a certain special someone || drabble
The thing about living on your own, outside of cramped ‘everyone knows each other’ slum-life, was that it was lonely.
Tifa missed the bustle and press of other people. She missed Marlene and Denzel like she’d miss her own limbs, but she knew they were safe with Barret. Cloud was here, which made it better and worse--better because Cloud was here, worse because Barret was stuck with the kids and, god, what if they were scared--
--The point, was. She was lonely and feeling sorry for herself and maybe she wanted something to take care of. Okay? Sue her.
The shelter seemed like the best place to go. Adopting a rescued animal seemed as good a start as any. Maybe not a dog, though she saw plenty that were cute and good enough. Definitely not a bird--too fragile, according to her research.
Then she heard it. Meeeaaaaahhhh...
It was a low, wail of a thing. Sort of ghastly. Tifa whipped her head around and saw, on the top row of cages, possibly the...the ugliest cat she’d ever seen. It was a long haired breed, with a squishy face and stub of a snout. It had an underbite, making its bottom fangs stick out like elephant tusks; one eye was scarred over and gone, an old injury long since healed over.
Though a solid black, its raggedy ears and salt-and-pepper underbelly belayed a sense of age--or would have, if the little tag next to its name Grumpus, didn’t specify it as being four years old.
“Oh, wow,” Tifa breathed. The cat’s remaining eye was a pretty blue, tinged with green at the edges. “You’re kind of...”
The cat lifted itself; it didn’t have its front left leg, nothing but old scar tissue and fur.
“...cute,” she said softly.
...
Two hours, some paperwork, a litany of Um, are you sure this is the one--?’s, and an emergency shopping trip for cat essentials later, Tifa sat on her couch. Grumpus was curled on her chest, kneading at a shoulder, purring a storm.
