Cy wanders into the living room carrying a sock that she found in the back of someone's closet. Someone being Des. She often borrows random articles of clothing from him, among other things, whenever he forgets to close his door. As he's usually swan-diving through it (last exit, 7.3 at best), this happens often.
She stops when she spots the ferret.
Her last encounter with Sark a ferret was alarming, to say the least. She edges forward, forgetting the sock still in her mouth, and makes a little mumbley, muffled Mroww. "My house," she says. "Mine."
The Doctor jumps, and releases the ball, spinning to face Cy. Oh, that's a familiar face. Though it's not usually on his level. Or... quite so big. Not that Cy's a large cat, but she certainly seems that way when the Doctor is so much smaller than usual.
Oh. Cy. Actually, I'm fairly certain it's Martha's house and oh, why do I bother, you can't hear me at all. ...or can you? Hello? Cy has all the random abilities. He's decided it's best not to underestimate her.
Waugh! This was not what the Doctor planned for. Not. At. All.
He hisses in surprise, scrambles around in her grip and twists enough to manage to grab the loose skin at the back of her neck in his teeth, and rolls. ...he's really not sure if he's playing or annoyed. POSSIBLY BOTH.
She rolls too, licking him and nibbling on his fur in a way that might suggest grooming if she weren't flopping around on the floor with the Doctor in a headlock. "Waugh!" she agrees, and then he nips her rather painfully and she chomps back. "Bad! Your head in my mouth."
The Doctor has no interest in putting his head in her mouth, now that it's small enough to possibly fit. He hisses again and scrambles free, bounding a few shrot steps across the floor - and then spins back to face her. Chasing comes now. They can play chase, right? Chase is the best game.
Chase is, Cy must agree, a very good game. She might prefer 'frustrate Des by stashing his belongings in various rooms under furniture', but chase will do for now.
She barrels after the Doctor, overshoots, and ends up cartwheeling into a chair.
QUICK RECOVERY and she's back after him, adding far more leaps and flourishes to her charge than are strictly necessary. Or, you know, productive.
The Doctor can't help but feel a little triumphant as she bowls past him. Normally it would take a bit more to make him feel triumphant than avoiding getting his head nommed by a kitten, but when he's tiny and tube-shaped, he'll take what he can get.
He races away again as she comes after him, looping merrily around furniture, skidding across the bare wood floor. Superior Time Lord intellect wins over wildly flailing kitten! ...except for the part where he just skidded across the floor and right into the couch.
HA. HA HA! She plows after him, front paws first like a dog leaping over a fence. Are you prepared for kitten feet to the FACE, Doctor? Because you're about to get them whether you like it or not. She doesn't even bother stopping when she sees him whump into the couch. All that means to her is opportunity.
ARGH, KITTEN TO THE FACE. He is not so much displeased as alarmed - by now, the ferretbrain has overriden all Time Lordy annoyance at the situation. The Doctor decides to cope with this by latching onto whatever loose skin he can find and rolling again, flipping end over end, tumbling Cy with him.
Tumble she does, flailing around and getting tangled in her own limbs before sorting them out and bear-hugging the Doctor. She clamps down on his face, not hard enough to hurt, but most of her mouth is around his muzzle. "YA HEH IMAH MEH."
Yes, Doctor, that means exactly what you think it does. She keeps His Head firmly in Her Mouth and kicks out with her back legs.
PSSH. BREATHING IS OVERRATED. She manages to hang on for about three seconds before losing her grip and bowling over backwards, into a leg of the coffee table. She rights herself and bounds forward again, fluffing up in response to the Doctor's own indignation, and attempting another bear-hug grapple.
She stops when she spots the ferret.
Her last encounter with Sark a ferret was alarming, to say the least. She edges forward, forgetting the sock still in her mouth, and makes a little mumbley, muffled Mroww. "My house," she says. "Mine."
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Oh. Cy. Actually, I'm fairly certain it's Martha's house and oh, why do I bother, you can't hear me at all. ...or can you? Hello? Cy has all the random abilities. He's decided it's best not to underestimate her.
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She raises one paw, very delicately, and whaps the Doctor over the head.
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That, apparently, is the name of this species. YOU WANTED TO PLAY, DOCTOR. PLAY LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT.
...it doesn't, really, but the effort is appreciated.
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He hisses in surprise, scrambles around in her grip and twists enough to manage to grab the loose skin at the back of her neck in his teeth, and rolls. ...he's really not sure if he's playing or annoyed. POSSIBLY BOTH.
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She barrels after the Doctor, overshoots, and ends up cartwheeling into a chair.
QUICK RECOVERY and she's back after him, adding far more leaps and flourishes to her charge than are strictly necessary. Or, you know, productive.
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He races away again as she comes after him, looping merrily around furniture, skidding across the bare wood floor. Superior Time Lord intellect wins over wildly flailing kitten! ...except for the part where he just skidded across the floor and right into the couch.
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Yes, Doctor, that means exactly what you think it does. She keeps His Head firmly in Her Mouth and kicks out with her back legs.
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After that moment of surprise passes, he growls and tries to jerk backward, puffing himself up unhappily. BREATHING, CY. FERRETS NEED TO BREATHE.
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