(no subject)
Nibbling a darkly overdone sugar cookie, Sasha dabs at her eyes as the credits for "Plan 9 From Outer Space" roll. Curled up in a nest of blankets on the living room sofa, she has been indulging in a glut of awful movies, of which this was merely the latest. Davyn lies draped across her lap--Alfdis had grown weary of the films earlier in the evening, and had sauntered off to see that all the houseplants were behaving themselves.
"I really should eat something more than cookies tonight," she confides in Davyn, who turns large eyes on her.
/Bacon?/
"We'll see. Come on, dear, let me up." Davyn, however, is determined to remain an obstruction until he's had a promise of bacon, turning to boneless, furry jelly in that way only cats can, remarkably heavy and clinging. If only she had some help to dislodge him.
"I really should eat something more than cookies tonight," she confides in Davyn, who turns large eyes on her.
/Bacon?/
"We'll see. Come on, dear, let me up." Davyn, however, is determined to remain an obstruction until he's had a promise of bacon, turning to boneless, furry jelly in that way only cats can, remarkably heavy and clinging. If only she had some help to dislodge him.