milliways_bar | (no subject)

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When Autor steps through the door today, his clothes remain the same: white pants, oversized gray sweater, and glasses. What changes are the ears. Not his, necessarily--those still remain human--but he sprouts fuzzy, gray, and pointed kitten ears on top of his head with a soft, "Oh!" The tail is also new, and telegraphs his body language as the tip curves upward in agitation.

"Really?" he calls up to the ceiling. "Come on!"

Experimentally, he brushes his fingers against one of his fuzzy new appendages--and tears his hand away, blushing. They point in different directions, moving independently of one another to show his ambivalence with the costume.

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"Eh, what's the fun in that? She's sentient, she can pick her own drinks." Besides, who else is she going to debate vodka with? After all, this bar seems startlingly dry, considering.

Autor smiles a little. "Fair enough," he says, his ears pointing straight up. He reaches out to tap her wrist. "I've missed you, Katya. The bar is boring without you."

Look, she's never claimed that forbearance is her strong point. In fact, it's been a publicly known problem area for a long time.

So of course she's going to scritch his ears. Ear scritches are awesome and amazing, why wouldn't she? And she has a century's worth of practice, though admittedly she's more used to playing with ursine ears.

"I know, you all must languish without me."

Autor jumps at the contact, but is soon reduced to a puddle of contented, purring catboy. "Oh! Don't stop," he says, leaning his head into her hand despite the blush on his face. "Please."

Katya chuckles, the sweet-tart taste of strawberries on her tongue.

"What, no one told you about the ears? This is criminal. That'd be like no one telling you about the tail."

Autor's purrs come from deep in his throat as he slumps, boneless and relaxed. "What about the tail?" he says, his eyes drifting shut under her attentions.

Katya doesn't stop scritching his ears - she'd have to be a much more moral Other than she is to do that. Honestly, he's like cup of high-octane coffee for an Other like herself.

But there's still scritches at the base of his tail.

"I don't think you have enough petting in your life."

Autor thought the ears were amazing, but they're nothing compared to the tail. He gasps, clinging to Katya's shoulder. His purrs grow in volume, shaking his throat, and he arches his back under her touch. "T-This feels ridiculous," he stammers. "And of course I don't get enough petting; I'm not usually equipped with the e-ears for it."

"Ridiculously good, you mean - Bear would owe me scritches after a bad patrol if I had to rescue his fuzzy behind." Katya snorts, settling in for a good petting session.

Autor wriggles against her, making himself comfortable. He nearly bites through his tongue, he's so pleasure-addled. "Yes," he gasps, "ridiculously good. So good."

He tries to focus enough to ask a question about Bear, but he can barely breathe, much less think.

"Shhh, ребенок ученый, shhhh, it tends to go better with breathing, mmm?" She rumbles softly. The scritching settles into a steady rhythm, well-practiced and confident.

Autor draws deep breaths through his nose, his cheeks flushed and his head spinning. "Breathing is a good idea in general," he says, "but it's so difficult right now. You're distracting."

He pushes his glasses up and leans his head on her shoulder, melting into her.

"I thought that's what you liked about me." Katya teases cheerfully, tucking him against her, the gesture both comforting and protective.

Autor embraces her fiercely, clinging to her and breathing in her scent of wild things. He twitches under her fingers, easing into a sleepy, contented state. "Yeah, well," he says drowsily, his words slightly slurred. "That's part of what I like about you. But not all. There's a lot to like."

"Mmm, do tell. A girl always likes hearing good things about herself." Katya chuckles, tweaking a lock of hair before returning to the scritches.

Autor snorts, smiling despite himself. He leans into her touches, resting his head against her. "Well, you're fearless for one," he says, brushing his thumb against her cheek. "And you're mysterious, which is hard to be and makes you interesting. You don't give anything away. And you're really, really good at scritches."

"Give away? No, what would be the fun in that? Things should be asked for." Katya asserts, her voice rumbling in her chest - the tiger is never that far away.

"I did ask, for a long while, and you only just started telling me your secrets," Autor says with a hmph. He fists his hands in her shirt, arching his back into her touch. "Oh, right there. Yes. I still don't know what an Other is."

Katya hums, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. She makes very sure to obey his demands.

"What would you ask of me?" She rumbles in his ear.

Autor hesitates, turning the wording over in his pleasure-addled mind. "I want to know why you ask me that sometimes," he says eventually. "It's very specific. Is it a contract with humans?"

"Mmm-hmmm. Well, of a sort - in Moscow, enough people still know how to ask, will ask, for help when they need it. It is common enough we watch the Dark Others to make sure the humans are not abused. It happens." There's a faint shrug to match the words. "No one seems to know how, here."

"And you think I need help now?" Autor says, raising his head to look at her. He shivers under her touch, goosebumps breaking out on his arms. "I'll keep that in mind, should I actually need it. Thank you, Katya."

And then, because he's on a roll, he asks, "What are Others?"

"The ones different from those that aren't Others." Katya replies, calmly, flicking a finger along the inside of one of those fuzzy ears, delicately.

Autor pulls a face, which quickly morphs into a smile. "There you go, being mysterious again," he says. "I'll need to phrase my questions differently. How do Others differ from humans? Beside the shape shifting."

Katya laughs softly, going back to scritching.

"What makes you think shape-shifting has anything to do with being Other?"