So very lost (Niks)
There were some sounds of things shifting, voices, but it was cool and dark where Mikey was, and he didn't care what the outside world wanted. He wanted to sleep. He'd seen the little cave like area and he'd crawled right inside. Nobody seemed to even notice. He hadn't even done it as a cat. Just walked right up and crawled right in. People milling around and everything. It just went to show, in Mikey's opinion, how stupid people were.
"What's that?" he vaguely registered the deep male voice. "There's a fucking kid in there."
Mikey knew then that they had found him. They were going to shoo him out. He opened his eyes and yawned, not really caring about being yelled at. People always sounded really angry, but if you ignored them, generally they eventually shut up.
He found himself looking into a pair of angry eyes and saw that a hand was coming in his direction. Likely to try to grab him and pull him right out of the cool, dark place.
"Don't touch!" Mikey growled, kicking his foot out.
"Get out of there, you little bastard!" The voice came at him again. The breath behind it was stale and sour. Kind of meaty.
Mikey would get out, but not the way that the man wanted him to. He scooted further away down the long space and then bolted out the other end, missing the swiping arms entirely. Proud of himself and pleased, Mikey made a face. Nobody could catch him if he didn't want them to. Nobody.
"Does that fucking kid have a fucking tail?" Came another voice. It seemed that a crowd had formed. People drawn in by the discovery of a body that might or might not be alive. Staying to see the drama unfold before them. Amused by the show that they were getting now that they realized that it was not a corpse. Perhaps a little disappointed by that.
His tail twitched, irritated. Really, the boy was the one who was irritated, not the tail. But the tail told on Mikey when it came to feelings a lot of the time. If he wasn't paying attention to it, sometimes it betrayed his innermost thoughts.
"Not a kid!" He turned and shouted. It was true, really. He was almost twenty years old now. But what he really meant was that he was a cat. He didn't know how or why, but he was a cat who could become a boy. That much was obvious to him because of the tail. And his eyes. His nails he kept trimmed now, since they'd started to make him wear pants, but if he let them grow, they became more clawlike than anything. Boys didn't have features like that. Cats did.
"Where are his shoes?" Mikey could hear the concern in that voice.
"Shoes are dumb." He answered.
He really wanted to get away from this crowd now. He was done with them. He was done with the whole thing. But as he pushed people aside to get through, the man with the angry voice beginning to follow him, Mikey realized that the smells were not the same here. This was not New York. He began to panic.