Fear, patrons of Milliways, for a cat is stalking through the bar; in and out of chair- and table- and people-legs, a silent and deadly white shadow
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Clearly this is so. The compact killer eyes her, the green-eyed monster (that does, on occasion, mock the very meat it feeds upon) weighing her and her offering in its gaze.
Slowly, to emphasize that it does things very much on its own time, thank you very much human, it pads meanderingly towards the woman and the saucer of milk.
Kate's not one to rush someone of such clear import. She knows her place, after all; the mighty hunter might detect on her the scent and hair of other felines.
Yes, she's been trained.
"Who do you belong to, I wonder?" she murmurs aloud. "Such a pretty boy."
The cat eyes her as it wanders in a curved line towards the milk, its bearing practically noble. Arrogant, surely. There's no collar on its neck, though for those who know how to look, there are signs that there has been one there before. Worn too tight, for a long time.
Eventually, it reaches the milk, and dips its head to drink.
Kate smiles, but doesn't reach out to touch him. Not yet, anyway.
"Atta boy."
She tips her head to one side, eying His Majesty's healthy coat. A little bare around the neck, sure, but he's certainly not homeless. Unless he relies upon the patrons here, such as herself, to give him handouts.
"S'good, huh?"
She extends one nonthreatening hand, giving him the opportunity to examine her scent to see if she's worthy enough to offer scritches.
His 'victim' tonight is completely lulled into a sense of safety and security. She, certainly, would never suspect any wicked wiles from such a sweet and obviously guileless creature. The scritchings continue, with patient attention to detail.
The cat may be beginning to melt into a boneless puddle of happy, blissfully-purring fur and goo. It presses its head down against her fingers, eyes mostly closed, purring loud and steady as the sound of a well-tuned motor.
He may have forgotten who was supposed to be the easy mark, tonight. Tell him again how handsome he is, pretty lady with the scritches?
"I'd wonder at how often y'git yourself a good rub, but somethin' tells me folks round here take care of a fella like you. I wonder if you're one of Teja's."
She tips her head to the side, still running her fingers through his fur.
"Wonder if Doc'd pitch a fit if I brought you 'home'."
His fur is far too silky, clean and thick for him to be a stray.
The cat purrs, arching its back to follow her hand. He'd totally be fine with a visit, as long as he's not expected to stay there past when he decides he'd like to leave.
Clearly, the only way to defend oneself from such determined slaughter, is to offer up sacrifices of appeasement.
These manifest themselves tonight in the manner of a saucer of milk, which Kate sets on the floor with a quiet clucking, and a "Come here, handsome."
Clearly, she does not know what she is dealing with.
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Slowly, to emphasize that it does things very much on its own time, thank you very much human, it pads meanderingly towards the woman and the saucer of milk.
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Yes, she's been trained.
"Who do you belong to, I wonder?" she murmurs aloud. "Such a pretty boy."
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Eventually, it reaches the milk, and dips its head to drink.
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"Atta boy."
She tips her head to one side, eying His Majesty's healthy coat. A little bare around the neck, sure, but he's certainly not homeless. Unless he relies upon the patrons here, such as herself, to give him handouts.
"S'good, huh?"
She extends one nonthreatening hand, giving him the opportunity to examine her scent to see if she's worthy enough to offer scritches.
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When she offers her hand, it sniffs, curious. It can smell the other cats. So... possibly an easy mark.
"Maii," it says, a quiet miaow as it bumps its head against her hand.
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The cat is rewarded with a delighted smile, before she sets to gently rubbing that spot under his chin.
"You're a gentle fella, huh? S'good boy."
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The white cat purrs loudly, pressing its head down against her fingers and letting its very green eyes half-close in pleasure.
In fact, it looks nothing like its icon.
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"Feels good, does it?"
Her free hand moves to the other side of his jaw, working in tandem on those universally held sweet spots it seems every cat has.
"Golly, y'sure got pretty eyes, handsome."
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He may have forgotten who was supposed to be the easy mark, tonight. Tell him again how handsome he is, pretty lady with the scritches?
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It could be that her reputation -- a strikingly beautiful woman with very deadly hands -- reaches even into the animal kingdom.
Has the hunter become the prey? :O
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He's doomed.
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"I'd wonder at how often y'git yourself a good rub, but somethin' tells me folks round here take care of a fella like you. I wonder if you're one of Teja's."
She tips her head to the side, still running her fingers through his fur.
"Wonder if Doc'd pitch a fit if I brought you 'home'."
Oh, Kate. You have no idea.
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The cat purrs, arching its back to follow her hand. He'd totally be fine with a visit, as long as he's not expected to stay there past when he decides he'd like to leave.
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