Sarge (rageandblow) wrote in remains_rpg, @ 2015-10-06 12:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2018 [09] september, ian terrell |
Who: Sarge, NPC patches and a kitten
Where:
What: Sarge finds a kitten. Because aw.
When: September 30, afternoon
Nothing is more irritating than having to keep an eye on patches while out and about in the city. Okay, there are quite possibly a few things that Sarge could come up with that are more irritating than that, but in his current situation it is definitely just that. They are just about ready to head back but Sarge decided to tour the old hardware store one more time, always on the lookout for things not on their list he can bring back for someone. And maybe an extension of the distraction from the task ahead that keeps permeating his thoughts whether he likes it or not. So much that could go wrong... A movement in the corner of his eye has him stop, and he takes a left turn down the aisle with pet supplies, figuring he might as well pick up something for Cat while he is here. She is almost too big for the small puppy collar he picked up for her and she goes through toys faster than he can gather them on trips so… He stops dead in his tracks when he hears a soft mewling sound from underneath a shelf, and after checking his surroundings he kneels down to investigate. When he comes face to face with a big eyed kitten he grunts and does a double take.
“The fuck are you doin’ here.”
It’s not really a question, mainly because he is aware that the cat won’t be able to reply to him anyway, but he’s been doing things like this ever since he can remember. Some people might be tempted to start some sort of messed up baby talk, but not Sarge. That would be silly. Talking in general though? Absolutely okay. After a moment of hesitation he gets back up, slowly, so he doesn’t spook the little thing, and walks away. At least a couple of steps, until he is facing the collars, because that is something he is interested in and not because there is a tiny creature that needs help just behind him. He picks up a heavy Harley Davidson leather collar and squints at it, until he feels something brush his leg. When he looks down he spots the kitten, trying to rub it’s grimy head against his jeans.
“Don’t even think about it. My dog will eat you.”
Which he doesn’t know, of course. But he has just never been a cat person. They are shady, all of them, and no matter how many he was exposed to over the years, this opinion has never changed. Dogs are happy as long as they have their place in the pack, however small that may be, and have a job to do. Cats sit on shelves waiting to attack and claw your eyes out. So he takes a few more steps, glaring at the filthy little bundle that keeps waddling after him the way little things seem to do. And there are more mews, but low and subdued, almost like a mumble. He will not find that funny. Inching back towards the dog food he pauses, one foot in the air. It would be so easy to put the little fella out of his misery, just put his heavy boot down in the wrong spot and add some cat hair to the zombie gunk from the one he put down earlier. Except that he can't, and no matter how much he wants to deny it... Sarge knows it. The big, frowning man who will not hesitate to kill another human if he deems it necessary, could never kill an animal. Maybe a deer to eat or a bear or something. Not a small one like this. And it is just a little frustrating.
"Quit lookin' at me like that, you're on your own fella."
Why he decided that it is a male he doesn't know. And the thought process is dangerous, because next he will give the cat a personality and that just ain't right. That just smells like trouble and suddenly having to find a litter box for emergencies like gas storms or blob rains. Some idiot patch pokes his head in, and Sarge is grateful that he can only see his head and not the kitten currently trying to crawl up his jeans. A glare helps communicate that Sarge is still alive and not ready yet and the guy vanishes. Once he is certain that nobody is within earshot Sarge looks down again, just as the fur ball is sliding down his leg, too weak for a climbing adventure of this magnitude.
"You ain't givin' up, huh."
The little cat looks up at him with big eyes and sits down, triggering a string of muttered curses. Finally Sarge takes off his backpack and stuffs the dog toys and collar into a side pocket. When he looks up again he realizes he is in the cat section already and he is looking straight at a few dented cans of kitten food. With a growl he grabs them and stuffs them into the pack that is already bursting at the seams, finds a few pouches of milk he hopes will not burst on the way and leak all over his other findings. After a few moments of grim consideration he bends down and gingerly picks the cat up by the scruff of it's neck and looks at the tiny thing, eye to eye this time. Addie would probably love having a cat, he remembers various clawed predators looming in and around their trailer over the years. The kitten is caked in grime and he should probably do something about fleas and worms before he lets that thing near the little Martian.
"A'ight, if you piss on me on the way we're gonna have a problem, got it."
Again, he doesn't expect a response and he is fully prepared to feel something wet and warm before they reach the Park, but he lets the kitten slip into his hoodie anyway. With a grim face Sarge swaggers out of the store, nods at the patch and his buddy sitting in the truck and gets on his bike. He hopes that nobody will question the two bags of cat litter and the purple litter box that suddenly appeared in the box of the truck. Or the lump under his cut that is vibrating way before the engine of his Harley comes to life.
Sarge really isn't a cat person. But he knows someone that is, and that is good enough. Because there is no doubt, there can be no doubt, that they will get Adelaide back. So he'll take this kitten back and give it to her when they bring her back to the Park, after all she gave him Cat.