Outside 18 Apocalypse Avenue, Saturday morning

[idontlooktired]

Harriet was sitting on the deck, drinking her tea and watching Mustang (the cat) hunt something brown and skittery.

Make that somethings brown and skittery, she mentally corrected, as several more of them landed on the deck, then scattered as Mustang pounced.

Her nose wrinkled in distaste as she realised what they looked like. Cockroaches. Only

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[on_her_korhal]

A dark figure (in more ways than one; she'd pulled on the coat and was obviously glowering) stalked her way up to 18 Apocalypse, her eyes automatically searching for the door or--

Well, that made things easier. Kerrigan walked up to the deck, making a good effort to push down on her urge to glare at whatever came in sight next. "Harriet?"

[on_her_korhal]

"He can get sympathy once he starts whining about something a little more horrible than the fact that the people who care about him won't coddle him if he deliberately pushes his luck to the point of getting his ass kicked twice in one week," she snapped, "He's eighteen, for god's sake."

Where she came from, eighteen was very, very adult.

[idontlooktired]

"Easy Kerrigan," Harriet told her mildly. "He's just a boy, and teenage boys do stupid things. They get hurt because of them. At least this lesson was one he'll remember, and survive."

[on_her_korhal]

"I'm not holding my breath on the remembering part," she muttered, taking a gulp off her tea like it was a beer or something.

[idontlooktired]

"I'm sure you can come up with a way to make it memorable," Harriet told her, picking up her tea again.