he sits, waiting. fingers scratch away at the neck of a beautiful russian blue cat as jim stares at nothing in particular. the cat snuggles on his lap, while a defensive orange shorthair seems to glare at the criminal from a high shelf, rightfully so. jim isn’t supposed to be here ( not that it would stop him ). NOTHING GOOD came out of that incident, that embarrassment. the criminal has been exposed, and even if the quartermaster has not figured out his true identity by now, he will soon. jim would rather reveal himself on his own terms then have someone else spoil the fun of revelation.
a sudden crash grabs the criminal’s attention ( the cat on his lap barely flinches ). jim looks up to see that the cat has pushed something fragile from the shelf. after pridefully looking down at its work, the cat curls up, its back to the criminal. before jim can address the situation, the door opens, q finally returning home. a smirk forms. ‘ hard day at work? ’