#sharpspi

The Academy, to his chagrin and delight in equal parts, has an infestation problem. Not of vermin, no—though Niles would certainly love to see the chaos that would cause—but of cats. They seem almost to be everywhere he goes, lounging and lurking, sometimes even approaching for a curious circle around him, but the moment he bends down with an outreached hand...

Hiss!

…yes. That.

Niles withdraws with a chuckle, watching the cat dart away. And, of course, footsteps alert him that he wasn’t the only one to witness the rejection.

“I suppose not all kittens enjoy a little gentle coaxing…” He rises, then, and leisurely turns on his heel to look upon his hapless new companion. “...but then again, being gentle was never really my thing.”

Another to show concern, and just like the first, Niles feels completely out of his depth. He's fought in plenty of battles. He's fought in a war. He's plenty accustomed to dipping in to save the life of a familiar face, and turning around to have his life saved in turn by another. Returning after a successful campaign—or even an unsuccessful one, all the soldiers returned to camp limping and torn, ash-streaked and bloody—had been a relatively quiet affair for him. The touch of a healer, should he need one; the nod of approval from his lord, because Niles has always checked to make sure Leo is well and in want of nothing before he leaves to tend to his own business.

So this—having someone worry about him, having someone hope he'd return, even if his life shouldn't have any value or use to them—is... new. Uncomfortable, if he's to choose a word; undeserving, if he's to be pressed beyond that. (Warm, if he's to be honest, which is stupid. What do these people know about him?)