ENRIQUE DE LA PEÑA
Shapeshifter
Posts: 65
Played by:
Julia
Last seen Mar 22, 2024 22:48:16 GMT
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Post by ENRIQUE DE LA PEÑA on Sept 14, 2022 16:15:28 GMT
━ if you support evil, you are evil ━ ENRIQUE DID NOT HATE ANIMALS. THEY WERE fine, he supposed, except they pissed and shit everywhere and needed constant care and affection. Also, they cost a lot of money for something you couldn’t even have a conversation with. This was partly why he never wanted children (that, and the fact that he’d raised his brother by himself).
He was worrying about Manolo’s recent appearance when the cat showed up. Well, he was always worrying about Manny since his birthday, but that didn’t matter so much. Walking between the station and the Grill wasn’t a long trip, though he constantly glanced over his shoulder, dark eyes darting through the streets to ensure his brother wasn’t lurking in the shadows. That didn’t matter either, though, did it? Because both of them could change their faces at will, so Manny could secretly be any person he passed. He doubted his brother was the lunchtime waitress at the restaurant preparing his walk-in order, but anything was possible.
On his way back, plastic bag crinkling as it swung at his side, he realized something was rubbing against his leg━something that wasn’t the salad he’d ordered. Apparently, stopping at a crosswalk had invited a tiny, black cat to nuzzle his ankles. “Oh. Hello.” Ricky mumbled, and slowly stuck out his leg to nudge it away. When that didn’t work, he tried again, then huffed quietly, “Alright, that’s enough now, cat. I don’t want to be covered in your fleas. Shoo.” But she didn’t. (He hadn’t checked her to determine the ‘proper pronouns,’ obviously, but all cats were girls, and all dogs were boys. It just made sense.)
Ricky assumed crossing the street would be his reprieve from the animal. It was not.
She followed him all the way to the station, despite Ricky’s various shushing and shooing noises, and the way he shook the bag at her. She didn’t seem too interested in his food, but Ricky assumed she could smell the salmon in his salad. Fine. He thought, If she’s hungry, I’ll toss her some salmon and she’ll leave.
It was a pretty great plan in theory. Ignoring the looks he likely received, Ricky sat on a bench outside of the station and pulled his salad from its bag. The cat jumped up and moved for his lap, but Ricky tsked and nudged her with his elbow until she jumped down. “Don’t be rude. Stay on the ground.” He muttered, but it seemed she didn’t want to listen to him. She was clearly a street cat with zero manners, but she didn’t look too mangey, so he was inclined to let her stand on the bench beside him. He did try three more times to keep her on the floor, though.
Popping the plastic lid to his salad, Ricky picked out a tiny piece of salmon and put it near the cat’s nose. She looked quite small━a kitten, perhaps━but that didn’t necessarily tug at his heartstrings. She took the salmon willingly, and Ricky hummed, “Hmm, good, right? Now… fetch.”
His plan worked━for a few minutes. Ricky tossed another piece of salmon far away, sending the kitten darting after it as he closed his lid and practically ran into the station. She was still outside when he glanced out the window over his shoulder before returning to his office, but five minutes didn’t pass before there was scratching at his office door.
Standing to inspect the noise, he pulled open the door and let her in━not on purpose, obviously. The kitten padded happily into the room and started walking in figure-eights around his legs. Ricky sighed and let her stay for lunch. After that, he promised he’d take her to the animal shelter. He told her as much, too, so she wouldn’t get any bright ideas about staying. He also reminded her that black cats were bad luck, and that he would be very upset if he met any misfortune along their route.
He considered calling McGrath to ask if he wanted the animal, but soon realized he was only looking for an excuse to reach out, and a cat wouldn’t solve the detective’s commitment problems━work and otherwise.
After lunch, they walked to the Animal Shelter, a place Ricky had previously never neared. He didn’t need to hold her, either (which he wouldn’t have done), because the cat diligently followed him the whole way, despite his reminders that all the salmon was gone. Part of him hoped she’d get bored and abandon him on the walk, but he supposed she wasn’t smart enough to know where she was going.
The door chimed as he entered, then stopped to hold it open for the feline, who happily skipped in after him. “Hello?” He called out, then smiled politely when he saw a redheaded woman appear. “Hi. I seemed to have picked up a freeloader today, one who enjoys salmon and not following directions.” Pointing to the black cat, he watched as she finally broke from his side to start investigating each edge of the room. “I assume she belongs to someone. I figured you could scan her microchip or… whatever it is you do. Put up posters.” It was supposed to be a joke, though it was incredibly dry, saved only by his restrained grin. It wasn’t likely she was anyone's pet, not with the absence of a collar and her incivility.
Ricky’s attention moved around the front of the store, peering at a box with a sign and an arrow above it, indicating “DONATIONS” and small accessories hung from pegboards, but none of it appealed to him. He just wanted to escape, and began inching toward the door with one eye on the kitten, unaware he’d have to leave his information for the simple deed of bringing in a cat.
RHIANNON GREY | no notes.
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RHIANNON GREY
Psychic
Posts: 93
Age:
48
Occupation:
Vet/Owner of Animal Shelter
Status:
Single
Played by:
ANGE
Last seen May 1, 2024 19:26:10 GMT
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Post by RHIANNON GREY on Sept 23, 2022 22:28:03 GMT
Animals weren’t psychic in the same way she was, but they knew. They sensed what you thought you were hiding, what you yourself couldn’t see. Some could be trained to detect seizures or cancer, they could alert their diabetic owners when their blood sugar dropped too far. When you were low, they felt that shift in your emotions and they huddled close. They read you just as easily as you could read their needs – if you were a decent owner – and like anybody who loved you (Rhiannon had no time for the morons who saw them as nothing but dumb animals, incapable of sentient thought), they wanted to fulfil those needs for you.
Her fingers worked over the dog’s furry skull, dipping into those hollows just beneath the hinges of the dog’s jaw. The happy little grumble vibrated through the mutt’s frame as he squirmed closer to her, his head hanging heavier in the palms of her hands. Rhiannon was the one grumbling at him as he gave her thumb a sly swipe with his tongue.
That bond between animals and humans was one of the universe’s miracles for her, but some folks just plain abused it. Like Buster’s owners. The dog hadn’t been a puppy when he’d been found tied to a tree out at the side of the road. One of the patrol officer’s from the station had brought him in close to nine months ago. Emaciated to the point where she’d been able to count his ribs through his threadbare coat. Mange, fleas, a nasty case of roundworm that had been sucking what life was left out of him after the fleas had taken that fill. An x-ray had shown that Buster’s limp wasn’t just a case of him being weak, someone had beat that dog until two bones in his leg had cracked. Of course, he hadn’t been brought in to have it dealt with, that would only have exposed the abuse he was suffering.
The same burn that had seared the back of her eyeballs the day he’d been brought in worked its way up from her throat to her eyes. Rhiannon smiled at the dog as those amber eyes slid shut in pleasure. She didn’t think Buster had ever had one of those bonds, if it had been there at all before he’d ended up at the shelter, then it had been shattered, the same way his leg had. He hadn’t pined in his kennel the same way some of the others did, desperately seeking out the owners they grieved for – those animals constantly searched for the people who’d walked away from them, the look of disappointment and abandonment in their all too expressive eyes breaking her heart every time she saw it. Some people just didn’t deserve the gift they could’ve had.
Rhiannon let a long breath out through her nose before she dropped her head and pressed a kiss to the top of Buster’s head – now covered in the soft wavy fur that had her suspecting there was at least some retriever in his mutt mix. ”As much as I’d love company while I work, it’s time for you go back, bub. Come on. If you’re good I’ll take you out for an extra long walk when I’m done.” Of course, he’d be good, Buster was some sort of fur sporting angel. It was just a shame that nobody who visited the shelter had noticed that in those nine months.
Like he’d understood her, the dog gave one last swipe and hoped down, shaking himself like he was trying to shrug off the spot on flea treatment she’d squirted on the back of his neck only moments before. Even without a leash, Buster followed at her side as she moved through the kennel area, pausing just once to sniff at his closest kennel mate – a Jack Russell whose elderly owner had passed two weeks ago. Jock was one of those dogs still looking for their owner to come back, his chin resting on the wires of his cage door until Buster bowled up and then both dogs were wriggling, sniffing at each other through the mesh that kept them apart. Two to walk later then.
She closed the door on Buster’s kennel, giving him one last scritch through the door. ”Maybe we’ll get lucky, buddy, and we’ll get some more people like the Damascas through here, and then you’re getting a ride straight to someone’s bed.” It might take her another nine months, but one way or another she was gonna get both Buster and Jock homes. By hook or by crook, or by out and out blackmail if she had to.
Brushing her hands off against her hips, she started back up the row of kennels, trained eyes skittering over the dogs, then the cats in their smaller enclosures. Too many for her liking, especially in a town that felt like it should’ve been good to them all. The electronic beep that echoed through the facility at the opening of the front door had her quickening her step, even before the distinctly male voice called out to her.
Another swipe of her dog washed hand down her hip, just for the sake of a possible shake, as she emerged from the rear hallway of the reception area. A dark haired man stood on the other side of the counter, smiling politely. Suited. Possibly a businessman of some sort – ten a penny in Mystic Falls, where money seemed to cling to those lucky to be on the right side of the tracks. ”Hi. A purposefully deaf freeloader?” Rhiannon asked, a grin tugging at one corner of her lips. She parked her hands on the edge of the counter and leaned over just in time to see the small black kitten skitter into view. She imagined when it came to salmon most cats would ignore any sort of direction other than come here and let me hand feed it to you.
An escapee maybe, Rhiannon considered as she rounded the counter to intercept little miss kitty on her path to the hallway that led back to the kennels. Certainly a kitten who wasn’t shy around strangers. Definitely a she, she concluded as she swept the cat up into her palms, giving a perfunctory inspection beneath her tail. Not as riddled with fleas as Buster had been when he’d come in. Not as skinny either, but definitely a little dirty around the gills. ”Maybe she does, maybe not. She’s definitely been out on her own for a little while. You weren’t looking to take her in yourself? Most folks don’t bring them in until they’ve exhausted the whole poster, social media thing.” Those were usually the people hoping that an owner didn’t turn up, because those kittens were so darn cute.
Cradling the cat, who carried the faint whiff of the salmon she’d been treated to on her kitty breath, Rhiannon straightened up, eyeing the man again. Still smiling, although there’d been a dry edge to her suggestion. She tipped her head towards the counter as he started to look around – like kitten, like rescuer-soon-to-be-owner-if-she-had-her-way, looking like they were both seeking some way out of the shelter. ”Gonna need a little something from you. Just for our records, you know, in case I need to get in touch.” Draping the cat up her shoulder like a parent with a small child, restraining her with just a couple of belly scratching fingers, Rhiannon grabbed the correct form out of the rack of them and set it down on top of the counter with a pen on top. ”How attached to the suit are you?” she asked, one corner of her mouth twitching higher as she saw the tell-tale dark speck of a flea on her wrist. Buster wasn’t gonna be the only one getting a dose of that treatment today, although the kitten would have the added joy of a bath.
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ENRIQUE DE LA PEÑA
Shapeshifter
Posts: 65
Played by:
Julia
Last seen Mar 22, 2024 22:48:16 GMT
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Post by ENRIQUE DE LA PEÑA on Oct 7, 2022 14:33:56 GMT
━ if you support evil, you are evil ━ RICKY COULDN’T BELIEVE HIS DAY HAD been interrupted for this. A cat. One who wouldn’t leave him the hell alone. Just as persistent (and annoying) as McGrath, though the detective seemed to give up for now… all for some cat of his own. The thought amused him for a moment before it disgusted him. Ricky wouldn’t bend to the likes of this thing, and━in his opinion━if McGrath was strong, then he wouldn’t, either. It might’ve already been too late for that, though.
The Animal Shelter…. Attendant, or whatever they were called, managed to pick up the cat with very little fear. Ricky hadn’t exactly wanted to touch her, but the woman was performing a whole exam with him in the room. He started to make his escape, very slowly, and in a way he thought (or hoped) would be undetectable. Unfortunately, the stranger hadn’t exhausted her line of questioning.
“Certainly not.” Ricky answered (perhaps too quickly), frowning. “I don’t have social media, and I’m not interested in a pet. I just didn’t want to leave her out where she could rob others of their lunches, too. Cleaning up Mystic Falls’ streets, one stray cat at a time,” He smiled wryly, though Ricky supposed it would’ve been funnier if she knew he was a detective.
And, even after her verbal assault seemed to be over━and he’d almost reached the door━Ricky wasn’t free just yet. “Why would you need to get in touch?” He puffed. What in the hell did they need his information for? He didn’t like giving his information out at the best of times━solicitors and all━and online shopping wasn’t something he did. In fact, Enrique vehemently despised it.
He moved a few steps back into the room anyway, hesitant, but understanding she had a job to do, he supposed. It still didn’t make any sense to him. Ricky cringed as she seemed to cuddle with the small beast, even as she discovered… oh, God.
Immediately, he stripped off his suit jacket. His badge was fastened to his waistband, but it was forgotten for the moment━Ricky suddenly felt itchy all over. “Why? What does she have?” He frowned. It wasn’t so much cringing over something gross━he wasn’t a child━just that changing his suit midday and paying for extra dry cleaning would hinder his whole day… more than this cat already had. She just became more and more of a burden, didn’t she?
“You’re just… letting her climb all over you like that?” Ricky let his jacket dangle at his side, clutched in one hand. “While she has fleas and whatever else? Shouldn’t she be contained somewhere?” He tried not to sound judgemental, though he assumed it mustn’t matter to the woman━this place was likely full of fleas and the dreaded ‘whatever else.’
RHIANNON GREY | no notes.
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RHIANNON GREY
Psychic
Posts: 93
Age:
48
Occupation:
Vet/Owner of Animal Shelter
Status:
Single
Played by:
ANGE
Last seen May 1, 2024 19:26:10 GMT
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Post by RHIANNON GREY on Oct 19, 2022 19:45:20 GMT
The really good hearted folks looked like they could barely let go of the animals they brought in. For them it wasn’t just a drop off – although in the end the majority had to be – it was like they were having to force themselves to relinquish their hold on the small, cute, furry thing they’d brought in, or it broke their heart to think of the older, poorer, sicker ones being left to rot in what they thought was essentially an animal super max. There was a reluctance to them either way, that tearing of something inside as they warred with taking care of the animal themselves and doing what they thought was the right thing.
Humour rolled off this guy, but the suit didn’t come with the white knight’s armour and his dilemma too. This was still the right thing – Rhi practically assured him of that with her grin – just not in the way it was for some. She was pretty sure he’d dust his hands of her and head out, patting himself on the back. Good deed done for the day, back to whatever he’d been up to before the kitten had latched onto him to mooch what had probably been her first lunch in days. The feel of the kittens ribs through the soft fluff of her fur had her stomach twitching around her own lack of lunch – the plastic wrapped ham sandwich in the fridge would probably still be there tomorrow, only improving in texture the longer it sat there.
Who was she kidding. She’d pick it apart in an hour, hand feeding the scraps to the kitten in an apology for the far more invasive things she was going to have to do to her before she ended up in one of the pens, left alone again. Green eyes slid sideways, fixing on the rescuer as he seemed to edge towards the door and perhaps a fresh lunch, one that wouldn’t be mooched by his mangy little freeloader. ”How civic minded of you,” she drawled lightly, although there wasn’t the usual heat of censure in it. One corner of her mouth kicked up. He might not be begging to take her in, but at least he hadn’t left her out there to continue slowly starving to death. ”We’ve got our ways of trying to track her owners, if she had any.” And she doubted that. The posters on telephone poles weren’t gonna get her too far here.
Oh ho ho. One red brow arched as the man blustered back at her. Willing to play saint but only if it ended at the drop off. Sorry bub. ”I’m not going to send you an invoice for her care if that’s what you’re worried about.” Rhiannon chuckled lightly, letting her gaze sweep over the trim form under that expensive looking suit. ”It’s for a follow up if one’s needed … just consider it a legality. We’ll let you know when she’s rehomed too. Consider it part of the package service.” And a little thank you, although the weight was kind of cut out of that when your update was just a voicemail that was all too likely to be deleted before it was entirely listened to.
Rhiannon crooked one of the fingers that had been curled under the cat’s belly, gesturing him closer again. It wasn’t like she was asking for him to sign in blood, that she was gonna have to take from the kitten, what was left of it after the fleas had taken their fill. Maybe they’d get a few ounces from her too. Again.
With a pinch of her nails Rhiannon bluntly took care of that little problem. She’d have to spray reception afterwards, and change before she left. Enough go arounds with fleas had taught her some caution on risking bringing them into her home. ”Other than a belly full of salmon?” Rhi asked blithely as he stripped off his jacket. ”Fleas and unfortunately they take up residence pretty quickly.” Perhaps he hadn’t gotten close enough, but from the way he stripped his jacket off, letting his badge flash into sight – no wonder he’d been reluctant to pass on his information, most police she’d meant were up tight about privacy, especially the military kind.
Scritching her fingers under the cat’s belly again, Rhiannon straightened up. She pursed her lips faintly before she nodded. ”I can clean myself up after, unfortunately she can’t and I’m not just gonna dunk her in a bucket to wash the streets off of her.” The cat purred, ignoring the condemnation rolling off of the man. ”She’ll be bathed and she’ll be treated for whatever she might have. Fleas, worms, mange, it’s all treatable. She’s not going into kitty solitary confinement for those.” The detective might take himself into it until he’d burned all of his clothes at this rate though. ”You can wash them with soap and water, although I imagine some of that might be dry clean only. No good deed goes unpunished, hmm? Do you want something to change into, detective?” She imagined the itch was already settling in just with the F word, imagined most likely but slowly crawling under his skin. It took a while to get used to, to be able to ignore the ick factor that came with the job.
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ENRIQUE DE LA PEÑA
Shapeshifter
Posts: 65
Played by:
Julia
Last seen Mar 22, 2024 22:48:16 GMT
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Post by ENRIQUE DE LA PEÑA on Nov 8, 2022 23:02:23 GMT
━ if you support evil, you are evil ━ HE WAS OFTEN GROUCHY, BUT NOTHING bothered him more than unreasonable requests for information. Okay, a lot of things bothered him more than that, but Ricky━at this current moment━couldn’t think of anything else. Why would he want to know if she got rehomed? Why would he need to know? “I’m not interested in receiving correspondence about her state, or your ‘Monthly Newsletters’ asking me to donate.” He grumbled, but slowly approached the counter anyway. There were certain rules to things━that he knew better than anyone━and sometimes it was easier to play the game if it meant he could leave sooner.
Unless the furry beast was covered in fleas.
Halfway through reading the form (as if it was a legal document and not some short page for a business in a Podunk town), the redhead shared the news, and Ricky dropped the pen, practically jumping back. His jacket was off as quickly as it would’ve been if it was on fire━perhaps quicker━as Ricky immediately began to regret ever acknowledging the cat’s existence in the first place. It’d been a mistake, and now he was really paying for it, wasn’t he?
She was still petting that thing, and acting like Ricky was the crazy one for worrying about fleas. Well, he assumed if you worked around animals for long enough, the sort of filth they spread was normal. Ricky, however, was not used to it, nor did he want to be. This was a nuisance he didn’t want nor expect, and now he had to worry about infecting his entire apartment.
“Why not?” He blurted at the woman’s refusal to use a bucket.
Worms. Mange. Ricky thought he might be sick. Fleas were one thing, but worms and mange? That was something he didn’t want to look at. She hadn’t seemed so awful when he’d picked her up off the street, but apparently, he was wrong. Very wrong. “That’s…” He shook his head, “Is any of that transmissible to humans? What else am I going to bring home on top of fleas?” It was home to just him, but still. “And aren’t you worried about her passing it to the other animals you have here?” Perhaps not. Perhaps this was a place where all diseases ran free. He practically shuddered at the thought.
No good deed goes unpunished━ha. “You hit the nail on the head with that one.” He puffed. Detective? How did she━oh. His arm brushed the badge still hooked into his waistband, suddenly reminding him of who he was and what he’d been doing before this cat ruined his day. “No, no, I’m fine.” Ricky waved away the idea. The last thing he needed was an article of clothing covered in something worse than what the kitten had already given him.
He stepped forward again, hurriedly, and eyed the creature crawling all over the redhead, seemingly excited that someone was giving her attention. Ricky sure wouldn’t be. “I’ll just get this over with so you can get writing those newsletters.” He smirked to himself, clearly intending the dry statement to be some kind of joke.
“How would one even donate to this place, anyway?” Ricky asked almost absent-mindedly, bending to take the pen in his hand again and start scribbling down his information. He paused to nod to the box labelled for donations he’d spotted in the corner, met her eye, and then looked at the form once more. “Do you throw cheques in that box, or…?” Again, dry Old Man Humour, except this time his grin widened considerably.
RHIANNON GREY | wrap soon for smthn new for bbs? mb with my next?
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RHIANNON GREY
Psychic
Posts: 93
Age:
48
Occupation:
Vet/Owner of Animal Shelter
Status:
Single
Played by:
ANGE
Last seen May 1, 2024 19:26:10 GMT
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Post by RHIANNON GREY on Dec 2, 2022 22:55:10 GMT
It would’ve been petty as hell to add him to her mailing list - even if cutting himself free would’ve only taken a click of a button to unsubscribe. She’d done worse before, and had felt the little sting for doing it, but there were some who’d genuinely deserved far bigger punishments. He hadn’t done anything up to that level - reluctance to fall in instant love with a tiny defenceless little ball of fluff didn’t count towards animal cruelty - and wouldn’t be getting hit with those small acts of passive-aggressiveness that were almost all she could legally do without proof that someone had been a real dirtbag.
Rhi pressed her lips together, hiding her smile as he approached to do it. It wasn’t like she could’ve stopped him if he’d just walked out the door without doing it either. The grumbling had just enough amusement to it - it was well hidden, but there was something there - that she almost felt bad bringing up the fleas afterwards. Maybe if he had just gone out the door he wouldn’t have known until he perhaps woke up scratching. If you just got a single nip it wasn’t so bad, if you suddenly had yourself an infestation living in your bedroom carpet the suit wasn’t the only thing you’d be burning.
The pen dropped in an instant, the jacket peeled away just a second later. Rhi imagined she would find it in the trash can outside when she left tonight, mourned maybe, but abandoned to its new fate as a flea farm. It would probably clean up easier than the kitten would, but the officer didn’t seem as keen on that idea. Would he be dunking his jacket into a bucket of water when he got home?
Red brows hitched high, her head shaking slightly before she looked away from him. He’d obviously never had cats, or pets of any kind - unless it was something cold blooded that didn’t take too much care, like a stick insect - and would’ve been clawed to shreds if he had tried his suggestion on one. ”There’s no need to half drown a cat to get rid of fleas,” she explained, not going deeper into what bad owners had done with buckets and cats over the years. ”We’ve got a shower set up for them. A little Dawn dish soap bath and she’ll be just fine.” He didn’t look like he would be though.
She almost felt bad for worrying him - almost. He looked a little green around the gills, unsurprising considering he was probably picturing the absolute worst case scenario here. ”You might want to take a little Dawn bath yourself, but … no. You’re going to be fine. Fleas are the only thing that’s easily transmissible.” Those would be taken care of before the cat was allowed near any others, both the clinic and the shelter were highly organised that way. ”If I didn’t plan to examine and treat her before I let her near any other animal, maybe. They’ve all been examined and treated. It’s part of the five star service.” All to make sure that animals were the healthiest they could possibly be before she sent them out to anybody’s home. The detective had just decided to temporary bypass that examination by a certified veterinarian step.
Now he was likely to follow any professional advice she decided to offer up. Soap and water, a good wash of whatever might have come in contact with the kitten before he allowed it too far into his apartment. As the kitten started to make biscuits on her shoulder, Rhi glanced down at her and grinned. Her eyes had slipped shut, her tongue poking slightly beneath the tiny white nubs of her teeth. ”Hopefully karma’s got a little gift to make up for it later,” Rhi murmured, rubbing a thumb over the velvety fur of the cat’s nose. ”They’d be clean, if that’s what you’re worrying about.” Blue eyes rolled back up to him. Undoubtedly he expected everything in the place to be crawling with fleas and already itched at the thought.
He looked at the cat as he eased back in. Was he calculating how far he thought a flea could jump? A lot further than he’d expect. Or was he picturing the fleas already crawling all over her. Rhi huffed out her amusement as he quipped - there was some bravery there, doing what she’d asked, winning out over the need to escape. ”How generous,” she drawled, although she was smiling as she looked back up at him. He was filling in the form as she’d asked, enough information that she could get hold of him again if she needed to.
Well, well, the grinch’s heart had perhaps grown a few sizes. ”How very 1993,” Rhi said, grinning back at him. ”I wouldn’t say no to one, especially if it’s blank. We’re very progressive though.” For a moment she pasted on a serious expression, nodding formally down towards the counter. ”Cash, cheque, card payment. We’ve even got a subscription service, if you want to sponsor a salmon stealing free loader. Thinking of tossing a little in?” The place ran on donations and the small fee they charged for rehoming, she wasn’t above pandering a little for the former. Rhiannon's smile broke through wry. "We also take non-financial support - old towels and sheets, pet food, that sort of thing." Folks seemed happier to do that than dip their hand in their pocket a lot of the time. Food that their own pets had turned their nose up at, the towels that weren't as soft on their own behinds anymore were perfect for those poor little animals.
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ENRIQUE DE LA PEÑA
Shapeshifter
Posts: 65
Played by:
Julia
Last seen Mar 22, 2024 22:48:16 GMT
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Post by ENRIQUE DE LA PEÑA on Dec 13, 2022 17:48:19 GMT
━ if you support evil, you are evil ━ A DAWN BATH. RICKY COULD ONLY IMAGINE how horrible that would be. He wasn’t a silly little new-age boy━he wasn’t worried about the damage to his skin or whatever the fuck they cared about━but it was the idea of taking a shower and scrubbing himself down with dish soap that had Ricky shuddering on the inside. He’d do it, though, along with spreading tea tree oil all over the apartment and anything else the internet provided to eliminate fleas.
At least it wasn’t anything else (or so she thought). Now that she had his phone number, she’d be able to contact him if they found anything else on the kitten that proved to be detrimental to him.
Karma. Ha. Something told Ricky she was more concerned about the kitten’s wellbeing than his own━a human being. That’s how all these animal types were; Disney had done a number on these incoming generations. He was thankful he’d never raise a child in this climate; he’d already done his due diligence for the world. Or perhaps that’s why he spent his whole life running after Manolo━to correct the wrong done at some point.
They both grinned at his newsletter comment, and Ricky was almost happy to see her get some amusement out of his dry humour. He hadn’t meant to be rude, and clearly she’d seen that instead of getting offended━he appreciated that in a person.
He wished it was still nineteen-ninety-three. Ricky wanted nothing more than to go back to that time. He would’ve been ten, and his mother was still alive then. But he couldn’t roll back the clock, and he wouldn’t stay stuck in that fantasy forever. Life was about manning up. And, if he could go back at all, he’d probably slide the time back to about an hour ago and never feed the little freeloader who likely gave him fleas.
Scoffing, Ricky shook his head without looking up from the form. He would not spend his hard-earned money sponsoring an animal that wasn’t even his. The towels, though… he was sure he had some linens he could donate. It was better than throwing them away, and those damn shelters were getting harder and harder to give to━it was almost like they didn’t need donations at all!
“Hm, that’s convenient. Easier than a cheque.” Ricky straightened, placing the pen on the desk and sliding the form over to her. He would’ve asked if she was low on anything, but he didn’t want to get the woman’s hopes up. It was likely he’d leave and never think of this place again. “Alright, all done. Good luck with the fleas. Keep your salmon away from that one.” Grinning, his dark eyes flicked up to the tiny puff of fur, though he didn’t offer her a wave or a soft goodbye (he wasn’t a child). Instead, Ricky’s gaze shifted and he nodded curtly at the woman, offering a, “Have a nice day,” by way of parting.
Once he was through the door, and even back at his desk, he didn’t forget about his sidekick. Ricky decided that, if he still thought of it when he was home, he would set the sheets and towels aside. If not, then she was surely in good hands with the woman who was impervious to fleas.
RHIANNON GREY | zee end!
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