How much for that kitty in the window? [Active, Closed]

[pantsaretight]

Who: Mal and Mittens
What: On the way home Mal runs into a stray cat who happens to be a kindred spirit
Where: Somewhere near ABC Auto
When: Afternoon
Warnings: Cute, Snark

Comments

[sarcatstically]

Now Mittens was more than just miffed.

She was stuck inside a trashcan, and she was not pleased. At all. Her skull felt like someone had taken an anvil to it, but that someone hadn't been kind enough to put her out of her misery while he was at it. At least the trash had softened the impact, and her eyes were quickly adjusting to the sudden lack of light.

And she heard a voice. A human's. Lovely.

Mittens tried to stand up, feeling her vision lurch and do an abrupt somersault that was almost Olympic gold medal worthy, and no sooner did she get to her feet before she was back down again. Her world was looking more and more like a fishbowl, and the cat was sure she was seeing more colors than her species was technically supposed to. Which was lovely, of course, as she needed to get out of the trashcan before she smelled like decay and mold.

But her head. "Ow," didn't even begin to cover it. Ow anyway.

The human was still speaking, and Mittens' ears twitched in annoyance. Worth stealing? Wow. How would he know? He hadn't seen her. Was he clairvoyant? She was stuck inside a trashcan. He had seen nothing. Human logic. It was backwards.

It did occur to Mittens, however, that she could ask the human to get her out of her temporary prison... or she could wait the pain out and try to get out herself whilst saving whatever pride she had left. Except the pain in her head seemed to be threatening to turn into a migraine at any moment if she didn't get fresh air. She weighed quickly through the pros and cons, and decided that it wouldn't be so much asking the human for help, as it would be using him to meet her goals. That is, getting out.

"I'm in--" she grit her teeth, shaking her head in an attempt to rid herself the varicolored dots careening gaily across her vision "--the trash can. Second one. Open it."

If he asked her to say please, she swore to whatever deity existed in this place that she would bite him. Her head hurt enough.

[pantsaretight]

Mal heard something banging around, and was getting ready to withdraw when he heard a muffled voice telling him where it was located. It sounded like a girl, and given she was trapped in a trashcan probably a young one. Though he had to wonder how anyone could get stuck in a trashcan.

"Alright, alright, give me a second," Mal grumbled making his way to the can. Lifting the lid, he looked inside to see who was in there...and promptly came face to face with a thin black cat. There was no one else inside.

Mal just blinked for a second, then exclaimed, "Shen-sheng de gao-wan!"

[sarcatstically]

Yeah. She had kind of expected that kind of reaction. Minus the rapid switch in language, of course. That was new. And kind of exciting. Though tilting pitch made her want to flatten her ears to the back of her skull. But whatever. She'd let him vent, or whatever he was doing, because she had fresh air, thank everything. Her head had cleared enough that she was able to raise it enough to stare at him blankly. He was acting like he had never seen a cat before.

"Mao," she replied, making the tone as snarky as she could make it. "You done? Or do you want more time to panic?"

[pantsaretight]

Blinking, Mal replied, "I think I'm good for now, but I may need some time to later once the fact that I'm talking to a gorram cat sinks in. Ya need some help getting out of there?"

For some reason, despite her tone, there was something about the cat that that Mal liked.

The talking cat.

Ti wo de pi-gu.

[sarcatstically]

Mittens slowly rose to her paws. Her vision was still terribly out of whack, but it was bearable, and while hazy, it wasn't like she was seeing double. The pain in her head had also receded enough that she was able to nonchalantly maneuver herself into a sitting position, now able to stare at her blurry-faced "rescuer" without feeling like she was about to faceplant into a nearby aluminum can. She wasn't sure what to think of this one. Except that he was most definitely human. That, and she he hadn't screamed at her. Or done what a pack of eight-year-old brats would have done at the sight of a cute kitty-cat.

"Well, feel free to label yourself as insane once you get back to whatever hole you call home, Jackie-boy. Most do. This is why we don't talk, you know? We'd be doing your pharmaceutical companies a favor."

She shook her head, shooting him a very flat, blank stare. "No," she replied. "Just keep the lid open. I need a minute to get over the fact that I'm talking to a human. It's disturbing on so many levels."

[pantsaretight]

Mal rolled his eyes at the cat's choice of a nickname, but decided he still had enough dignity not to stoop to arguing with a cat over his name.

"Yeah well, while my current residence is a bit more sedentary than I'd like, it's certainly not a hole. It's at least a dump," he replied, quickly getting used to the fact that he was having a conversation with a feline. It wasn't like that was all that far out there for this place.

"Frankly given what humans tend to do to animals, I'd have thought you wouldn't mind driving a few more of us insane. I worked on a ranch in my younger years, and not once did the cows ever try to talk us out of turning 'em into the best steaks on the planet."

Mal could tell the cat was still pretty out of it, but he had to respect the stubbornness with which she denied all but the minimum of help from him. Clearly she was his kind of stupid.

"Well, given the circumstances I imagine we've all had to do some things we find distasteful. Just a fact of survival."

He paused for a moment, then added, "So, you got a name, or do I just call ya something stupid like Furball or Snowflake?"

[sarcatstically]

"That's precisely the point," Mittens replied, shooting the human a pointed look. "How do you those medications get put on your market? Animal testing, hotshot. It's not any of my business what you humans do, and I don't really care, but I know enough. Besides, if I said anything in protest--if I could, mind you; I'm usually not given the extremely high honor of speaking with you people in a language you understand-- I don't think many of your fellow homosapiens would care or listen to me anyway. Tough world, huh? If you people don't go out and kill each other with screwdrivers, you're killing something else."

Or abandoning something else. Whatever. Humans were like a gigantic box of crayons priced higher than they were actually worth. They came in different colors, sure, but underneath the wrapper and coloring, they were the more or less the same beast underneath it all. At least this one seemed tolerable in comparison to some.

"Oh yeah, I have a name, Jackie," she said, rolling her eyes some. It really wasn't much better than Furball or Snowflake. It was pretty stupid and demeaning, in her opinion. For a moment she thought of making something up. Create a name that sounded foreign, catty, or at least something would generate a bit more respect than her species was used to. However, as always, she found herself giving the man the same name she had been given so many years ago. She just never could get rid of it, even though the little kid who had given it to her had just been another color in the proverbial human crayon box in the end. "It's Mittens. Marginally better than Snowflake, but ehh, it's what I'm stuck with. You can take it or leave it. Doesn't matter."

Yeah, way too sentimental for her own good.

(ooc: SORRY FOR THE LATE TAG! *Shot*)

[pantsaretight]

"Yeah well, I'm not gonna argue with you on the matter of humans being bastards. When we're not experimenting on other lifeforms we're all too ready to experiment on each other." The image of River, and what had been done to her, flashed through Mal's mind. "Least we're equal opportunity bastards I suppose."

War had left Mal with very little faith in basic human decency, and life after hadn't done a lot to restore that faith. A person could be good, but in general people were selfish violent animals, and those who forgot that suffered.

He shook his head at the name and replied, "I'd offer to shoot the zheng-qi de gou-shi dui who named you that, but I'm guessing it wouldn't help much." Of course, given Mal named his ship after the battle that ruined his life, he wasn't one to talk about sentimentality.

"So, you eaten today?"

[sarcatstically]

She shrugged her shoulders, the pain in her head reduced to a dull throb. He was blunt and to the point, this one. "Well, acceptance is the first step toward recovery. You've passed that. Congratulations, you have the one-up on the majority your species." She rose from her haunches, testing her balance as she padded lightly through the garbage and onto the trashcan rim. She had no idea what he had just said in Chinese, but she could use her imagination.

"I'm honored, really. But I don't have to worry about them calling my name anymore. Problem solved. And no," she said in response to his next question, "but that is precisely why I'm here. Another man's trash is another man's treasure. That's how the saying goes, isn't it? I dunno." She flicked her ears back, taking few seconds' preparation before jumping onto the pavement below. "And you're... who now?"

[pantsaretight]

"Funny, I think the majority of my species might object to that strongly. Not that their opinion is worth the air used to voice it," Mal muttered.

"Considering most of what makes up my ship could be considered junk, but the vessel as a whole is the best in the 'Verse, I think I can appreciate that sentiment. Still, if you want I've found myself with an excess of food that would otherwise go to feeding Jayne."

When Mitten's asked his name, Mal was again struck with the absurdity of introducing himself to a cat. Should he offer her a hand to shake, or would it just make her think he was treating her like a dog?

Deciding not to worry about it, Mal shrugged and said, "Name's Malcolm Reynolds, captain of the Serenity."