"Weel," Eileen said with a certain smirk in her voice, "Aye could say sommat about actions an' consequences, but Aye'll bet ye ken all 'bout alla that, mmm?" She let herself relax now that he seemed done fighting. Still, her hands were secure around his wrists, lest he get the impulse to bolt.
Conary nodded in agreement, looking for all the world like a disappointed parent. He was about to turn back to the house for the cleaning paraphernalia when out of the dark floated a new cheery voice and the bright spot of another lantern.
"Oooch, Leen. Ye've gone an' made yersel a new friend."
Eileen huffed and peered out from behind the fox, for she was, predictably, too short to see over him. "Hush Fergus. I'm surprised ye actually got oop outa bed a'tal."
"Oh, me wee heart," Fergus shot back, finally materializing, his own lantern adding to the muted light of Conary's. He was grinning and sleep rumpled, and something in the way he stood there, lanky and expectant, gave him a very undisciplined air, so unlike the other two.
Instead of replying to that, Eileen huffed. "Uncle, could ye go an' git this git th' broom? Th' sooner he starts, th' sooner we can all git tae bed." To Fergus, she jerked her head down towards the cellar and said, "Come help me keep our guest comp'ny, aye?"
With out waiting for an answer, Eileen turned Rascal around and marched him down the steps. Over his sister's rod-straight back and stiff shoulders, Fergus asked the fox, "Wha did ye even do, boyo?"