Cats Go "Maow"

October 06, 2018:

Foggy gets a new pet.

Foggy's Apartment

It's a great place.


NPCs: The Cat



Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

In what is a rare occurrence, Franklin Nelson is home and it isn't just to sleep. It has been a long month, and the idea of actually having time to do things like… cleaning one's apartment… sounds completely unrealistic. But here he is, with the clock glowing with a bright 11:00 PM on his oven, and he's dumping all the turned takeout boxes into the trash.

He holds his sleeve to his nose, breathing out a slow breath through the waffle-knit textile. He only breathes in once his trash lid is secured once more. "Note to self: just throw away leftovers knowing that it is unlikely you will ever eat them."

He kicks the door to his fridge closed, runs the water over the dishes in his sink, and slumps against the countertop of his kitchen. Despite having quite a successful year at Nelson and Murdock, Foggy still is in the same apartment he was in when he was just an intern. He's made it home, and moving up in the world sounds like a lot of work. Besides, he likes his couch and no way it would fit in, in some posh apartment elsewhere in Manhattan.


To some that rundown apartment looks like crap, but to others it's a haven.

Heaven, really.

Even if 'heaven' is a blasphemed word to be spoken by one such as it.

Either way, green glowing eyes blink once, twice and then move. They cross from one side of the street to the other to saunter slowly up to the brick and mortar building. Casually the creature settles back upon its haunches and just tilts its head upward to look at the building. It's only after a moment of looking that the creatures rises to all four feet and trots over to the door.

While the heavy door doesn't open that doesn't stop the demonling. Instead it simply walks over to the long shadow the building creates and steps *into* the darkness.

After a heartbeat it reappears within the building itself, slowly slinking out of sharp slash of a shadow against one wall. Once inside the creature pauses to look around, to gain its bearings, before it begins to move.

It trots down the hallway its eyes flicking to each doorway it passes. For whatever reason it doesn't bother to stop at any of them, not until a most delicious smell reaches its nose. That smell has it unerringly heading for a particular door, the door that belongs to Foggy Nelson's apartment.

There the demonling snuffles along the framework of the door, inhaling the delectable scents of moldy leftovers.

After a moment of thoughtful sniffing, a claw extends and is expertly used to loudly scratch at said door.

That's going to leave a mark no doubt.


Foggy turns off the water hastily when the noise hits his ears. He frowns, waiting to hear the sound again. He grabs a towel, drying off his hands on the little paisley terry cloth. He tosses it to lay across his shoulder as he comes to the door, and leans in close to peer out the peephole in his door.

He frowns, leans back again, and then begins to undo the locks on his apartment. Part of his instincts are to not to open the door. To add more locks, and then go into his bedroom, and lock that door, and hide under the bed.

It's been an unforgiving few months.

He doesn't undo the chain, just cracking it open to glance down the slice of light that spills in from the outer hallway…


The door opens and reveals -


That's right nothing.

Well, perhaps not nothing per se. There was a slight shift of darkness down upon the rug, but when Foggy's gaze drops to the rug he'll find nothing there. Just the normal typical run-down and dreary pattern that he's seen for as long as he's lived here.

It's only after he closes the door and locks up tight (safety first!) and returns to the kitchen that trouble is seen.

It's a small thing really. Close to the size of an alleycat and colored a smudged-black. That smudge is currently standing right in front of his garbage can and is stretching one paw and leg upward toward the lid.

Just a little bit closer and soon the demonling will have secured a delicious dinner.



Foggy shakes his head, his shoulders dropping as the tension leaks out of him. "I hate this city," he says to his doormat, and then closes the door and clicks the locks back into place.

He turns around to stalk back to the kitchen, and stops the second he's on the old linoleum. He blinks at the sight of the black… is that a cat?

"Uh, where the hell did you come from?" Foggy edges closer to the creature, but also grabs the broom he had just been using to sweep up. It's a poor weapon against, well…

"Just tell me you aren't a rat."


The … cat … yes, let's go with that, freezes.


Much like a rat.

That claw-tipped paw drops back to the ground and carefully it turns to face Foggy Nelson.

It's glowing green eyes focus sharply upon the man and with his words those eyes narrow. Thoughtfully. Yes, thoughtfully.

There's calculation within those slightly glowing orbs and finally, with a flick of its tail, it opens its mouth.

Now how does that go? Reow? Nonono. Keow? Noooo. Seow? UGH no. That isn't it - oh wait!


See not a rat!

Then it tries to trot over to Foggy to wind against his pantleg.



The grip on the broom loosens a bit when the creature goes maow. Foggy looks down at the cat as it winds its way around his pantleg. He checks through his mental list of WHAT IS CAT, and the tail and ears and fur and repeated maow all lead Foggy to one conclusion: he's got himself a cat. His landlord is going to love him.

He glances back to the door, then back at the cat, and his shoulders sag a bit. "Alright. I wouldn't want to be out there either." He steps forward, opening a cabinet and taking out two bowls. He fills the first with water, and then cracks open a can of tuna for the second.

"Better than trash," he informs the cat as he sets both bowls down.



It wants to cheer! Only it can't.

Cats don't cheer, do they? Its pretty sure they don't.

They do something else to show happiness. What is it what is it -

Oh the rumbles. They rumbles, yes.

The sound that comes from the little eared and tailed creature might be considered a purr. Maybe. If the person is charitable, but really what it sounds like is a small paper shredder on steroids. A little buzzsaw begins to vibrate the demon's whole body at the sight of food AND water.


A feast such as this shouldn't be wasted and the creature scurries over to the bowls and eats.

The tuna is gobbled down first and then the water.

Finally the bowls themselves are eaten as well.


The strange purr draws Foggy's eyebrows up, but then he starts to chuckle. He reaches down to ruffle up the ears of the cat, letting it indulge in the feast. He watches the creature before it gets into the water, and then he's back to try get his dishes soaking — the job he had been working on before the cat scratched at his door.

When he turns back, the… bowls are gone. He blinks down at the cat, brows furrowing up in earnest confusion. "What…" He rubs at the back of his neck, trying to put that one together. He points at the cat, points at the place the dishes should have been, and then… shrugs helplessly.

"Alright… I'm getting tired." He shakes his head wearily and goes back to washing dishes, occasionally sneaking a glance to the cat.


The cat looks innocently at the spot Foggy points at.

Yes? It seems to emote. What is it?

And when he turns back to the dishes the demonling looks around the kitchen once more. It stays there, nearby, and only as Foggy gives it some serious side-eye, does it lift one paw and lick it.

See? All innocent here.

All innocent. Nothing to worry about.

At all.

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