The Skeleton in the Closet

[taketheearsoff]

Who: heartdissonance and taketheearsoff
When: Saturday
Where: Cohen's old apartment in the Tower Apartments
Summary: Shijima traces down the plaster murderer's scent and finds a mad maestro at work.
Warnings: None at the moment. Possible mild language.

Comments

[heartdissonance]

Oops. Caught. Also, cancer. Well, cancer was less worrisome than the 'caught' part. Shiratama couldn't help but be displeased-

Ah, well, what's so bad about a free scratching and the offer of food? Docile, indeed; her tail brushes back and forth against the counter, but she sits where she was placed, prim and listening. Yoghurt? Her ears swiveled some, nearly flattening. Distaste. 'This body wouldn't handle it well,' she'd say if she could. As it is, she gave a lazy meow, and raises a paw to bat at the air. Objection.

A strange person, she could already tell. It was interesting to hear him speak, though. Right. Her ears perked up again, to better catch the sounds. Perhaps she could initiate conversation. (If nothing else, she'd find a pad of paper later, maybe.)

So, again: a meow.

[taketheearsoff]

Cohen watches her paw at the air. He clicks his tongue. "No?" He bristles, drawing the yoghurt cup back. "How about this?" With a few waves of his hand, the old crow presents a slice of bread in the hand where the yoghurt once was. Sleight of hand...it never gets old. Sander, with a flourish, sets the slice down in front of her and scratches her fuzzy little chin.

"You'll have to forgive the lack of supplies. I'm moving, you see, to a place far more suited to my liking. No more of this government bullshit." Irritable tone, but contradictory actions; his touch about as rough as a down feather. Cohen was a sucker for rabbits...but...cats weren't so bad...

[heartdissonance]

Acceptable, she supposes, and her bland stare is replaced by lidded eyes and the rapid start of a little motorboat in her chest. Her tail lashes, conveying her forgiveness, and even as she dips her head to start in on the bread, her back arches. Some affability in this one, it seems, despite what she seems to have found.

Government bullshit. That's a little bit intriguing. Shiratama looks up at him again, with a line of bread crust hanging from her mouth. This time, the stare is less bland. Her eyes are bright, and her whiskers twitch.

The crust's set back down and then eaten properly, and the rest of the bread begins to follow. However, before the entire slice is done up, she brings her paw to her face and wipes away crumbs, and then lands gracefully on the kitchen floor, to sniff daintily at Cohen's feet. Not an uncommon habit for cats at all, but what she's doing is checking her scents.

[taketheearsoff]

He smiles, hand digging into a drawer for some silverware. If she won't have any of the yoghurt, then he will. Cohen slides the cup from his sleeve and, with spoon in hand, he bumps the drawer shut with his hip and pries the lid off the cup.

He hums, taking a spoonful of vanilla yohgurt and popping it in his mouth. "Hmmmmmm." Out comes the spoon and he waves it in the air.

"Cute cat...You know, I had one before, back...in Rapture. She was a small thing. Black and white with little tufts on her ears. She was good company...until she start to nibble on the sheet music..." Cohen stoops and pets her back, familiar with cats and their fascination of sniffing and rubbing.

[heartdissonance]

Arched back, again. Shiratama is quite sure of herself, right now; the fingers and the smugness bring out her purr. One paw presses lightly against the side of Cohen's foot, and the last section of her tail flicks back and forth. She is very, very pleased.

Another meow acknowledges the other cat. Shiratama's a talkative little thing, even when she's like this. Mrows and coos leave her throat quite a bit. After she 'speaks,' though, she takes leave from his hand, to wind around his ankles, figure eighting between his legs.

She's trying to impress her scent upon him, too.

When her tail slides against Cohen's shin for the last time, Shiratama pulls back, licks her teeth as a gesture about the bread, and scampers. She's rushing toward the closet again. After a glance at him from over her shoulder, she raises up onto her hind legs and presses her paws against the box she'd been in.

Meow. It means, 'I know something.'