity lifts his hand in a scout-like salute, and considers one of the remaining scones, pulling it to him when he drops his hand.

Sandro arches a brow, clearly with less than wholehearted faith in Coyote's sense of honor. Then she looks away, picking crumbs of her scone and nibbling them from her fingers. "Well," she says uncertainly, "It's like this. I ain't never had romancin' in my life. When I had to leave home, I wasn't but just turned thirteen." She smiles a little, ruefully. "There was this fella from one of the villages I had my eye on, and I was gonna get a kiss from him next summer. And it was all new and interestin' and nice. And then it was all gone, and let me tell you, when you menfolk don't think a girl is listening, the disgustin' things you say could put a girl into a vow of chastity." She eyes Ren sternly, as though he were suddenly responsible for the conduct of every man everywhere. "Y'all are dirty minded," she assesses. Then she sighs. "Anyway, I never got to have any of that fun stuff, the courtin' and stuff. And I resent that. So I ain't gonna just tumble someone for the hell of it, because the whole idea just pisses me off."

Serendipity considers that, and nods, slowly. "Makes sense, I s'pose. I mean... sometimes I think it'd be nice if someone courted me sometime m'self, so. And we are. Dirty-minded, I mean. But not just guys. You've never heard what womenfolk say when they don't think a guy's about if you think that." He picks at the scone, then breaks it in half. "You left home even earlier'n me. Not a lot, but still."

Sandro says mildly, "I remember talkin' with the womenfolk, but that's different, cos we're women. Let me tell you, some of the things Sister Lucinda'd say about her mate would make you look at him in a new light. And he seemed like such a gentleman, too." She shrugs. "Anyway. I ain't settlin' damn it. I never got that kiss, and I ain't gonna be someone's piece on the side because I got a grudge here."

"On the sidea what?" Ren asks, sounding as though he may actually never have heard that particular idiom before. "...and it's not either diff'rent. I've heard plennya both sides, lemme tell you."

Sandro rolls her eyes. "Whatever," she dismisses. The scone is nibbled some more, and she speaks around dribbling crumbs. "On the side of whatever the guy's got going on. I don't wanna waste my time with someone I know I ain't ever gonna really be with. I don't expect it happens like in the stories, but that don't mean I don't like the illusion."

Serendipity jams and creams the scone, and chews the first bite thoughtfully. "So, what -- you're waitin' for a handsome prince who's gonna sweep you off your feet t' his castle where you live happily ever after?" he asks, brow slightly furrowed.

Sandro shakes her head. "Nope. I've pretty much decided y'all are pigs," she explains cheerfully. "I'm a lady of discriminatin' tastes, and I ain't lowerin' my standards just because I got the urge to merge. But I ain't waitin', neither. I don't need it. Don't got time for it. So Mr. Prince can just keep on ridin' unless he's worth turnin' my head for." She pops the last bit of scone into her mouth, chewing and swallowing before she adds, "Which I bet he ain't."

Serendipity hehs. "Good. Didn't strike me as the type for that kinda thing. Anyway, you ask me, they prolly lived bored t' tears ever after. Gotta make your own happily, right?" He polishes off half the scone, which frees one of his hands; he unfolds his arm and offers it for cuddling into -- it's a friendly gesture, innocent (for once) of lechery.

Sandro eyes the gesture all the same with an irritation that comes so very easily to her features. Grudgingly, and with great reluctance, she eases into the offered arm. It is cold after all. "I just got so much more to worry about without addin' to it," she says. Then, quieter, "I'm tired, Ren. I don't mean just like I had a long day. I'm tired to the bone. I got a tired that no sleep can cure, and to tell you the truth, scratchin' an itch like that ain't even on my list of concerns. It's just one more complicatin' thing I don't need."

Serendipity wraps the arm around easily. It =is= warm. Solid, but not restricting. He chews a bite of scone, and nods. "You oughta stay here, then, a while. Rest, y'know? Just be yourself for a while. I mean, for a place that's fulla things happenin' and things threatening to happen, it's pretty relaxing here."

Sandro curls up close, leeching the body heat. She's mostly sweater anyway, but there's a girl under there somewhere, thin and bony, but nothing a few weeks of regular meals couldn't remedy. She's shivering too, every so slightly, but enough that she's not still against Ren. "I don't know what I'm gonna do," she says quietly. "I just... I'm going to see what the morning holds. I don't know. I'll go down to the diner and see if Mr. Rowan needs anything fixed, and I'm just gonna take it one day at a time. Maybe we can pull a good prank, once we've had some time to work out the details. Til then, I'm just gonna do what I do."

"'s all any of us can do," Ren agrees fairly cheerfully, polishing off his scone. He tugs the blankets up and tucks them around the pair of them tighter, sealing in the warmth. "Just keep me updated what you wanna do, yeah? We'll work it out as we go along."

Sandro smiles faintly, her eyes drifting closed. "I'm about to utter the words no man wants to hear," she warns sleepily, "but you remind me so much of one of my brothers. I miss him. You should meet me after I get done fixin' whatever, and we'll prank this town so hard it'll never know what hit it."

Serendipity laughs once, softly. "Eh, s'not so bad. Last girl who told me that did it right after makin' out with me. =That= bruises the ol' ego," he admits wryly. "...then again, she said she still wanted t' sleep with me, so that helped." He winks at her playfully, and snuggles in. "I got a lotta sisters, but I haven't seen 'em in ages. And you're on... I haven't caused =nearly= enough trouble here yet."

Sandro twitches. "She said that, then still wanted to do it? Geez, I may be from Appalachia, but that's just wrong. I ain't even kin to my brothers and sisters, bein' adopted an' all, and I still wouldn't do 'em. It'd just be weird." With a sleepy sigh, she relaxes, getting comfortable in the nest, with her very own man-sized space heater. "Yeah, I'm gonna sleep on it. I ain't nearly caused enough trouble period."

Serendipity grins. "I'm just that hot," he replies airly, then confesses, "...'course we =haven't=, since she's bein' monogamous, an' I'm pretty sure she doesn't =have= any actual siblings. Anyway, you can feel kinda family with someone and still wanna fuck 'em 'til they break, long's they aren't =technically= family." Purely information. 'cause she wouldn't know, right? He brushes a couple strands of hair from her face, away from her closed eyes, and then closes his own, stifling a yawn. "Dream sweet, cutie. Tomorrow we got another day."

Sandro manages, in the tangle of blankets, pillows, and sweaters, to still find Ren's ribs and give them a poke with a bony finger. "Get yer head out of her pants," she chastises in a low, sleepy grumble. "'nd don't even think of puttin' it in mine." The last is kind of garbled as she's already starting to drift off, curling up all cozy. Complaints aside, she doesn't seem at all nervous about sleeping this close to Ren. Within a few minutes, she has a rather comatose outlook on the entire situation.