The cartographer's shop is small.  Certainly too small for the panthers, whi have to content themselves with peering in through the dozens of square panes which make up the shop's window.  What they can see inside certainly looks interesting.

Still, the courtyard where they are required to wait is at least partly sheltered from the weather, which seems to have settled now, to occasional showers, interspersed with spells of sunshine, during which the yard warms up nicely.

Ren Mayhew, the cartographer is like his place of work: small and untidy, and it's hard to tell which smells more of ink, the man or the shop.  He is, as has been noted, small.  Thin and crook-backed, which serves to reduce his height even further, so that he stands less than five feet tall.  His hair is grey, and thinning, and he wears thick-lensed spectacles, which give the illusion of abnormally large eyes.

His clothes and hands are ink-stained, and he appears to have managed, somehow, to draw a couple of straight lines across his left cheek.

The shop itself contains shelves and cabinets, filled with hundreds of neatly rolled maps, each with a tag attached to it, neatly marked in a tiny, precise script.  There are more maps scattered across desks and benches, and stacked in the corners of the floor.  Some are even framed, and hang in the few spaces where the walls show between the cabinets and shelves.

The old man rubs his hands together, as his visitors walk in, and says, in an ancient, cracked voice, "Good day to you.  How may Ren Mayhew be of service to you today?"

If he notices the curious feline faces, peering in through the window, he shows no sign of it.

 

As carefree as it most likely was possible to be for anyone or anything, Banglen-Yp came skipping in the door after having thanked the big cat for the ride once more, smiling happily and then waving to the man who greeted them.

•• Maps ••

It was an exclamation, a verification and perhaps also in some small part a question.  She smiled as brightly as anyone ever could have, excited as a child in a candy store.

Pulling up her shoulders she puts her hands between her thighs as she stopped in front of the small man, with expected results on her physical structure.

•• Bang•len••Yp ••

A cheerful statement, and an introduction, although that may not be completely clear.  Then, a short on, after a glance over at Morgan.

•• Bee ••

 

Morgan hadn't had a comment, other than a grin, for the announcement about the kitten's ambitions.

Banglen's continued enthusiasm is contagious, though, so it is a very broad grin, and has not left his face when he meets the cartographer.

"First, you can let me pass on a friend's greetings.  Jer Garrick gave us your directions, and sends his greetings and a promise to stop by later."

A pause, and he continues, "And secondly, I'm finding myself confused, and thought a good set of maps might help. Do you have the land and sea routes to Amber here?"

"Ah, it'll be good ter see Jer.  Got a keen int'rest in maps, 'e as." Mayhew says, with a smile, as he unhooks a ladder from one set of shelves and attaches it to another.

He starts to climb, calling over his shoulder, "Been a great 'elp ter me too.  Knows quite a bit 'bout the sea lanes 'twixt 'ere an' Amber, an' e's been a boon ter me in mappin' them."

Selecting seferal large rolls of paper, he begins his descent, "But there's land roads, as well, but they're a bit more... roundabout.  Ah, there we are."

A large heap of half-completed maps, reams of notes, and scraps of paper, turns out to have a desk buried beneath it, which the cartographer clears with a sweep of his arm.  He unrolls one of the retrieved scrolls, and grabs one of Banglen-Yp's hands, placing it on a corner of the map to stopi it furling up again.

"There... as near as I can make out from the observations o' travellers comin' in ter talk ter me... the best road ter Amber, by land, follows this path up through the moutains behind Cadiniagart, an 'then 'roun' 'ere.  Through this way, then almost doubles back on itself a couple o' times, until...   Well, as yer can see, it's a long road, an' not all o' the stories I've 'eard 'bout it match in every detail."

"One thing they mostly agrees on though...  Much of this section through... 'ere... is safe as 'ouses, on account that it's a toll road, guarded by local kingdoms, an' kep' clear o' bandits."

He looks up, and peers at the faces of his visitors, "Did I offer you tea?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:09, Fri 11 May 2007.

 

Having followed him with her eyes and listened to the man as he moved about, Banglen-Yp, or Bee, giggled as he took her hand and placed it on the map she is glad he did not try to grab something else to put on the map.

•• Tea ••

It was anyone guess why she said it, and it was hard to tell what she meant, whether it was a question or a statement.

But then she shook her head.

•• No ••

That was a clear statement, at least.  The kitten leapt down on the map and tried to catch a particularly interesting looking mark, in vain naturally, as she spoke again.

•• Offer ••

It was amazing.  Her first word not broken into syllables.  Odds were no one would really notice it, however, since there were so few here and it was normal to speak that way, if not perhaps for her up to that point.

 

"Ahh."  Morgan exhales, examining the picture. "Now I see why they assume the sea route faster.

He shrugs, giving up on convincing them otherwise, and agrees (he thinks) with Banglen-Yp. "I daren't think so."

"Oh, don't yer be gettin' me wrong.  Land roads ter Amber are tricky.  Seems like no two folks'll tell me the same tale twice.  Why, I 'ad a lass in 'ere jus' a couple o' weeks back who tried ter tell me that it weren't so far as I showed on the map."

He looks from one of his visitors to the other, and back again.  "I'll make that tea."  He disappears through a door, half hidden behind a teetering stack of leather-bound books, and a moment later there is a clattering from the room beyond, followed by the sound of pouring water.

The old man's voice carries through from where he works, "She 'ad some cock an' bull story about 'ow there are lots o' ways ter get ter Amber from Cadiniagart, an' that what I 'as down as one long road is really lots o' diff'rent roads all jumbled up.  Not sure if I believes 'er or not.  Frankly, it sounds a bit far-fetched ter me... but then I've 'ad trouble makin' the land road distance match up with what yer frien' Jer tells me is the sea distance."

"Did yer want milk or honey with yer tea?" he asks, popping his head back around the stack of books.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:15, Mon 14 May 2007.

 

•• Yes ••

Banglen-Yp answered the old man with a smile, thought for a moment and added another word.

•• Please ••

Even she had heard of the land of milk and honey and tea sounded nice too, if one were to believe the Brits as the screen had said, so it had to be really lovely, all put together.

Turning to Morgan she smiled at him as well, leaving the kitten to be rolled up in the map as she removed her hand.

•• By sea ••

Definitely a question, and without that odd, barely noticeable pause between the words.

 

Morgan hastily unrolls the map again, fetching the tiny kitten out onto his palm. Tiny claws are all that's needed to damage a map. "On ships. I prefer land, food isn't as much a problem and ships are slow."  He answers her question, hoping he understands it right.

 

Neither seeming to mind to be rolled up, rolled out or picked up by Morgan, the little kitten sat down in his palm and appeared to study this man in whose palm it was sitting.

It meowed at him and tilted it head to one side, as if asking something, or possibly stating something.  But it was hard to tell what.

•• But • land • is • slow ••

She pointed at the now rolle dup map and smiled at Morgan, then looked down at the cat and meowed at it.

Equally hard that it had been to say what the kitten meant, it was very tricky at best to know whether or not the kitten at all understood what she had said, if indeed anything.

•• Over • water • ship • is • faster ••

It was not the kitten who said that, but the strange blonde, once more looking and smiling at the man who was owned by a large group of large cats; the kind of cat the little kitten wanted to be when it grew up.

There are many intelligent species in the universe, all of them owned by cats.

 

Ren Mayhew disappears from view again, and there are sounds, suggestive of the making of tea, from beyond the partially hidden door.

Outside, the wind starts to rise, howling across the rooftops of the city.  For the moment, at least, the small square continues to provide some shelter from the rain.  A fare of brilliant light casts the curious faces of the panthers beyond the window into stark relief, and thunder roars above the sound of the gale.

"Goodness!" the cartographer exclaims, as he returns with a tray bearing three cups, two small jugs, and a teapot, as well as sundry spoons.

"Weather like that's only good fer one thing, I reckon... An' that's makin' yer glad yer indoors with a cup o' nice hot tea."

"Now then... were yer lookin' ter buy a map, or commission me ter make one fer yer own travels?" he asks, as he starts to pour the tea.

Morgan  seemed uncertain how to respond to this sally, and in the event, is rescued by Mayhew's question.  "To buy, if possible.  We shan't be in town long."

"That could be a problem, if'n yer wantin' a map ter Amber." Mayhew says, with a sigh, and places three more scrolls on top of the map that they've been discussing.  All of them are ones which he retrieved from the shelves at the same time.

"That map is the best I been able ter make...  These three are ones that I started on, only people tol' me that they was wrong, so I started again, see?  Strange thing is, parts of these three are all on that one, e'en though I were tol' by various folk that they were dead wrong."

"It's like the road changes fer people, jus' like that lass said ter me.  An' she also said ter me that the good map is wrong too."

He stabs a finger down on the map, traces a line which weaves across the surface, then taps at the paper, "'Ere we are... she said as how there's a tunnel, or a pass, or somesuch, leads from 'ere to... 'ere." the new location is about half way across the map.  "Reckons it'd cut 'bout a month off the journey, but... her numbers di'n't add up anyhow.  Fer 'xample, she said the shortcut only takes 'bout two hours by coach... but yer can see it's a good hundred leagues, even if'n it's a dead straight line."

He frowns, and adds, "I tol' 'er that, an she said, 'crows travel in straight lines, but clever people know that some routes are shorter than straight lines.'"

"Buggered if I know what she were talkin' 'bout."

Grimacing, Morgan nods. "I think I know what she was talking about. A certain amount of magic is involved in the routes' making. Something matching what a few people could agree on is fair enough, or a copy of your large map, if that's possible. A hell for honest map-makers, but for my purposes some idea of the commonalities is all I need."

He pauses, "Or the route as she described it to you, with her descriptions of the time it takes. "

 

•• Manyworlds • Manypaths • Oneshortpath ••

Banglen-Yp sounded almost cheerful as she made her strange, quick statements, three in quick succession, then she reached out to pick up the little kitten.

She meowed at him and hugged him to her chest where he rolled over on his back and mewled back, stretching out and waving a paw up at her face.  She bent down and let him put his tiny paw against her nose, something which he seemed to enjoy.

Moving towards the tea she giggled and looked up for a moment, the kitten looking over to where she looked as well.

•• Tea ••

Question or not, that was the question, but she smiled as bright as the sun breaking through an overcast sky.

 

Morgan nods to his companion. "Exactly." The playlet with the kitten brings another smile to his lips. He asks gently, as she moves toward the tea  "Have you had tea before, Banglen-Yp?"

 

•• Noneverbefore ••

The answer came quickly, cheerfully and with the hint of a laughter in it.

Meanwhile the kitten curled up on the side in her cupped hands and twisted it head so that it came to lay upside down.  There it laid, observing the world upside-down, perhaps trying to see if made more sense that way.  Who really knows what goes on in the mind of a cat, especially one that apparently enjoyed the company of the curious entity known as Banglen-Yp.

•• ItisverycommoninsomeplacesfromwhereIcame ••

Was it one word or several?  Hard to tell, but it sounded like a statement.  She stopped herself and pondered for a moment, tilting her head to one side.  The kitten, who had looked up, or down perhaps, at her curiously long sound, tilted its head along with her.

Then came a short question.

•• Toofast ••

 

"Ahh." The words make enough sense, at least, for him.  Of course, he speaks fluent cat, so mayhap his perceptions are a bit distorted. "A bit slower would be pleasant." He answers gently, wincing as another gust of wind crashes by outside.  Luckily, his friends can't be hurt by a bit of cold or wet.

"Since you haven't a free hand, I shall pour for us all, then." He proceeds to do so, guessing that Banglen-Yp will like hers somewhat sweet, and asking the cartographer his preference.

Mayhew thinks for a moment, then turns away.  As he moves off, he waves a hand in Morgan;s direction, and says, a little absently, "Ah... I like mine with plenty o' milk, an' just a little honey."

"Now... where was it?"

He studies the shelves, before moving on to the next set, "Magic, yer says.  Well, while I can't say as I 'old with magic, I can see 'ow it'd mess things up if a person were tryin' ter get a proper map, with all the right measures an' all."

"Ahah!  That's it."

He shoves another pile of maps aside, and pulls out a leather-bound book.  He drops it onto the map and opens it up.  "This is my notes on what she said.  See... distances an' times, an' locations...  An' this is my first sketch of a map to Amber based on 'er words."

"It's not finished yet, but if yer can come back in the mornin', I'll copy out what I 'as so far fer yer.  Try ter tidy it up a bit."

"I think we can do that."  Morgan agrees easily, knowing they've already chosen an inn for the night.  He glances out the window, to see the pair of cats lounging against each other, one raising her head to glance inside.

"Do you know how long she said it would be, in total? "

 

Smiling at Morgan as he suggested a bit slower, Banglen-Yp turned to regard the window through which she could see the large cats which was the aspiration of the little kitten in her arms.

•• But • not • this • slow ••

It was half a question, half not.  She turned back to Morgan as he offered to pour her tea and nodded.

•• Thank you • Morgan ••

Another brilliant smile, and then she watched him prepare the tea, gently shifting the kitten to the nook of one arm, at which it stood up again the bend of the arm and rolled up on its head, then sank down to end up on its back with the head towards the hand.  It looked as if it was really enjoying itself.

•• Perhaps some milk for the little one ••

The Screen had shown cats enjoying milk, at least, although they did prefer something called cream even more.

 

"She talked in terms o' days, 'stead o' the weeks, or e'en months that others tol' me.  Three, maybe four, days, dependin' on 'ow yer travels.  Jer tol' me it's six days, or a week, by ship... which'd be one reason I di'n't believe  'er." the old cartographer replies, with a chuckle.  "Course, she never made mention o' anythin'... unnat'ral like, bein' involved, so I thought as 'ow she were jus' tryin' ter impress me, ter get a bit more silver out o' me, d'y'see?

He thinks for a moment, and then continues, "Talkin' o' which... bein' as 'ow yer friends o' Jer's, an' 'e's been such an 'elp ter me, I can let yer 'ave the map, in the mornin', fer just five shillin's, bearin' in mind as I'll 'ave ter work all night ter get it done."

"Right"  Morgan answers her, followed by "You're welcome."   Setting a saucer down on the table, once the cups were prepared, he tips a bit of milk into it.

"That's interesting." Morgan pauses, looking embarassed, and fetches a large gold coin from his purse.  "Would this be more than five shillings?"

"I'll see what I can... " Mayhew says, and stops, suddenly, his eyes almost bulging as Morgan shows the coin, "If'n that's gold, then it's enough ter buy yerself 'alf the shop, Lad.  I can say that fer certain."

He rubs his cheek, smearing the ink marks there, "I ain't sure I can give yer change o' that, it's been a quiet couple o' days.  Likely it'd be better if yer get somethin' a bit smaller, an' pay me in the mornin', when yer comes back."

"I'm mindful o' my repertation, d'y'see?  I'll not want word spreadin' roun' foreign parts that I charge too much."

Shrugging, Morgan digs out a few more coins. "Suit yourself. How about four, and you send a copy of everything you have, and what new you get in, to Julian in Amber by way of Jer? A recurring gift from me to him, as you get things copied. You seem an honest sort, and its rather easier for me to gift him than be cheated by another coins changer. Though I'd rather you test the coin before accepting."

In truth, Morgan feels himself at a bargain. He'd gotten more than the weight of the blades in various metals, and has long gotten past any guilt at selling some of the weapons. Factory issue to him, a trinket to others, and incredible value to yet a third. Enough to pay their trip back, certainly.

Somewhere overhead the wind increases its force, and there is the sound of a window shattering.

Banglen-Yp's kitten gives a start, and Mayhew glares up at the ceiling... "That'll be that bloody storeroom I s'pose.  The catch on the shutter's broke, an' the winder faces towards the sea.  Just lucky I don't use the upstairs rooms no more.  Specially the ones on the top floor."

His attention comes back to Morgan's offer, and he tugs at his lower lip before answering, "That'd be fine with me.  Yer'll get yer map in the mornin', right enough.  The others I'll work on as I can.  If'n I can't get 'em sorted out afore Jer goes 'ome, I'll send 'em with other ships, as an' when I can."

"Would that be good?"

Absently, Morgan's hand moves to tickle and soothe the kitten in Banglen's arms. He grins to Mayhew's answer, "Perfect! "  and lays the coins on the table.

 

Having set the kitten down on the table so it could have its milk, Banglen-Yp accepted the tea with yet another smile - she had smiled a lot when first they met, but that was more as if it was a reflex; these were warmer and seemed less automated, even if the old ones had been far from empty smiles.

Happy to savour the tea she once more appeared to zone out and not hear what was being said, although she did instantly reach out to pick up the kitten as it started, once more cradling it in her arms.

With the arm around him and the addition of Morgan's soothing and tickling the kitten appeared to quickly forget that something had startled it at all and Banglen-Yp herself laughed quietly and softly at it, as well as Morgan's hand coming to the rescue of the kitten.

Perhaps it was a good thing she had not hugged it to her generous bosom, or someone might have been slapped.  Then again, maybe not, as she had yet to receive such advice.  Now, the universe would never know, as the kitten was merely in the nook of her arm.

•• Cat person ••

A simple, nearly normal sounding statement - yet lingering was this slightly odd tone that still set her apart from most others, if not all.

 
This message was last edited by the player at 05:59, Mon 28 May 2007.

"Yes."  The word is almost as abrupt as some of her statements. It takes no thought for the agreement.  He had spent the last  year? or more with them his only companions, not that they'd been far from his affections before then. And if she referred to herself, he has no reason to argue.  He has seen her become one.

He sips at his tea, and smiles at its warmth spreads through him. "Should we let you go, with things to do in the storm?" He tries his best to make the question courteous.

"Ter tell the truth, I'd be glad o' the company." the old mapmaker replies.  "Stay an' finish yer tea, at least  I doubt there'll be many customers comin' in, because of the weather, an the fact that we're gettin' less travellers in jus' lately."

Another gust of wind seems to rattle the whole building, and howls somewhere in the upper floors.  Mayhew sighs, "Like I said, I don't use the upstairs rooms no more.  Too much trouble ter clean, an my legs can't manage the stairs so well now.  Need ter keep some strength fer climbin' the ladder down 'ere."

As he talks, he starts sorting through some of the jumble of maps and charts, checking the attached tags, unrolling the maps and studying them, holding them to get the advantage of the light, before rolling them up again, and sorting them into several stacks.

"I'll pick out the good ones ter send first, with Jer.  The really interestin' ones.  The rest I'll send later."

Morgan nods his approval.  "I'll thank you for that. Those wheels.  I've seen them elsewhere, from time to time. Whence your inspiration?"

"What's that?  Yer've seen 'em?  With yer own eyes?" Mayhew looks more than a little shocked at this revelation.

"Well I'll be buggered... a glance at Banlen-Yp, "Beggin' yer pardon Miss."

"I were told of 'em by a seafarin' man what came in 'ere a few weeks back.  Captain o' the... the... what were it called again?  Ah, yes... the Porpoise.  Spun a yarn, 'e did, about seein' one o' these things in a place a ways east o' Cadiniagart."

A shake of his head, and Mayhew continues, "I thought nought o' the tale, at the time.  Sometimes people come in 'ere an' try ter sell me wild stories o' far off lands, so I jus' added the things in as a bit o' decoratin' on a map I were workin' on.  But now yer've confirmed 'is story, an' with all yer talk o' magic, an' such... "

"Yer not pullin' an ol' man's leg, are yer?"

Morgan vigorously moves his head in denial.  "No joke, and if you see any yourself, I'd suggest keeping as much distance as you can. The most of them are lethal, even dying. 'struth, seeing is believing, and I've seen more than I'd care to. If you'd pen what you remember of the tale in with that map you send, I'd appreciate it. "

He would almost smile, but the memory of that devastated battlefield keeps it from his face.  "Its naught to do with your purpose, I know. But call it an extended version of legend for the main work. As you can see from my friends in the window,  much that might be dismissed as story is cold fact."

"What?" Mayhew turns, and walks across to the window, where tha panthers look back at him, with just as much interest as the man displays in studying them.

With a stunned expression, he swivels on his heel to face Morgan and Banglen-Yp, "They're cats!  An' did they start out that size?" he asks, one finger pointing out Banglen-Yp's small friend.  "What'd yer feed 'em on?"

Looking out of the window once more, he shakes his head.  "I've seen it all now."

"I'll do what yer ask, an' send along what I recall of the tale ter yer friend."

Morgan grins. "They're born not quite the size of a four-year child."  The first question answered, he responds to the next, "Would you believe they like oranges? They actually eat much the same as I do, just usually a bit less cooking, and a lot more of it. "

Winking at Banglen-Yp, he adds a bit of tale to the telling, "I'm told the little one aims to grow up their size, though."

As the man agrees, another smile light's Morgan's face. "I'm obliged."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:35, Sun 03 June 2007.

 

Getting busy playing with the kitten again, Banglen-Yp seemed to zone out and get lost in her own little world while Morgan and the mapmaker talked.  She would tickle his tummy and he would grab her hand and kick at it, gnaw on the tip of her fingers and try to look as intimidating as he could where he was in the nook of her arm.

She only looked up at the old man with a light laughter as he apologised for his language, and then refocused on playing with her little friend.

However, when he pointed to the kitten after looking out the window, both of them turned to regard him - she with a big smile and the kitten with a mewl as he stood up, trying to look as big as he could.

It seemed to almost nod at Morgan's statement about it growing up to the size of the large cats.

•• Yes • he will • one day ••

She replied on behalf of the kitten and ruffled its head gently, at which the fierce predator flipped over and clung to the hand while trying to chew on the tip of yet another finger.

 

Morgan doesn't really believe Banglen, but ... stranger things have happened.  He certainly isn't going to correct her. The sight of her and the kitten brings back warm memories, though he tries to avoid inching his gaze upward, to prevent other untoward upwards movements.

The old cartographer studies the kitten for a moment, before looking from Banglen-Yp to Morgan.  From his expression it is clear that he's not really sure  what to believe.

So, instead, he returns his attention to the strange sight beyond the window.

Suddenly he gasps, and turns back, his eyes wide, looking as though they will fall out of his head at any moment, "They've got saddles!  They can be rid, then, fer all the world like 'orses?"

Its Morgan's turn to look a trifle confused.  "umm.. yeah. "   Perhaps bemused might have been a better term.  Their size shocked people. He hadn't considered the riding part as unusual recently.

 

Unaware of the struggle she is putting Morgan through, Banglen-Yp continued to play with the kitten, bending her head down to let her long hair fall over it, where the kitten began to try to catch all the strands at once, by the looks of it.  As she lifted the head a little the kitten came up with it and she laughed, lifting a hand to help support it as it began to chew on the golden locks, taking a rather wobbly stance at the fabric that spanned the gap between the very things Morgan tried so hard not to look at.

She looked up some more when the old man mention saddles and nodded eagerly, making the kitten sort of dance like a puppet on strings, framed by a, to some, distracting border.

•• Oh not quite like horses • much more fun ••

She laughed as the kitten suddenly lost it grips and fell down in the make-shift balcony between her fronts, where it sat up and looked over the edge at Morgan and the old man with the expression that only cats can have when they try to imply that they meant to do what just happened, no matter how absurd it might seem.

•• You can not stay there silly ••

She laughed again and the kitten looked up at her now, as if to ask what was wrong with his current, comfortable location.

 

Morgan chuckles, looking at the kitten sitting there so proudly, then turning away.  Little girl in big body. Can't take advantage. Damnit  "Since his cousin is giving you a lift, he obviously feels entitled!"

Mayhew turns to see what is happening, and his face starts to colour.  He finishes his tea, and hastens out of the room.  A moment later he returns, without his empty cup.

"Well, it's been nice talkin' ter yers, and I do 'preciate the business.  But I should be gettin' on, if'n yer want yer map by mornin'."

Setting down his cup, Morgan moves his head in cheerful acceptance. "I won't keep you, then. Shall we ride, Banglen-Yp?"

He goes to the door, making ready to hold it open for his companion, and waves through it. "A bit wet, but we'll make the hostel all right, I'm sure."

 

Having fished out the kitten, Banglen-Yp smiled brightly enough to nearly dry up the storm outside, and nodded to Morgan.

•• Thank you for the tea ••

She looked over to the mapmaker and made a little curtsey to him before turning to walk towards the door which Morgan was holding open.

As she walked she somehow faded or shifted into what looked like sturdy a raincoat with a hood, but at such a pace it was hard to tell for certain it was happening or if the light was playing tricks on the eye.

•• A little rain never killed anyone • except under very specific circumstances ••

A clear statement aimed at Morgan along with another smile as she tucked the kitten under her coat - but not between the distracting parts.

 

The door closes behind them, and the old man watches from the window as they head across the square and through the alley to the street.

There is another noise from upstairs, this one sounding more like the slamming of a door, and a moment later, a blast of cold wind turns all the maps in the store into a whirling, frenzied, dancing maelstrom of paper.

"I s'pose yer think yer bloody funny, eh?" Mayhew yells towards the ceiling.

With a sigh, he starts the process of tidying up.  Again.