The Slobdays - Felicia

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Garrison is challenged by Felicia.



Kane was asleep on the couch, forearm over his eyes. His robe had gaped open, but fortunately the Canadian had a t-shirt

and grungy sweats on under it. Sitting on his chest was his ginger cat, or rather the ginger cat that had made a claim on the Canadian and wouldn't be chased away. The cat was sitting on his chest, purring fiercely as it licked away at the orange cheese powder that was liberally coating his beard.

Felicia stood regarding the scene as she had been for the last thirty seconds; arms crossed, head tilted, debating with herself. Finally, there was an annoyed sigh and she came over, plucking the cat off the man, curling him up like a croissant in her arms. "Alright, that's enough, buddy. That can't be good for you."

"Wha... iz Christmas?" Kane came awake with a jolt, puzzled why his face was wet.

"Um. No?" Felicia stared at Garrison; it was obvious this was the sort of interaction that she had been trying to figure out how to avoid in the first place. The cat in her arms gave an impatient wiggle and she looked down, skritching his ear and earning herself a purr. "Maybe I should have just let you make yourself sick after all, hey sweet boy? Or does the crazy counteract all the salt chemicals?

"You have the cat. Do you want to keep him." Garrison said, fuzzily. He wiped away the wet cheese dust from his beard.

"Pretty sure his owner might have something to say about that," Felicia replied flatly, gently letting the cat down onto the

nearby arm of a library chair. He bumped at her hip for further attention to which she happily complied. "Wait. Please don't tell me you're the owner."

"I'm not entirely sure. He turned up one day on my moosehead in my room and I haven't been able to get rid of him since. I just kinda gave up and started feeding him, eh? Does that make me the owner?" The ginger tabby proceeded to give him a glare before grooming his shoulder. "We call him Rooney."

Felicia listened quietly, despite a sharp uptick of one eyebrow, until he'd finished. "Your moose head," she said, half statement, half question. "I suppose that means he owns you, more than anything." The look she gave the cat gave no room for interpretation that she thought Rooney could do better.

"Yeah, my moose head. It really brings the room together on the wall."

"Nothing says home like dead animal trophies," Felicia shot back easily, looking up with a half smile. "So. I'm going to just... Do I need to call someone to get you? A quick search on DIY intervention banners? I'm not really sure what the public area biohazard rules are in this place and don't feel like getting my privileges revoked for not following the rules."

"No, I have chosen to wallow in my depression. This is, as the internet tells me, expert wallowing. I have cheese things. I have beer. I bought this bathrobe to slob about in. I haven't eaten a meal that wasn't pizza in days." Kane spread his arms wide, like he was showing off his domain. "And when the crap lands on me, I'm ready for full on deep black depression and self-pity."

Felicia squinted. "I'm not sure you having chosen this really changes my questions. Perhaps my level of concern, though."

The cat hopped down and was slinking back towards the cheese poofs. "My girlfriend is out of town. I'm feeling a bit rudderless."

"Rooney," she said sharply, vindicated when he paused, giving her a surly look. "At least wait until I'm gone, bud. Then I'm sure you can steal all the sodium air balls from." Felicia paused, things clicking into place, but surely not. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"I'm Professor K. I teach under-aged drinking and Beachcombers."

"Oh, so not Garrison Kane. I should have guessed, because someone said he was hot, but you mentioned the out of town girlfriend."

"I'm not hot unless you have a Mountie or ab fetish. Otherwise, Adrienne tells me when I'm allowed to be hot."

Felicia made a pondering face. "Yeah, okay. I guess I could see how that'd be attractive. Hey!" she snapped suddenly, giving Rooney, who had slowly been inching towards the snack food again, a glare. "You're in the school adult suite area, suite 3 with Adrienne, right? When you're not stinking up public areas, I mean."

"Yes. Crap. I need to feed the stupid cat I don't own."

"I've got it covered. Come on, Rooney!" she called, voice taking on a strange, sweet tone, and heading for the door. Strangely, he didn't ask for his keys.