Missing Persons [Tag Tristan and then Five]

[empirical_data]

Avon's name was still on the registry. That was Data's clue that he hadn't left as Spot had just a few days earlier. But he hadn't returned to their room, and that was a telling story in itself

Comments

[t_farnon]

Tristan once again tapped at the face of his watch, undid the catch fastening it to his wrist and gave his watch a swift shake.

Not a blasted tick. It stubbornly stayed at 2:18, the second hand stuck pointed straight up towards the 12. He sighed as he slipped his watch back on, and went to check on the waiting room, since he'd now had no idea which appointments ought to be rolling up next.

He called over a young girl with her pet tortoise, pointing her and her mother into one of the empty examination rooms. He was nearly about to join them when he noticed a new arrival in the waiting room.

With a mewling carrier.

"Mr. Data?" he asked. "And who are these lovelies? I don't believe we've been introduced..." He peered through the slats of the carrier, trying to count out the number of inhabitants within.

[empirical_data]

Data's face was earnest as ever, though a touch somber as he put the carrier onto the counter. "My cat Spot produced a litter of kittens with what I have taken to be a 'familiar' of some kind. Spot has returned home, and do to unfortunate circumstances I believe the kittens will be safer in your care. The only one with a name is the one colored like her... she is 'Spot' as well..."

The kittens, to their credit, quieted when Tristan looked in. And they looked at him with a look that said more than just young feline curiosity. They were smart.

A couple, a black one and a tortoiseshell, also had squashed faces.

The Tortey put it's paws up against the door of the carrier, looked at Tristan, and batted at the latch indicating that it wanted to be let out. Then back to it's temporary baby-sitter.

[t_farnon]

"A familiar?" It took Tristan a long moment's pondering before he understood what Data meant. A witch's familiar? He went wide-eyed and sent a gulp down his throat, steeling himself for closer look at the cats. Setting a hand on the latch, he flicked the door open, noting to his immediate relief that none of the kittens appeared to have forked tails or wisps of smoke trailing from their nostrils.

And no nagging smell of sulfur either.

"If it's a temporary home you're looking for, you've come to the right spot," he said, trying to coax the kittens out of the carrier for a quick once-over. Calling to them constantly with 'here, puss!' seemed to have no effect, however, and Tristan could've sworn the tortoiseshell one had rolled its eyes at him.

He managed to get his hands around the black one, wondering at its squashed face, like it was constantly pressed against an invisible chunk of glass. How odd...

"How long would you wish them to stay?"

[empirical_data]

"Part Kneazle, I believe is the term." He held out his hands, palms up to show the repair damage. "Until I return for them. Please check my hands if I should to make sure that they have this damage. My brother is here, and unfortunately he looks identical to me... He is not a very amicable individual." Given that Data was willing to go so long without his beloved cats spoke volumes.

A flame point and the orange tabby huddled near the tortoiseshell. Intelligent or not, they were children, and they were without their mother, and their functional caretaker was leaving them with someone unfamiliar. So they huddled.

The black one, however, seemed content to settle in the man's hands without much of a fight.

Data took the heel of his hand, scrunched his eyes, and thumped himself on the temple. "I am afraid my clock is not working, Dr. Farnon. Do you know what time it is?"