Vaughn indeed had wit and charm, Mao did not often take more than a shallow interest in people. Sure he was telling himself he was just in this for the free people-meat and possibly a place to crash now and then, but there was a certain easy commadrarie between them already that he rather quite liked.
He flicked his ears that the talk of salt, not believing it for a moment. And even if he did, he sure as shit wasn’t scared of salt. That stuff was for like, fairies or something anyway, right? Mao honestly didn’t know what sort of things worked against his kind, and maybe that was a good thing, because didn’t people say that belief was necessary for all that old folklore stuff to work? If Mao didn’t believe in anything, then nothing could hurt him, right? Right.
Tail held high like the banner of a victorious conquistador, Mao strutted right into Vaughn’s apartment. He expected something a little fancier, assuming that people who worked in hospitals made the Big Bucks. Still, it was better than most of the shitholes he typically stayed. No cockroaches was always a plus. Shameless, Mao poked his nose everywhere while Vaughn busied himself in the kitchen. Under the couch and bed, atop the bathroom sink, he even took a quick sniff at the man’s dirty clothes hamper. Say goodbye to any sense of privacy you might have had, V! He was a little black blur zipping from place to place, and once he was satisfied, he returned to Vaughn’s side.
The rules that governed typical housepets did not apply to Mao. He jumped up onto the kitchen counter without hesitation, already acting like he owned the place. He sat and meowed as if announcing he had finished his inspection and the apartment was approved of.