Ezra always had a soft spot for animals. Truth be told he had a soft spot for just about everything, but cats held a special place in his heart. There was probably something to be said about the stereotype of witches and their cats, but he wasn’t about to let something like that stop him from feeding the Southside strays.Â
Predictable as clockwork after his shift he was out in the alley behind his apartment refilling the old pie tins he kept set out. There were a few of his regulars already milling about, mewing and rubbing around his legs. He gave a couple of them head scratches as he moved on to a few more tins. A noise at the end of the alley caught his attention and he saw someone standing there.
“Wanna join? I think there’s still a table for two,” He said giving them a slightly crooked grin.Â
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