Il gatto nero e il Capo (Kuro)

KURO HAD PULLED A VANISHING ACT shortly after Nimue herself had been kidnapped. Although Giovanni insisted that he had, in fact, cared for the cat, this could not have been further from the truth. Kuro neither liked nor trusted the man. Giovanni’s kindness was reserved for Nimue and none other, and he only tolerated the cat. So Kuro slummed around on campus, bumming food off of and sleeping in the dorms of various benevolent students.

And even when word spread that Nimue was found—and later, that she was in good enough condition to return home—Kuro did not return. Not fully, anyways. He was surly about having been abandoned and left at the mercy of Nimue’s useless boyfriend. So rather than go back, he snuck around… he lurked near her apartment, in shadowy corners, and tailed her (and Giovanni) from a distance. It was how the cat had overheard Giovanni tell his lies about taking such good care about the cat. He would follow Nimue to and from school, taking shelter under cars and behind trash-cans, to ensure she made it safely. He would watch Giovanni, too, because having lied about Kuro’s care, he was worthy of the black cat’s suspicions.

And it was how Kuro now found himself at Giovannni’s mansion. Having stolen away in Giovanni’s car, Kuro endured the ride to the mansion. And, wholly invisible, he managed to worm his way to Giovanni’s house. Nice digs, Kuro had to admit. Perhaps he could steal something, to make-up for the Italian’s audacity to lie?

Kuro followed the Italian man down the hallway, paw-falls silent upon the tiled floor. He waited as the man disappeared into the office—and, when he didn’t emerge again, Kuro shrugged-off his invisibility, and stepped into the doorway. He took his seat, grass-green eyes thinned in scrutiny.

“MROW,” Kuro called-out, turning his ears sideways and flicking his tail to show Giovanni precisely what he thought of him.

Another peculiar thing about Giovanni and Kuro—until this point, Kuro had never spoken a word in Giovanni’s presence. So, as far as the Italian would have been concerned, the black cat was merely a very smart but speechless creature.

ft. giovanni trapani

quirk: e-rank cat physiology, invisibility, floating; f-rank agility, breaking-and-entering

ooc notes

THE CAT MAINTAINED HIS CHURLISH LOOK—ears still back, tail still flicking wildly—until the Italian pulled the door to his office open and peered down at him.

Yes, it was Kuro—and he was not very happy with Giovanni at all—as the Italian man asked how Kuro had gotten there and stooped down to pet him, the cat hastily got to its feet and padded just out of reach, taking a seat on the opposite side of the hall from Giovanni, just out of reach.

“You told Nimue that you took care of me!” the cat snapped. His first words to Giovanni, and it was a childish accusation of lying. The black cat stamped a tiny, front paw, “How dare you! I was gone the entire time. And you lied!”

The cat glowered at the floor, his tail still whipping from side to side. Why were humans such liars about such trivial things? The fur around Kuro’s shoulders bristled, and he growled quietly.

“I saw you at Nimue’s apartment,” Kuro finally explained, “I’ve been walking around the complex to make sure it was safe.”

But why hadn’t he shown his face to Nimue yet? The cat seemed reluctant to reveal that.

“…and when you left I hopped into your car,” Kuro went-on.

His tail had ceased its wild to-and-fro by the time he’d finished saying that. And his ears were still back, but he didn’t seem so flagrantly pissed.

“Do you… really have… fish?” the cat finally asked. Qualms aside… fish still sounded really good.

ft. giovanni trapani

quirk: e-rank cat physiology, invisibility, floating; f-rank agility, breaking-and-entering

ooc notes

GIOS' EXCUSES DID NOTHING TO quell the cat’s annoyance, his ears still turned backwards in annoyance. Perhaps it wasn’t even anger at Giovanni that was making Kuro so annoyed, but anger at being left behind by Nimue. And even when she came back, she was too busy with Giovanni to care about where her cat was. That was the trouble with humans. That was the trouble of choosing one human to stay with forever. Cats were creatures of convenience, only acknowledged if their owners wanted to acknowledge them.

“You still lied,” the cat insisted, unable to say more beyond that, “I had to leave. The apartment was empty, and I was hungry. I went to the school because there would be food and people there.”

People he trusted, with good food and warm beds. Human children were sometimes clueless when it came to animals, which meant they were eager to give them human food, most of the time. And besides, staying on-campus meant that he could check the infirmary for Nimue.

“I like fish,” Kuro agreed, rising from his seated position to stand and brush against the door frame, “I don’t know what sardine is. You can show me.”

In his own, rude way, Kuro was announcing that he was interested. He’d stand, rubbing his cheek against the wall, until Giovanni began to move. And then, the cat would trot at his heels, hopefully towards fish.

“Why do you have dogs?” the cat’s diatribe continued, as if he had just remembered this other affront against cat-kind that Giovanni had committed, “I saw them when I was outside! Big, mean looking ones. Why?”

It was better than having other cats, of course—other cats meant battling for dominance and space—but dogs were annoying.

ft. giovanni trapani

quirk: e-rank cat physiology, invisibility, floating; f-rank agility, breaking-and-entering

ooc notes