Wow. Just. Wow. "That was the worst subject change ever. Of all time." Chief does better, and Chief is still learning how to people.
"You know you're allowed to have feelings, right? It's kind of part of being a person." They'll talk about DC later, after Wash gets answers or the subject gets too dangerous to talk about.
"I'm not jealous," he insists tightly. "What they do together is irrelevant to me. It's their business, not mine." Not Wash's either, but here he is stirring up gossip, regardless. Honestly.
His feelings, whatever they are, don't deserve examination. They're pointless, and he knows it.
Wash raises both eyebrows knowingly. "Just because it's their business doesn't mean you can't have opinions on it." Search your feelings, Locus. You know it to be true.
Oh look, emotions! He knew they were in there somewhere. "If you say so," he says lightly, in a tone that makes it clear that he doesn't believe Locus at all.
At that moment, DC decides that he isn't getting nearly enough attention, and he announces this opinion loudly and paws at the screen again.
If the cat will keep Locus talking, then that's what Wash is going to focus on. "York got him for me. Kind of weird that they have normal cats in the vegan spacefuture, but I'm not complaining."
DC meows again, and Wash turns to look at him. "Do you want to go meet Locus?" Another meow. "Guess that's settled, then." And that's all the warning Locus gets. About ten minutes later, there's a knock at the door of Locus' base in his corner of the hab deck: it's Wash, with a harnessed and leashed DC sitting comfortably on his shoulder.
Which honestly, Locus isn't sure what to make of. It's still a little strange to have Washington voluntarily making contact, especially at this rate, but who's going to be mad about a kitten on their doorstep.
"A gift from York." Doesn't that just figure, and his brow creases faintly.
Generally that's what people want when they knock on your door, yeah. Wash is waiting patiently. The kitten is also waiting, far less patiently and with far more volume.
With a head motion and a resisted urge to roll his eyes, Locus steps back out of the doorway to allow Wash to pass. As annoyed as he is by the persistent questions about What His Feelings Are, he's not upset about having company.
More precisely, something else to think on, rather than the upcoming date.
Wash heads in and waits for Locus to close the door before speaking up. "This is DC. He likes shoulders." As he's talking, he gathers up the kitten in his hands and places it gently on Locus' shoulder. DC takes a moment to find his balance - no claws, he's trained better than that - and settles in, nosing at Locus' cheek. This is a New Person and he wants to know everything about them!
Locus, for his part, stands very still. He doesn't want to disturb the little animal, more out of fear of causing it distress or harm than fear of it. Such a tiny thing.
When it appears DC is properly balanced, Locus tentatively lifts a hand to his cheek, to rub against or sniff or properly associate in whatever way cats are wont to do.
Wash watches, quiet. This is the most gentle he's ever seen Locus be - though, admittedly, he hasn't seen Locus be gentle very often.
DC is in the middle of sticking his wet little nose in Locus' ear when a hand comes into view. Ooh, he likes those! He sniffs it delicately, then places both front paws on the index finger and starts nibbling on it. Om nom.
A good thing, too. Any more with the wet-nose-in-ear business and the cat might have found itself abruptly on the floor. Instead, Locus watches quizzically for a moment as DC's tiny teeth scrape across thickly calloused fingertips.
And nobody's telling DC to stop, so he just keeps nibbling on the finger, pausing after a few seconds to lean back and bat at the finger with his paws. C'mon, play with him!
It's difficult to tell what the kitten wants, exactly. But after a moment he attempts a wiggle of his fingers, in the hopes that that will satisfy DC's restless demand.
He seems to have forgotten Wash is there at all. For the moment.
Immediately instinct took control, and Locus's hands flew to catch the kitten before he could go tumbling to the floor. DC was positively dwarfed by those hands, but Locus was careful not to grip too tightly.
Alright. Maybe finger wiggling had been a bad call.
Locus is closer than Wash - his own movement to catch DC is aborted once he sees Locus move. He straightens up and breathes. "Thanks." Kittens aren't nearly as fragile as they look, but that doesn't stop him from being a bit overprotective.
From his newly safe perch in Locus' hands, DC blinks and squeaks.
"Nah, he likes you." Locus is intrigued by the kitten, and DC is paying attention to him - no reason to cut that short. "Plus, kittens are pretty resilient. He's fine."
That cues a befuddled look at the kitten before he lifts it closer to his face, brow furrowing. Is is possible to detect fondness in a kitten's eyes? He'd assumed it was simple curiosity. Kittens are like that.
"...your judgement is as poor as Taylor's, then," he informs DC solemnly.
DC likes just about everybody. It's not terribly difficult to earn a kitten's affections, as it turns out, and DC is very much the friendly sort.
He also recognizes when people are talking to him, though he's never going to be very good with content, aside from knowing that the short hiss Wash uses on occasion means no. So when Locus looks at him and speaks, DC opens his little mouth and meows, loudly and continuously, for a solid four seconds. He then reaches out and boops Locus' nose with a paw.
A few feet away, Wash is doing his level best not to laugh.
Locus's eyes narrow further. Well played, kitten. Well played.
Scrunching his booped nose, Locus tugs his head back before shifting the kitten back up to re-perch on his shoulder, if he pleases. There's certainly a broad expanse of shoulder to choose from.
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Smooth, Locus. No one could pick up on that abrupt switch of subject. But he is honestly curious.
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"You know you're allowed to have feelings, right? It's kind of part of being a person." They'll talk about DC later, after Wash gets answers or the subject gets too dangerous to talk about.
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His feelings, whatever they are, don't deserve examination. They're pointless, and he knows it.
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"My opinion is that this conversation was wearisome before it began." Oh yeah. There's that eye twitch he's been holding back all this time.
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At that moment, DC decides that he isn't getting nearly enough attention, and he announces this opinion loudly and paws at the screen again.
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"...you still haven't answered my question. I didn't know there were cats here."
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DC meows again, and Wash turns to look at him. "Do you want to go meet Locus?" Another meow. "Guess that's settled, then." And that's all the warning Locus gets. About ten minutes later, there's a knock at the door of Locus' base in his corner of the hab deck: it's Wash, with a harnessed and leashed DC sitting comfortably on his shoulder.
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"A gift from York." Doesn't that just figure, and his brow creases faintly.
Suppose he'll want in, then.
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With a head motion and a resisted urge to roll his eyes, Locus steps back out of the doorway to allow Wash to pass. As annoyed as he is by the persistent questions about What His Feelings Are, he's not upset about having company.
More precisely, something else to think on, rather than the upcoming date.
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When it appears DC is properly balanced, Locus tentatively lifts a hand to his cheek, to rub against or sniff or properly associate in whatever way cats are wont to do.
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DC is in the middle of sticking his wet little nose in Locus' ear when a hand comes into view. Ooh, he likes those! He sniffs it delicately, then places both front paws on the index finger and starts nibbling on it. Om nom.
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It doesn't hurt, so he permits it.
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He seems to have forgotten Wash is there at all. For the moment.
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DC squeaks and hops backwards, crouching low and wiggling his haunches high in the air, ready to pounce-
At least, until he loses his balance and slips sideways.
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Alright. Maybe finger wiggling had been a bad call.
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From his newly safe perch in Locus' hands, DC blinks and squeaks.
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He would be safer in the arms of his owner. He has no real skill with animals, and it's so tiny. Surely he might cause it harm without meaning to.
That the fact that it concerns him means anything at all escapes him. A bit like it does in the larger scheme of things.
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That cues a befuddled look at the kitten before he lifts it closer to his face, brow furrowing. Is is possible to detect fondness in a kitten's eyes? He'd assumed it was simple curiosity. Kittens are like that.
"...your judgement is as poor as Taylor's, then," he informs DC solemnly.
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He also recognizes when people are talking to him, though he's never going to be very good with content, aside from knowing that the short hiss Wash uses on occasion means no. So when Locus looks at him and speaks, DC opens his little mouth and meows, loudly and continuously, for a solid four seconds. He then reaches out and boops Locus' nose with a paw.
A few feet away, Wash is doing his level best not to laugh.
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Scrunching his booped nose, Locus tugs his head back before shifting the kitten back up to re-perch on his shoulder, if he pleases. There's certainly a broad expanse of shoulder to choose from.
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