mistressmaryquitecontrary

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Mary is sneaking through the hallways of Mistlethwaite Manor.

Mary is sneaking through the hallways like she hasn't had to do in quite some time - and sharp eyes might notice that her stomach is . . . oddly puffy.

Also, squirming.

Colin's door is open, but Mary closes it behind her when she enters. One hand still on her stomach.

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Oh, well.

Probably.

"This is true," he concedes, and waits, still watching the cat.

"What is her name?"

"She has not got one yet," Mary answers, seriously. She's watching the cat too; but she's also watching Colin.

"People suggested things. I thought you might want to help pick."

Colin is not beaming, but he is pleased.

"I could help with that."

Mary gives a firm nod, and gets straight down to business.

"Well, Lucy said Helena, and Steven said Kate. So that is two."

Meanwhile, the kitten has gotten close enough to Colin's hand to start rubbing against it. (You never know where there are strange cats about. Territory must be marked!)

It is a pity, Colin thinks, it is not a boy kitten.

Though she is very sweet.

"They are nice names," he says, stiffly.

He did not think of them.

"What sort of name would you like?"

"It must be something," Mary says, chin tilted up a little, "that has dignity."

The kitten sneezes.

Colin looks skeptical.

Mary scowls at the skepticalness.

"Well, she will not always be little. It would be silly to name her a little-type name if she will outgrow it."

"This is true," he concedes.

"--I have never," it's a little stiff, "named an animal."

"I have only ever named Puss," Mary confesses, after a beat.

"Dickon has named lots. But when I asked him he said he did not know."

He'd said a lot of other things, but Mary is ignoring them for now.

"She is very sweet," he says after a moment.

"I like Angel."

Colin does not know he believes in angels, but he likes the name.

He especially likes the angels with the flaming swords, but he would be disappointed to meet one Mr Fell and learn what they're really like.

Mary considers this, seriously, as she considers everything, a small line drawn between her brows.

"She was given to me by a god," she says, eventually, with an air of decision. "She might be a sort of angel, like that.

"Angel is a good name."

"It is," Colin agrees, not because he chose it at ALL.

"Which god?"

Matter-of-factly: "Belar. He is a god of Alorns."

(It's mispronounced.)

"From another world."

"--Is it a native sort of god?" he asks curiously.

". . . he doesn't look native." Mary is doubtful. "He is all blonde. And he talks like an American. The sort that is ex-British."

"That," Colin pronounces after a moment, "is very queer."

"He is queer," Mary agrees. "But he is awfully nice. Anyways, everyone in Milliways is queer in some way or another, I think."

"Well, yes," Colin agrees.

"That is not a reason not to say it."

"I did not say it was," Mary retorts, in a 'now that ought to be settled' sort of tone.

"You may say it to him as much as you like, if you ever meet him."

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