Re: Log: Dinner, Isaiah and Cat
Cat liked compliments. She cultivated them like other people cultivated bank portfolios. There was currency in being desired, and Cat had learned that young. Oh, better to make the best of a bad situation, and that had always been the kitty cat's motto. Now, did she think it meant anything? No, she didn't, and that was self-preservation on overdrive. "Of course you do. Of course they do. That's the whole point, Isaiah."
She chuckled. "And I knew you were going to say you didn't have a problem with me doing what I wanted. Try to be less predictable, Doc." But it was all in good fun and, however much she wanted to scream at him for starving himself and working himself to the bone, she was currently simply enjoying the fact that she'd gotten him out. Would she do it again? Who knew, because she was a fickle Cat, and it was entirely a matter of mercurial patience. Most days? She couldn't stand the thought of him.
"I do like being surprising." The bowling alley wasn't Cat's usual type of haunt, but she liked being unpredictable, and she'd gained a certain amount of appreciation for small-town life. She cut the engine, and she stepped out into the cold Repose night. When she saw his offered arm? She chuckled. But her mercurial mood was currently positive, so she laced her arm with his.
Inside, the bowling alley was old fashioned and suited to a town like Repose, and Cat motioned to the dining area with it's little tables, pizza and burgers. "How about you get us shoes and a lane, and I'll get us food. I wear a nine. What'll you have? On me, of course."