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[fakejaded]

As it turns out, one of the few things this island doesn't have is a pair of knitting needles and some yarn Britta can use, but she has a lot of spare time on her hands, so it's only so long before she puts her ingenuity to the test. None of the Compound cats seem to be in any need of visual aids of any kind, but with the snow coming down, Britta

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[dreambigger]

It isn't the first time this week Eames has found himself a witness to someone getting stuck under the mistletoe, and while it's something that he can't see ever becoming less amusing, this time, it's practically doing him a favor. With as crazy as the past week and a half has threatened to drive him, she, he thinks, might, as ever, be exactly the kind of distraction he needs. He smiles, slow and almost sly, as he crosses the rec room towards Emma, careful to steer clear of the cat that might as well be demonic. Just because he plans on winding up under that mistletoe with her doesn't mean he has any intention of getting in that thing's way.

"Well, would you look at this," he says, too innocently to sound genuine, deliberately positioning himself across from her, just as trapped in the doorway. "I don't know which one of us this makes luckier."

[neveraskedtwice]

Emma arches an eyebrow, made too irritable by the situation to be trifled with, although it helps he's the one doing the trifling. "Well, I'd assume you," she says, almost sweet, "since you walked yourself into it." She honestly doesn't mind the Christmas festivities around here - she likes Christmas, in fact, particularly the night before - but there's such a thing as too much good cheer and anyway, she hates the redesign on her house.

[dreambigger]

"I couldn't very well let you stay trapped here, now, could I?" Eames asks, like that ought to have been obvious, not quite managing to pull off seeming affronted, if only because he doesn't really try. There's no need to. His smile softens just a little as he looks at her, and he steps in closer, one hand lifting to rest on her waist. "Now, darling, what say we get ourselves unstuck?"

[neveraskedtwice]

Though she's questionable when it comes to the affection, Emma's not particularly shy about public displays. She has no desire to stay in this doorway listening to absurd Christmas carols and one of the cats which seem to be congregating here. "Absolutely," she says, leaning in to kiss him - no need to bother about being chaste, of course, but she's not looking to linger here either. Sliding a hand down to his, she steps away, tugging him after her. "There now, much better."

[segaboybrodie]

"I really don't think the cat wants clothes," Brodie said, surveying the scene from his vantage point on one of the sofas across the room. He wasn't the world's biggest fan of the compound cats-- ESPECIALLY that one fucking cat that saw fit to stare at everyone and do that weird shit with its whiskers-- but clothes were for PEOPLE. If cats were supposed to wear clothes, then they'd have Malls in which to buy cat t-shirts and jackets and shit. Instead, they had FUR, which was more than enough, even in the goddamn SNOW.

Maybe it WAS fate that today's bookshelf find had been 1989's Catwoman mini-series.

[fakejaded]

"Well, this one does," Britta said, managing to be haughty about Origami rubbing against her and purring even as she made a grab for a tiny reindeer sweater to press to her wound. Alright, so maybe clothes for cats were sometimes a bad idea and she was behaving like an overgrown child, but she wasn't about to let this guy get the last word. Origami looked at Brodie and meowed loudly. "They aren't all... testy."

[segaboybrodie]

Maybe that one cat was being nice for now, but Brodie was convinced that it'd eventually scratch Britta too. And on closer inspection, it looked a fuck of a lot like Eden's cat, which had been a fucking NUISANCE the month before, that one time Gideon had it in the kitchen. Brodie hated that cat. Not as much as he hated that fucking Muggles dog, but ENOUGH, considering the cat belonged to his ex-girlfriend.

"You know that's what FUR's for, right?" Brodie said, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes at all this, "They don't fucking NEED sweaters. They already come with them attached."

[fakejaded]

"Whatever," Britta said, rolling her eyes at him. It was cold outside and not all of these cats were indoor cats. "You don't think they get a little colder, too? I mean, they have fur all summer, too, you don't see cats dying of heat stroke on the beach." Besides, once she got them dressed, it was pretty fucking adorable.

[wingerguarantee]

Jeff had just barely sidestepped in time for the clothed cat to run past him, losing what appeared to be a scarf as he went. He bent down to pick it up. He wasn't surprised to see Britta when he glanced over at the direction the cat had come from.

"You know, I think I'd run away if someone was dressing me up in something like this, too," he said, walking over to hold the scarf out to her. "You couldn't find anything better to make these out of?"

[fakejaded]

Britta looked up from her arm, already sulky and fighting to hide it. "No," she said. "If you hadn't noticed, we're kinda short on supplies here." She couldn't tell him she was bored and lonely, not without getting ridiculed for it. With Jeff as with most people, she'd found, forcing the pretense she had the higher ground was the only way to go. She grabbed one of the other little scarves, pressing it to her cuts. Tiny claws could hurt so much.

[wingerguarantee]

"Well, I guess it's better to subject them on cats than humans" he commented, ignoring her obvious bad mood. He sat himself down, not waiting for her to invite him to do so. Surveying the scene, he asked, "How many have actually let you put something on them?"

[fakejaded]

"At least someone's entertained," Britta said dryly. At times like this, she wished she'd got stuck here with Annie instead, although chances were that she'd probably have wound up choking Annie with her own necklace eventually; then again, maybe she was just imagining if they were the only people on the island. With others around, they'd probably both survive. Picking up one of the scarves, she draped it around his neck, tugging lightly at the ends with bitter smile. "What are you doing that's so superior, waiting for supermodels to get trapped under the magic mistletoe?"