Open The Docks Blood On Her Paws

[Berchar Fleetfoot]

Though it came as some relief that Barrett wasn’t drunk enough to be cantankerous but rather acquiesced to Amnesty’s recommendations, that still left the practicality of getting him there. Being a good head shorter than the vixen he had made a valiant attempt, bolstered by the added support of his tail at times to keep him from tipping backwards, but it was by no means easy. Still, gentlemanly attitudes had been drilled into him since birth and he persisted gamely to support Arthur.

It came as considerable relief to hear that they had reached their destination, only for his long ears and tail to wilt dramatically at the next revelation. “Oh, mercy,” he breathed, chest heaving. Wide red-brown eyes sized up the stairs for a moment, trying to weigh up the risks of even getting the marten upstairs. “Perhaps one of us goes in front and the other behind?” He pulled a face. "Unless we camp out down here and wait, of course."

 

[Arthur Barrett]

Well. The trenches had their names for a reason. Bully liked to build vertically. Suppose he should've seen that coming.

It was about that time, Barrett remembered a particularly unfortunate jingle that some marketing executive cobbled together, and paid for various bards and minstrels to sing about town -- and the tune was catchy enough to bore itself into your mind like a little parasite¹. You either laughed, or you cried -- and as they started up the stairs, Barrett chose to sing it (quite drunkenly) at his own expense.

"Oh when they can't climb right up the stairs
Peaceful Meadows Retirement Home,
Peaceful Meadows Retirement Home,
Peaceful Meadows, Retirement Home!
Don't letcher loved one, fall and break a bone!
Peaceful Meaaa-doooows, Re-tiiiire-meeeemt Home!"

Making it up the first flight, the pine marten lumbered along the balcony, and rounded his way towards the second flight of stairs. Tipsy as he may be, Arthur wasn't doing a terrible job with climbing. Pine martens lived for heights! As they crossed the balcony on the second floor, Arthur started the second verse.

"Don't wanna find them, lyin' on the floor
Peaceful Meadows Retirement Home,
Peaceful Meadows Retirement Home,
Peaceful Meadows, Retirement Home!
We'll shovel'm back in to bed for you
At Peaceful Meaaa-doooows, Re-tiiiire-meeeemt Home!"

And of course, by the third floor there was the bridge.

"We'll do their laundry if we must
File taxes and manage the trust.
And our oat bran always gets a solid A!
But if they hit on our head nurse,
We'll wheel 'em outside inside a hearse
At Peaceful Meaaa-doooows, Re-tiiiire-meeeemt Home!"

Barrett was winded now, and needed a moment to collect himself before starting the final set of stairs. Gripping the banister, he announced loudly, "KEY CHANGE!" and started off again.

"When they can't get it up no more,
Peaceful Meadows Retirement Home,
Peaceful Meadows Retirement Home,
Peaceful Meadows, Retirement Home!
We mean the laun-der-ry line of course!
Peaceful Meaaa-doooows, Re-tiiiire-meee--"

Lamentably, just before Arthur arrived at the fourth floor landing, he lost his footing. He tumbled down the flight of stairs, and crashed against the wall in a pile of pine marten. "Ooof! Oww!" Bump, bump, bump, THUD! "Owwh gatesh!"

It was really quite a violent landing. Someone should make sure he was alright.

¹ While the tune was to the old song, "Down By the Riverside", the lyrics were (naturally) credited to Ruffano Quickwhistle.

 

[Liza Fairpaw]

The door to the third floor apartment opened and Liza peered out at the mustelid crumpled in a heap in front of her. The mouse Unsmudgable held a paw to her side. She looked up the staircase and lifted her other paw in a small wave at Amnesty.

"Uh, is he a friend o'yours?" Liza crouched gingerly beside the marten, nose wrinkling at the smell of grog and vomit on him. "You alright, mate?"

 

[Amnesty Greysoul]

Curse and consign this night to the festering depths.

Amnesty had followed Arthur up all four flights of stairs, slowly allowing herself to think that her (possibly) ill-advised decision to make sure that the marten was alright was going to turn out just fine after all. Berchar had appeared and offered further help. Arthur had gone with them willingly, and then he had proven himself more physically capable than she had allowed herself to hope.

And then he'd fallen down the bloody stairs. No, she had let him fall down the bloody stairs. What kind of medic did she think she was? Hellgates. She turned a wry glance on Berchar and muttered, "Should've done like you said. Maybe we'd have caught him."

And then she started down the stairs, wincing at Arthur's moaning. At least he was still conscious enough to make noise. She winced again as her neighbor's apartment door opened.

"More an acquaintance. Evening, Liza. Arthur, don't move. If you didn't just break your neck on the way down it'll be a Giftsgiving miracle."