Cricket's chickens have had a minor escapade today. Someone or something tugged a hole in the fence--and maybe it was Roland's companions, but maybe it wasn't. In the Nexus it could have been any kind of playful creature, from a Pokemon to a god in the shape of a magpie. Regardless, he's spend the last hour and a half fixing the fence and then rounding up the escapees. Stir-Fry, the largest wyandotte, and Hot-Sauce, one of the younger black silkies, are the last two, and they are clearly very curious about Roland and the creatures hanging around him, circling and clucking and eyeing him from a safe distance.

Hot-Sauce won't be hard to round up, Cricket knows, but Stir-Fry is fractious and will need to be outmaneuvered. He blames Loki for being a bad influence.

It's not until he gets close that he notes what they're looking at, and at first he takes the higgledies for some kind of Pokemon. Trying his best not to get distracted by curiosity, he makes a grab for Hot-Sauce, and tucks her under his arm as she fusses halfheartedly. He gives Roland a wry smile and a little shrug. "I got some little troublemakers of my own this mornin'. Hope they ain't bothering you and yours?"