overpowered mumu

He felt pinned by her stare, as if he'd already forgotten to do it - which, honestly, wasn't impossible. "I won't." He promised, with a smile. "Oh." He hadn't even thought about that. "But what if he does have owners and then they're not very good to him."

Luna couldn't help but smile at Yunjun's decision. "Florian it is, with Bud as his nickname. I like it."

She noticed his worry and softened her gaze. "I know it's hard to think about, but we have to make sure. If Florian does have owners, we need to find out. If they’re not good to him, we can figure out what to do then. But we have to give them a chance first."

Reaching out, she gently squeezed his shoulder. "We'll take him to the vet and see what they say. No matter what happens, we'll make sure Florian is safe and loved. That's a promise."

She smiled reassuringly. "And hey, if he ends up being ours for good, we’ll make sure he has the best life ever. Deal?"

Nico waited, and then, when the man's hands moved again, watched his careful signing. Hm. "Shit." He said, aloud. Death was not an easy thing to deal with... and something told Nico if this was an important message from this guy's mother's deathbed, then it probably wasn't a fun thing to pass on. Then, realising he'd only verbalised, he signed: "Shit." Nico paused for a moment, trying to decide what to do. If his brother had asked anything of him before his death, Nico would have done anything he asked, honestly. "Check The Duckling Pub" He told him, against his better judgement. Paddy could handle himself, anyway. And this kid didn't seem like trouble anyway.

He looked around at the rest of the supplies. "Sure." He pointed over towards the corner cupboard. "These go over there." And he grabbed one stacks of the wooden breaking boards from the table.

Milo watched Nico, his eyes following the movements of his hands as he signed. With a steadying breath, Milo signed back, his movements deliberate and precise. "Thank you." He appreciated the information about The Duckling Pub, even if it was given reluctantly.

Turning his attention to the supplies, Milo nodded and moved towards the corner cupboard as indicated. He mirrored Nico’s actions, carefully placing the wooden breaking boards in their designated spot. As they worked, Milo glanced back at Nico, grateful for the unexpected kindness. "I owe you one," he signed, a sincere smile on his lips. "Do you know him then? Patrick, that is." The male asked, wondering if he could get some kind of idea of the type of person Patrick was.

Samantha's eyes flickered with amusement as she followed the direction of his sword. She raised an eyebrow at the assortment of practice weapons, a mixture of disappointment and excitement playing on her features. "Not quite what I was hoping for," she murmured, more to herself than to Nico. "But I can work with it."

With a confident stride, she approached the storage cupboard and surveyed the selection. Her fingers danced over the various options before settling on a wooden sword. She lifted it, testing its weight and balance with a few swift movements. Satisfied, she turned back to Nico, her eyes alight with a dangerous glee.

Odessa watched as he walked towards the bookcases, scanning the novels that sat upon them. She'd read each of the books that he suggested. If not once, then many times. "I have." She pondered for a moment, before asking: "Is there anything modern?"

Teddy smiled, nodding at her choice. "A great classic! A powerful feminist book. I could speak about it for days, but I won't chat your ear off, don't worry." He replied, getting the impression she wasn't someone who wanted to be trapped in a conversation with a stranger for longer than needed. "No, as much as I love it, I would say my favourite is Frankenstein."

"Modern, yes, of course. I think I have just the one!" He told her before running his fingers across the books, looking for the one he had in mind. "Aha." He said, pulling it out when he found it. "The Thirteenth Tale. I think you might like this. It's another gothic novel." Teddy turned and walked back to her, passing her the book.

Yunjun looked at her, then at the cat, who was a little muddy - what with tipping over the plant pot. "Right." He nodded. "Top of the list! I'll bathe it and... no flees. So... I need to go to the petshop, then. And get stuff for it."

Luna tried to keep a straight face, an appearance of strictness, but it was hard to keep the fond expression from her face as she saw him smile. "Hmmm," she tilted her head thinking, "What about Cosmos or Bud... Oh, wait! What about Florian... or Basil." Luna bit her lip, struggling to stop herself from just listing and listing possible names. "Do any of those take your fancy?"

She nodded with a smile. "Don't forget!" Luna warned him with a pointed look. I wonder how old he is. It might be worth taking him to the vet, too, to make sure he isn't chipped or something. I would hate to think we are stealing someone's cat."

He watched as his sister interacted with the cat. "I was thinking we could name it something floral...or like nature-y."

Luna chuckled, watching her brother's excitement with a fond smile. "Of course, you've already been feeding it," she said, shaking her head in amusement. "I should've known."

She bent down to pick up the cat, cradling it gently in her arms as she considered his suggestion. "Something floral or nature-y, huh?" She scratched the cat under its chin, thinking for a moment. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

She looked at Yunjun smiling. "And since you’re so excited about taking care of it, you can start by giving it a bath later. You need to make sure it's clean and doesn't have flees. Consider it your first official pet owner duty."

"This, for you, is shit. So feel shit." Probably not the trained-response that she should have had. "And don't give a fuck about me. Or anyone else."

Esmerelda managed a small, shaky nod as she listened to Nico. His awkward but sincere attempt to comfort her meant more than he probably realized. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice still trembling. His words, rough around the edges but genuine, struck a chord.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "It's hard not to care about what other people think," she admitted, wiping away the last of her tears. "But I appreciate you saying that. It helps." She glanced around, the cool air and Nico's presence gradually helping her feel more grounded.

"How did you get dragged into this?" she asked softly, wanting some kind of distraction. She took another deep breath, starting to feel a bit more in control.

"The truth?" James mimed being hit by a bullet and almost committed to the act by falling straight to the floor. But, in the end, he did catch himself. "Okay, okay. I'll be prim and proper James from now on. No fun with Teddy." He offered his friend a wink.

"And I thought I was supposed to be the smart one. If you take that from me, I'm not sure what I bring to the group," Teddy pouted. "Oh, for sure." He agreed, nodding.

A chuckle fell from his lips as he watched James' display. "Hey now, I never said that! I'm all for fun! I'm just demanding some more love for your old buddy."

She gave a start when the man stood up. Her eyes wide, she watched him. "I..." She looked towards the bookcases, the endless amount of books on offer there and nodded. "A recommendation. Please."

Teddy smiled gently, noting the weariness in her eyes. "Wow, so you're a big reader. What's your favourite book?" He asked, hoping that the distraction of talking about books would help ease whatever was troubling her.

"Of course, a recommendation it is." He walked slowly toward the bookcases. "Let's see what we can find." As he reached the shelves, he scanned the titles thoughtfully. "Have you ever read The Hobbit? Or Alice's Adventures in Wonderland? Oh, there's also The Secret Garden."

Teddy adjusted his hat, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as he watched her jump. "Oh, sorry about that! I didn't mean to scare you. I was just passing through," he said, tipping his hat in a playful manner. Don't ask. It would take all day to explain," he stated, referring to the disguise he wore, which could all be traced back to James and Pads.

"Name's Teddy, by the way. Didn't expect to find someone as wired as me this late," he chuckled, eyeing the coffee cups. "I was undercover, but it looks like I might need to switch tactics if I'm giving people heart attacks." He winked, clearly enjoying the chaos he unintentionally caused. "But seriously, maybe ease up on the caffeine before you start typing faster than the speed of light."

Yara looked up at the woman, raising a brow. "Who shit in your Cheerios this morning?" She asked, wondering what had her wound so tight. It was quite possible the stranger was also an escapee, given the state of her face and her mood, but that was no excuse to take her pain or anger out on others who would have been going through the same things. Or there was a possibility she was just a regular guest in the hotel, which made her attitude even less understandable.

Yara watched the cat fixate on the crib. She gave a small smile, appreciating the companionship. As the breeze flowed in from the window she'd just opened, the cat's attention shifted, and she saw him leap onto the windowsill, his small body poised to leave.

"Wait," she whispered, her voice breaking. She reached out instinctively, but it was too late. With one last glance at the crib and then at her, the cat slipped through the crack and disappeared into the night. Yara stood frozen, her outstretched hand slowly falling to her side. The room suddenly felt emptier, the silence more profound.

She turned back to the crib, her eyes filling with tears. She walked over, feeling the familiar ache of loneliness settle deep within her chest. She had hoped that maybe, just maybe, this little cat could fill the void, even if only for a short while. But now, she was alone again.

Sinking into the chair beside the crib, Yara stared at the empty space, her thoughts drifting to the baby and James—to the life they could have had. The hope she had briefly felt faded, replaced by the overwhelming sense of loss. "What am I going to do?" she whispered to the stillness, her voice barely audible. The room's emptiness seemed to echo her words, offering no answers, only a reminder of her loneliness.