"You mean to tell me the cat from yesterday didn't look at all familiar to you? My my, someone is growing rusty with his observancy skills." It is a light-hearted remark accompanied by a wide grin, leaning forward to plant elbows on knees and chin on folded hands. "Whatever old magic I walked into has worn off, but did not come with a returns policy for my clothing."
“Did you fly into a wall?” Tseng wills his mind to catch up to the present, the now, and when it does his expression is caught somewhere between bewilderment and disbelief. “You can’t possibly have been… Cat?” It’s the name he had unimaginatively settled on when the cat had graced him with its company more than once. He wonders now -while watching Chaos shift and move, in manner that can only be described as feline- how he could have drawn any other conclusion. Tseng shuffles over to the WEAPON -bed sheets gripped around his waist- with only good intentions.Â
“I need to get to work. I doubt my clothes will fit you but feel free to try them on.” He leans forward to place kiss on Chaos’ forehead but stops a few inches short of making contact. A line weaves itself across his forehead, deepening as he leans closer and sniffs. Superseding the familiar scent of burning ashes; threading between the fresh tang of ozone, is something else. “You don’t smell like yourself.” A soft snicker sounds as he stands, holding out a hand. “Licking is no substitute for a real shower.” He takes a step back -ignoring the loose sheet- and doesn’t make an effort to pick it back up once it’s pooling around his ankles.Â
“Join me.”Â
