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The hovel has a tense air to it, knowing that tomorrow, it's all or nothing. Either they will survive and complete the ritual, or... well. As Wraith says, no talk of losing at the table.
"We've prepared everything we can, right? I fixed up my gun, our skills are as sharp as ever. We spent days on our technique and making sure we know what will happen. We can do this." Krill reassures, moving to take Mo's hat off for the time being. Beady red eyes watch him, unfocused. Krill reaches up to hold Mo's face, and Mo doesn't fight the touch - it calms the swell of anxiety in his chest, and Mo instead leans into the way Krill holds him.
"We have a plan, too. We went over it with Pocket, so we're going in with expectations. It will work out, Momo." Krill continues, and Mo lets out a sad little huff.
Krill gently pets Mo's ear, lightly scratching behind it - most people don't realize he has little nubby ears under his hat. Mo leans heavily into this, grumbling as he does. It's understandable, with how the anxiety and the hesitation stew in the heart and mind, that something might go wrong. They're not the only ones in this fight, and should things go bad...
"C'mon, Momo - humor me." Krill urges, hopping up from his spot at the table. They've been triple checking the items on sale for an hour at this point, and it's probably high time they focused on something else. "C'mere."
Krill lightly tugs on Mo's arm, which is all the prodding Mo needs to come along with Krill's request. Saying No to Krill's more lighthearted schemes was always difficult, especially because they always ended up being incredibly sweet gestures of affection - he doesn't mind getting up to follow along. Krill slides off the table, hitting the floor feet first and grimacing at how his hips flare in pain. Mo hesitates, but Krill shakes it off and continues to lightly pull Mo along. Mo follows, pausing only to snatch his hat from the table as Krill leads him to the couch.
"Take your shirt off. Chain, too." Krill instructs as Mo sits on the couch. He shoots Krill a look.
"No, no, Maurice. I'm just going to brush your fur out. Stop waggling your brows at me." Krill affectionately scolds, and there's a huffy laugh from Mo - a soft noise that doesn't quite read if you didn't know what it was. Mo sheds his chain and tank top, tossing them to the back of the couch with his hat. His body's sore from all the practice, too - maybe Krill can loosen him up a little, since he'll be back there.
Krill's a familiar weight on his back, and Mo sighs as he feels Krill start combing around his neck.
"There. Maybe we won't have people chasing us if you don't leave fur everywhere." Krill teases, already pausing to pull excess fur from the comb's teeth. They'll be here a while.
Mo snorts.
"I don't think you realize how much of our blankets and pillows are just mole fur, Mo." Krill says, still brushing out his neck. Mo rolls his eyes, and stretches himself out as long as he can.
"Is your back sore, too?" Krill asks, pausing his efforts to knead at Mo's shoulder blade. Mo makes an appreciative sigh. "I'll work on that, too. You better be returning the favor, honey."
Krill says that, but expects nothing - Mo lazily reaches for the dinged up coffee table to tap out a response.
"I forget how much you shed sometimes." Krill grumbles - he's finally working his way down, albeit slowly. Mo yawns.
"Seriously, Maurice - There's a reason Wraith complains if we use her shower."
A grunt, a huff, and a few clicks of Mo's claws.
"You say that about her all the time, Momo. I'm surprised she doesn't think that's her name."
A laugh, breathless and light.
"I don't know if she gave up trying to figure you out or not. I remember the time she tried to speak for you, though - first time she was ever afraid of us."
Mo declines a response, instead indulging in the role of the spoiled as Krill continues down his back. It's slow going - there's already a small pile of fur on the floor from just Mo's neck and shoulders - but the itchiness is waning. Mo's tail lazily thumps against the back of the couch.
The quiet is pleasant and soft, only broken by the sound of Krill's occasional complaint and the noise of the comb in Mo's fur. More off white collects on the ground, and before Mo's genuinely aware, his eyes shut and he finds himself dozing off.
The ease of it all wills away the nerves and anxiety, content to fall asleep to the sound of Krill's occasional complaints and his thoughts. His responses to Krill's comments get slower and more drawn out, until he lowers his head a little onto the worn couch cushion. It's not perfect, but it's really damn close. His breathing steadies, and for the first time in a while... Mo feels at peace. Krill's always good about making him feel like this - It makes him feel so much better. The steady sound of the comb brushing out the fur, only stopped when Krill has to pull the fur out of the teeth, the feeling of the comfortable, old couch under him, the subtle shift of Krill on his back...
Mo closes his eyes, and without warning, he's fallen asleep, heavy breath even. He'll help Krill with the pain when he wakes up - and Krill will most likely have to wake him up to get his stomach, anyway. They'll have to clean up the fur, too - plus, they still need to revise the last few pieces of their plan before they have one last meal and properly sleep - but Mo finds himself at a strange sense of peace. Either they'll win, and life will get easier, or they will lose, and life will stay the same. There's always a way out.
A smile creeps on Mo's face as he dwells on it. Krill's right, it'll all work out.
It always does.