Poor thing, Ezra thought as he continued to stroke his hair. Underneath it all, even as a cat, Ezra thought he'd eventually come around to him. When you didn't know what it was like to be accepted how could you act it. If Kenzie knew him better he needn't have even really asked. Ezra kept secrets very well, perhaps too well. He would always have his secrets. There were some dates he wished still he could forget, some cities he would not be in at certain times.
So much power in one tight-lipped, short man. "I won't tell anyone, I promise." He assured him, speaking in his usual soft whisper. An image came to mind, a relic perhaps of his own unbidden Divinings into his mother's mind, or perhaps his own overactive imagination. Of she and Ezra in the same position. To this day he could still close his eyes and hear her softly thrumming voice as she sung soothingly and rocked, all heat, as he inhabited the small box in her lap. Sometimes for more than a week she'd take a stand with him, rocking rhythmically and singing the same songs to him. The things she knew that would bring him back sooner.
"As long as you shouldn't want to be rid of me." And to Ezra, that was the real issue, wasn't it? This had to be an intervention of Fate. An angel watching over Kenzie. Perhaps the same that occassionally watched over Ezra?