when the sun's out

“It’s not too bad when the sun’s out, but the sun only comes out when it feels like coming out." (J.D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye)
((OOC: I thought I'd mention that the blog title--sleep tight, ya morons!--also comes from Catcher in the Rye, which (in my most humblest of opinions) is a brilliant book and, if you haven't read it, you should. What's my post going to be about? A man's search for identity and for love as he battles to recover from a tumultous past. Yeah, I just made that up, but who knows it could be. How will you know? Read on, brave soul.-Ishack))
Kyrus hesitated before raising a hand to knock on the porch door--
"What do you want...sir?"
He turned to see a young woman, gazing at him with cold black eyes.
"Just a room for the night, if it's available."
"I doubt it," the girl said quickly.
"Well I'd prefer to rely on your father's word and not yours," he proceeded to knock.
"My father is not home."
He turned back to look at her. "I can wait."
"No, he is not coming home any time soon."
"Who is your guardian?"
Without directly answering the question, she said, "I live with my older brother, Ben, and my mother."
He was becoming rather irritated at the extent of the conversation, "Then may I speak your brother?"
"No."
"Pardon?"
His words, so polite, were growled, but Gemma held her ground. "You may talk to me, or you may leave. I have as much authority in this house as anyone."
He laughed.
She glared at him.
He stopped laughing abruptly and asked in a truly stupified voice, "Oh come on, you cannot be serious."
She said nothing.
"You are." For a moment he just eyed her incredulously. "Well then...ma'am, may I use one of your spare rooms for the evening."
"No."
"On what basis can you say no to a weary traveler!" he roared angrily.
"On the basis of your having insulted my authority, raised your voice to me, and expected for no reason that my family would serve your every need."
"I said nothing about 'serving my every need'. I am a weary traveler, I want somewhere to rest."
"There is an inn at the village."
He sighed, "They turned me away."
"Then why would we want you?"
He hit the porch wall angrily, "If you don't give me a room I'll be dead by dawn!"
"What?" she said, quieter.
He gazed elsewhere, "Nothing, I shouldn't have said that."
"Dead?"
He looked her in the eye and growled, "Yes, dead. Murdered by a sisterhood of witches. Sound good?"
"That's a rather awful circumstance, isn't that." Gemma was truly worried, somewhat against her better instinct.
"Only for one night." It was as close to pleading as he could come.
For a moment she was silent, then she sighed, "I suppose, for tonight only. And you will stay away from my mother, she has not been feeling well of late and I do not want you to disturb her further. It is my house and you will follow my rules. If I ask you to fetch firewood, you will, if I tell you to leave the room, you will."
"There isn't another house within the next few miles, is there?"
"No, why?"
"Just making sure," he said regretfully.

((P.S. Sorry Ona that I took such control over your character's finer points. We can change them if there's a problem, e-mail me.))