“Finally,” he breathes.
I raise an eyebrow, looking between him and the cat. They seem to be having a stare-down, although Ro is doing it with excited glee, and the cat seems to be acting on reserved suspicion.
“I thought I’d never get to meet your cat,” Ro says, turning bright hazel eyes on me.
“Oh, it’s not my cat.”
“What?”
Ro turns toward me fully, confused eyes darting between me and the cat, then to the food bowl on the kitchen floor. I cavedand got it recently after getting tired of the cat batting random things off the counters in search of sustenance.
I wave my hand in the air.
“It just shows up sometimes and I let it in, but it’s not mine.”
“Riiiight,” Ro says, turning back to the cat. He crouches down, carefully lowering himself to the floor and holding out one hand.
“It tends to not—” I start to warn him of the cat’s antisocial behaviors, when the traitor walks right up to Ro, takes one sniff of his hand, then bumps its head into his palm.
Ro’s smile lights up the whole room, and he immediately starts chattering to the cat.
“Oh, you’re just a little sweetie, aren’t you?” he says.
I grumble a denial, but they both ignore me.
“Yes, oh you’re so soft, and so pretty,” Ro continues. “Handsome? Pretty?”
The cat twists between his ankles and rubs its chin along Ro’s shin.
He turns to me. “Is it a boy or a girl?”
I shrug. “No idea.”
Ro frowns, then turns back to the cat.
“Well, that’s okay. It doesn’t really matter anyway. You’re purr-fect just as you are. Aren’t you?” he says.
Oh my god. I refuse to laugh out loud. That can’t even be called a joke, but inside I’m definitely chuckling.
Ro smirks at me like he knows.
“Just purrrrrr-fect,” he continues, this time rolling the R in a way that hitches my breath. It makes me wish he’d do it again, but with his tongue on certain parts of me this time.
“Do they have a name at least?” he says.
I shuffle my feet and look away from the two of them as I slip by into the kitchen. I need to get my head on straight.
“Ah, well,” I say, stalling and trying desperately to think of a good name for a cat. “I just call it… Cat?”
I can feel his flat stare burning a hole in my back and I wrinkle my nose. Since when do I care what other people think?
“Well, that’s not going to work, is it pretty kitty?” Ro coos to the cat, and to my horror the cat flops into his lap and starts purring. Belly up, claws retracted, no teeth in sight.
I stare at them, and Ro grins up at me.
“Betrayed by my own cat,” I grumble.
Unfortunately, Ro hears, and his grin turns wicked.
