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xp_logs2005-04-24 03:32 pm
x-jeangrey.livejournal.com) wrote in xp_logs2005-04-24 03:32 pm
Entry tags:
Jean and Catseye meet
After seeing Betsy's post to the journals, Jean decides that meeting Catseye would be good, and giving her pastrami would also be good, so she does.
From what Jean had seen, reading back through the journal posts, Catseye was a fan of pastrami and, like all cats, had an uncanny ability to know when there was Pastrami about. Whistling to herself (and Jean had never before realized the true joy that could come from Gilbert and Sullivan) Jean made up a pair of sandwiches, leaving them out on plates while she got out vegetables and juice as well. She smiled at herself as she rememberd what Catseye had said about people who didn't pay attention to their surroundings - sneaking up on her, at present, would be very, very difficult. Not impossible, just difficult.
Whiskers peeked around the corner of the entrance to the kitchen, arching forward and hovering with intense interest. A few seconds later one paw carefully moved through the doorway, to rest on the new tiles of the kitchen - the gleaming, glossy tiles Lorna had selected not so long ago, each inset in a perfect pattern. Stealthily, the rest of the purple cat flowed into the room, ears pricked forward, gaze eventually locking on the counter where Pastrami goodness waited for her. There were two. That meant one was for Catseye. It was a Rule.
... Pastrami goodness... one was for Catseye... Jean smiled to herself, keeping her head in the fridge. Cats were interesting creatures. You had to strike a careful balance between letting them know that you didn't believe that they were in charge and actually beginning to believe that they were in charge. Either way, startling the cat would be a bad idea, but Jean was in too much of a playful mood to let her get all the way into the kitchen without being spotted. She followed the cats mental presence for another few seconds, then closed the fridge. "Oh, hello, Catseye," she said, smiling. "Would you like a sandwich?"
Catseye froze in mid motion, perched on one of the stools, one paw stretched towards the sandwich, claws delicately about to snag a particularly tender morsel of pastrami. "Mrrr." Casually flicking an ear she shifted in place, ending up on the seat still while sitting, the casual 'I meant to be seen' gesture of licking her shoulder aborted midway with a frown of irritation. Licking one's shoulder when human was odd. And the t-shirt from the collar tasted funny just after a shift. The white shirt gleamed under the kitchen's lighting though, and Catseye smiled at Jean. "The sandwich is for Catseye?" Of course it was. But proprieties needed to be observed.
There was no change in the brightness of her smile, although Jean's eyes might have sparkled slightly with suppressed mirth. "It is," she confirmed, "and carrot sticks and juice or milk, if you want them."
"Bleach!" The response was emphatic and accompanied by an entirely disgusted expression, as Catseye picked the lettuce out of her sandwich carefully. "Dead vegetable blood is not something Catseye is fond of!" Another mutter about GreenThingsVampires followed, even while the sandwich was carefully inspected for containing not to much in the way of Anything That Was Not Meat and then declared to be to her satisfaction.
That did get a proper grin out of Jean. "I'll keep that in mind," she promised Catseye, "although you must be the first cat I've ever known who would turn down milk as well." The carrot sticks and a glass of juice were set down next to Jean's plate.
"Catseye never said she would say no to milk," was the solemn declaration. Taking a dainty bite out of the sandwich, the girl purred briefly, tail swishing lazily into view for a brief moment. "Milk is the proper thing to offer a cat and Catseye thinks that every human should know this." Though fresh water that didn't taste of metal was always good too.
"Ah, well, then milk it shall be. And is clean water also acceptable?" Jean ducked back into the fridge to get the girl a glass of milk before sitting down herself and starting on her own sandwich. "For future reference."
"Yes, but Catseye thinks milk will be enough for now." Taking another bite and doing nothing but savoring the food, Catseye waited until she was done and the glass set on the table before her to look at Jean curiously. Play the game and ask, straight out. "Why were there two sandwiches being made?"
"Because I hadn't had the chance to meet you yet, and I had heard that your pastrami sensing skills were unparalleled. It seems to be true. Hello, by the way. My name is Jean Grey."
A nod of greeting answered that, which nearly ended in Catseye dipping her nose in the milk as she'd raised the glass up carefully. She wasn't about to try to lap at it - the first time she'd done that had ended up with her snorting milk up her nose from the confusion of human vs. feline. "Pastrami is good. Very good." There was more to it she thought, but well - pastrami was good. And she had time to watch and sort out the rest later. "WhiteCoatWoman should eat her sandwich now."
...lap at it... snorting milk up her nose... Now there was a mental image. Jean blinked, refocusing when she heard Catseye address her. "White coat..." She glanced down. "Ah, so I am. I had the morning shift down in the medlab, and I must have forgotten to take the coat off." She took the girl's advice to take a few bites out of her sandwich.
Purple eyes cat's eyes beamed at her over a sandwich as the felimorph took another still dainty bite of her sandwich, a small growl escaping her. If Jean was going to ply her with pastrami sandwiches, she wasn't about to say no. And the meat had been piled on generously too, she noticed, the sandwich she had noticeably thicker than the one Jean was partaking of.
It was good to be Cat.
From what Jean had seen, reading back through the journal posts, Catseye was a fan of pastrami and, like all cats, had an uncanny ability to know when there was Pastrami about. Whistling to herself (and Jean had never before realized the true joy that could come from Gilbert and Sullivan) Jean made up a pair of sandwiches, leaving them out on plates while she got out vegetables and juice as well. She smiled at herself as she rememberd what Catseye had said about people who didn't pay attention to their surroundings - sneaking up on her, at present, would be very, very difficult. Not impossible, just difficult.
Whiskers peeked around the corner of the entrance to the kitchen, arching forward and hovering with intense interest. A few seconds later one paw carefully moved through the doorway, to rest on the new tiles of the kitchen - the gleaming, glossy tiles Lorna had selected not so long ago, each inset in a perfect pattern. Stealthily, the rest of the purple cat flowed into the room, ears pricked forward, gaze eventually locking on the counter where Pastrami goodness waited for her. There were two. That meant one was for Catseye. It was a Rule.
... Pastrami goodness... one was for Catseye... Jean smiled to herself, keeping her head in the fridge. Cats were interesting creatures. You had to strike a careful balance between letting them know that you didn't believe that they were in charge and actually beginning to believe that they were in charge. Either way, startling the cat would be a bad idea, but Jean was in too much of a playful mood to let her get all the way into the kitchen without being spotted. She followed the cats mental presence for another few seconds, then closed the fridge. "Oh, hello, Catseye," she said, smiling. "Would you like a sandwich?"
Catseye froze in mid motion, perched on one of the stools, one paw stretched towards the sandwich, claws delicately about to snag a particularly tender morsel of pastrami. "Mrrr." Casually flicking an ear she shifted in place, ending up on the seat still while sitting, the casual 'I meant to be seen' gesture of licking her shoulder aborted midway with a frown of irritation. Licking one's shoulder when human was odd. And the t-shirt from the collar tasted funny just after a shift. The white shirt gleamed under the kitchen's lighting though, and Catseye smiled at Jean. "The sandwich is for Catseye?" Of course it was. But proprieties needed to be observed.
There was no change in the brightness of her smile, although Jean's eyes might have sparkled slightly with suppressed mirth. "It is," she confirmed, "and carrot sticks and juice or milk, if you want them."
"Bleach!" The response was emphatic and accompanied by an entirely disgusted expression, as Catseye picked the lettuce out of her sandwich carefully. "Dead vegetable blood is not something Catseye is fond of!" Another mutter about GreenThingsVampires followed, even while the sandwich was carefully inspected for containing not to much in the way of Anything That Was Not Meat and then declared to be to her satisfaction.
That did get a proper grin out of Jean. "I'll keep that in mind," she promised Catseye, "although you must be the first cat I've ever known who would turn down milk as well." The carrot sticks and a glass of juice were set down next to Jean's plate.
"Catseye never said she would say no to milk," was the solemn declaration. Taking a dainty bite out of the sandwich, the girl purred briefly, tail swishing lazily into view for a brief moment. "Milk is the proper thing to offer a cat and Catseye thinks that every human should know this." Though fresh water that didn't taste of metal was always good too.
"Ah, well, then milk it shall be. And is clean water also acceptable?" Jean ducked back into the fridge to get the girl a glass of milk before sitting down herself and starting on her own sandwich. "For future reference."
"Yes, but Catseye thinks milk will be enough for now." Taking another bite and doing nothing but savoring the food, Catseye waited until she was done and the glass set on the table before her to look at Jean curiously. Play the game and ask, straight out. "Why were there two sandwiches being made?"
"Because I hadn't had the chance to meet you yet, and I had heard that your pastrami sensing skills were unparalleled. It seems to be true. Hello, by the way. My name is Jean Grey."
A nod of greeting answered that, which nearly ended in Catseye dipping her nose in the milk as she'd raised the glass up carefully. She wasn't about to try to lap at it - the first time she'd done that had ended up with her snorting milk up her nose from the confusion of human vs. feline. "Pastrami is good. Very good." There was more to it she thought, but well - pastrami was good. And she had time to watch and sort out the rest later. "WhiteCoatWoman should eat her sandwich now."
...lap at it... snorting milk up her nose... Now there was a mental image. Jean blinked, refocusing when she heard Catseye address her. "White coat..." She glanced down. "Ah, so I am. I had the morning shift down in the medlab, and I must have forgotten to take the coat off." She took the girl's advice to take a few bites out of her sandwich.
Purple eyes cat's eyes beamed at her over a sandwich as the felimorph took another still dainty bite of her sandwich, a small growl escaping her. If Jean was going to ply her with pastrami sandwiches, she wasn't about to say no. And the meat had been piled on generously too, she noticed, the sandwich she had noticeably thicker than the one Jean was partaking of.
It was good to be Cat.