#caesar.exe

@feracie​: Leaves an assortment of homemade pasteries and scones in a basket on a table, in the early hours of morning for everyone to find. Tea and coffee is ready to be brewed on the side. Now she is going to sleep in late and pretend she never did anything in her late night escapades. She just wanted to cook, not that she wanted to make them for everyone. Yes, that's exactly it.

     While it was true that no movement truly went undetected, it was also important to note that not everyone could be omnipotently watching. Case in point being the fact that Caesar was dragging himself in at dawn. He had spent the night at the police station, first taking pictures of the crime scene they’d discovered last night-- it was a few days old, something very quietly done, Caesar had his eyes and ears peeled to see if it had anything to do with Macie and her pursuers-- before spending several hours sorting through and developing the pictures all in one sitting. 

     He is definitely the first person to enter the kitchen that day, the smell of pastries had not escaped him and he had made a beeline to see what was going on-- who could be baking for breakfast? Alas, the kitchen was empty but the table was set, almost like a quaint tea party and he loves it instantly-- he wishes he’d brought his camera along to photograph and capture the scene before any other heathen woke up to disrupt it.

     It is with great feline grace that he hops down the closet, landing perfectly on his paws, before idly stretching and yawning, a pink tongue curling in the air and sharp teeth revealing themselves before his maw shuts close and he begins strutting towards the door, ready to possibly steal something from the kitchen or swipe at someone’s unsuspecting feet or perhaps chase down a mouse to play with for the evening.

     He sniffs. The coast seems clear, almost ideal for sneaking. He is about to take his next step towards freedom when he’s yanked off his feet with a disgraceful yowl-- who snuck up on him like this? Who lifted him up and started carrying him like a baby? His feline pride was wounded-- until he registers that it’s Macie-- which instantly causes him to stop struggling as much and tamely pull his claws back in, not that he’d gone totally wild just yet.

     And she’s sleepy! She wants to cuddle with him!! The moment she warns him about moving, he takes the cue to lie limp and look at her with wide round thoughtful eyes. He might not be sleepy, but he could definitely snooze a bit more, so he stretches idly and a small paw reaches over to rest on her hand until she seems to have fallen asleep. 

     Then he moves, but only so he could insert himself into the crook of her arm, enjoying her warmth and presence. This was definitely the life, he thinks to himself with a very cat-like grin. If Macie was gonna be so nice to him just because he was smaller than usual and not as talkative ( yet. he liked to keep his cat speech down to a minimum ) then all the more reason to go furry when he could!

@feracie​:  “Stop being smug about cheating death, you’ll piss something off.”

     Wait a second-- was that some degree of concern he was hearing? Or was it a threat about Macie getting mad? Nevertheless, he pauses to look at her scrunched up face before breaking the silence with a laugh. 

❣️                             SOFT   INTERACTIONS !

@feracie​: [ sleepy ] for Macie to slowly fall asleep on the gremlin’s lap 

     While he was not a stranger to blood and broken bones, seeing it and dealing with it on a personal level was rather disconcerting. Personal being the fact that he had started thinking of Macie as not ‘other’ and that gave more meaning to everything that was relative to her. And that meant investigating and trying to figure out-- who could be so cruel as to break his strange feline friend’s leg? She didn’t seem the type to hurt a fly-- at least, not when she went feral. Not when she was really and actually there. That’s what mattered, right?

     So in good faith, he had brought her some tea and settled down with her, careful not to touch the leg. Even if it looked okay and if she said it was okay, he was going to keep eying it for quite a few days before being sufficiently assured that it really was alright. Humans-- he couldn’t ever trust their structural framework.

     Caesar wants to start asking questions-- what happened? Who did it? Where can I find them? Why do they want you? but Macie leaned on to him, effectively shutting him up before he even started, and seemed to have started dosing off. For a brief few seconds, sheer panic overtakes him. What was he supposed to do? Was he stuck here for an eternity until she woke up? Good Lord, was this how people felt when he lazily napped on them in his cat form?? Panic quickly dissipates as she sighs and he quickly extricates the mug of tea from her hands before it spilled. 

     If it were possible for his eyes to turn into slits, it would have happened now. While Macie clings, he’s zeroed in onto the mouse. How dare it come into his claimed territory? Did it forget who the rat king was? Time to teach it a lesson in death and make sure no other mouse ever crawled up this place ever again.

     “Don’t worry, I got this–” he says and the next second becomes a blur as he shifts, seemingly melting out of her grasp, much like sinking sand, and materializing more solidly on the floor, equipped with four paws and sharply filed claws, ready to hunt that mouse.

     Nyoom! Off he goes! No mouse will live to tell the tale of his reign of terror!