PotHN: A Slight Complication [1x1]

Pris gave a reluctant sigh, but seemed to accept that it had been deemed that she needed a bath, and so a bath she was going to have, whether she cared for it or not. In a way, she didn't mind. Maybe people needed someone to tell them when they needed a bath. It was like caring, in a way. Or maybe it was caring? She wasn't sure. Pris cared about Hetty and Hetty cared about her, but the subject of baths wasn't really one that they talked about much. Hetty always had a chemical scent anyway. Pris didn't mind. It was kind of nice. It bothered some people, and maybe it had bothered her once, but... well, it was Hetty. She had grown to like it.

As long as Hetty was okay, that was fine. Pris would see her later, even if that meant sneaking into the clinic. Since she was a stowaway now, she figured she could probably do that. She was a little disappointed when Miss Emer left, even if she promised she was going to come back. Pris had trouble believing that people were going to come back, even if they said they would. Sometimes it wasn't their fault. And sometimes they came back, but... funny. She had known Mr. King's giant a little bit, before he had been... well.

It was probably better than just being dead, but it was different. But nothing got wasted, so she supposed that it was okay.

She did resent the implication that she wasn't drinking enough water. Pris could take care of herself just fine, after all. She refused to look at the spigot at all, at least until Miss Emer left, and then ungraciously bowed her head and gulped a few mouthfuls, wiping the excess off on her sleeve. She glanced at the empty doorway, then thoughtfully ate another sweet roll, then set about finishing chasing down the very last potatoes and making sure they were properly in their sacks.

That accomplished, she reseated herself halfway inside her cabinet, picking up one of the potatoes and a knife and starting to peel it, then deciding to carve it into a little figure instead.

"Look, Lady Fingers, I made a tater tot."

Lady Fingers did not seem to properly appreciate Pris' sense of humor. She sighed, then set to work on sewing together the discarded potato peel into a rough shift to dress the potato baby. It was something to do for a while, at least until there was another shape at the door - a very strange shape, huddled as it was under a burden of far too many things.

"You came back!"

"Mr. King taught me to sew," Pris answered. She was, admittedly, a little proud of it. Her stitches were very even, when she sewed all the parts together. "And Hetty taught me a little bit about knitting. Her bone-things are always the best knit. What's yarn?" She reached for the socks, turning them over in her hands. They were quite soft, and felt warm.


"Are you sure it's okay to have these things? I don't want Mal getting mad. Mr. King gets mad when people do things he didn't tell them to, on his ship." The sugardrops were another curiosity, Pris opened the bag to peer into it, then closed it again and handed it to Lady Finders, who scuttled off to bury it in the back of the cabinet where no one else would find it. A moment later she returned, to do the same with the socks.

She sat down obediently, as if prepared to have her hair brushed, though Lady Fingers returned rather quickly to rest in Pris' lap and take her hand again. "Who's Sliocht?"