Brawling with Crud in a Coffee Shop (Open)

>> “Double cat.”

The catty Italian gave a grin. “It’s so intense.” The ginger tom took this opportunity to slide-jump-plop to the floor in the most elegant manner possible. It paused a moment to arch its back—le stretch—and then, by way of walking first towards the counter, and then towards the door, it cut a completely unconcerned V that brought it coincidentally next to the barista’s legs. And since it was there anyway… It bumped its head against her, with a demanding merrow.

Her guess at his mutation was close. Which is to say: spot on, minus some errant details. The young man gave a smile as slow and lazy as the cat’s waltz. He leaned back against the counter, picking up the re-constructed jar as he did so: cat-boy-toy.

“More than one animal-me?” He said, turning the jar over and around in his hands, examining its workmanship from all angles. “Now that would be a useful ability.” Not as useful as you’d think, actually: he still wasn’t sure what his range for splinters was, and the whole ‘mind-blowing headache’ thing he got for pushing it wasn’t so fun.

“Now, I’m going to make some guesses here. Educated ones. Do correct me if I’m wrong.” He lifted the jar over his head, and peered in through the newly sculpted mouth. The lone penny rattled, but stayed inside where it belonged.

“I haven’t seen you around the Mansion or the Sanc … so I’m going to guess you aren’t that deep into the mutant community, around here.” He peered through the jar’s glass, seeing if those names even registered any recognition on her features. “Your accent isn’t exactly East Coast, either, so I’m going to peg a ‘new to town’ onto that.” The first was a definite; the second was a guess that he was hoping she’d substantiate.

“And, since you just flipped that little sign to ‘closed’…” He stuck his hand into the jar’s new mouth, or tried to. His fingers wiggled and squeezed, but the penny remained ever elusive. “…I’m guessing you’re ready to go on a real tour of this town.”

He set the jar back on the counter, his ears at a much vexed tilt, and gave it a nod between equals. “Yep. That’s cat-boy-proof. So.” And finally: he looked back at her, for the quality eye contact the rest of his statements had been lacking. “Ready to go down the rabbit hole, Alice? It’s a crazy world out there, once you know how to see it.”

The cat by her legs gave a rather perfect mirror of the Italian’s Cheshire grin.