open RP in the corridors: Cooper is on the case. Again.

[damnfinecupof]

Not knowing that the talking cats had procured a potion to turn them into humans, Cooper had become baffled at the absence of said cats

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[miss_bunny_swan]

Miss Swan was waddling through the halls, looking for potential clients when she came upon the strange sight of Cooper and his wheelbarrow, tins, and...BAGS OF THE GOOD STUFF!

Oh, Miss Swan wanted.

She decided to start off with a subtle approach. Coming up to Cooper as he was kneeling laying out a tray, she stared at him.

After a few seconds, she said loudly, "Yuhhhhhhh, OK."

[damnfinecupof]

Coop straightened up to regard the new arrival. He'd never met her before. Could she be a talking cat or a were-creature? "Special Agent Dale Cooper," he said, holding out his hand for a shake.

[miss_bunny_swan]

Miss Swan did not shake Cooper's hand. Instead, she looked him up and down several times. "Yuhhhhh, Special Agent. You look like a man."

[damnfinecupof]

Coop thought back again to the undercover work he did at that leather bar.

"Not the first time I've been told that, but thank you." She didn't look like a talking cat ...

[lord_fanny]

Lord Fanny had come up empty-handed after her trip to Hogsmeade in search of autumn fashions. Honestly, these wizarding types were so backwards - half the dresses still had big 1980's shoulderpads. And there was hardly anything in her size, anyway. The wizarding world clearly did not cater to transvestites. Which was rather surprising, really, but it couldn't be helped.

Heading disconsolately back to the Ravenclaw dorms, she came across a peculiar sight: a good-looking fellow in a suit, laying out what appeared to be... cat traps? "Hello, darling," she said, pausing by one of the traps. "Is there an infestation of cats around here? Alcoholic cats, maybe?" she added, noticing the tins of rum.

[damnfinecupof]

"There is ..." But he didn't finish, because along came a CAT.

[lord_fanny]

Fanny glanced at the cat, narrowing her eyes. "I've seen that cat before, at my Sorting," she remarked. "I believe he's some sort of spirit animal. He told me he can shoot lightning from his paws."

[damnfinecupof]

Dividing his attention between the cat and the others but never taking his eyes off the cat, Cooper muttered to Fanny out of the side of his mouth (therefore not enunciating very clearly), "Spirit animals don't eat faces, do they?"

[pollicle_zapper]

((Since the cats-to-humans plot isn't scheduled to happen until Friday, I really can't resist this...))

And who should pass by if not Quaxo, smelling the cream (and goodness, was that catnip?!) and absolutely having to investigate further? He crept up on Cooper and sat down, watching him work silently. After a few seconds of listening to the meowing song he said, quite politely: "Real cat songs don't sound like that."

[damnfinecupof]

The gambit had succeeded! A talking cat had been lured to the tins! Cooper turned, with care, to face the cat.

"What does a real cat song sound like?"

[pollicle_zapper]

"Well, um, first of all we know a lot more words than just 'meow'. Really big words like 'incontestable' and 'implacable' and... and 'gastronomy'!" He nodded, very proudly. "And they're funnier to dance to, too!"

He tilted his head, eyeing the pints of cream surreptitiously. "So, um, are you gonna eat all that cream all by yourself?"

[miss_bunny_swan]

Miss Swan was getting frustrated. She had neither made a sale nor procured the good stuff, and now James Bond was busy talking to the giant pussy. She would have to take desperate measures to get noticed again. She started to lean forward, albeit haltingly, as she was rather plump.

"Oooooooh, Swan drop something, need to pick it up!" Surely the view of her sexy backside would lure James Bond into ponying up for a crazy dirty sex fantasy!

She swiveled aforementioned backside around just a little bit, so that Quaxo and Lord Fanny could get a view, too.

Hey, a foxy lady could never have too many customers, right?

[wh0_kill3d_m3]

Laura Palmer was headed home from dinner, her Sphinxian treecat companion Galahad riding atop her shoulder as was his custom, when she came upon Cooper...doing something baffling.

(Why this still came as a surprise to her, she wasn't certain. But it did.)

This time the something involved pie tins, pints of cream and rum, some of which rang a faint bell in her memory. Something about rum...

"Agent Cooper?" She waved to draw his attention. "Um. Hi. You're not...still...hunting werewolves, are you?" She chuckled, and Galahad's ears peaked at a hint of dread lurking beneath the sound.

[damnfinecupof]

Cooper wheeled. "Dear God, it's ... it's on you! Don't let it eat your face!"

[wh0_kill3d_m3]

She looked down at her front, over her shoulder at her back, and around to each side. "What's on me? Where? Something's eating people's faces?"

[damnfinecupof]

Cooper pointed at the cat on her shoulder. "Don't make any sudden moves."

[cockneycat]

Rumpleteazer has watched enough humans put down poison in the various dives she's lived in to know what he's doing.

Yes, know. She does not doubt her ideas for a second.

'Why are you trying to kill cats...or drunks?'

[damnfinecupof]

"No lethal force is being employed here," Cooper informed the talking cat sternly.

[cockneycat]

'Then why the trail like you're Hansel?' she asks, curious. 'That's gonna attract mice, that is.'

In a few days, she won't be able to take care of them anymore.