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I was midway through telling Kip of the wager of my harp for my challenger's sword when I noticed the eyes.
They were yellow and blinked at me from under the shadow of Kip's bed. I managed not to yelp or visibly startle; I wanted my voice soothing, a rapid patter of words as light and undifferentiated as rain. But as I spoke I tilted my head to attempt to see what kind of body was attached to the eyes. It was more difficult than one might anticipate.
Slowly, as my tale meandered on, whiskers and a nose emerged from the shadow to sniff cautiously at my arm, followed by ears and small paws. I managed not to lose focus as the little cat padded around me carefully, performing its inspection, and even when the cat carefully put one paw and then two onto my leg, but my equanimity failed me when the cat clambered entirely onto my lap and began to dig needle claws into me.
"Kip?" I said, holding still. Startling the creature with sharp appendages in aggressively close contact with my skin seemed unwise.
"Hmm?" Kip cracked an eye open. To my eyes he was at least halfway asleep already; Domina Audry's medication worked quickly.
"Your cat is puncturing me with its claws." It came out faintly plaintive despite my best efforts.
"'S not my cat, she just lives in the apartments," Kip said, pedantic as always, though I was somewhat skeptical of this assertion given the cat’s presence under his bed, of all places. He lifted his head slightly to see her and said, "That was fast. She likes you," he added, to whatever expression my face was making, "but move and she'll get affronted and leave. You've never been kneaded by a cat before?"
"I haven't interacted with a cat for a thousand years, and not particularly often even before then." I had always gotten on better with dogs.
I had some approximate knowledge of cats, at least; I held out a hand cautiously for her to sniff. She contemplated it for a moment, sniffed it thoroughly, and then bonked her head against my fingers.
"She likes when people scratch her cheeks," Kip suggested. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his hair falling into his face such that it must half-obscure his vision, as he watched me and the cat.
The cat was, indeed, shoving her cheek forcefully against my fist, so carefully I rubbed my knuckles against her cheek. My active participation did not seem to be particularly necessary, only the proviso of a hand at the appropriate height. It did seem to distract her from her quest to puncture my leg with numerous small holes, at least.
"Cats ordinarily ran away from me when I was younger," I admitted. "Perhaps I was overly noisy."
"She's very friendly." Kip yawned. His voice was drowsy, thick with sleep. "Not all cats are, but Shoänie says she's spoiled. Everybody feeds her when they see her."
"Have I fallen down on my duties?" I inquired. "Should I participate in this tradition?" His hair still fell into his face. My fingers itched. I stroked them carefully down the length of the cat's back instead.
"Franzel keeps treats for her... somewhere," Kip said hazily. "By the pantry, I think... Gaudy always has some in his pockets somehow." His forehead scrunched up in thought, eyebrows nearly vanishing behind the rebel lock of hair.
I couldn't help myself, and reached out and brushed it out of his face. Kip bumped his head into my fingers, startling a laugh out of me.
"What?" Kip sounded sleepily indignant.
"Nothing," I said, and pet at his hair. It was soft under my touch, a little prickly, and his skin was startlingly hot in contrast when my fingers skimmed against it. In my lap, the cat had taken this lack of attention for her with good grace, and curled up into a small circle and begun a rumbling purr. "Go to sleep, Kip."