milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Ah so, here is the recovering alcoholic hippie, in the bar, at a booth, with real food. Yeah, totally. He's eating it very, very slowly, but he does have what appears to be a ham sandwich. And tea.

And a really big, really old book, compliments of ~~Nearly Wristless Rod~~ Roderick Usher.

He is also playing with a spoon, twirling it in one hand lazily.

Please annoy.

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Miniver is okay with that. He's not really very hungry anyway.

He offers down a bit more.

"You're cute. You belong to anyone here, or another astral wanderer? I always wondered if cats could do that on their own..."

No, Miniver does not think it odd to hold conversations with things that don't necessarily talk back.

The cat greedily takes that bit, as well, eating it neatly and efficiently. Its spotlessly white fur is very clean and well taken care of, but no collar is closed upon its neck. Indentions around its neck, however, show that a too-tight collar might once have been worn there.

Getting off of Miniver's foot, the cat leaps up to a barstool, using it as a springboard to get up onto the bar top, where it curls up around the warm teapot nearby. Within easy scritching distance. Prrrrrrrrrrrr.

Miniver grins.

"I'd almost guess you for Draco but I think he can only be a white fox, not a white cat. Oh, well. Somebody clearly takes good care of you."

He leans against the table, reading his book as one hand scritches scritches scritches the kitty, possibly somewhat envious if its ability to curl around teapots to keep warm. Miniver is small for a human, but not THAT small.

The cat's bright green eyes are definitely not Draco's, but it may be hard to tell. The cat's eyes soon close wite pleasure at the delightful scritches as it purrs like the drone of a well-tuned motor. Miniver has a cat's head leaning hard against his hand, practically vibrating from the purring.

Sm. Much. Cute.

Miniver might actually even forget about his book for the time being, and rest his chin on his arm, and watch the cozy cat.

Scritches are the BEST therapy sometimes.

They are, for both the one scritching and the one getting scritched. There is well-documented evidence that scritching a cat is a good luck gesture. Also, happy cats avert doom and woe. It is a well-tested law of the universe.

Or a well-tested law of the end of the universe. It could just be Milli-centric. You never know.

The very white cat gazes at Miniver, contentedly, and blinks very slowly.

A staring contest may develop.

Blink, blink, wink, grin.

Miniver is good at responding to critter-language. This is mainly because he has such a vivid imagination, he's always assuming animals are trying to say something and trying to listen and look for what it might be.

His gaze locks on to the kitty's.

Staaaaaaare.

The cat gazes back, unruffled.

The cat's ear is tickled.

The ear twitches.

It doesn't bliiiiink!

Miniver doesn't play fair.

He resumes petting the cat's head, his hand wandering innocently down until he pinches the tip if the kitty's tail. Not in a painful way, or anything. He's played with enough cats to know what won't hurt them.

The cat's tail twitches, too, and the cat purrs at the petting.

But he doesn't blink. Moo Ha Ha.

Oh, this cat is GOOD.

Miniver crosses his eyes at the kitty.

The cat crosses its eyes back.

Somehow.

(ooc: Sorry for the delay. Guests over.)

Now that's something he's never seen a cat manage before.

"Whoa. Cool." Scritch.

[No problem! :)]

Smug smirk. Yeah. He rocks.

He knows the human will have to blink, eventually.

He does.

The cat tends to win whatever game is being played anyway.

Blink blink blink.

"I think you get the prize," he laughs.

"I agree," it says, smugly purring against Miniver's hand.

Miniver squeaks in surprise.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" More laughing. "Um. Hi."

The cat grins, amused. "Good evening."

"Good evening. I didn't realize you could understand me. Er. Man. I don't think I've met a talking animal before."

"You still haven't met a talking animal, but that is all right." Though it shouldn't be able to, the cat shrugs.

"Oh." Blush. "Sorry. You uh... er... well, you're kind of... a cat, so you know I assumed..." Cough. "I'm Miniver."

"Just shaped like one, that is all."

"Pleased to meet you, Miniver. I am Yrael."

"Pleased to meet you, too." This is so cool, he thinks. "Why are you shaped like a cat if you're not really a cat?"