Characters: Robbie Baldwin and Open NPCs: none Location: Outside of his New York apartment Timeline: March 30 Description: Chasing a cat onto a roof to present a major incident Rating: PG
Cats are liquid. They have an innate ability to fit into and through spaces that don't look big enough for a sneaker. He should have kept that in mind.
Robbie had opened the window a little - barely two inches - because spring had finally turned up. His apartment had smelled like winter funk and Febreeze for too long. He had only turned his back on the window to grab his ringing phone, and, when he turned back around, he saw an orange tail disappearing up the stairs of the fire escape.
"Call you back," he said in a rushed voice, ending the call immediately. Robbie grabbed the entire Tupperware container of cat treats and threw the window open the rest of the way so he could climb out onto the metal balcony.
Niels was two floors up and pawing at his cranky neighbor's herb garden. Originally, he'd just been worried about his cat getting out, but now he can only think 'oh, please don't kill the shrubbery'. Robbie has no chance of figuring out what sort of tiny leaved greenery will be laying mangled on the platform.
"Hey, buddy," he called softly upwards as he took a few stairs at a snail's pace. "I've got your favorite chicken livers."
Robbie took the lid off the container and shook it gently. "Why don't you come back down? I'll get your kitty harness, and we can go to the park. You can beat up all the plants you want there."
Niels stared down at him for what seemed like forever. Robbie tried to wait him out, frozen between two levels of the fire escape. After a twenty second eternity, Niels slowly blinked at him. He took that as an encouraging sign and began his ascent again.
His cat turned and tore up the last flight, disappearing onto the roof in a leap of orange fur.
"Dang it." Robbie ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He was scanning the roof top for the stupid feline as he jumped over the wall of the edge. One step, and he was face planting on the cement. He had tripped over his own cat and was now laying among the scattered freeze-dried chicken litters.
As they dissipated and Robbie tried to comprehend how he'd wound up horizontal, Niels hopped onto his chest and nibbled at the cat treats that had landed on his shirt.
"I hate you sometimes," he murmured while he hooked a finger in the cat's collar. Niels tried to twist to lick at the liver dust on Robbie's hand. "At least you're the only one who saw that."