August 1st, 1888 — MacFusty House, Hebrides
James MacFusty

The fog was gone, and more importantly, the malaria was also gone. The casino-turned-pyramid had nearly collapsed, the fog had relented, and before she knew it she was on her way back to 'wherever she came from'—in this case, the Hebrides. She probably should have been asleep—everyone else was asleep, including the servants that were usually scattering about the house in the evening hours—but she was alone, in the kitchen, with a tray of cookies in the oven. Could she bake? Yes. Was she a good baker? ...Probably not, but she was doing it anyways.

It wasn't a "I'm going to make the best cookies in the world" sort of thing, but rather a means of keeping her mind preoccupied until she eventually tired. Much of the afternoon had been slept sleeping (except, of course, when she was giving her expedition testimony) in her seat, against the walls, and even on the ground—she'd been exhausted.

And now she was not. That was a problem.

What was more of a problem was that, about twenty minutes into her baking session, the sound of footsteps alerted her to the fact that she wasn't alone. She hoped it was Mac. Or Immie. It was not.

"Hi there!" she chirped, albeit weakly. "I've come back as a ghost to haunt your home. Sorry."

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Jamie tended to have a strange sleep schedule. Sometimes he'd show up at the MacFusty house in the middle of the night. Or at the crack of dawn. There was really never any knowing when he'd show up. Not that he sought out the need to be tended to when he did show up. He could take care of himself, surely. And so when he'd shown up in the middle of the night, he'd hardly expected to hear anything in kitchen when he'd come in through the front door.

Luckily for the girl, he had a shirt on this time. But it was torn and a bit bloody this time around. He squinted at her through the light, a brow raised at her sort of cheerful little chirp she'd tried to speak in. How long had it been since he'd seen her? A month or so? He couldn't really remember, truthfully. She hadn't been there a few weeks ago when he'd made his stop in at the house so he'd simply assumed she had perished in the expedition or she'd decided working with dragons was too much.

As it was, she was trying to be funny and he was far from in the mood. Stepping closer, he poked her. Right in the forehead. "Nay, yer no ghost," he said gruffly before moving around her to head to the main pantry in search of something he could eat. And drink. Damn, he hoped there was some whiskey to be found.

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   Bella Scrimgeour

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Yay Bree Set!

Jamie was there, and he was more decent—if that was the right word to use—this time around than he was the last. She eyed him carefully, almost nervous to turn her back on him to check on the cookies (that should have been done five minutes ago before she realized she probably put a little too much of something in the batch).

The giant then had the nerve to walk right up to her and poke her—and in the forehead! He eyes crossed momentarily as she tried to focus on her finger, but only managed to make her vision all blurry afterwards. She huffed as he moved to the cabinets before taking it as an opportunity to beck on her baking experiment.

"I was kidding," she asserted, the same tone of haughty combativeness in her voice that was there when they'd first spoken a month ago. "Would you like to taste a cookie? I'd rather I didn't accidentally poison little Isobel. At least you'l tell me if they're terrible."

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

"As was I, lass," Jamie called out as he continued to rummage about in the pantry. He was pretty focused on finding something that sounded appetizing. Unfortunately, he wasn't finding anything that didn't require effort and he was far too tired and achy to do just that. And then she mentioned cookies. A brow raised as he turned to look at her, intrigue evident on his features.

"So you'll poison meh and not Issy?" he asked as he sauntered in her direction from the pantry. His searching had turned up at least a half a bottle of rum though so it wasn't a total loss.

Leaning against the counter next to her, he took a swig of the room and watched her as she did whatever she had to with the cookies. "Why're you makin'em in the middle o'the night anyways?" he asked.

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Yay Bree Set!

Mittens protecting her hands from the heat, she quickly shuffled the tray of cookies out of the oven and placed them on the counter. They weren't burnt, she she supposed that was a win, but had no idea if they were edible. Her gaze flickered up to him as he sauntered across the room, apparently interested in what she was baking (or more specifically, what she had to offer him). She shrugged in response to his question.

"If I killed a child, even by accident, everyone I met would hate me. If I killed a fully grown man—" She eyed him up and down. "—at least I might impress a few people." She was joking, obviously.

Eyebrows raised, she held out her hand, beckoning for him to share his bottle of rum. Alcohol was a nasty habit she probably should have kicked by now, but she at least thought she had the sense not to get piss drunk anymore.

"I got back from the expedition a few hours ago. I can't sleep," she admitted, picking up a cooking to examine. Should she just...try it? Wait until he did? Meh, at least her death wouldn't cause any hardship.

She took a bite, and after pausing for a moment, was pleased to find herself very much alive.

"Yup, they're good. Have one."

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Jamie chuckled at her words and shook his head slightly. "It'd take far more than a wee lass to off me," he answered, still chuckling as he took another drink of his rum. It was his after all. He'd found it and all the MacFustys knew that when alcohol was found, it was ripe for the claiming. But as she beckoned for the bottle, he raised a brow in a bit of surprise. Reluctantly he handed it over but was quick to take it back after she'd had her drink. He wasn't about to be accused of getting the girl drunk.

Nodding in response, he watched as she plucked one of the cookies up for herself. She seemed hesitant to take a bite which certainly didn't make him feel all that confident about eating one for himself. On the surface, they didn't look awful at least. They weren't black and charred. But they did look a little flat.

Hesitantly, he picked one up and bit into it, the bite big enough to nearly finish off the entire thing. He chewed it slowly, savoring the flavor in his mouth. He finished off the rest of the cookie and finally gave her a small shrug before taking another drink of the whiskey. "Not bad," he answered after licking his lips clean of any crumbs or rum, "Tad heavy on the salt."

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Yay Bree Set!

She rolled her eyes at the remark, but subtly smiled when he passed the bottle. She took a quick swig, her face scrunching up at the taste; it had been a month, she realized, she she'd actually had a drop of alcohol touch her tongue. While her time perception was certainly off, her body seemed to know the truth.

"I wouldn't call myself a 'wee' anything," she said. "I'm tall for a woman—not that I'd expect you to notice, Mr. Giant Man. I bet you think everyone puny and insignificant," she continued, nibbling on her cookie. It did taste a little salty, though it was admittedly better than she'd expected.

"Why are you awake, anyways? Feeling peckish this late?" she asked casually.

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Jamie shrugged at her insistence that she wasn't wee. "All women are wee no matter how tall they are," he answered simply. Even his ma was wee and she was a force to be reckoned with. But he did shake his head at her remark of thinking them puny and insignificant. He even tutted to show his disapproval.

"Wee hardly means a lass can't hold'er own," he said with a firm tone, "My mum and sis aren't to be taken lightly but they're still wee. Best learn that, lass, or you'll never fit into the clan. Know yer worth or ye are truly worthless." He felt firmly about such a thing. He'd not coddle her. Or anyone for that matter.

"Slept all day," he answered, "Been my turn watching the toddlings at night. Got one that's sick right now, requires the extra attention. But my relief just came in after the bastard got me in the chest. Luckily I was already going to be heading here." He'd have to tend to the scratch before he went to bad. It wasn't deep though and had long since dried over with blood. He'd have to clean it out though or risk infection and that was something he'd rather not deal with.

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Yay Bree Set!

After finishing her cookie, Bella rested herself against the counter, effectively mirroring his body language. Her eyebrows rested high on her forehead as she listened, considering everything he was saying. The last time she'd been in the MacFusty home—well, not the last time, but the the time that had happened—she'd not been exposed to the daily doings of the clan, instead being treated as a valued (and sickly) guest. She supposed things weren't too different; she was still convinced Mr. Malcolm MacFusty saw her as a charity case, at least a little.

"I'm not trying to fit into the clan. I'm not a MacFusty. I just want to....survive alongside them, I guess." she said. "Just like I'm not trying to be a dragon-keeper—just want to see what the life of one is like." She hadn't forgotten his promise to help her if she'd survived the expedition.

While she'd manage to survive all that (albeit after weeks of suffering from malaria in the aftermath), it seemed he'd not managed to go one evening with the dragons without getting bloodied up. She eyed his stained shirt and visibly perked up at the mention of 'extra attention' and whatnot.

"I could help you, you know. I was a healer at St. Mungo's for a little while." Okay, she'd been a healer intern, but in this case—just a bit of first aid—it didn't make much of a difference.

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Jamie shrugged again. Whether she was trying to fit into the clan or not, she still had to recognize her own worth at some point in life. Life wasn't really worth living, otherwise. Not in his opinion. But, then again, he'd never had a reason to doubt his own self worth. Even though he didn't have a clue what her story was. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to. Story sharing was.. intimate. And he avoided that with women he couldn't have just one time intimacies with.

"Does'n matter," he said, "Whether ye want to be a member of the clan or not, yer working for one of us. And if ye have'n the confidence, yer jus a hindrance." It was blunt and even a bit harsh but it was the truth. She couldn't be out there around the dragons, even if she was well from view, and not be a safety concern if she didn't have confidence in herself.

Chuckling, he took a swig of the rum again then shook his head. "Jus a scratch," he said, brushing it off, "A little cleaning and it'll be good. Nothin else needed." Besides, could she handle the sight of his exposed chest again? Let alone having to touch it. He chuckled again at the thought.

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Yay Bree Set!

Bella rolled her eyes; she never said she had no confidence, she surely didn't lack it enough to be a hindrance to her boss. She might have been a little skittish about being around dragons, but was from inexperience. No one wanted her to go near them feeling like the could handle them if she couldn't, right?

"My confidence is perfectly adequate, thank you very much!" she chirped, reaching to snatch the bottle of rum out of his hands. Despite his insistence that he was fine, she thought otherwise; though not having spent much time in the Creature-Induced Injuries ward, she knew very well that a scratch could become infected all too easily.

"Please, let me. You can't help me with dragons if you die from an infected wound!"

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Jamie rolled his eyes but didn't bother to comment further. She had yet to truly show him any amount of confidence. That was, until she snatched the bottle of rum from him just as he'd been moving to take another drink of it. His eyes narrowed in what should have been a rather fierce glare. Problem was, he was smirked at her brazenness so it quickly diminished some of his ferocity.

"If ye say so lass," he said instead of remarking about her audacity of taking his rum. Fingers that were no woefully empty, curled along the hems of his shirt and he was quick to pull the torn and bloody thing free from his body and over his head. Once more, a shirt would be discarded and he was standing in front of the girl bare chested. This time, however, the scars were quickly overshadowed by the claw marks that dragged from his right collar bone in a slant down to the left side of his abdomen. It was but a flesh wound, surely, but it looked angry with swelling and dried blood.

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Yay Bree Set!

It was surprising how non-flustered Bella became at the sight of a man's chest—especially a man as large as statuesque at Jamie—once she went into healer-mode. Her eyes widened at the sight of the scratch, only because it wasn't her usual forte; admittedly scratches were a tad different from dealing with people with rashes or swollen air passageways. She could handle it, though, right...? Right.

She placed the rum bottle out of the table, grabbed a nearby cloth, and then rushed to the nearest water faucet, where she dampened the rag so she could wipe of the blood that Jamie obviously didn't care about.

"I would make more of a fuss," she said, walking towards him at a normal place once she squeezed the wet cloth, "but your nonchalance suggests that you've handled a little more blood than this before." Was he not concerned about infection? Bleeding out? Probably not—this was Jamie.

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Jamie chuckled with a shrug at her words. "I was there when a Toddling nearly ripped my brother's arm off," he responded as if it weren't really any big deal. It had been, of course, when it had happened. He'd just been about to rush off with Mal to get her to the hospital when he saw it happen. Tiger had shooed him off though, taking care of it himself so Jamie could get their sister off to the hospital. That had been a bad day..

He reached for the bottle of rum and took a pull from it before she got to him. "So when I say it's jus a scratch, it's jus a scratch," He added with another shrug as he settled back against the counter so that she could see to cleaning it.

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Yay Bree Set!

Bella had suffered some less-than-ideal injuries in the past, but none so severe as a severed arm! Bella gawked at him for a moment before she quietly moved to wipe his chest clean of blood, making sure the cloth stayed between her hand and his bare skin. Despite her overwhelming desire to handle every situation with a bit of dry (and probably not funny) humor, there was really no way to joke about a ripped-off arm, was there?

"That must have been hard," she said, turning to a more sympathetic approach. "I've lost a finger and that was hard enough to adjust to. I can't imagine life without an entire arm." She held up her left hand, which was missing its middle digit. She'd lost it in a drunken, botched apparition attempt—someone she swore she'd never do again but probably would, because it wasn't as if she could control her stupidity while drunk.

"And you? Did you come out...unscathed?"

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Jamie gave a small shrug, not seeming to be phased by the ministrations of the wet cloth on his chest. He was used to such things so it rarely actually hurt when it was being cleaned. Unless, of course, the cut was much deeper. But this was nothing compared to other injuries.

He chuckled as she showed him her missing finger. "You do what ye've got to do," he answered simply. His brother made due over time. It hadn't been easy, of course, but he'd managed in the end. They all did. It was what the MacFustys did, after all. Adapt and continue on. With as much loss as they'd seen, they had to learn.

"Physically, I did," he answered her last question but didn't bother to emphasize further. He felt it spoke enough to how it had really been on its own.

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Yay Bree Set!