2012-10-11 A Cat, A Doc and A Patient

It was bound to happen. Selina's luck was bound to run out on her sooner or later. She was just hoping it'd be later. But it seems like someone - some cosmic entity or divine being - has decided to make an example of her last night at the same time making her the butt of their joke.

It started as what should have been a cake-walk job. Something Selina has done more times than she can ever hope to count. An in-and-out with an ancient Egyptian talisman on display in one of the city's bigger museums being the target. Silly her for not asking her employer for more details. Silly her for not doing research. If she had she just might have discovered that it had been cursed by Bast. No, it wouldn't have kept her from doing the job but maybe what happens as soon as she took it in hand wouldn't have been such a surprise if she had.

But she didn't.

Imagine her shock when she came to, much smaller than she was when she arrived, her catsuit piled about her as if it was used as a blanket, keeping her warm as well as concealed. A shake of her head makes it obvious fairly quickly that something is amiss, prompting the unlucky thief to give herself an inspection. Paws... black fur... a tail? Selina mews in surprise, the sound not unfamiliar except for how it comes from her, it so alien as it leaves her mouth that she dashes off in fear, leaving the necklace and her clothing on the floor.

Navigating the city took too long, the newly-transformed feline having to learn as she goes, the dodging of traffic and people as they go about their business over the course of the next day, the lithesome cat having to learn how to wind her way around feet and obstacles like trashcans and light posts at the same time she had to discover how to keep from getting stepped on or ran over. It became evening before she managed to happen upon Brooklyn, that being where she is now.

Fully feline, she has none of her human intelligence to fall back upon but she does know that up is good, instinctively driven to hop on a few crates and then up onto a fire escape that gets her out of the line of stray dogs and sewer rats, two less things for her to worry over. The first set of metal steps are climbed but soon exhaustion gets the better of her, causing her to collapse in a little ink-colored heap. Not knowing what to do, she begins to mew and meow pitifully, her way of crying out for help. Here's for hoping someone discovers her.

At a glance, it's difficult to figure out exactly what One is doing. He's seated at his desk with a heavy attache case opened in front of him. A sturdy, high-powered laptop computer is mounted inside the case. He's not using it or even looking at it, though. His eyes are closed. A thin wire plugged into one of the USB ports trails up toward the side of his head and disappears somewhere out of sight.

Though a portion of him can hear the meowing, it takes several minutes for him to properly process the sensory input. His eyes flutter open slowly. He knuckles at them, as if waking from a deep sleep, then unplugs both ends of the wire and fiddles with something on the side of his head that isn't visible. When he stands up, he immediately grabs a well-worn trench gun from a set of hooks mounted to the wall. After checking to ensure there's a shell in the chamber, he heads to his window and disconnects the string that connects the sill to a claymore mine.

Finally, he opens the window and peeks outside with the muzzle of his shotgun leading the way. "...kitty?" he queries, blinking owlishly. His weapon is quickly stowed, propped in a corner where it's still close at hand. Slowly, very slowly, he climbs out onto the fire escape and extends his fingers. "You okay, kitty?"

Triangular ears perk and her head lifts slightly but it takes a bit for her to realize that the voice is being directed at her. The words she understood before the transformation sound different. They don't make sense. Not like before. So strange. Her golden eyes dart towards the source of the sound, her body tensing as if she might bolt. Weary muscles don't want to do anything but rest, however, leaving the cat where she laid down.

Offered fingers are leaned into, her whiskers curling forward as she does as if trying to touch them with the thin hairs that grace either side of her muzzle before she allows her nose to be brushed by the tips of the digits. Another mew is made with before she rises, her legs and hindquarters shaking slightly, the trembling cause by fear as much as it by hunger and fatigue. As for her being okay, she seems to be as there are no wounds or trauma. Selina is just in need of some good old-fashioned TLC and something in her belly.

Monster he may be, but even One has a heart. After a few more moments of sniffing, nuzzling, and generally getting acquainted, he leans low and gathers the cat into his arms. His voice, normally so clear and cold, is held to a low, reassuring rumble. "It's okay, kitty. I gotcha. Let's go inside. It's warm in there."

Considering how often he talks down to other people, it's odd that he speaks plainly and directly to a cat. Once they're through the window, he sets the animal on his desk, but upright, so it can decide to stand, sit, or lay on its own. As an afterthought, he grabs a sweater from the back of his chair and spreads it out as an improvised bed. "You're in luck. I normally don't keep food here, but I ordered in a couple of hours ago and couldn't finish it. S'in the fridge. Be right back."

Being held is wonderful. It's warm, first off, and it makes her feel safe, something the little black kitty hasn't felt since she started her trek throughout New York City. A tiny purr starts to thrum through her, but while it can be felt there is nothing to be heard. It's like someone pressed the mute button on her now that she has stopped meowing.

When inside she sits where she's placed, those gold eyes scanning what she can see of the apartment from her vantage point, her perch only moved from when One sets her up with a comfortable place to curl up. When One goes into the kitchen he's watched intently, her eyes tracking him as he moves. There's an intensity to that gaze, something almost human like but it passes swiftly and is replaced by a sleepy expression complete with half-lidded eyes.

It only takes a few seconds for One to visit the refrigerator. A tinfoil swan that's obviously been opened and re-closed is extracted. Other than that, the only thing in there is cream for coffee, which he checks the date on and then tucks under his arm. Rummaging through cupboards shows them to be alarmingly empty, but he manages to find a teacup and some disposable plates.

When he returns, he sets down the teacup first and pours a bit of cream into it. Then he goes to work on the tinfoil package, carefully unwrapping it and digging out half of an extremely rare steak. "Forgot a knife," he mumbles, snapping his fingers.

A desk drawer yields the solution to his problem. A cheal scalpel with a plastic handle wrapped in a sterile paper envelope. He rips it open and starts snipping tiny pieces off of the steak. "This ought to hit the spot. I know it was pretty tasty when I had it delivered."

Cream and steak? She must've died and gone to heaven! Such a feast and one she tucks into with enthusiasm. By the time he gets the steak ready for her to enjoy the cream is gone with not even so much as a drop left as evidence as to what had been poured into the cup. The cat would have been sated with that alone and she almost starts to drowse while upright but the smell of meat rouses her from her sleepiness, her attention now on the pieces of steak he has readied. They too are consumed with gusto, the eating continuing until she is about ready to burst.

One gets a me-ow, her way of saying 'thank you' to the human just before she gets herself ready for a nap. The sweater is kneaded, the cat working her claws in and out of the knitted garment for at least two minutes, perhaps three, this time purring out loud when she preps the impromptu bed. By the time she's finished with that she's ready to curl up.

One winces a bit as a favorite sweater is thoroughly perforated by tiny kitty claws, but in the end he can't help smiling. He reaches out, again giving the cat a chance to sniff at him before he scritches behind her ears and under her chin. "Go on, get some sleep," he urges. "No offense, but you look like you could use it."

Without further ado, he lifts aside his prosthetic ear, revealing the circuitry and hardware he has in place of an organic brain. The wire he was hooked up to is reconnected to the laptop and the other end plugged into a now-exposed port. "Don't mind me," he says. "Just breaking down some raw data. I'll probably be awake before you are."

The window is left open, not all the way, but enough for a cat to crawl through if need be. Having been confined for the majority of his life, One is very aware that no matter how nice a place is, it's still a prison if you're not able to leave it.

The catnap lasts for quite awhile, Sel too tired to do anything but allow herself the luxury of sleep. Every time One moves or makes a sound her ears twitch, swiveling like miniature radar dishes. She also tenses, a tightening of muscles under skin and fur. Once in awhile her tail or paws twitch along with her ears or whiskers, signs of dreaming.

Once she's fully refreshed she gets onto her paws and stretches, back arched first and then her front end dipped close to the table, a graceful, fluid series of motions that get kinks out of muscles. This is concluded with a pounce, One's house guest trying to occupy his lap.

The open window is ignored for now although it's probably very safe to assume she'll use it as an exit point once she decides it's time for her to leave.

One hasn't quite finished defragmenting and recharging by the time his houseguest wakes up, so he's caught completely unaware. "Oof!"

When his eyes flutter open, the sudden tenseness sloughs from his muscles and he smiles. "Yeah, I guess it is about time to wake up," he agrees. An arm curls around the cat and pulls her in against his chest, but gently, as if it pains him. His free hand unplugs the wire that's jutting out from the side of his head, stuffs it into the laptop case, and closes up the whole assembly. There's a mechanical whirr and an electronic buzzing as multiple locks and security measures automatically engage themselves.

(log to be added to)