Who: Bakeneko and Pop What:Messy cat comes in with dirty paws... When: Thursday night, April 19, 2011 Where: Pop's apartment
Kumori had slinked out of Pippa's home two days before when sleep wasn't enough. The monstrous kitty was hungry, but not for human food. He needed flesh. Something to tide him over while he kept Pippa as a pet (though she would think him hers). He liked her. She kept him warm.
He'd followed Raiden home as the pretty Japanese bobtail. She'd never even seen him when he slipped into her mother's bedroom that night. Those golden eyes feasted on the pretty woman as she lay down on her mat. It wasn't long before he'd feasted on her. Just a nibble here and there the first night. The second night the woman had locked herself in her room refusing to come out when Raiden came to the door. By the morning there was still a little left of the woman, but it wouldn't be long before Kumori devoured all of her and used her body like a second skin.
He hopped through the window of Pippa's apartment with bloody paws, limping as if he'd been hurt. Pippa would show sympathy. She had to.
Pippa had not been having very many good days lately. Idiots kept mucking things up at work, making her pick up the messes they'd left behind. Truthfully, they could have fixed their own problems, and eventually they might have done it correctly, but Pop had always been fond of the saying If you want a thing done well, do it yourself. She'd stomped and screamed and practically breathed fire.
Then she'd come home and find her Givenchy and YSL in an unceremonious pile on the floor of her closet, all covered in fur and nested in like they were playthings.
And then Dick Clark died.
Then - then - as if any of that weren't enough to go wrong in her life, the demonmonstercatman came tumbling through the window, tracking blood and dirt and whatever else he found outside into her bedroom and on her floor.
She scrambled - set her martini glass on the vanity, almost dropped it - and blocked the cat from reaching her bed. "No." Her mouth was set in a hard line. "No. I am so not in the mood. Out! You can't come back until you're clean. I've had two maids quit, I won't have a third!"
Kumori flopped on the floor on his side, golden eyes wide and pleading. He'd even added the purring. He'd clean himself when he was good and ready. Right now he wanted to show off those red paws as if he were proud of his find. His kill. All catlike creatures were alike when they'd had a prize. She was just lucky he hadn't dragged the body home to her doorstep.
"Don't even. I am super serious." She debated going over to grab him and push him back outside, but she wasn't fond of being scratched and was pretty sure he'd do it.
"I won't have you track any of...whatever that is into my apartment." She waved her hand for added emphasis. "You can just jump right back out of that window."
His purr stopped with an abrupt sound. It was slightly human, which made it even more eerie while in the body of a cat. He hopped up, on his home legs, running his side against her calves. When she insisted he gave a disgruntled growl, plopping his butt on the floor and proceeded to lick his paw and wash it over his ear.
After a few seconds he scattered out the window as fast as he'd entered. It would be at least half an hour before he returned to her door, this time in his human clothes.
Pippa swung the large door open, but moved away from it almost immediately. She was in the middle of mixing herself a second drink and it was a mission she would complete.
"Are you going to make me set out ground rules?" she called from the kitchenette, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder. "I'd hate to, but your lack of common decency is kind of forcing my hand."
She smelled of alcohol. In human form it was curious, but he generally had no taste for most human liquids other than blood. Human food took some getting used to in this form.
His eyes turned to slits watching her flick that soft, strange hair. It was so much lighter than his dark hair and mysterious features. His tongue slid over his teeth, protruding from his lips. He was full now. Satisfied. She could make rules all she wished, but like any feline, he had his own agenda.
She ignored his silence, used to it by now. He was probably more vocal as a cat, and she was more comfortable with him that way. She would sometimes forget he was also a person. He should probably fork over money for rent or something.
She turned back to him, glass in hand, and raised it to her mouth. "You owe me for the dry-cleaning, too," she added primly.
She was so intriguing sometimes in her annoyance, but he liked having her around to keep him warm. She forgot how well she liked him too in this form. He padded past her, taking off his shirt. Clothes were so pesky.
"I don't work," he told her. He lived off others. He wasn't someone that held down a job. He flopped on her bed, rolling his body across the sheets as if it felt better than anything else in the world.
"Then don't ruin my clothes." She leaned against the counter, curled her fingers around the edge, red nails tapping lightly on the underside of the granite.
"Also, I find it hard to believe you have absolutely no way to get money." All of them had some way. She had always been employed, but she was new. Shiny. It was easy to find employment in music when you were made from the stuff. Maybe it was harder for the older ones, but she doubted it.
He puffed a strand of hair from his face as if it were a feather, in his own lazy way ignoring her rant. That's all it was. A rant. He was full. A content Bakeneko.
"I live off others." Or ate them. His shirt was the first thing to go, wanting to feel the silk under his skin, not pesky clothing. He hated it more than anything. She was easy to seduce in this body.
"Other mortals," she emphasized. "Not me. Or my Michael Kors. What are you doing?" The question came suddenly, her words stilted. She shook her head, raised a hand to fluff the fringe over her eyes. "Whatever. I don't care."
There was a low growl under his breath, like an unhappy cat. He huffed peeling himself off the bed and standing upright again. "Grumpy. Such a grumpy god." He'd never seen anyone so flighty. He wasn't just a pet, but he wasn't sure what she was expecting of him.