R Ε C O V Ε R Y || O N Ε

UNDER CONSTRUCTION

happy late birthday to my york <3 @warblissed

Matteo pointed to the top of the other's head, indicating the twitching and unusual ears. " are you a cat? " The question was a blunt one, but softened by the young child's wide - eyed mysticism over this magnificent find. It was clear Matteo did not mean that in any rude fashion, but rather an almost complimentary one, as he tries to reinstate his understanding of the world at large. " can i pet them? can i pet them? " He waved an arm up and down, almost as if asking to move closer.

after  making  your  way  carefully  inside  and  sniffing  around  briefly  for  worrying  scents  ,  you  decide  that  he  would  have  trapped  you  by  now  if  that  was  his  intention  ,  and  busy  yourself  with  finding  a  cozy  spot  to  sit  .

pleasant  as  the  junkyard  is  ,  you  know  full  well  it  can’t  compete  with  any  sort  of  human  home  ,  no  matter  how  small  .  the  junkyard  is  full  of  scraps  ,  after  all  ,  the  tossed - out  remains  of  things  no  longer  wanted  by  humans  .  while  serviceable  ,  these  are  nothing  compared  to  the  warmth  of  things  still  needed  .

not  that  you’d  know  ,  really  .

as  it  were  ,  you  make  yourself  comfortable  on  the  back  of  the  couch  ,  shifting  until  you’ve  found  a  position  you  like  .  your  watchful  gaze  is  fixed  on  the  human  no  matter  where  he  goes  .  trusting  as  you  have  been  to  step  into  his  home  ,  you’re  not  so  trusting  as  to  take  your  eyes  off  of  him  just  yet  .  vigilance  is  important  ,  especially  for  the  would - be  guardian  of  the  jellicles  .

as  the  severity  of  the  weather  picks  up  ,  you  show  little  reaction  ,  sheltered  from  the  storm  as  you  are  …  save  for  a  quiet  chirping  .

david groans as the lights give another flicker. if the power  goes out, that’ll be- a pain. but the detective moves to the kitchen, getting down a couple bowls. he fills one with water, and sets it on the floor just  on the living room side of the island, then goes about preparing some more chicken. 

“yeah, me too,” absent remark in response to the noises from the cat. “that rain’s rough out there. glad you came in.” he almost lights another cigarette, but pauses. it can wait until after he’s done cooking. once he’s finished, he puts some on a plate, and some in a bowl. tosses some stuff on his plate with it, and brings both things to the living room. 

you  slink  inside  ,  waiting  for  him  to  lead  before  keeping  a  leisurely  pace  alongside  him  ,  a  bit  behind  .  just  in  case  ,  you  tell  yourself  .  no  matter  how  nice  he  seems  ,  there’s  no  guarantee  he  has  your  best  interests  in  mind  .

once  more  ,  you  wait  for  him  to  pass  you  after  entering  a  strange  hallway  ahead  of  him  .  there  are  a  great  many  scents  you  can  pick  up  of  food  you  might  find  tossed  out  by  the  junkyard  ——  not  an  overwhelming  amount  ,  but  enough  that  you  can  gather  there  are  a  great  many  more  humans  living  here  aside  from  the  one  you’re  following  .

that’s  a  reassurance  as  much  as  it  is  another  fright  entirely  .

as  you  pad  to  a  stop  behind  him  ,  gaze  pointed  up  at  the  door  before  you  ,  you  meow  again  .  were  you  able  ,  you  might  express  your  premature  gratitude  …  but  that’ll  have  to  do  for  now  !

there’s a small laugh from wash- he’s actually really happy. this friend he’s made, he’s very smart; the detective is impressed. he opens the door- inside, the place has ... a sort of charm about it. the flooring is old, scuffed up wood, the walls are basic boring off-cream color. to the left of the entrance is a kitchenette with tacky linoleum checkered black-and-white across its floor. upon dark countertops sit empty take out containers, a dish towel, an old pot of coffee. there’s a small table in the kitchen, with a nearly-full ash tray on it and a pizza box. 

the kitchenette is divided from the main room with a small island. the top of it has mail scattered about, not to mention the detective’s badge. past that- the living area. a couch, an arm chair piled with blankets. an old rug beneath an old coffee table, a tv with some shelves around it. books scattered around. on the far end, beyond the living room, are two doors- one is the bathroom, and the other is david’s bedroom. 

“i’ll get something set up, in case the storm lasts a while...” he kicks off his shoes by the door, losing it behind them before going around to find a low bin. ah! he finds one, and sets it by the window in the living area- that window leads directly to the wrought iron fire escape. tearing up some scavenged newspaper, he’s made a make-shift litter box.  “there. in case you need to uh... make use of facilities.” 

you  listen  attentively  ,  though  continuing  to  eat  all  the  while  .  of  course  ,  you  know  nothing  about  how  long  of  a  week  it’s  been  (     humans  have  such  a  strange  way  of  talking  about  the  passage  of  time  ,  something  you’ve  always  found  odd     )  ,  but  are  interested  in  the  concept  of  a  better  meal  .  

you  think  it  might  be  to  lure  you  into  a  trap  ,  but  you  know  from  victoria  and  munkustrap  and  jemima  that  there  are  far  more  kind  humans  than  there  are  trappers  ,  and  you’re  inclined  to  give  this  one  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  because  of  just  how  long  he’s  spent  trying  to  get  your  attention  with  food  .

as  though  on  cue  ,  you  finish  eating  and  follow  the  human’s  gaze  upwards  .  you  hadn’t  needed  his  musings  to  know  that  it  would  rain  soon  …  ah  ,  but  it’ll  come  sooner  than  you’d  expected  ,  and  returning  to  the  junkyard  would  be  precarious  .  much  as  you’re  loathe  to  follow  a  human  inside  ,  you’d  prefer  to  take  your  chances  with  this  one  than  those  that  might  be  roaming  the  street  during  the  storm  .

looking  back  down  towards  him  ,  you  give  a  firm  mrrow  in  consent  .

well, maybe it’s just because he’s tired, but... the cat seems to understand him. washington puts his cigarette out in a mason jar beside the steps already half full with the butts of others smoked. he motions with an incline of his head, opening the back door after he stood. 

“don’t suppose you’ll let me carry you upstairs, huh?” he holds the door for the cat (his neighbors are definitely going to have words about this behavior. he can already hear them whispering ‘there goes david, he’s so lonely he treats cats like women’. joke’s on them: he’s not lonely). 

wash heads up the stairs directly to the left once inside.

he’s  right  ,  of  course  .  you  hadn’t  come  so  close  before  ,  due  to  skittishness  and  your  own  pride  .  this  ,  then  ,  is  a  thank  you  for  the  food  you’ve  been  getting  .

you  stop  in  your  tracks  when  he  moves  the  food  closer  to  you  ,  but  since  he  sits  himself  down  some  distance  away  ,  you  judge  that  it’s  safe  enough  to  further  approach  .  naturally  ,  you  take  a  few  wary  sniffs  at  the  meal  ,  stopping  only  to  look  up  and  make  sure  he  isn’t  going  to  approach  you  ,  before  confirming  it’s  alright  for  you  to  eat  .  and  then  ,  without  further  ado  ,  you  dig  in  .

watching the feline, washington can’t help but to smile. “glad you seem to like it,” he mutters, leaning back a bit with a groan. debating for a moment before he lights his cigarette, taking a deep drag before exhaling upwards. “it’s been the longest week, you know? glad to see your friendly face.” 

yes, he’s talking to a cat.

no, he doesn’t care if any of his neighbors notice. 

“i’d love to make better meals for you, friend,” he’s been very careful not to give the cat a name. once you name something, you’re attached (who’s he kidding, he’s already attached to the stray, otherwise he wouldn’t keep putting food out). “maybe with this time off i can try something fancy.” head rests against the brick surrounding the door frame, hazels close. the sky grows dark with storm clouds, and wash opens an eye to look up. 

“And make you miss basking in me delightful personality? I’ve done what I had to do!” Exaggeration, obviously, to match the sarcasm. “You seem to need excitement, look at you being broody and sad. Why not join on shenanigans sometimes? Did the military kick out all the fun out of you?” It’s not her business, but her care remain at a solid zero. Not until she’s being kicked or threatened with a gun.

it's been several days consecutively now that this strange human has left food out for alonzo (or another stray in the area, if there are any), but it's the first day alonzo has taken it upon himself to approach while the human is still around. since there haven't been any signs of traps these past few times, he's decided to take his chances and extend a paw. metaphorically, of course. (based on the Brief Exchange we had that once!)

    an unlit cigarette tucked behind his ear, this is his first day off in at least a week (or something to that effect- the detective hasn’t been keeping track, he’s busy)- but no matter how busy he’s been, he’s been putting food out for the cat- or cats, he’s not sure how many are around if there are any- daily. today’s food is a mix of chicken, rice, and carrots. not far off from his own meal. probably. 

     @stuttershook​ ♡’d for a cheesy one - liner !

     “ do you believe in love at first sight, or should i walk by again? “ Ahhhh, a classic.

the Trickster.

A person utterly self-reliant, and if they need others, it's for their interest and whim alone. Someone charming, someone who gives others an image that's only one aspect of their entire being—a being that's vast, that nobody has seen in completeness.

tagged by: @zorkaya