Ah, Ghost Adventures. Quite the guilty pleasure. Acting like a meathead dude-bro while chasing ghosts is pretty much exactly how Mao would do it, so he found the show very entertaining. It seemed Mao and Vaughn had similar tastes in shitty television shows, another plus for whatever the hell was forming here. Could it really be called friendship? He could pretend to be a pet, but he’d never consider Vaughn his ‘owner’. Mao thought of himself as a wild untameable thing. So let's just ignore the fact he was turning into purring putty right there on the couch.
Vaughn might as well roll out a permanent red carpet with an invitation like that. Mao went ahead and interpreted it as he could consider this apartment equally his. He’d come and go all he wanted now, regardless of time of day or if Vaughn was home or not. There was no way he’d not take advantage of an open window. As for being driven anywhere tonight, no thank you. He was enjoying himself too much to leave.
Dinner, a massage, and corny guys yelling at ghosts. Definitely a dream date. After eating a few bites of chicken Mao stretched himself out against Vaughn’s leg, front paws hanging over the edge of the couch. Purring loud enough to be heard over the television exclaiming, ‘I GOT CHILLS BRO DO YOU FEEL THAT!?’ he let those bright fiery eyes slip shut.
Mao did not trust people easily (or even at all, really) and one would think that in a vulnerable form like this he’d trust them even less, yet there he was actually falling asleep in a stranger’s home. He should have been contemptuous of Vaughn’s hamelessness, but he wasn’t. He found it weirdly charming. And he also found himself feeling weirdly safe. Safe enough to doze off and leave himself at the guy’s mercy.