[She watches him for a moment, hesitating, before following him. It's strange, seeing him so eager, seeing how his rat-like shape gives him away in ways a human body wouldn't. It's sweet - and it stings a little, too, at that guilt nagging in the pit of her belly.]

[Her legs are a lot longer than his, so it doesn't take her long to catch up to him, ducking a little as she steps inside to keep her horns from scraping the top of the doorframe.]

Say thankya, sai. [She dips a joking little half-curtsey, falling back on silliness where sincerity fails her.] Ye know, I didn't say it last time, but I really like your house. It's cosy.

[Man Jesus, he's right. She really hasn't been here under any kind of good circumstances, has she? She lets out an uncertain little laugh.]

Aye, things weren't so cosy, I guess. But that's the past. And it never happened.

[Reaching over, she brushes her fingers against the back of his hand, careful not to catch him with her claws.]

I'll just have to come by more often. If ye'll have me.

[She doesn't have any fur to hide her own pleased blush, even if it's a little less obvious on skin that's already so vibrantly pink. She nods enthusiastically, a little more so than she intends.]

Aye! Aye, I'd... I'd like that a lot.

[It's cosy. It suits him well, that way. Cosy, homey, and just a touch chaotic. Susan can't help smiling, tucking her hands into the pockets of the jacket he made her. Made her. She still can't quite get over that.]

Take your time. I'll wait.

[Part of her thinks, a little guiltily, of chores left undone at the ranch. But Bert will pick up on them if need be, and maybe if they take this slow, it will be enough to clear the lingering uncertainty.]

[She crosses over to the nearest seat, curling her tail up around herself as she settles into it, one knee pulled up to her chest so she can rest her chin on it and watch him at a distance.]

[She laughs at that, and then feels a little bad for laughing.]

Ye? Workin' on too many things?

Sure, I ken that about 'ee. It's, uh...

[The last bit of her smile fades for a moment. It's the problem, she almost said. Ye get into too much, too deep. I wish it were just making silly toys.]

[Clearing her throat, she reaches for the turtle, careful in case it's not as near finished as it looks. It's a silly distraction, but she waggles it to and fro, like it's looking around.]

See the Turtle of enormous girth, on his back he holds the earth... Ye have that one where ye're from?

He loves the land and loves the sea, and even loves a child like me.

There's more of it. Just one of those little rhymes children sing in the schoolyard, ye ken?

But I always liked it, too.

[She perks up a little at that.]

Oh! We had that one, too!

Except I learnt it It all comes down, and then ye have to not be the last one on the floor.

Ain't it queer, what things our worlds have in common?

[She nods. It's strange, talking like this, like there's nothing wrong between them, and nothing ever was. It's strange, but it's a relief, too.]

It's been one of those queer things here. The things that come out the same. And the things that ain't quite the same.

Like, I heard someone sing Hey Jude, a while back, only the words were different. And there's stories folk tell from other worlds, that sound nearly like ours.

And the rain in Spain.

[She doesn't mind him being a nerd. Honestly, it makes this a lot easier. His enthusiasm is easy to latch onto.]

That's a thing they chant in schoolhouses where I'm from, only I never knew what Spain was till I got here.

It makes ye wonder, no?

Aye, could be. Or...

[She tucks one hoof under herself, leaning in a little, her interest getting the better of her awkwardness.]

Did I ever tell 'ee that there were folk here before me - Bert told me - who knew my world, but they came from yours? From New York?

I never met 'em. Not this me, anyroad. But this ain't the only world that could be a hub.

The Manni-folk say summat like that, I think. About hubs. I don't ken it all, I never spoke to 'em too long, but there's stories.

Could be that here's nearer to there than we'd've guessed. Could be we're nearer the Tower, if they're right.

It ain't that I don't want to. [She shrugs. It's nice to have something to talk about, and it's nice to see him excited and interested, but...] It's just that I'm none too sure what to say, ye ken?

It's just one of those things folk talk about, like God or the Clearing or the Old Ones. If ye'd asked me afore I came here, I'd've said it was just a story. Only, well, I guess Bert seems pretty sure these days, and he says Roland went lookin' for it, and...

[She cuts herself off there, clearing her throat. Given that she's here to reconnect with one beau, it doesn't seem too wise to go off on a tangent about the other - even if Peter's never seemed the jealous type.]

Uh. Anyroad, it's an old tale. That in the long, long ago - before the world - there was the Prim. Chaos and demons and madness. And then out of that, Gan brought up the world, and held it up with six Beams - and at the middle, where the Beams cross, there's the Tower. The real hub of the worlds, I guess. Like everything's a wheel, and the Tower's the axle, ye ken?

It holds up the Beams, and the Beams hold up the world, and things lean in toward it. Or so they say.

And the Manni-folk, they say there's more worlds along the other Beams, mayhap even on the same one. They say ye can move between 'em, if ye ken the way, though I never knew if they meant it or if they just ken summat better than devil-grass to lose their minds to.