Insecurity blanket

Magic Hollow 
nebulously before the full moon

Abraham returned home from meeting Etta feeling somewhere between guilty and nervous. Like Asha might have mind read that he'd briefly developed the kind of crush you got on a person you just met and knew nothing about. And then she'd... were-divorce him and also break up. Also he'd been there looking for vampires which was real dumb anyway, but. At least he was here carrying "gifts."

With a large pumpkin under each arm, he fumbled with the door for an annoying amount of time before finally putting one oversized orange obstacle down to unlock it.

Door unlocked and slightly ajar, he pushed it the rest of the way with his foot, stepping in with the fruits (or... vegetables?) of his labor back in hand.

"Ashaaaaa," he called, closing the door with his ass.

To be honest, Asha had no idea what to make of the feelings she felt. She had a sneaking suspicion that, after a bit, they were not just the product of simple random arousal.

Nonetheless, she'd interpreted it as "needs" and so she'd gone and jumped into watching some needs-based materials to settle that part of her down. And then she'd showered and cleaned up and decided to remain in bed in a cozy getup of "one of Abraham's t-shirts."

And now he was home, and she was also home, and he sounded like he was taking a while to come in. And as she listened to what she could from him, she was aware of a little sense of...


Well. You know who didn't like feeling guilt? Asha. She picked her head up from the pillow she'd been laying against, the cat feeling closer to the surface for the alertness that she felt.

There was her name, though. "I'm heeeere," she called back from the bedroom, feeling a mix of relief of him being near again and, well. Aforementioned feelings from him that had her wondering.

He was kind of hoping she'd come out to greet him but he could track her down easily enough.

Abraham followed the sound of her voice, all gourded up still.

Then he felt like kind of a doofus, seeing her pretty on the bed while he was standing here like a pumpkin-wielding lumberjack.

"Hi," he said, which was his way, and he approached the edge of the bed to twist back and forth at the hips a little and show off his offering. "That shirt looks nicer on you than it does on me."

"Hi?" she answered back, aware of his greeting habits but more interested in whatever he was holding. Her cat wanted to swat them. And bite them. And possibly kick them.

So she looked back up at him, a brow raised and eyes as orange as the pumpkins he held, and patted the bed so he might sit. Or set them down. And also sit.

"I think I look nicest out of your shirts, but," she trailed back, playfully testing.

What's with the feelings, Abraham.

Asha was looking at him with really orange eyes and this felt like some kind of trap a little bit. Also she wasn't commenting on what he'd brought which was kind of a bummer. Maybe she was anti-gourd.

Still, he set the pumpkins on the nearest non-bed flat surface, then approached to sit exactly where she indicated. Obedient! Because he was a good and well behaved Abraham!

Kicking off his shoes as his feet dangled off the bed, the sought to flop over, facing her. He didn't know what to say in response to the very Asha come-on, so.

"You do have really nice boobs," he went with, the very seductive kind of guy that he was. "And orange eyes."

He stretched a hand out with the hope that they could touch or hold hands or something please.

ACTUALLY, ABRAHAM, she would reach for one to bring onto the bed with her, thanks. She stroked it over its bumpy skin, and when he extended his hand, she... handed it to him.

She did have nice boobs and orange eyes. (Well, the latter she didn't know before. But she did now. Hello, Kitty.) Anyway, he was beating around the bush, so she went in for the kill.

"Soooo do you like... get aroused by pumpkins?" she asked, tilting her head with a knowing little smile.

Come on, Abraham.

The pumpkin was, like. Many pounds. So as she pushed it back toward him and it rolled somewhat threateningly, he was forced to sit up in bed in order to grab it and put it on the floor.

It was during this process that Asha ripped out his whole... throat jugular or whatever. He almost dropped the fucking thing on the floor.


His reaction was great. It didn't tell her enough. She gave him a sly little look. Kind of like. A cat.

"Then what made you all worked up while you were out?"

Asha was smiling because she was terrible. She was a cat with a mouse-aham.

Help help help he was so busted so fast and as he set the pumpkin onto the floor with a low thud, he turned where he sat on the bed and looked at her with alarm.

"I wasn't all- I wasn't worked up," he clarified in a way that was true but also did not sound convincing even to him. "There was-"

Abraham wanted to make some terrible whining noise here but he didn't but he did want to.

"Some cheetah... person showed up and talked- talked funny and kept calling me like darling or something-" or something as if you didn't remember, Abraham "-and it made me nervous and it felt like you were all up in my head or something and now she wants to make brisket for both of us."


Wowowowowowow, look at all those feelings. Her smile would fade naturally as she listened, but let's not forget that Asha thought of Abraham as her possession far longer than she'd thought of him as her boyfriend.

To be honest, there were a few days when it was still closer to the former than the latter.

Denial followed with some cheetah person calling him darling, and oh by the way it was a she. Of course it was a she. Her cat caught onto her feelings and gave a snarly faced hiss.

He was into her. Asha could tell because he immediately decided to shoehorn some bullshit about "dinner for us."


Asha looked at him expectantly.

Whatever, smaller cat. He liked snarly faces and made one back, swiping airily.

Abraham wanted to die despite knowing he hadn't really done anything wrong.

"I sent her to Yana. And I bought two pumpkins and brought them home."

This was all the truth with some truths in between redacted for brevity and safety.

He frowned, feeling in trouble and wishing he'd just lied about all this but unsure how he'd even do that.

That wasn't what she was asking for. There was a temptation to cherry pick the cat's voice through her throat, to send him a warning rumble.

She withheld it, but boy was Cuntcat way up to here in her brain.

"Why'd she make you nervous?"

Because she was probably hot, her jealousy hissed, wondering if he'd have the balls to answer it.

Asha had someone who called her darling but like this was Abraham and he belonged to her. In a lot of ways.

She just wanted him to squirm and Abraham wanted to go sit by the fish tank. With his pumpkins. And just be left alone. To regret his entire life. Except for purchasing fish.

"Because she approached me out of nowhere and kept calling me darling and had some... weird accent. And I felt like-"

Abraham was going to get his nuts kicked for this.

"Like. More flustered than I normally would because I felt... like. You all warm in my head or something I don't know."

The frown on his face felt permanent now.

This matebond shit was invasive and shitty.

"So it's my fault you found some other chick hot," Asha cornered, and yeah yeah yeah that probably wasn't what he was saying but she was feeling his misery feelings and it mostly just made her want to.

Pin him.

On the bed. Wall would be too much work.

Abraham felt increasingly miserable with each further question. And that was her goal, very clearly. He hadn't done anything wrong. If she hadn't been lurking in his fucking brain, there would be no need for this conversation at all.

He hadn't thought Etta was hot. Though she was pretty. And also had never once asked him a million questions just to make him feel bad for being human. Or.. human adjacent.

"I didn't say that," he said, knowing he would be accused of thinking it anyway. Still sitting at the edge of the bed, he stopped turning to look at her, favoring the floor. "I can't help if I feel nervous around someone. I thought about you the whole time. I came right back home. I don't know what else I'm supposed to do."

This wasn't fun or okay. It wasn't flirtatious or teasing. It was cruel for the sake of making him feel awful and she had the power to sense that it was working.

Something about this was extremely dissatisfying. She wasn't really sure what it was.

Mmm, no, wait, she had it. It was his weird fixation on saying he was "nervous" instead of just admitting he was attracted. Like, he wasn't giving her a truth that made sense.

He looked away from her, and she hated that too. Yeah, he came home, and now he was here frowning at the floor just because... what, exactly. Boo hoo, Abraham, you got "nervous" around some hot chick, your girlfriend's getting all possessive, you don't feel good, go fucking cry about it.

Asha decided to roll onto her back, facing the ceiling. His feelings pervaded. Some dumb part of her wished he'd just fucking cheat or something.

"Mmkay," Asha decided. Some cheetah bitch made him "nervous" and Asha made him miserable. Cool.

She was mad and it didn't feel fair.

Abraham just wanted to keep his feelings to himself. Maybe now he could dig deep and salvage this. Force her to talk with him about it until something made her smile and they'd eventually wrap back around to happy.

But no one could do that all the time. That included Abraham. He wished she would do that for him sometimes, but it wasn't it Asha's playbook.

Defeated, he sought to rise from the bed and... go put the pumpkins somewhere less stupid than their bedroom.

"I didn't fucking say you could go," she grouched, and really that was the kind of sentiment you keep to yourself but she was testy enough to say it aloud.

That was shitty and rude and Abraham tried to tell himself it was nice, somehow. Like it meant she wanted him around. He sat back down on the bed with a thud, his cat feeling wary of hers and also Abraham himself.

Was he supposed to not interact with any woman he found attractive? Was having feelings but not acting on them still some kind of disloyalty? Like he was committing fucking thought crimes.

His stomach felt all twisted, and honestly as an Abraham he was overdue for some kind of anxiety induced barfing. But he knew better than to do any of that now, instead wringing his hands on his lap and wondering how many men she went around finding attractive on a weekly basis.

Of course he sat back down. Feeling all his feelings. God, she wished he'd just. Give her something.

But he wouldn't, and he never would, and she didn't know why she kept wishing he would so she might as well just fucking keep cornering him until he learned to be the kind of honest she could believe.

"Why do you keep saying 'nervous?'"

"Because that's what I was," he said. "Nervous, anxious, whatever. I felt like I was going to throw up or something."

Abraham hadn't been walking around with a surging boner despite Asha's apparent interpretation.

"She was cute and really direct with me and when women I don't know very well are like that it makes me really nervous."

He continued to frown at his hands, feeling like he was doing this wrong but not knowing what else to do. This wasn't okay, really. It shouldn't have been okay, getting interrogated for having feelings he couldn't control but definitely didn't act on.

But what could he do, really.

Gross. Who the fuck throws up when someone cute talks to them, thought Asha, who mostly lived her life just wanting to take cute people home.

"Okay? I don't get it, I guess. Do you want to throw up around me all the time?"

That felt really unhealthy. Maybe they should break up. For the sake of his digestive system.

Why was she being deliberately obtuse?

"No," he said with a sigh. "But that's because I know you. I'm, like. Comfortable around you."

Abraham just... flopped back. Gently. Toward her, maybe her legs or higher or whatever.

He wanted to touch and apologize and maybe throw the pumpkins away.

Mleh. He was lying down at her hips. She felt a sense of longing and her stupid cat grumped and Asha just wanted to shake him?

She sighed and reached for his head to pet but maybe pet his face by accident. And then continued to pet it not by accident.

"So I used to make you barf?"

She had her doubts on whether or not he was comfortable around her. He was MiSEraBLe after all.

That was all he wanted. All of him seemed to relax, and he let his eyes closed.

"Yeah," he said quietly, audible in his return toward ease. "If I hadn't been so fucking drunk all the time, I would have probably had a heart attack at some point."

His cat stretched toward hers, rumbling.

"But then you'd be all nice and pet my hair and I was usually still drunk, so. Worth it."

Well that fucking sucked. Here she was thinking she'd excited and enticed him and instead apparently he just spent all of the beginning of their time together wanting to upchuck?

Gross, in a disgusting visual way and also to like... her feelings, or whatever.

Other than that, Asha had weird complex feelings about remembering their trashier days. They were awful, sure, whatever. And yet somehow... she missed them. It felt more raw, uncontrolled. Which was how she'd been.

And now she was this. And. Was she supposed to just be happy about it? Being all... together and monogamous and lovey dovey and shit.

Asha, what are you even thinking. She didn't know, but she knew that when she thought too much about it, she felt static. Stuck on a path that she'd molded herself to but at a lot of expense to herself.

What was all this, honestly? Wanting to be a fucking monster queen, in a monster marriage, buying a house together. Next they'd be like, having stupid monster kids together or something, and then maybe she'd just fucking kill herself for falling into every stereotype she had always wanted to avoid.

It was usually a train of thought she could blink herself out of. Take a deep breath, shake her head, smile and carry on. But in this moment it seemed to run away from her, or maybe she was the one backing away from it. Wanting to go... back, and away, and reverse everything, and find herself on some other path.

What the fuck had this entire past year been.

It was a sense of human needling and questioning, and the cat felt it and snarled quietly, and Asha could feel the threat of a shift squeezing at her throat, like old times.

One more caress, weak and shaky, before she pulled her hand from his face to bring both to her hair and grip.

Shift? Maybe. Maybe it would help.

He didn't know what he'd said wrong, but he could feel its affects. Abraham couldn't read thoughts, but he could feel what could only be described as "bad" coming from Asha. The relaxation was gone before he'd even had a chance to settle into it.

His cat didn't appreciate snarling for what had been some attempt at comfort, and it reacted in kind, swatting airily and recoiling for the unpleasant surprise.

Abraham... just...

Felt a not unfamiliar sense of failure. Some edging away of control, not of the cat, but of this comfort he tried to find in Asha.

She still made him want to puke half the time. Except instead of some stupid social anxiety about a pretty girl as the cause, it was fear and worry and confusion.

Abraham knew what disgust felt like, and he could sense it rolling off of her. Who else could it be but toward him.

Her hand pulled away, and he couldn't see what she was doing. He tried to deny himself despair, knowing she would feel it, and managed something closer to nothingness.

Abraham hadn't meant to take this plunge with her. Not turning her. Not whatever bond he'd forced them into.

Maybe she would break up with him and go be happy somewhere else. But he'd always worry about her.

And maybe feel her. Even from some impossible distance. How far did he have to go to get them away from it?

However far, he couldn't be the one to break it off. He'd tried before, and so quickly she tried to kill herself. Abraham couldn't have that on him. Would he feel it, if she died. Feel whatever it felt like to stop existing.

His heart hurt, and he sat up, imagining she was about to go into some violent shift and half hoping she'd tear him to pieces. At least then he wouldn't be responsible for whatever came next.

He pulled from her and she didn't want that either. She just didn't know what the fuck she wanted, what direction to go in. It was like spiked walls closing in. Or maybe something less poetic. Maybe just teeth.

She rolled onto her stomach in a crouch and shuddered, still gripping her hair and fighting with it, until she whimpered terribly at the feeling of her hip shattering. It was going and happening, and she wished — sorely — that she could disappear into unconsciousness again. Oscillating, she wanted so much to regress, to lose control of herself.

She could do it, somewhat. Give her mind to the monster. She'd never be able to disappear again, but she could let the cat make her own decisions, and the emerging cat sought to shove her ugly breaking shifting face right into his lap as her body crumbled and regrew to its normal animal form.

The cat always knew better than Asha did, what was best for both of them.

Sometimes it felt like caring for someone who was unwell.

Asha losing control, having some fit, Abraham falling into the dutiful actions to protect her.

He didn't want the cat here. He also, guiltily, didn't want Asha here either.

Her head was kind of horrifying, and it was a physically painful process to watch. Abraham tried to look through it, one hand moving to stroke at her neck and also do what he could to help with the clothing that was already a lost cause. At least it was just an undershirt.

Mostly he just felt deeply, intensely sad, the kind of feeling that would make him cry if she wasn't right here. He wasn't sure if she could feel it while she was the jaguar. Probably, but he hoped otherwise.

He'd help her through it, silent but supportive, ready to pull away any tatters that clung to her.

She felt it. With an increasingly feline body, the cat made her decisions, grumbling and shoving her head into his chest with intent to push him to lying down again. The clothing ripped as it did, and she'd wriggle helpfully as he removed it.

But otherwise, she was an animal that hated her human counterpart and loved him. The human had her stupid feelings; they were unimportant to the cat.

If he'd lie down (and really she was really just kind of pushing him to), she'd be curled around him, settling her head over his chest. She watched the exit of the room protectively, even if the only one hurting him was sitting somewhere in the back of their shared mind.

He did get pushed back, though he fought back just enough to move his legs onto the bed instead of letting them dangle off.

She curled around him and he let her, rest her giant cat head on him and he let her.

But he felt awful on a deep level that even a massive jaguar's protection could not shield him from. And in spite of his intention to keep it together, he just.


It was ugly sniffling that heralded tears, and Abraham hated that he was the kind of man who cried. Men, inherently, weren't supposed to cry, but he was missing whatever gene helped men keep it together.

His free hand smeared against his face, trying to stem the flow of snot and tears before they could really start.

He'd brought this jaguar into the world. Of course it liked him. But the woman whose life he ruined to create it was a different story entirely, and Abraham was still human enough to care about her more.

With his free hand, he patted the back of the Jaguar's neck as his jaw trembled with the force of holding back some uglier display.

She wished she couldn't see it.

She wished to God she couldn't see how she'd made him feel. Abraham was... crying, or starting to, and Asha was to blame, because it was too much that they could feel of each other's feelings without even a word spoken.

It wasn't fair to her, or to him, and it was so fucked because she did love him but she didn't recognize herself anymore, and she felt like she wasn't allowed to feel like this, because it was a worse cost for him to feel like that, and if Asha could go back to when Margaux was swearing she'd die in Echo Echo's disgusting bathroom floor she swore she would take it in this moment.

I'm sorry, she wanted to say, but the cat would not permit her access to the voice and she didn't push for control. The jaguar tilted her head instead towards him, and lapped at his face with all the apology Asha would have given.

He didn't really want that, her giant face in his. Her tongue was rough, and it wasn't a great smell, or feeling. But he knew better than to try to push her away.

With one snotty snort, he resolved to shove all his fucking theatrics away to some deep dark place somewhere maybe in his liver where it belonged.

"It's alright," he said, telling himself he was comforting her. "We're alright."

They weren't. But. He petted at her face, feeling deeply disconnected despite the bond they'd accidentally entered in to.

Then he looked up to the ceiling, closed his eyes, and sighed shakily.

What to do, cat? Too much insight told her he was not feeling any better. The girl had ruined things again, as she was excellent at doing.

Lifting her head, she decided maybe it was a better idea to pace and huff. And so she slipped off the bed from where she'd been around him, and saw... gigantic pumpkins. Orange like her eyes.

Wishing she could attack the someone who deserved it, instead she moved to swipe at one of the pumpkins, sending it rolling some.

Actually! It definitely was worse with her not there. Even though he hadn't wanted her near in the first place. Life sucked!

He stayed there with his eyes closed, wondering if he could just wish himself back in time to murder young Abraham. Like baby Hitler. Before he could do something awful like ruin Asha's life.

The sound of the pumpkin getting knocked around with a rumble wasn't any better. He regretted buying it. Maybe now some months ago, he would have confessed to the cat that was separate from Asha.

But she wasn't anymore. There were no secrets offered only to one half of her.

So he kept his thoughts quiet, reluctant to further ruin things with more stupid honesty.

"Destroy it if you want," he mumbled instead, then turned to face away from her as if that might separate him from this.

Well. This wasn't inciting him to distraction, or action at all. She huffed as he turned away, giving one single sad quiet roo. She was trying to help fix things and he wasn't letting her.

Oh, oh! She knew what would work. She abandoned the pumpkins and left the room entirely, stalking into the living room with practiced feline silence.

Well, until he'd hear her jumping into the couch, paws coming up to the glass of the window behind it, claws out to make the singular tap sound on purpose.

She huffed against the glass like she meant to bust out, her tail lashing, and she resisted the urge to look back at least until she hopefully heard him coming after her.

Asha felt his utter misery and returned it and all the guilt and apology she could manage to feel, if he could feel it too.

She left, apparently disinterested in something she had permission to do.

Abraham willed himself to ignore her, to ignore this, feeling nothing but despair and apology he could not determine to be from Asha.

But it wasn't long before there was a sound he couldn't ignore, and he brought his hands to his face, taking a few quick and almost panicked breaths. Why was she still doing this. That was Asha. It wasn't some mindless animal. She knew he was defeated and she still wanted to fucking torment him with the threat of going outside to terrorize.

He was so tired and sad and tired and frustrated and tired and also she'd felt such real fucking disgust toward him. That was as horrifying a feeling as he could have possibly dreaded, to have his girlfriend disgusted as he talked about liking the way she touched his hair.

"Asha. Stop it," he called down, but of course, it wouldn't be enough.

So he rose from the bed, knowing it was her down there trying to make some fucking show of running off and getting killed. He couldn't deny some anger amid the exhaustion, his fuse shorter.

He stood at the top of the stairs, repeating himself, louder this time.

"Stop it. You're not going outside. You know that. Fucking stop it, Asha."

Saying her name felt important because that's who this was, not some stupid cat convincing him to make eggnog.

Well, Asha had given the cat free reign. She had a sense this was a trick, some dumb animal logic of making a human do what she wanted him to do, but as he came out all angry, well.

Asha couldn't deny the cat was really fucking effective.

He said the human's name, and the cat tilted her head back to look at him upside down. He was up. This was good. He was angry too, which was better than sadness.

But he was far away, so that cat kept her eyes on his face as she dragged her claws down the glass with daring.

Make her stop.

What the fuck.

What the fuck was her problem. Part of him wanted to just let her out. It was dark anyway. She'd return with a story of how she ate three people and tell it like it wasn't fucking murder.

He didn't want to get close to her. Trying to drag her away like this was fucking useless, and just the thought gave him flashbacks to her Larkspur episode.

Too tired for any real plan, he just...

Walked a few steps back to the bedroom, then re-emerged with a pillow.

He moved down a few stairs before launching it stupidly at her with as much force as he could muster, naturally falling short and thumping emptily against the couch.

"Fucking stop it!" he said, voice higher than he'd intended it to be but he was just fucking tired and miserable and didn't want to do this right now.


He was very angry. She was very into that. The pillow fell short, but he was a little closer, which meant she should just... Continue, right?


She glanced back up at him again from a brief look at the pillow, gave a long warbling roo, and then scratched at the glass again. It would help!

He didn't know what to do with this. She was happy with herself, apparently. Abraham could feel that much. It made him so fucking angry, at himself as much as her.

Soothing her through her fucking shift for this. For her to pretend she didn't hear him, didn't see him, didn't sense his anger.

Abraham refused to get any closer, but he'd have to to some degree. There was another couch, more cushions he could take from without getting any closer to her. So he proceeded down the steps and straight there, grabbing the throw pillows just to fucking fling them at her. The first pair, held in one hand by the corner, simply sailed uselessly and short, too clumsily thrown together.

The third, though, he did his best to make count, and he launched it at her with as much force as anyone could fling a fucking pillow with the intent to... hurt as much as anyone could hurt with a pillow.

So. Not a ton.

miss, miss, hit, multiple attacks with permission


It was war, apparently. Asha, for all she felt like utter shit, found it was a lot better seeing Abraham angry and assaulting her with pillows than about to—

poof. Right on her face. It wasn't a damaging move, but it was still thrown with enough impact to make it enough for her to stop.

The cat turned to face him fully, maw wrinkled in... well this was play but it looked menacing enough.

And she pounced for the offending pillow, seeking to completely utterly destroy it.

It would help him come closer?!

She fucking snarled at him and he felt none of the affection his jaguar might have. This only worsened as she fucking tore into the pillow, something he could only blame himself for.

Abraham threw his hands up, letting them flop to his side.

In a move he'd regret, he approached the pillow nearest him on the ground, feet from her but still too close, and gave it a clumsy kick to send it at her.

"What is wrong with you! Stop it!"

Maybe yelled to himself as much as her.



Another hit. Still closer. Meowsha sneezed, pausing her current destruction to go for the new offender.

Asha knew he was talking to her and not her cat. What was wrong with her, Asha, allowing her cat to return to terror-lite form.

She could explain it if the cat would let her, but no such luck. Instead she roo'd with a mouth full of doomed pillow #2, and then went on to thrash it, slipping from the couch in her killing and knocking her side into the coffee table. It skidded forward like that time he'd kicked it, and she paused here, looking at it and then back at him.

And then she decided she was tired of pillows.

She dropped it from her mouth and padded forward a few steps in something of a predatory stalk.

She wouldn't attack him.

Of this he felt confident, standing here almost trembling, looking at her and feeling like a man gone mad. Maybe he was.

And maybe she would attack and he just didn't fucking care. He could be one more person on her horrifying list.

"You can fucking hear me," he said, looking at her eyes and trying to find Asha there.

There wasn't much of anything for him.

She could hear him, yes. Asha. And Meowsha. Both.

Still she stalked as he stood there, until she was pausing in a crouch, and then.

Missing her lunge.

... to be fair she only meant to grab onto his pants and pull him, but maybe he'd fail to understand that.



Getting killed by a jaguar sounded a lot more tolerable in theory when you were wanting to die.

In practice, he felt a spike of fear, recoiling back fast as she threw herself at him.

But he didn't know what to do next. Lock himself in a room, maybe. Let her destroy the door. Asha could afford to pay for it.

He continued to back away slowly, not even sure where he was going but not trusting this moment.

She didn't like his backing away. Not after all the effort she'd gone through to get him down here.

She moved with the same speed he did, in a wider arc, looking to keep him here.

Asha didn't know what she was doing. She felt his fear and regretted all of it, everything, and she hated regretting herself.

Was it too late to try to cuddle up and make him feel better? The cat's ideas on making him feel better didn't seem to be working anymore. Not in the way that they should be.

With an unwilling reach for the reins, she pushed the cat to stop and sit, looking at him with a less... sharply predatory look, and finally tried to talk.

"Don't go."

What the fuck was he supposed to do.

It always came down to that. Don't go, Abraham. Stand here and argue and fight and be judged for feelings you didn't even act on and be the subject of sincere revulsion and get attacked but don't go, Abraham.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking at her, massive and sitting there and capable of pulling his fucking legs off before he could finish a shift.

"I don't know what you want!" he said, exasperated. "You were the one trying to leave!"

She flicked a tiny ear, effectively reprimanded enough to sink her head some as she looked at him. Local gigantic man killing jaguar gets yelled at by angry man, more at 11.

"Just wanted to make you stop being sad."

Talking (in like, normal form) was probably what Abraham would have wanted, but she wasn't perfect and she occasionally did just want some fucking chaos. But not, like. Not to the point where he feared her.

She'd keep that to herself.

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