Often confused, Cliff wasn’t sure he was following her thought process (as if his own made sense most of the time - people just nodded and smiled when he went off on tangents.) He was going to be dead but then in jail? Was her brother a ghost lawyer? Because he could definitely see constables killing people then forcing their ghost spirits to live in jail for the remainder of their lives. The Chang family was crazy! Demon horses, ghost lawyers, Cliff blinked at Ida and wondered what she was hiding.

Then he snorted. “Yeah, well, if I wanted to be arrested all I have to do is show my bloody fucking face right now. I punched a constable and broke his nose, remember?” He shot back as he threw his hands into the air in disbelief; he’d been quite honest with her in the beginning, and she thought he was what, afraid of dying? Spending the night in jail? Dying in jail? Jail was most certainly in Cliff’s future for something, and if what put him there was being almost naked in a stable with a pretty girl who was turning him into a dog, then so be it.

It would make for an awesome story and he’d be the talk of the jailhouse; in fact, Clifford would probably make friends right then and there as he spun (a rather embellished) adventure of the day. And if could be a ghost and haunt the damn constable who made his life difficult… well –

He was grinning as he poked her, which widened as she finally spun around to face him; Ida was close enough to touch him and Cliff just tilted his head when he felt her knuckles graze his skin, and then promptly watched her fall back onto her butt. He pursed his lips together to keep the laugh that threatened to escape him; however, as her hands pounded on the ground like a toddler, he couldn’t help the tiny snicker that burst out of his throat. Having  dealt with all his sister’s tantrums, this was very reminiscent of them. The very thought of that made him laugh even louder, causing Cliff to clamp his hands over his mouth. Ida was probably going to fly into a fit of rage if he actually had the audacity to laugh at her.

Wheezing, it took him another moment to choke down a chuckle to speak. “As if I haven’t been offensive this entire time.” Cliff cocked an eyebrow at her but didn’t say anything more on the matter.  A gentleman would have offered his hand but he was sure Ida wouldn’t want someone offensive touching her, especially if her brother could come in. Instead he tucked her wand behind his ear and spun around, figuring she could stand on her own even with a busted up foo and shuffled over toward the barrel where the parchment and quill still sat.

He heaved a sigh and sat down on the barrel before his fingers curled around the quill; he tapped once, twice, three times until a spot of ink stained the corner of the paper. Then, laggardly, he scribbled a words in the margin of the paper containing the measurements Ida had taken earlier before he plucked the parchment without waiting for the ink to dry. Then he approached her and held it out. “You said your brother is a lawyer?” Cliff nervously scuffed his toe into the ground; his feet had to be disgusting but he didn’t really care. “If something… happens and beastie splits me in half, well, would you ask your brother to make sure my kids get the money from the farm? It won’t be a whole lot, but hopefully it’ll cover Hogwarts for ‘em.” He held out the paper to her with his address scribbled on it; he was quite aware he wasn’t in any position to ask her favors, especially with her being so angry with him, but it was better to ask now than never, right?

Then he shuffled back and shot a lopsided grin at her; he was ready. (And seemed to have won the battle for not putting clothes back on, for now.)

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