Kent finds her outside his condo, a shuddering, tiny thing with patchy and matted fur hiding from the sun, and if she wasn’t mewling loudly from her hiding spot in the shade, he would have walked right past her.
“C’mere, kitty.” Kent sinks down to his knees, ducks his head to look under the dumpster, sees her looking right at him. He holds his hand out, slowly bringing it closer, his cheek nearly pressed into the burning concrete, trying to draw her out. For his effort, he’s rewarded with a hiss and a claw in his finger.
“Son of a-” Kent jolts back and lick the blood away as he glares at the dumpster. The sun is baking the garbage and he just wants to get out of here but he’s not going to leave yet. He runs back into his suite, rummages through the fridge for anything that might be edible, nearly breaking his neck on a stray stick, then parks himself back in the same spot.
First, he uncaps an overpriced bottle of volcanic water and slowly slides it towards the cat, craning his neck to check that she’s lapping up the puddle. Some of the water is soaking into his shorts but he doesn’t want to move.
“Good girl,” Kent coos when he sees her tiny tongue poke out and lick her wet paws. “That’s some expensive shit, though, so don’t waste it.”
age unknown; gender fluid; a drifter and a petty thief; been everywhere, seen everything (supposedly); constantly mooches off nathaniel for everything from living space to toothpaste; excellent programmer and hacker; met ptolemy online but never in person; only found out after ptolemy disappeared from the internet that he had passed away from progeria; first tattoo was mā shā allāh (ما شاء الله) as a reminder of ptolemy and his faith in others; has only stuck around with nathaniel for this long because someone needs to keep that loser in touch with reality (or at least, that’s the explanation given when asked)
B stood at the edge of the water with Kitty, freezing cold
Puget Sound washing over their bare feet as they watched the sun come down over
the Olympics. Further up the beach were a few raging bonfires, but most of the
fire pits at Golden Gardens were empty, probably because it was still March.
Needless to say, B’s feet were already painfully approaching
freezing temperatures, but tradition was tradition and besides, complete and
total numbness would soon set in and take care of the problem.
“Where’s Nathaniel, anyway?” Kitty said, sinking her face
further into the huge scarf wrapped around her neck and blinking into the
“On a date,” B said, and cast a look Kitty’s way. He’d been
waiting for the question since arriving at the beach with one less soulless corporate
branch manager than Kitty had been led to expect. This new slip in Kitty’s personal
standards was, admittedly, horrifying, but the amusement B derived in watching
her pretend it wasn’t happening was a marked consolation. (read more.)