Description: The night has been rather peculiar for Keith. Deal with thugs who tried to attack you because of bad timing, run into some eccentric wealthy looking man who knows more than he should about him, and a girl who appears to be an actual catwoman. Nothing that a bottle of alcohol won't help in coping with the issue.
The streets of Southtown is a place where the fighting never stops. This port is where main line of communication for import/export trade. This have been used for both legal and illegal ports. The atmosphere is pretty calm. A boat had recently set at the docks where a shipment was supposed to occur.
However, it looks as if the situation turned awry pretty quickly. There are a group of men in suits lying on the ground. All of them are clutching onto their faces and stomachs. They are alive, but many of them are in a beaten state. They do not look like they are willing to get back up.
"... Heh. Told ya... shoulda let me be. Don't be too mad in getting schooled..."
Keith is looking over towards one of the crates of the shipment. He rummages over towards one of them, seeing if there is anything of value. A few pearls, weapons, and other sortment of shipping goods reveal themselves in the container.
"...Meh..."
Instead, he starts rummaging over towards one of the pockets of the men. He is looking for something of interest.
"Ah, here we go..."
The prize that Keith was interested in?
A pack of gum. Maybe the bottle of liquor next to one of the fallen guys as well.
"... Thanks for the gift boys, just enjoy the night. It's nice outside..."
--- A MILE OUT FROM THE HARBOR, IN THE FRIGID WATERS OF THE PACIFIC ---
"Ha ha! No!" Perhaps a mile out from The Scene Over At The Docks, a gangly scarecrow of a man talks to a beautiful woman swimming in the icy waters of the Pacific Ocean. That is to say, she's swimming - the gangly man would NEVER swim, it's unseemly, and he's hardly dressed for it, what with the immaculate suit and downright striking cross-tie combination gracing his chest. Instead, he's taken up a lazy lean against a buoy, bobbing about in the night -- who knows how long he's been here. He holds a fishing pole, which is likely the reason he came out here in the first place, and the beautiful woman in the water beside him? A pleasant dalliance. She's topless - who would be skinny dipping this far out in the waters? - but Slayer is a gentleman through and through, and hasn't even *looked*. Besides. Who could even compare to Sharon?
"My dear," murmurs Slayer around the wooden smoking pipe in his mouth. "You can't be serious. An entire fishing vessel? I heard that the collision was due to a 'pack of furious dolphins'. You might as well be claiming responsibility for that Titanic disaster, and we *all* know it was that Rikuo fellow..." Slayer idly reels his line in. Nothing's biting tonight.
"Maybe I'm just trying to im-press you o/~" singsongs the swimming girl beside him. She laughs, a sound like fae music, and twists about in the water - an overlarge, gorgeous tail splashes wildly behind her, but Slayer is hardly concerned about her apparent /mermaidness/.
"You already have, dear. This water is *cold*." He inhales from that pipe, instead - briefly, his face is illuminated by a bright red, and is about to speak more--- but some noise from the harbor reaches his ears, and the man turns to investigate. He frowns immediately - who would be fighting at this hour? - and looks back to his companion, already preparing an apology.
She's gone.
With a sigh, Slayer jumps forward---
--- BACK AT THE DOCKS ---
And lands onto the scene some twenty feet from Keith, alighting as though he'd simply fallen from the rooftop of a nearby building, rather than leapt a frankly upsetting distance. He's still carrying his fishing pole - it's been leaned casually against one shoulder - and begins approaching the young man, awkwardly stepping over the unconscious forms between him and Keith.
"You did this? Were you being *mugged*, or were you simply *bored*, young man??" Slayer pauses, and smiles to Keith, warm eyes lit by the light of that infernal pipe burning. "Rude to ruin so many nights, but I suppose if they were ASKING for it.." He extends his unoccupied arm.
When Slayer arrives at the docks, he would find that Keith decided to make the boat that housed the illegal shipment as his new resting point. He idly looks over towards the bodies that lie there with a frown. Changing his position to kick both feet up and lounge, he keeps the bottle of liquor in hand and takes a swig.
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.
Eyes widen briefly and he gives a bit of a cough. "Hoo shit." It feels like fire going down his throat. He'll manage. He laughs, "That hit the spot." What catches his attention is the sight of a very lanky individual approaching him.
"Huh...?"
As the figure with the pipe gives that warm smile, Keith gives the man a brief look. There is a grin forming on his face, "...I guess showing up at the wrong time tends to draw the ire of those trying to do business." He sighs, "Oh well."
When the unaccompanied arm is extended, Keith glances over the arm and he grins.
"See, dat's what I like. A guy who appreciates a good night." The hand extends out towards the older man with a bemused grin. ".. I'd offer you a swig of this, but this doesn't seem your type, judgin' by the appearance." Instead, Keith extends the alternate hand out with a pack of gum, flicking a finger out to pull a stick out. "Spearmint, it looks like."
Fighting never stops? Well, it does for Felicia, at least when she wakes up and it's already night out, sleepily rising from behind some crates in the shipyard. That's kinda how it is when you're a cat and you sleep for 18 hours a day. Well, not really that long for her, but y'know. She had her CLEVER disguise draped over her (a trench coat) like a blanket, and she vaguely wondering if being out here like this was going to lead to fleas. Probably already had them. Damnit.
Then suddenly, strange illicit going on at the dock? Ruh roh. She would try and slip out if she can, likely whoever was doing this didn't want any witnesses, supernatural or not!
"Almost certainly," replies the intruder as Keith mentions drawing the ire of strangers. The boxer's right about Slayer's preferences, and that drink is denied, but Slayer's attention hasn't flittered off just yet. He continues evaluating the scene - the way the bodies are arranged, the paraphernelia strewn about the site, the dents from where men impacted shipping containers. A particularly--- dead-looking gentleman earns enough curiosity from the vampire to have Slayer actually lean in *close* to see what has happened...
The gentleman was Keith's most recent target, and certainly took a lot more... effort... to incapacitate. Slayer's eyes *blaze* at something he notices about the body, and then he's standing back up, straightening his jacket, and pulling the pipe from his mouth. Warm brown eyes regard Keith - crows feet crinkle around them while a smile causes Slayer's moustache to quiver.
"Drinking is a habit of yours? Headaches, perhaps? Or something else that makes being a little numb... easier?" He resets the pipe in his mouth, and takes long-legged steps towards Keith's lean-to over on the boat, fishing pole still rattling against his shoulder. He pauses within arm's reach of the other man, looking *up* to meet Keith's gaze.
"There's a *feel* about you, young man. A gift I'm not quite sure I underst-" He pauses in his statement, teeth clacking back onto his pipe with enough force to split lesser wood right in half. His attention flickers behind him, towards some distant boxes, but only for a moment.
A laugh.
"Apologies. What was I saying?"
The ebony-skinned man seems to be in good spirits. He has a bunch of unconscious men that won't bother him for some time. He has his booze and gum. The wandering man is simply a content man. However, Keith cannot help but notice the stranger examining the bodies. There is even more of a presence that is feeling rather odd. Keith is unable to put his finger on it, but there is something about the older man that feels peculiar. It is a feeling in the back of his mind that nags at him, drawing him to be more wary.
"... Something like that."
The man eyes the booze for a moment, then he grumbles. The question is rather peculiar, especially when the reasoning feels more pointed. Numb? Hrm. The stranger is approaching his form and he finally straightens when the intruder finally looks straight at Keith's eyes.
A feel, huh?
"...Is that so?" There is a faint flash of cyan along the man's irises. They focus diectly at the stranger, the intent is more wary than before. "... Tell me /more/ about---"
Blink.
Keith turns his head over towards the presence of something. At least, it seemed like something was around, "Hrm. Peculiar." The previously relaxed posture has started to tense up slightly. Now, Keith is straightening while sliding the hood over his head.
"... Also, I wouldn't call it a gift."
Felicia might be hoping that the two scary tall men might be willing to selectively ignore the 6-foot tall catwoman with huge electric blue hair that's trying to edge her way out right in their peripherial vision. However this might not be the case as Keith's eyes seem to be the non-glucoma variety and she freezes as she notices his eyes seeming to detect her--at least she thinks he might have. OH GOD, she thinks, why couldn't I have rolled around in something earlier to be less stark and easy to see?? He blinked! Ohfu--
Felicia tried to duck down behind a crate quickly, yep, that was her response to being seen. Solid Snake she is not. Hell, she's not even Eric Bane from Dark. She just flat out sucks at stealth, period.
"Okay, if I live, hair dye, definitely," she mutters to herself.
"I'm certain your erstwhile opponents wouldn't feel the same way." Slayer's tone has become chiding, his face even more wrinkled in amusement than before. "You can complain about it all you like, but the frank fact of the matter is that I doubt you'd be able to handle this many men on your own without whatever sets you apart!" His laugh is denigrating in that noble way - he means nothing by that rich baritone, you'll have to excuse him.
"In fact," he states, puffing thoughtfully on that pipe, setting his fishing pole before him so that he might lean upon it. "Isn't it rude? You've squelched something like..." Slayer turns on a heel, quickly enough to rather blatantly be witness to Felicia DIVING BEHIND A CRATE. He tilts his head to the side, ignoring her blue-haired blazing neon sign of a warning, and instead nods towards the bodies once again.
"Oh... we'll say eight - eight? yes? - men, here. They've lived their lives, cried in the private moments of their days, been filled with such pride that their very hearts might burst. Every single one of them has hopes and dreams, fears and strengths, and here, you've blamed your casual dismissal of *everything* they might represent as..." Slayer turns back to look at Keith, eyes wide, pipe burning away with every deep inhalation he takes. Smoke billows from his nostrils -- it churns away from his face, upwards, at an unnatural angle.
"I think you should re-state what you mean when you call that sort of power "not a gift". It's downright insulting. In fact -- I won't stand for it!" Slayer's laughing while he speaks, but there is an *absolute* promise in his town, a darkening of his words that suggests a very real intent to back them up.
Meanwhile, the smoke from his pipe creates a sort of *path* over one shoulder, billowing behind his form, across the clearing, 'till it simply... gusts behind the very boxes Felicia has used to hide. Now she has to deal with smoke in her hair and face! TRY HARDER, CAT.
Keith allows the man time to explain about how rude he is to cast aside his abilities as a curse. There is a patient look on the man's face. However, the expression does start to lose its smile. Even as Keith looks over the men, he gives a snort and takes another swig of the bottle. Once the man is finish, Keith concludes.
"... It is the same 'gift' that will one day kill me."
Keith's expression becomes a bit uncharacteristically grim. "...I've already had an incident where I couldn't apply a serum in me in time during a fight. ...A lot of innocent people were nearly killed until I told my opponent to strike me down." He closes his eyes, "Managed to get knocked over to apply the serum to bring me out of a dangerous state."
His eyes narrow, "However, there is an underlying fact that whatever this 'gift' is, it will rip me apart from inside out." He snorts, "All in the same of science."
Keith cannot help but feel that there is another presence around. He is uncertain as to who or what is around. "..." The man is looking over to see the direction that the girl likely came from. There was some sort of movement right towards the crates. Definitely set of crates.
"Hrm."
A sigh is given, then he looks over towards Slayer, "... It seems that we have a third party." He gives a thoughtful look, "I don't think this one is harmful."
Welp, looks like the jig is up, cat fanciers! As the voice is heard talking about her presence, Felicia gets up and peeks out from behind the crates, the most they'll see is a huge shock of blue hair followed by her green eyes staring out over the top, in typical cat-stare fashion.
"Uhm... Hello? please don't eat me! I have fleas!" and she's probably not joking about that last part. Ugh. Damn thug lyfe. Well, she wishes she could call it that, but it was more just being a bum in this case.
"I was just passed out behind those boxes, I didn't see nothin'! Uhm, besides a lot of boxes and scary men standing around..." damnit, honesty kicking in there again, likely got that from her parents. But weren't her parents cats somehow? What kind of horse and pony show are we running here?!?
"Come now," quips the pallid man, "We all have our weaknesses. All gifts are not without their drawbacks. Ah, but it makes this cold heart warm to think of the bitterness that accompanies unwanted generosity!!" Slayer has completely lost interest in looking at Keith while he speaks - the man abruptly stands up, swinging his lanky arms wide, and twists on a heel to address nobody in particular, eyes scanning the harbor. Eventually, he pauses, that fishing pole slung across his shoulders like some legendary sword, his free hand shoved into a hip pocket. Enthusiasm -- nay, inspiration!! -- fills that craggy, immortal mug - passion burns deep within his eyes!
The misty waters remind him of the loneliness deep within his heart! He sure does cut a tremendous figure right there, all slender limbs and impeccable hair, a silhouette save for the ruby glow of his pipe lighting his face. He extends one arm, fingers curling into a gentle fist...!!
"A prince's sour face/
/while watching peasants play/
/the shackles of nobility!"
Slayer lowers his hand, turns, face aglow, and observes... Felicia. His expression crashes, but only slightly - this is an interesting development. So soon as she admits to having been here the whole time, the vampire is widening his eyes, stepping towards the feline woman and *beaming* beneath the smoke from his pipe--
"So you saw the fight? Tell me *all* about it, Miss..."
Keith does not mind that the man lost interest in him. Keith is not too interested in being focused on. There are too many eyes seeking to observe him as it is. That is why Keith slips on the hoodie. He is ready to make his disappearing act.
However, as Slayer gets into his inspiration of his own haiku, Keith squints with a more incredelous look. "...Uh..."
There is something about seeing Felicia that brings out a more gentle demeanor about him. Perhaps, in a way, the girl comes off as a stray cat. Keith is actually at ease with strays, for the most part. He is approaching an opened space and slowly drops down towards a knee. A glance is given at the older intruder. "...I'd recommend not getting in the way of this."
Although the burly man has that intimidating form, the man exercises a more gentle nature, extending a hand out towards her. "'Ey, don't worry. We don't mean any harm here." He glances over towards the men, "... They won't be waking up for a couple of hours." He lifts his shoulders for a shrug. "..." On one hand, Keith should find the girl odd. However, there is that vibe that she is likely even more frighten. In fact, Keith can 'feel' that vibe emitting from her. So, he can only do what he can: Be a calm hand.
"Uhm... there was a fight?" Felicia frowns a little, shaking her head. "I didn't see anything like that, uhm, figuratively, and literally," her head snaps over to the large dark man with jheri curls, as if to wonder if the guy reciting poetry is for real. I mean, he's dressed nice, Slayer is--sure, but his... eccentricity isn't lost on her. A little wincing look on her cute face seems to scream 'help!' as he steps closer.
"L-like I said I don't know what's going on here and I don't care, I got bigger problems to worry about, like finding food, or a dry place to sleep, I'm new in town," she jerked a hand with thumb extended toward herself, as if trying to be straight with them. "I'm Felicia, no this isn't a costume, I'm a Darkstalker--which means I probably have fleas that will, I don't know--bite you and turn you into a catwomen too, or something!" she's hoping this will deter them from coming closer.
Slayer isn't paying attention anymore, it's true. He's become caught up in the sheer poetry of man, at least for now - the moment Felicia and Keith start talking to one another, he's quick to turn around and continue facing the harbor - the waters of his heart! - and adopts that same stance that he'd had earlier - fishing pole over a shoulder! Hand in his pocket! Ah, the mists over the waters! A young man's sorrow!
"'While watching peasants play' is weak, I think... too complex, too... ah, the elements of banal freedom, how to reduce them?" Slayer's face can't be seen, but it's evident he's thinking *hard* over there - just look at the smoke billowing from his pipe! He's certainly huffing *AND* puffing.
"'watching dirty peasants frolic'...? No, no..." Slayer adjusts his monocle, ceases his 'legendary poet' stance, opting instead to sit down on the dock, lost in his own thoughts.
He's completely forgotten about Felicia and Keith, at least for the moment.
"...Hrm."
It doesn't look like that the catgirl is going to calm down. Keith decides to keep his distance, closing his eyes while looking over towards Slayer after several moments. "Well..." The burly black man is observing Slayer's eccentric characterstics. What is seen as a quirky nature is regarded with a very perplexed look from the individual. One could see a bubble of ellipses over Keith's head.
However, the demeanor returns to its naturally amused state. There was an essence of the man that was rather alarming, especially considering his power.
However, Keith regards Felicia, "'ey. ...I'm Keith." He blinks for a few moments. Not a costume. She is a Darkstalker. She has fleas that can bite people and turn them into catwomen as well.
Keith takes the moment to get back up to his feet, now within his six and a half foot form. The stocky black man pulls the bottle of booze and then he takes yet another swig.
"Yeah.. it's going to be one of those nights."
"He uhh, he's okay, right?" Felicia's eyes are darting back and forth between Slayer and Keith now, even more so, as Slayer proceeds to continue reciting poetry outloud on the fly like that. She's edged a bit back from him anyway, towards Keith even. Yes, the catgirl is looking toward the big burly black man for help. You can pick your jaw up off the floor.
"H-Hi," she offers, looking to Keith, and then to Slayer. "What's his name? I-I mean do you know him?" she asks, getting herself at least half-way between the both of them, distance wise, it seems like she's at least calming down a little as Slayer hasn't continued staring at her. Oh boy, if only she knew this sort of encounter with vampires would not necessarily get any better with the future one's she'd meet! Assumedly, anyway.
"What nights? oh! You mean... yeah."
Slayer is *grumbling* over on the pier, now, because he cannot determine the proper economy of language to make his haiku work, which is really making him look quite a bit more oafish than he typically likes. For a long moment, the man regards the ocean before him, but finds the inspiration lacking. It was just here before! He's paying not even an iota of attention to Felicia or Keith behind him--
--save, perhaps, for an arced eyebrow at Keith's unusual acceptance of the catgirl as being what she is, without preamble. Honest appreciation is hard to find across species lines. Slayer will need to remember Keith's magnanimity. In fact--
"Daniel!" Keith's name is *not* Daniel. Slayer is, nonetheless, raising one hand in the manner which a man might summon over a waiter or bellhop. When Keith presumably doesn't bend to Slayer's will, that upraised limb twists, adopts a 'who-cares' sort of lackadaiscal flop. "Never mind. I will remember you, always, as the frowning man! May you find the passion to chase your dreams!" Slayer's hand *twists*, to indicate Felicia over there.
"And you!" Slayer pauses for a moment.
"--Mm. I will talk to you later. Ta~" He lurches forward, vanishing off of the edge of the pier without so much as an explanation as to why.
There is no splash of a body striking water.
"Yeah... that hit the spot."
The bottle of liquor goes down just right. Keith is looking a lot more relaxed and able to take the night on. After all, when you have a weird guy who is off in his own world. It's not to say that Keith is unnerved by the events that are unfolding, but it does require a bit of alcohol to bear with it all.
Alcohol REALLY helps.
Oh, it looks like the catgirl is approaching him. While Felicia approaches him in favor of distancing herself from the strange, whose name they do not even know. Understanding that he is considered the lesser of two evils, he decides to use that in his favor and drop back to a knee, extending a hand her way.
"... Don't know much about the guy. He seemed interested in me for a bit. Or rather, something that I have." Keith isn't remarkable, he considers.
Wince.
Daniel? Seriously? Keith has a frown forming, "...At least get my name right, it--.." It seems that Slayer has gone off into another world. When he vanishing off into the edge of the pier...
No splash.
Turning the bottle, Keith tests to see if anymore of the liquor is coming out of the bottle.
"Well, completely dry." He gives a bemused look, "... I must say, this has been a very eventful night." He glances back at Felicia, "... Curious. What exactly is a 'Darkstalker'?"
"He... he's just a little special, right?" Felicia blinks as Slayer has left, looking considerably more relaxed and relieved now that the well-dressed man has exited stage left. "W-Wait, he's not normal either," DAMN, HOW DO YOU GET THAT GOOD? Felicia has obviously noticed him leaving by way of a body of water, yeeeeah.
"So uh, you come here... often?" her green eyes now slide back toward Keith, suddenly, the catgirl is more or less jumping up into Keith's arms, if he can support her lightweight. PURR.
"Phew, well that sure was a thing! As for dry, ehhh, not so sure about this place, it's kinda... wet in places," her white-furred feet are likely splayed trying to keep her grip on the sides of Keith's legs after she's face-latched like that, least she's not driving dem claws in.
"... Eh..."
Keith is not sure where to begin about Slayer. There were many things that left the man put off. One of them was the fact that the stranger knew about the powers that he had. The other thing that bothered him even more is the fact that he was calling it a gift, especially after his explanation of what that power does to people. He is an accomplished boxer on his own. He can fight without the use of it. However, there is that lingering desire for that hit. That serum.
After Felicia and Keith deal with the awkward silence of Slayer's departure, Keith is even more surprised when the lightweighted catgirl leaps into his arms. "Whoa." He finally catches her, then he offers her a smile, "Glad to see that you've come around." How was it that Keith was able to accept the girl so easily? Truth be told, Keith is used to dealing with strays and the fact that she was even more alarmed than he was, someone had to be the calmer person.
As such, the man reaches over to scritch along the girl's ear affectionately.
"It... was a stroll. I am afraid that there were a lot of dealings here." He looks at the unconscious men, now departing from the dock to explore more of the port.
Keith gives a bemused smile at Felicia as she tries to keep her grip. Supporting her, he places his larger arms along her back to support her. ... And to keep those claws from digging onto his legs.
"I am still curious about the Darkstalkers, but I am sure we can discuss that later."
"Prrrrr... A stroll huh? seems like it left alot of these guys unconscious!" it appears she appreciates the stroke to her ear, at least, giving a bit of a smile and pleased wince at that. Felicia seems to be hanging onto his shoulders with her hands, so there's little worry of him meeting the business end of her claws. After a few moments she hops down, anyway, because she didn't want to overstay her welcome, or something! At least he will notice she is warm.
"Well, what do you wanna know?" he might notice she seems to have a bit of a city-type accent, not afraid to use contractions and the like either, a bit of a far cry from the cultured monster of Slayer. "Was born different and can't do anything about it," she sniffed, apparently catching the scent of the alcohol.
"Jeez, are you big into that stuff or what?" she wrinkled her nose, white tail lashing about behind her.
"...We can attribute that to bad timing," Keith admits to the stray that he picked up. Keith didn't mind having the stranger in his arms. It is actually nice to feel like that he is needed. Perhaps it is the first time that Keith felt like that he was a protector of some kind.
Why does this feeling feel completely alien to him?
Although Felicia hangs onto his neck for moments, the older man decides to finaly release the catwoman so that she can straighten herself.
Finally, it is information gathering time. "What exactly is a Darkstalker?" He gives a thoughtful look, "... So, born different." A faint smile forms, "...Can't do anything about it. Suppose I can relate to that somewhat." At this point, Keith affectionately pats her on the head, then he adjusts his hood once more.
"...It helps." Keith gives a thoughtful look as he considers the alcohol consumption. "I wouldn't say I am big, but, it helps for what I need it for." Taking in the fact that he is talking to a girl that is almost nude, save for few outlinings here and there, the eccentric old man who disappeared before their very eyes, and the whole night. "Let's call it a management tool."
"Mmm, I bet!" Yeah, Felicia has a way of cheering people up. Sometimes this is totally innocent. Othertimes... well, not so much! But at least it's positive. She didn't seem to mind letting him hold her, prince charming style, anyway. Once she is down though, she seems to straighten herself out well enough, getting her jacket and tossing it back on.
"Well, it has something to do with chi, and for me it's cats... and yeah, I don't know too terribly much about it myself, besides I'm a catwoman, you know, just without the whips and rubber outfits," she shudders a little, Michelle Pfeiffer in that movie... moving right along. She blinks a little as she's patted like that, though her head does incline in his direction and tilts, as if she was a real cat kneading her head into it.
"Heeelps? I dunno, I guess I've seen too many homeless and winos stuck on junk to feel good about it, I don't drink much myself," she nodded a little. "If you say so!"
"...Hm." So, this is the extent regarding the Darkstalkers. This 'chi' is the underlying cause. The expression turns more contemplative. The initial process is correlating it with the organization that are responsible for his current situation.
Would NESTS be the source of this?
Those are thoughts that Keith does not want to contemplate any further. Truth be told, it sounds like too much of a hassle that would extend beyond curiosity. It is definitely not a good point to get involved with such matter.
Keith gives a chuckle. "...Perhaps." He considers, "Consider me a lost soul for now." He offers a faint smile, "I should be going.." He muses, "Though, you're welcome to come along with a stray." He offers a bemused smile. "Your choice."
"I wish I could tell you more, but my mom was a nun--she took me in and she didn't even really know too much about it, even," Felicia sighs a little, shrugging. "But yeah, my chi is different, it's cat-like, I dunno how to describe it," her barefeet slapped against the ground as she padded a bit after him, it seemed somewhere between running into Benimaru and Nightwolf and now she'd misplaced em.
"You uh, got a place...? maybe some food?" uh oh, that's the thing about taking in strays, sooner or later they wanna set up camp, for chrissakes. Felicia sounds like she /very/ much is hopeful he has some food somewhere, at least. Do you know how mice are to actually /catch/? Well, when all the other cats are eating them first, anyway!
"W-Wait up!" she seems to be hurrying along after him.
Log created on 06:16:51 12/17/2014 by Keith, and last modified on 06:49:57 12/18/2014.