“Yeah, brat. I... I really like cats,” Malba quietly acknowledged, and for all the world, he couldn’t quite keep himself from resting just a little closer to that so-called cat. It was a dangerous line of thinking he was yet a-fucking-gain skirting close to, the thought of before inviting Zelos into his home, the bleakness of his little apartment that seemed to somehow wane with the boy’s presence alone.
“I, uh, so you know though, I don’t think I’ve ever had a cat quite like you, Zelos,” he mumbled against the boy’s shoulder, his voice muffled, likely a little hard to make out—or maybe not, considering his cat’s heightened senses. “Yeah. Really... really lucked out with this one.” Maybe it was the fatigue, or maybe it was just Zelos’ reassuring hold, but he couldn’t stop himself from uttering those honest words.