“Uh, might I remind you that Sebastian the crab pronounced it Are-e-elle instead of Air-e-uhl? So that thrilling cartoon, which effectively transformed a perfectly good, gory, fairytale about heartbreak and horror into a barf-tacular snooze fest about happy endings, got his name at least half right, half the time.” Here, abrupt and unbidden and (possibly) unexpected, a feline expansive, toothy, seraphic grin clawed along her features, bright and finally, less walled-up. She even straightened her spine instead of lounging lazily along the countertop like a bored teenager at a family meeting. She reached for a perspiring, chilled ‘coffee’ thermos brimmed with icy blood slush and gracefully supped through the straw. Of course, he’d be able to smell what was really in there. Far from boring fucking coffee. Which, by the way, tasted like barnyard dirt and daffodils in her human-time. But we digress.
Since he’d specifically said whenever you're ready, she turned her back to him, hopped up onto the counter. She’d looped her arm through her absurdly large purse, which held nothing much aside from a wallet and a pair of emergency leggings, maybe a weapon or two. Claudia then shifted herself around with an unforeseen refinement in scooting across, and jumping off of counters. Once she was next to him, she peered up, held out her cold little hand. Yes, she could’ve just walked around the counter, but why? The Sheriff was saving her from hell, therefore, there had to be room for minor theatrics.
“Cool. So let’s ride off into the sunset. Except, it’s not exactly a sunset. It’s night, and we use our vibrant imaginations to pretend it’s a sunset, since if it were actually one, we’d get crispy and really uncomfortable.”