Whether or not Vandelin will ever admit that he could use any of the things Anders now lists, the reasoning doesn't matter. The squirming little kitten frees himself further still, flicking his marmalade ears as the towel brushes against them, and Vandelin reaches immediately out to gather the bundle into his arms, half in love already.
"That's not good," he murmurs, the problem still registering through his distraction, even as he begins to scritch under the kitten's chin with delicate fingertips. "I do hope it's only a fluke..."
Vandelin's falling in love. He'd had a feeling, after how the elf had reacted to Pawdric and Purrelden, that this would work well for everyone involved. Now he's confident in it.
"It's Kirkwall," he says a little sadly. He'd liked the mother cat. She didn't hang around a lot or trust people to pet her, but she'd known to chirp at him for food when she needed it. "They're at an age where they need more warmth than they can generate, and considering how the city doesn't exactly look after cats it seemed prudent to get them where they'd be loved and looked after rather than risk a cold night for them."
If she does come back and is upset, he'll be there for her. He's already planning on a couple of visits to her nesting spot over the next few days. But this way he can make sure the little ones make it. Speaking of making it...
"I've got, hang on." Anders fishes out a couple of small jars from a belt pouch. "Can I set these on your desk? They're a blend of cooked and mashed chicken and fish and a little milk so that it's very wet and easy for him to digest. There's a woman in the kitchen who likes providing kitten food, Tirial, but he'll only need a jar a day."
"Do I feed it to him all at once, or just gradually throughout the day?"
There's so very little Vandelin knows about the care and keeping of kittens, or of grown cats, or of any other animal--but his usual method of dealing with this, holing himself up in the library until he's found a book from which he can draw sufficient conclusion without ever having to ask another living being for help, would be counterproductive here when he has Anders available as all the resource he needs.
Loath as he is to admit it, Anders is right. Vandelin can take or leave almost anything about his own health or well-being, but even his absurdly overpowered sense of pride won't let an orphaned kitten starve or freeze for its sake. He'll look after himself if he must.
"I can probably make it myself if that's the whole recipe," he muses, as the kitten digs curious claws into his robes. "But I suppose it would be easier to let her. He'll need a name..."
"Gradually, throughout the day." His voice is quiet as he sets down the jars on the elf's desk; there's no need to disrupt the bonding process between man and kitten. It's clearly written all over Vandelin's face that he's in love.
"And as far as a name..." Anders considers it for a moment, looking over at the kitten. "Hasmeowl? Free Meowcher? It strikes me that I don't know as much about you personally as I perhaps ought. I don't know if you've heroes, or friends you'd want to name a cat after, or if you've any idea of who your family is or was."
"I did want to see what kind of pun you'd come up with," he says, with a snort of laughter--at the puns themselves, and at the twitch of the kitten's whiskers as he makes his determined little way up toward Vandelin's shoulder. "They seem to be a specialty of yours. But there are other options, it's true..."
He thinks Myr deserves the chance to throw a few suggestions into the ring, too, and perhaps once the office is occupied again, he'll ask Araceli--she's had so many pets to name, and outdone herself every time.
The question makes him glance over, thoughtful, concealing the barest little stirring of unease. No, there would be no reason for Anders to know very much in the way of the personal when Vandelin hasn't volunteered it--nothing about friends, of which he has few, or heroes, of which he tries to have none, and certainly not about family, of which he has an embarrassment of riches as far as mages go, and Myr doesn't talk about it either, because twenty years of desperately-ingrained habit is not so easily set aside when there's still incentive to stay quiet.
"My family would probably have wanted me to name him something deadly dull and pious like Hessarian," he says lightly, able enough to remember back to the alienage. "I would have tried to get away with Meowferath, but from everything I recall of him, I doubt my father would have been amused." He detaches the kitten gently from his robes and cradles him, thinking. "I only had sisters, or I'd name him for one of them..."
But there had been Uncle Iolan, too. The idea hits him with an accompanying surge of emotion that makes him clam up altogether, loath to let even a friend see it.
"Anyway, I'll give it some more thought. He may be Hasmeowl yet. I'd be sure to credit you, but I think everyone will know a name like that was your doing without my having to say so." He grins.
He grins at the snort of laughter, though it fades a little at the glance and change of tone. Vandelin doesn't owe him anything, but he hadn't thought the elf was deliberately hiding his background until now. The thought gets pushed back. Maybe he's misread their friendship, maybe he hasn't, but it doesn't matter at the moment. He's here to try to help Vandelin's mental state, hence the cat.
"They may well figure it out," Anders says as he tries to return his smile to where it was. It's close, at least. "I'll leave you to bond with him, and you can call me on the crystals if you've any questions at all. I'm glad to help with cats."
He half-turns and pauses, looking back at Vandelin. "And if... If you ever want to talk, you can call me as well, you know."
Friends, Vandelin thinks, are well and good, but they don't need to know things about you, like how your uncle died or how you still feel about it, or indeed, how you feel about anything. Friends are people you help out when you want to be magnanimous, whom you can trust with your politics, from whom you can in theory seek help but should really try your best not to. Inasmuch as Vandelin even knows what a friend is, he thinks of Anders as one of the closest. It would mystify him that Anders would think otherwise.
"Of course," he says, and his appreciation is truly sincere. As the offer of company that it is, it warms him, and he has no desire to reject it. "I'll try not to bother you too often when he does something cute. But I'll let you know once I've decided on a name."
"As if I'd have any objections to hearing about a cat doing something cute. Please call me as often as you'd like with stories of his antics, Vandelin." And with another flash of a smile, Anders is headed out. How much he matters to Vandelin is beside the point right now - the cat seems to already be doing the trick and Anders will take comfort in that.
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no subject
Whether or not Vandelin will ever admit that he could use any of the things Anders now lists, the reasoning doesn't matter. The squirming little kitten frees himself further still, flicking his marmalade ears as the towel brushes against them, and Vandelin reaches immediately out to gather the bundle into his arms, half in love already.
"That's not good," he murmurs, the problem still registering through his distraction, even as he begins to scritch under the kitten's chin with delicate fingertips. "I do hope it's only a fluke..."
no subject
"It's Kirkwall," he says a little sadly. He'd liked the mother cat. She didn't hang around a lot or trust people to pet her, but she'd known to chirp at him for food when she needed it. "They're at an age where they need more warmth than they can generate, and considering how the city doesn't exactly look after cats it seemed prudent to get them where they'd be loved and looked after rather than risk a cold night for them."
If she does come back and is upset, he'll be there for her. He's already planning on a couple of visits to her nesting spot over the next few days. But this way he can make sure the little ones make it. Speaking of making it...
"I've got, hang on." Anders fishes out a couple of small jars from a belt pouch. "Can I set these on your desk? They're a blend of cooked and mashed chicken and fish and a little milk so that it's very wet and easy for him to digest. There's a woman in the kitchen who likes providing kitten food, Tirial, but he'll only need a jar a day."
no subject
There's so very little Vandelin knows about the care and keeping of kittens, or of grown cats, or of any other animal--but his usual method of dealing with this, holing himself up in the library until he's found a book from which he can draw sufficient conclusion without ever having to ask another living being for help, would be counterproductive here when he has Anders available as all the resource he needs.
Loath as he is to admit it, Anders is right. Vandelin can take or leave almost anything about his own health or well-being, but even his absurdly overpowered sense of pride won't let an orphaned kitten starve or freeze for its sake. He'll look after himself if he must.
"I can probably make it myself if that's the whole recipe," he muses, as the kitten digs curious claws into his robes. "But I suppose it would be easier to let her. He'll need a name..."
no subject
"And as far as a name..." Anders considers it for a moment, looking over at the kitten. "Hasmeowl? Free Meowcher? It strikes me that I don't know as much about you personally as I perhaps ought. I don't know if you've heroes, or friends you'd want to name a cat after, or if you've any idea of who your family is or was."
no subject
He thinks Myr deserves the chance to throw a few suggestions into the ring, too, and perhaps once the office is occupied again, he'll ask Araceli--she's had so many pets to name, and outdone herself every time.
The question makes him glance over, thoughtful, concealing the barest little stirring of unease. No, there would be no reason for Anders to know very much in the way of the personal when Vandelin hasn't volunteered it--nothing about friends, of which he has few, or heroes, of which he tries to have none, and certainly not about family, of which he has an embarrassment of riches as far as mages go, and Myr doesn't talk about it either, because twenty years of desperately-ingrained habit is not so easily set aside when there's still incentive to stay quiet.
"My family would probably have wanted me to name him something deadly dull and pious like Hessarian," he says lightly, able enough to remember back to the alienage. "I would have tried to get away with Meowferath, but from everything I recall of him, I doubt my father would have been amused." He detaches the kitten gently from his robes and cradles him, thinking. "I only had sisters, or I'd name him for one of them..."
But there had been Uncle Iolan, too. The idea hits him with an accompanying surge of emotion that makes him clam up altogether, loath to let even a friend see it.
"Anyway, I'll give it some more thought. He may be Hasmeowl yet. I'd be sure to credit you, but I think everyone will know a name like that was your doing without my having to say so." He grins.
no subject
"They may well figure it out," Anders says as he tries to return his smile to where it was. It's close, at least. "I'll leave you to bond with him, and you can call me on the crystals if you've any questions at all. I'm glad to help with cats."
He half-turns and pauses, looking back at Vandelin. "And if... If you ever want to talk, you can call me as well, you know."
no subject
"Of course," he says, and his appreciation is truly sincere. As the offer of company that it is, it warms him, and he has no desire to reject it. "I'll try not to bother you too often when he does something cute. But I'll let you know once I've decided on a name."
no subject
"As if I'd have any objections to hearing about a cat doing something cute. Please call me as often as you'd like with stories of his antics, Vandelin." And with another flash of a smile, Anders is headed out. How much he matters to Vandelin is beside the point right now - the cat seems to already be doing the trick and Anders will take comfort in that.