milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The front door opens a tiny crack, like it wasn't properly latched and has come ajar. A moment later a tiny nose pokes through, followed soon by a fuzzy head.

A cat, black and white with wide yellow eyes, peeks into Milliways, meowing to announce this new discovery, then slipping through the crack into the bar.

"No, no, no, no-- "

The door swings wide, pushed open by a man in a black mask, a box of kitty kibble in his hand.

He's too late, the cat makes a break for freedom and adventure, and Matt is left standing in the doorway trying to track the feline as it threads its way through the chaos of the bar.

"Damn it."

There is absolutely no way Claire is ever going to let him live this down.

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The cat accepts this new perch with purring. Starved for attention, it is happy to have a new caretaker.

The previous sort-of-caretaker is busy shaking the box of food hoping to coax the cat back out of hiding because Matt doesn't have a name to call out other than 'Shithead'.

Sifting through the myriad of sounds and odors in Milliways, he realizes he doesn't have to because the cat is on its way back to him, up on the shoulder a very large man.

Maybe it's because he has the mask on, or maybe it's because he doesn't know this guy and the large man seems to be radiating an air that warns caution, but Matt straightens up and regards the big guy before replying.

"The cat," he says, pointing at the man's shoulder.

Matt's lucky he isn't going to say a word about the mask. He's seen worse.

"Yours, huh?"

He regards the cat again, stroking a gentle, clawed hand over the creature's head, before settling his gaze back on the masked man.

"Seems pretty happy here."

"A friend's," he replies. Or a friend's of a friend, doesn't matter.

The cat leans into the stroking, purring louder, and then headbutt's Creed's chin.

On several occasions Claire has called the cat a traitor, Matt didn't buy it until now.

"They're out of town, I was just feeding him," he says, for the moment annoyed more by the cat's display than the man holding onto it.

"You lost your friend's cat." It's deadpan as he scritches the cat's ears.

"They probably ain't gonna like that."

Of course, that depends on Matt's friends, but in his experience, cat people are pretty possessive of their felines.

Matt's mouth thins into a line, his chin tightening in an almost frown; trying to keep an even temper.

"No, she probably wouldn't. Which is why it's best I get him back home."

Unperturbed by the conversation, the cat continues to show its love for Creed.

Ear scritches are the best kinds of scritches!

"Finders keepers."

There's no way in hell he's keeping the cat. But Matt's annoyance is rising and he can't help himself but to egg the masked man on. It's in his nature.

"I ain't gonna let someone lose him."

Matt is aware the man is just trying to get a rise out of him. Matt also doesn't have the patience for this. He's got the Russian mob to take down, a crime lord to find, and whatever other bit of insanity the city might be throwing out at him tonight.

Not to mention a house guest who deserves the piece of mind of knowing her friend's cat hasn't become a new resident of the end of the universe.

"Just give me the cat," he says, clipped.

And now he's got an asshole assassin to deal with.

"What do I get for it?"

Matt flashes a smile, definitely not the friendly or amused type.

"I don't exactly have a wallet on me."

The cat finds it likes rubbing up against the hair on the side of Creed's face. Also, licking the man's ear.

The affectionate display is enough that Matt almost wants to deck the man and let him have the damn cat.

"A beer," he finally offers, words even-toned despite his clenched jaw. "My tab."

"A beer."

The cat snuggling up doesn't seem to bother him. He does take the animal off his shoulder and looks into his eyes.

"Dunno. He likes me a lot."

"Trust me, it doesn't last."

The cat liked Matt a lot, too, but Matt's beginning to suspect that was only because it annoyed Claire.

The cat stares back at Creed, unblinking.

In truth, he's always had a soft spot for felines, being so like one himself. He grins at the cat, then holds it out toward Matt.

"Don't need a beer."

That's more than a bit unexpected, but Matt doesn't hesitate; he reaches out and takes the cat, pulling it to his chest.

The cat makes a surprised, 'Mrrt?!' noise, and then immediately begins to rub itself against Matt.

Sighing at the animal, Matt inclines his head to the big man.

"Thanks."

The guy is still a jerk, but Matt wants to hit him in the face a little less now.

Yep. Typical cat.

"Don't lose it again. Won't be so nice next time."

"I'll remember that," Matt promises.

With a firm grip on the cat, Matt turns and heads for the door.

"Now I know why she calls you 'Shithead'," he mutters to the animal who continues to joyfully shower Matt with affection as they head through the door.

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