Hey! Rude! Uncalled-for assault! Ambush on your own houseguest! Treachery of the highest order! A betrayal of the sluzhanka way probably! And also mean!!!

These are all things he could say. Instead, he says:

“Ackpthpthtphtpthtp [i]noooooooooooooooooooooo!!!”[/i]

Not even shrinking into his armor of blankets sparks the slightest hint of sympathy in the heart of this wicked, tricksy fox. Woe. Alas.

(Okay, but seriously, how was any of that precious? 

Not that he’s complaining! This is nice! 

But seriously. He was just explaining how things were at the Chrysthanamum, since he hadn’t had a chance to explain himself. And then he had some honest questions about sluzhankas so he wouldn’t mess up the plan and be forced to do wolfgirl chores. Perfectly normal behavior. Which apparently earns him the rufflening of a lifetime. Duly noted.)

Olesya interrupts them like a slammed door.

Hazel emerges from his protective cocoon, nose first, peeking out and sniffing the air for whiffs of Trouble. The coast is clear. Solemn, serious, but clear. The rest of his head and ears are safe to pop out and rejoin the conversation. It’s a bit difficult to look serious when ensconced in roughly one million blankets. It’s harder to look serious when untangling yourself from one million blankets, so this will have to do. It’s hardest of all to look serious when somebody is making creatively ambiguous comments about chest comfort! Juniper!!! What is he supposed to say to that?!?!

He contemplates the offered key. He contemplates it so hard. It is the only thing he is reacting to, for sure. Then, when he has finished [s]disassociating for a few seconds or so[/s] his contemplations, one hand emerges from the nest to take up the precious key. “Alright.” He nods. Determined. Serious. “I’ll do my best.”

What else can he say, really?

Nevermind that he’s only been here, what, a few weeks? Nevermind he can count the number of times he’s drawn his heartblade on one hand. Nevermind that this bed is still oh so toasty warm and the rain hitting the tent is more soothing than any lullaby. There’s a game of pretend that needs playing, and these sluzhankas are in this with him now. They’re his to care for, and protect, and something else that he will figure out later. For however long he’s staying here. If they can all make it to the ball together? If they can keep up appearances long enough? Then they’ll all be in the clear.

Or, he’ll be in the clear, and they’ll be going back to Olesya, and if Juniper is this happy being her sluzhanka then she’s alright in his book.

Now. First order of business: He fusses and wrestles with the blankets, wrapping them this way, then that way, and, no, yeah, it’s impossible to do this important Serigalamu ritual while looking like a walking burrito. So he will have to do this important Serigalamu ritual in nothing but a vest and booty shorts. Cool cool cool cool cool cool cool cool. Cool.

Second order of business: Walking slowly to the rattling chest. Key in hand. To release the sluzhankas. His. Sluzhankas.

Third order of business: …………………………….

You know. When he was listening to Yuki’s stories, and chatting with folks in the group chat. He learned that this was a world where, yeah, sometimes? Sometimes you get huntress servants delivered to you in an ornate chest. It’s a high honor! A grand gift! Way more honor than would ever be given to him, and so, it was perfectly reasonable and natural to never really devote much thought to being on the receiving end the gesture! Which is making these next steps! Tricky! Really, he thought he would be more, on the side? Somewhere in the crowd, front row if he was really lucky, while this sort of thing happened to somebody else. Put him there, and he can ooh and ahh with the best of them. He’s great at that.

Deep breaths, Hazel. Deep breaths.

Kneeling down, he places one hand atop the chest, and sets the key to the lock with his other. The wood is thick. The lock is intricate. The inhabitants inside will hear something happening.

Turn. Turn. Click. 

Try not to shiver, and…