Acquisition
The faint, distressed high-pitched sound only just reaches his ears, even as preternaturally sensitive as they are, but it does register. Just. The whistle cuts out abruptly as Sam stops, frowning curiously, black eyes darting around.
“My singing wasn’t that bad…”
The plea sounds again, a little louder- loud enough for him to catch the location, now. He darts to the nearest rubbish bin, hauling the lid upwards, trailing a ghost-pattern of rust and grime behind it. The bin is packed with the usual detritus of every-day suburban life, and stinks to high heaven. Sam screws his nose up at the smell, peering at the junk inside.
There is a cereal box inside - actually there are several, all in varying states of decay. One, slightly less degraded than most of the others and which had once housed shredded wheat, is twitching slightly. A second later, the wail emerges from it once again. Sam picks the packet up delicately, tipping it up to produce several geriatric ‘Shreddies’ and finally emptying a minute, skinny and incredibly grimy tortoiseshell kitten onto his hand. The kitten gets unsteadily to its feet with all the dignity a small animal can display, huge glass-green eyes peering up at Sam demandingly.
“Mew!”
“Stop that,” Sam says severely. “You’re not cute. And I’m neither keeping you nor feeding you.”
“Mew!”
“No.”
“Mew!”
“…Oh, go on then.”