This Cat Got Claws

“Do you want to see something cool?” She asked, once they where out of range of the house, and well into said ‘jungle’.

You’ve seen a child at Christmas, right? Well, that was Blake on steroids. From the moment he’d set foot in the jungle, it was like entering a god-damn toy store - whether it being to stalk through the overgrowth or gain a vantage point in the trees, he was flooded with raw instinct; unfamiliar with the Zandian landscape, sure, but certainly not unfamiliar with the general offerings.  Bonus points, of course, went to Becca who stood by his side. Somehow, the experience seemed that little more exciting with her presence. So, you can’t exactly blame him for quirking a brow at the question. What he thought she was implying, well, we’ll put that down to the bond they shared on a primal level. Intimacy. Yes, he figured she was going to show him something fairly explicit. Not that he anticipated it, of course.  “Go ahead.” 

After afew moments, Becca pulled back from the hug, though she definitely didn’t stop the contact. Instead her hands moved from where they’d been resting on his shoulders to his cheeks. Her thumbs running gently across the stubble in hopes to keep him purring. “Do you wanna take a walk with me?”

Snuggling against the motion, he closed his eyes in a moment of uninterrupted appreciation - struggling to process how someone could be quite as tender and gentle as Rebecca’d seemingly mastered. At the prospect of spending some time alone with her to prowl - for, that’s what walking really was to him - his face lit up with child-like excitement; even more so when he considered how relieving time away from Artemis would be. The look said it all, really. He was pumped and ready to go!

Artemis had absolutely no idea why Rebecca had invited the young man to come to Zandia with them. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. It wasn’t that she had any problem with the other feline, of course, but she certainly didn’t like him sniffing around her daughter the way he had been.Which was why she’d taken ‘ample’ opportunity to separate them. Which meant, inviting Blake to swim with her in the mornings…      “How strong of a swimmer are you?” She asked as she almost immediately jumped into the body of water she’d taken him to.

Honestly, you’d think he was being asked to jump in a vat of acid from the way he glared at the water. Even as a child, he hadn’t had the greatest relationship with the fabled h2O…But, that held no relevance to how strong a swimmer he was - lions, by nature, are fairly remarkable when forced to traverse bodies of water. So, it looked like Blake would be following suit; diving in afterwards with a moment’s hesitation.  Bringing himself to the surface, he spat a steady stream of liquid from his mouth - akin to a water sculpture - and, frantically shook the dampened mass of hair out his face. Grr. “Strong enough.” In other words, I’ll survive. I mean, who actually enjoyed this sort of thing, anyway? Tigers are weird… “Why here?” C’mon, all things aside, he wasn’t stupid. He knew what she was trying to achieve in separating them. Having it explained outright would simply provide context for her actions; and, why he was freaking swimming out here in the first place!

A grin spreads across her lips as Blake collided with her from behind. Her hands immediately flying to claw at the arms that were bringing her down– not terribly hard but hard enough to let him know she was going to put up somewhat of a fight. And the moment her knees hit the ground, she struggled against him, turning her head to playfully snap her teeth at him.

Glad to see the playful nature of the moment reflected in Becca, Blake focused all his body-weight on tilting to the one side; effectively rolling over so that he was now the one laying on his back. Generally speaking, per the laws of nature, his aim should have been to assert himself as the dominant one - but, this wasn’t about that right now; this was, for all intents and purposes, two felines fucking around like felines do - complete with claw swatting and various degrees of growling.

Becca can’t help but grin as he somehow managed to sting words together. Within seconds of her sitting down, a young man had come by and dropped menus infront of them. And moments later, another young man set a tray of fruits and vegetables inbetween them on the table. “Of course I do.” She kept her grin as she popped a slice of melon into her mouth. “Why would I bring you to somewhere I didn’t know?”

Vaguely skimming through the food on offer, there came a point where Blake threw the menu aside in frustration; concluding that, if she was so familiar with the place, then, she’d know what meals to recommend. Even then, he wasn’t sure how to pronounce most of the names - let alone guess what he’d be served...  “Adventure?” he shrugged; slowly realising that not everyone operated quite as erratically as the young Catman. Routine? What was that? Habits? He had none. Well...He didn’t frequent the same place for too long, to be exact. Not out of paranoia or to cover his tracks - more...his attention span and instinctive drive to keep hunting moving betrayed him every time. “You smell goo-mph.” Good. Barely audible from the ridiculous mouthful he was attempting to swallow. They were both felines in nature anyway - it wasn’t like she was going to judge. 

“Becca.” She answers in turn, with a grin. His lack of social skills were cute.  Keeping an arm linked to his, she began to lead him down the street. Not even attempting to hold an actual conversation with him as they walked, as it didn’t seem like he could get more than one word out at a time. Once they’d gotten to the restaurant, which was owned by her father, she’d escorted him through the groups of old tattooed Zandian men who glared and muttered something about Americans as they came in. And as the men were scolded by their wives for being rude, Rebecca gestured at an empty table for him to sit. “It may not be as fun as hunting, but it should taste good enough.”

Although he offered a brief nod in response, there came no blatant indication that he’d actually acknowledged the disclosure of her name. As far as he was concerned, she could have the most obscure name in any given language - it was her scent that he’d go on to remember; just like with everyone and everything else he encountered in his travels. Take the restaurant, for example - they’d barely entered the block it resided on when he'd noted the prominent aromas of hibiscus, tarragon, juniper berries...And, a considerably unhealthy waft of ash. It all brought on the distinct vision of an exotic land - fruity scents, warm spices, that sort of ‘barbecue on a summer evening’ aesthetic that danced across his nostrils. It was strangely pleasant - almost as obscure - in principal - as how comfortable he felt in the female’s presence.  “You know this place?”

His use of the word in such a normal setting rolled off of her easily. She doesn’t even question it. Instead, her tongue darted out against her bottom lip as she considered food.       “Can I join you?” She grins, immediately invading his space and hooking an arm around his. “I know some good places to scavenge.”

Although he wasn’t exactly familiar with the custom, Blake didn’t object to the linking of her arm; and, he certainly wasn’t going to be complaining about the close contact any time soon. “Sure.” Granted, there was a twinge of doubt in his voice - generally speaking, he’d only ever hunted alongside actual lions in the past - but, from what his senses were telling him, she’d be more than capable of helping to sate that resonant grumble in the pit of his stomach.  "Blake.” It’d come out of nowhere - not in response to anything she’d said, more...him ticking off the ‘to do’ list he’d compiled on human interaction. 

    His scent was intoxicating. It wasn’t often Rebecca got to see another ‘cat’. Atleast one that wasn’t directly related to her. How could she not approach him. Making her way over to him, she grinned.    “What’s a boy like you doing in a place like this.” 

Having gained awareness of her presence, it was taking all of Blake’s - already minimal - self control to maintain a steady stream of thought. When he tried to ignore the scent - to push it aside - every ounce of his being screamed out in defiance. It was like he was being drawn towards her - and, boy, was he drawn. “Hunting.”  Rather, he was scoping out lunch - having not quite grasped the whole ‘human’ shtick yet or how freaking ridiculous the word ‘hunting’ sounded when spoken so casually.

    “Look– I know how to care for a damnned wound.” Artemis snaps at the young man, she was doing what he’d said of course.. But not because he said it. “Do me a favor and rip up your shirt.”

Growling somewhat in mild irritance, Blake set about tearing the fabric into various shreds - allowing for an instinctive grunt to pass from the exertion of doing so. How they got into this situation, he could scarcely recall - all that mattered now was getting out of it. “Saving your life isn’t a favour,” came the husked baritone; squatting on his haunches like, well, a cat. “It’s what you do when someone’s hurting.”