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calm cat not included (sylus x oc)

Lois gets unwittingly turned into a cat via protocore based gene product. When temperamental instincts, drug-induced discomfort, and her own ocean-deep sentiments mix, a destructive result emerges... for Sylus' sheets and mattress, at least. Still, Sylus is nothing if not weak to his favorite kitten. He'll find a way to her anyway.

10.6k words, fluff with sentimental bits, based on "kitten included"

ft. sylus and my oc lois wang

a/n: I started writing this before the card even released so parts may not match the memory perfectly. long live sweet sylus. there is a brief mention of drugging at the beginning, in line with the original memory

ao3 link (the formatting is better on ao3 so I'd recommend reading there)

(7:02 PM)

[1 Missed Call]

Sylus: [U Doing What Now]

Sylus: Darling, where are you?

Sylus: Dont tell me youre being Philip’s lackey

Sylus: Being a volunteer doesn’t suit you

(7:40 PM)

[1 Missed Call]

Sylus: [Pondering]

Sylus: Its rare that you take this long with favors

Sylus: Text me when youre on the way.

(8:13 PM)

[2 Missed Calls]

Sylus: Darling, dinner is getting cold

Sylus: Mephistos eyeing your portion

Sylus: Tell me if something has happened.

(8:32 PM)

[2 Missed Calls]

Sylus: Have we agreed to a game that Ive forgotten?

Sylus: Youll have to refresh my memory face to face

(8:49 PM)

[4 Missed Calls]

Sylus: Your location isnt visible

Sylus: Are you in the N109 Zone?

Sylus: If youve run into trouble, you just need to tell me

(9:12 PM)

Lois: ihim”’m opoksuu

Sylus: ?

Lois: iok

Lois: njededdx huedmolp

Lois: kn eew h ekppp

Sylus: Im calling. Pick up

~

“Where are you, darling?” were Sylus’ first words.

“Still Odd Workshop,” was Lois’ reply. “Alley to the left of the entrance you usually take.”

His brows furrowed immediately. Her voice was scratchy, more high-pitched than usual. Was it one of her bouts of illness that came from her protocore? Or a rare cold?

“You sound off.”

Her exhale hissed through her lips. “I got drugged.”

His grip tightened on his phone. He was already pulling on his motorcycle jacket, tucking his key into his pocket. “Elaborate.”

“I was leaving the workshop. There was a kid lingering near the alley and I went over to see if he needed help. Turns out he wasn’t here for Philip. Should have listened to my gut.” She inhaled, breath shuddering. “Brat apprehended me with a taser to inject something into my abdomen.”

“How do you feel now? Can you move?” He stepped into the Onychinus garage, walking past luxury and tactical vehicles to his sleek motorcycle, right next to Lois’s. A gift she really only used when she visited the N109 Zone.

“Can’t really move,” she said with a cough. “My blood’s reacting to the injection. I suspect it’s protocore based.”

As he pulled on his helmet, he flipped through his intel of any groups that were engaging in forced protocore injections.

“Is anyone tracking you right now?”

“Not as far as I can tell. They didn’t stick around.” She coughed again, her voice growing rougher with each cough. “It’s an odd operation, unless the injection itself has some sort of tracker.”

“This doesn’t align with any active factions.” His hand moved to shift to neutral, then flipped the kill-switch.

“Small operation, then?”

“Likely.” The engine roared to life, echoing through the garage.

“Sylus.”

He paused. “Darling?”

Lois took a deep breath. “I might not look the way I normally do when you find me. I’m growing fur and cat ears.”

The line was silent for a few moments.

“You’re growing cat ears,” he repeated. “You’re not joking, are you?”

“Dead serious. Paws too. My bones are shifting. I don’t know what that injection was—meow!” The sound escaped her mouth, distressed and high-pitched.

His jaw clenched, muscle twitching beneath his helmet. “I’ll be there in fifteen. Don’t move.”

“Meeeeeow.”

She hung up first. He stared at the empty screen for a few moments, then opened up his comms with Luke and Kieran.

(9:16 PM)

Sylus: New underground organization injecting victims with protocore based drug that causes fur growth and changes in bone structure.

Sylus: Human to cat transformation, in other words .

Sylus: Investigate motive and nature of drug.

Sylus: I expect quick results.

Luke: u got it, boss-man!

Kieran: 🫡 on it!

Luke: any reason, tho?

Sylus: Just get the inte

He zipped his phone into his jacket and flicked his visor down. With a thunderous rev of his engine, he flew off into the winding roads of the N109 Zone.

It was a foggy night. Mist hovered above the rugged roads, melting the streetlights into muted halos. His engine echoed through the silent air as he took the familiar turns to the Odd Workshop. He turned off the main highway into the narrower alleys, wheels bouncing slightly over uneven concrete. He passed through tagged walls and broken sculptures—logos, perhaps, from the biotech companies that were destroyed in the Catastrophe. As the walls narrowed, he slowed.

Odd Workshop came into view as the streets widened again to a strip of mechanical shops. He killed the engine, locking it in an intersection of the alley as he examined the empty area. No indication of a woman sprawled on the cold floor.

The alley grew increasingly narrow the deeper he walked. His shoes splashed through puddles as he searched for anything on the ground. Nothing.

If she was paralyzed here, then the only thing that could have happened was someone else dragged her away. Sylus did not like that possibility at all.

He stopped, staring at the intersection of two alleys in front of him. This area branched into a more grid-like pattern; not impossible to search with enough Onychinus manpower. The only challenge was that the alleys shaped the mist in a way that made it difficult to see the ground unless he was standing right above it. Until it cleared, it would be troublesome for his operatives to comb through the area.

Sylus gritted his teeth and continued. The ground showed no sign of scuffle or blood, no smell lingering in stone besides the sharp scent of mist. If she had been paralyzed, there probably would have been none of those indicators.

His foot brushed against something rectangular. His heart jolted.

The screen lit up with the light nudge.

Lois’ phone. Unbroken. Her plain black case and the wallpaper of Linkon’s skyline taken from the Bashan Mountains. Faintly warm—she had an old model that always overheated and hadn’t upgraded out of laziness.

She had just been here using it. Or someone else had.

He pocketed the device, eyes scanning the fog-shrouded road ahead. His evol crackled to life, red and black tendrils surging ahead of him to sense for any remains. One tendril hit something physical—warm, but small?

Immediately, he clamped down and yanked. His evol deposited something wriggling at his feet.

A cat. It pawed at the tendrils holding it hostage, spitting and hissing at him.

He stared at the creature, unamused. This was not the living creature he had wanted to find.

The cat meowed loudly. He was about to let it go when he noticed how well groomed its long fur was. The strays in the N109 Zone tended to be scruffy, with matted fur and countless scars from fighting for turf, because even the felines in the N109 Zone fought as intensely as the humans. It didn’t seem feral. No collar, though.

“Shh,” he said, lowering his voice as he knelt to examine it closer. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

It meowed, the sound indignant. The cat stared back at him, pupils thin slits. Oddly enough, its squirming had slowed. Most felines never calmed down around him. Something about his air made animals bristle.

“Do you have an owner?” Sylus said. “You’ve got quite the well groomed coat, kitten.”

The cat shook its head.

“I see—”

The cat shook its head?

“You understand me,” Sylus said, amusement unfolding on his face. “Smart kitten.”

The cat hissed.

“You don’t like being called that?” He raised an eyebrow. “But that’s what you are—”

He broke off abruptly.

“Forgive me,” he said, flicking out his phone and turning on the flashlight. The cat hissed louder, eyes squeezing shut at the sudden light.

Dark fur—black rusty with red. And when the cat forced its eyes open, he saw silver-blue.

“I’m growing fur. And ears.”

Sylus turned off his flashlight. Still half crouching, he remained in silence to absorb this new realization. Then he burst into delighted laughter, low and rumbling. The cat seemed to sigh.

“What a fascinating drug, darling,” he said, still chuckling. “You must hate this.”

The cat meowed emphatically. Of course she did.

The woman who had always glared daggers at him if he dared call her anything condescendingly feline was now an actual kitten. If he wasn’t so worried about the side effects, he would be rubbing it in even more.

“How do you feel? Are you in pain right now?”

She shook her head again. “Meooow…”

He finally withdrew his evol, watching her groom where the tendrils had flattened her fur with methodical licks.

“You’re beautiful even as a cat, darling,” he murmured, reaching to scratch her ears.

Lois yowled. She batted his hand away, leaving an inch long gash on his middle finger. The wound didn’t hurt—it closed in a moment—but Sylus still felt the sting.

He moved on. “So that incoherent string of messages was you trying to type with paws?”

A quiet meow of affirmation. She padded closer, pawing at the pocket where she knew he held his phone, then tilted her head quizzically.

It took him a second.

“Do I have your phone?” Sylus replied. “Yes. Other pocket. That’s what you’re worried about?” He snorted. “Your priorities are as twisted as always.”

Her responding meow did not sound amused.

“Come on, then.”

She followed behind him as he retraced his steps to his motorcycle. It took a few meters for him to realize she was practically sprinting after him to keep up. He slowed, watching her stare at him, tail swishing side to side agitatedly.

“If you let me carry you, this would go faster,” he said, lips twitching.

Turning into a cat didn’t change Lois’ feelings toward being carried. Her tail fluffed immediately as she bared her teeth.

“Still have fangs even as a cat,” he observed. “Fine. I’ll walk slower.”

Still, even his leisurely stroll was a run for Lois, who meowed in complaint the entire time. Especially when she had to hop around to avoid puddles that he could navigate with a single long stride.

When they arrived at his bike, he glanced at the vehicle and then back at her. Realization seemed to dawn in those eyes just as it sank in for him.

“I don’t have a basket,” Sylus drawled. “So...”

He knelt by her again. Lois hissed.

“Come on, darling.” He softened his voice to a feather-soft murmur. “There’s no other way.”

Lois’s protest grew half-hearted. She hopped onto his thigh, claws digging into his pants to stay steady. Her entire body trembled.

“Careful,” he murmured, reaching to hold her. She stuck a paw out to fidget with the edge of his shirt. It was tight enough to hold her steady against him while he drove back to Onychinus headquarters.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen or touched before, darling.”

Sylus chuckled when her tail lashed at that. Still, she stuck her head in and crawled up his chest. He winced at the sharp sting of her claws digging into his skin.

“Are you doing that intentionally?”

An innocent sounding meow answered his question.

After a few moments of wriggling through the fabric, her ears emerged through the neckhole.

“Meow.” She blinked up at him. Adorable little thing.

“Secure?”

She shifted, then meowed. He could feel her tail flicking against his abdomen—still uneasy.

“Alright. Hold on, darling.”

He was careful to avoid jostling her as he threw his leg over his motorcycle. Through his visor, he saw her eyes flatten.

“Too loud for you?” He stroked her ears and watched her shift uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, darling. I’ll drive slow.”

He drove at a painstaking pace, keeping the engine at a low rumble. One hand remained cupped around her warm furry body as she continuously meowed. At least she seemed less agitated now—pupils round as the red moon above, ears twitching as wind whooshed by. She still liked this rush.

Back in his garage, he stepped off his bike and cradled Lois with both hands as he stepped into the dimly lit hallways of Onychinus base. As soon as the door closed, she wriggled out of his shirt and landed on soft paws. Immediately, she zipped down the hallway, taking a few turns and darting up the stairs. Back to her room.

“Silly kitten,” he said under his breath, following behind her.

He stepped into the guest room that had become hers and flicked the light on. The ceiling glow illuminated the rusty cat curled up squarely in the center of the bed, eyes half-lidded.

As Sylus stepped closer, her eyes opened, head tilting.

“Meow?”

He settled on the side of the bed, watching her tail swish slowly. Lois looked more restful in the familiar environment. She even yawned, tongue lolling as she tilted her head back. Sylus smiled, eyes crinkling.

Sylus reached out slowly, hovering his fingers right above her ears. Her eyes darted up and pulled away, shuffling to curl against the pillows at the head of the bed. His expression wavered, brows furrowing. Still, he remained where he sat, watching her burrow into the pillows.

“Darling,” he whispered. “Are you scared of me?”

The cat meowed quietly, then shook her head.

“Then what is it?”

She meowed again, sounding distressed. The fur around her neck bristled. It must have been maddening being trapped in a body unable to speak.

“Shh… it’s okay.”

She leaped up from her bundle of pillows to prod at her phone in his pocket. “Meow?”

He unzipped the pocket and held out the phone to her. Lois painstakingly tapped in her password with careful paws, then opened her LChat.

Sylus watched as she attempted to type something. Instead, her messages devolved into the same jumble of letters as earlier.

“Darling, you won’t be able to use that. Come with me.”

Lois scurried behind him as he moved to his office. He flicked open his laptop, settling into the rolling leather chair at the mahogany desk. He left a document open for her.

The cat hopped up onto the table, standing sideways with her paws hovering over the keys. Every keystroke was arduous, and double letters typed by accident made her hiss.

“new uinsxtjincts”

“New instincts?” he read.

A bob of her head.

“tgense. domn’t knoiew why”

Sylus sighed. “Were you uncomfortable when tucked in my shirt?”

She lifted her paws to type.

“a littkle”

As she continued, every few keystrokes, she would pause, then tap the backspace. Eventually, Lois let out a pitiful sound that was entirely unbecoming of the woman he normally knew. Her whiskers drooped as she mewled, tail lashing.

“It feels too vulnerable, does it?”

The cat’s entire body froze, fur puffing up almost immediately. It was so very Lois to be wary of intimate touch.

“An emphatic yes, huh? I understand,” he murmured.

She curled into a ball, quivering like a fur-covered jelly dessert.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he murmured. “You’re safe here.”

He remained a safe distance away, watching as her meows melted into quiet breathing. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her tail began to slow. Only when she was soundly asleep did he leave.

Outside the guest room, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

(10:34 PM)

Luke: boss

Kieran: boss

Luke: we got some intel

Kieran: we’ll be back in ten

Luke: it’s not bad but it’s weird

Sylus: Good. ill be in my office.

~

“It’s a new criminal organization,” Luke reported, sliding out still-warm printouts of their findings. “As you mentioned, they ambush people, inject them with a homemade gene product derived from a Biomodifico Evolver and poof! The victims turn into animals.”

“When was their earliest target?” Sylus took the files and skimmed.

“About a month and a half ago. Jabbed a drug dealer and turned them into a husky.”

“And what was their criteria for victims?”

Kieran scratched his head, staring at the photos of the countless N109 people who had been converted into all sorts of animals—dogs, rabbits, hedgehogs, hamsters, and of course, cats. “We couldn’t figure out what the group’s criteria was for victims. They’ve cast such a wide net.”

“But we suspect they’re injecting as many people as possible to extort them to obtain the antidote.” Luke’s nose wrinkled. “Easiest trick in the book.”

“It’s still a relatively small operation,” Kieran replied. “Less than fifty victims. Though the amount they extort isn’t much—around a million gold?”

“That’s barely anything for anyone who runs a proper business in the N109 Zone,” Luke replied. “Though… I don’t know if anything is proper in this zone—”

“Get to the point,” Sylus interrupted.

Luke’s expression turned sheepish. “My point is that this operation seems amateur. If they wanted big money, they would have extorted more and cast a smaller net with their targets.”

“Too much research for them, maybe,” Kieran replied.

“They might genuinely do this for the love of the game,” Luke drawled. “‘Look at us! We have a cool gene product!’”

“Not every criminal organization is competent or has a defined mission. Some just mess around for fun.”

“Anyone who ends up in this scheme has got to be slacking…”

Both of their grins immediately melted when they noticed the storm rumbling in Sylus’ eyes. Little patience for their usual banter, it seemed.

“... Boss? Why personal investment in this?” Kieran asked, shooting Luke a look that said why did you say that?!

“Yeah, you, uh… usually don’t show interest in fringe groups…” Luke’s eyes darted between his brother and his boss with increasing worry.

His fingers tapped against his desk, the quiet sound of nails rapping against wood almost explosive in the thick air. “It’s not of your concern.”

The twins exchanged a knowing glance.

“She’s not here,” Kieran said quietly. “Are you feeling okay, boss?”

In any other situation he would have burned a hole through the twin’s face with his glare, but Lois’ pitiful meows were still ringing through his head.

“Fine,” he replied curtly.

He read over the mission report again, jaw winding tighter with every question he considered. The motives of this group were secondary to the creative concoction they’d stabbed in Lois. Who knew how the protocore based injection would react to her own body?

This usually wouldn’t be an operation he concerned himself with, but they’d made a mistake targeting her.

“Mrow.”

Three pairs of eyes all flew to the door. Someone had left it ajar, and now a rusty colored cat poked her head through.

The twins looked between their boss and the new adoption. It took less than two seconds for them to connect the dots—always too perceptive, the damn brats.

“Ah,” they said in unison, shit-eating grins appearing. “That’s why.”

Sylus rubbed his temples as the twins swarmed on cat Lois, cooing.

“Boss-lady, how’d you get in this predicament?” Luke asked, kneeling.

“Are you hungry? We can pick up some food for you,” Kieran offered.

“Meow.”

The one comfort was that when the twins reached to pet her with a little too much enthusiasm, both of them ended up with matching bite marks on both hands.

“Boss-lady!” both of them spluttered.

“How cruel,” Luke said with a shake of his head. “You’d scratch even your own right hand men?”

Kieran hummed, noting Lois’ defensive posture. “Maybe she’s afraid of humans in this form.”

“True, we’re massive compared to her,” Luke replied in a lower voice. “Even more than in human form.”

Kieran turned back to Sylus. “Boss. We’ll get her some food and toys.”

Lois tilted her head at that, then rubbed her head against Kieran’s leg. His smirk softened into something more tender.

“We got your back, boss-lady,” Kieran said, kneeling and holding out his hand.

Sylus watched as Lois booped Kieran’s palm with her nose and then skittered out.

“Is there anything else, boss?” Luke asked.

“Let me buy her things.”

The twins exchanged glances again. There was something too still in Sylus’ expression—eyes too clear, face too neutral.

“Sure,” Kieran said. “We’ll keep an eye on her.”

Luke snickered. “Onychinus’ new mascot.”

Sylus pulled on his jacket again, trying to ignore the quiet ache creeping into his chest at this all. It was foolish, and he knew it was foolish, and yet hearts had a tendency to do that anyways.

A kitten had this much control over him. It had long ago stopped making a cold chill seep in, but coming face to face with it was always something that gave him pause.

As he emerged from his office, he saw the twins gabbing away with Lois in the guest room, taking every “mrow?” or “meow!” as her taking the side on whatever idiotic conversation they were up to now.

“Maybe we should call her Boss-cat now?”

“Pfft. I guess she’s not a lady temporarily.”

“Would you retaliate against us if we did that?”

“Mrow.”

“That sounds like a yes.”

Sylus stepped past the chatter silently, not expecting any of them to acknowledge them when they were so engrossed. Instead, he was one step down the stairwell when he heard a tiny “mrow…”

He turned. Lois gazed up at him, nuzzling his leg before meowing again quietly.

“I’ll be back soon,” he whispered, leaning down to hold his hand out as Kieran did.

She leaned in and licked his hand softly.

“Good kitten.” The gesture melted the uneasiness crystallizing in his chest.

Lois narrowed her eyes in a surprisingly accurate equivalent of her usual unamused expression. The familiar scowl was somehow the most reassuring thing she could do. It was still her within the tiny body.

“Come now, you’ll have to indulge me a little. The opportunity to call you ‘kitten’ is too good to pass up.”

She bumped her head against his leg, eliciting a gentle chuckle.

“I’ll see you soon, kitten.”

A more resigned sound. “Mrow.”

As Lois sat at the step, watching him go, the twins watched Sylus’ back with uneasy glances.

“He’s not going just for toys, is he?” Luke asked in a voice low enough that Lois wouldn’t overhear.

Kieran shook his head. “You saw him in the office and the hallway.”

Luke winced at the image—the cold expression that usually preceded bloodshed or annihilation. “He’s not coming back until he has the antidote, is he?”

Kieran watched Lois, her tail still swishing impatiently as she watched Sylus disappear from view. “Those thugs have messed with the wrong feline.”

~

Lois had been injected with a lot of suspicious substances in her time, but this one really had to take the cake.

Her head felt small, as if the mass of her mind itself had been folded and stuffed into a tiny cube and forced to think around the box. She could tell with agonizing clarity what thoughts were her own and what were instincts firing like trigger-happy neurons, but couldn’t resist them.

Every sound—Luke and Kieran’s footsteps and voices and whatever the buzzing noise in the walls was—made her feel uneasy. She paced on paws around furniture, the hallways, unable to stay still.

Nevermind the scratching. Luke and Kieran shrieked simultaneously when they saw her tear into Sylus’ bedding. Priceless silk blends and cotton sateen ripped into shreds by her claws. Their screams only made her even more agitated, which led to more scratching.

Eventually, Kieran had to hold her down, front paws in one hand and hind paws in another. Lois fought, fur puffed up like she’d been electrocuted, hissing and spitting as she tried to clamp down her jaws on Kieran’s palms. This wasn’t right. The hands holding her didn’t feel right. She needed to escape. Now.

“Please, Boss-lady,” Kieran begged. “I’m trying to stop you from scratching what’s left of Boss’s bed.”

Right next to them, with a face as pale as the torn sheets, Luke lifted up the destroyed linens to the light.

“Boss is going to skin us,” Luke said, wincing at the fraying holes and down escaping the blanket in a shower of feathers. “And put our brains into a press to get the fat out.”

“Just tell him when he gets back,” Kieran hissed, still holding Lois tightly. “Whenever he does.”

Lois yowled. Her mind fought desperately against the instincts—don’t claw, don’t fight, you’re safe, you’re safe. But urge simmered, a scratch that could only be quelled with burying her claws into something and leaving it ragged.

“If the sheets are destroyed, just give them to her.” Kieran’s voice was defeated. “Boss can buy new sheets.”

Luke finally set the sheets into a wrinkled bundle on the bedroom floor. As soon as Kieran let her go, Lois threw herself into the fabric, hiding herself under the soft silk. As the twins bemoaned Sylus’ sheets, she busied herself scratching more holes into it.

“Boss-lady—”

Lois found her body darting away, dragging the pilfered sheet under Sylus’ bed. It was pleasantly dust free and dark. She settled right in the center below the bedframe, where the distant light of the room didn’t fully penetrate.

Sylus’ cologne lingered in the sheets, a mixture of notes she could for the first time properly distinguish. Citrusy, woodsy, and a hint of something sweet. The list of notes on the carved glass bottle she’d looked over once idly had been too long to bother memorizing (Oud? Amber? Bergamot?). The masculine scent calmed the scratching instinct.

He hadn’t been wearing it earlier, for whatever reason. It wasn’t unusual that he neglected to do so or forgot.

With a quiet mewl, Lois kneaded at the ripped fabric until that urge too had quieted. Exhausted, she curled into the sheet and inhaled. The instincts and cattish thoughts had at long last disappeared. For how long, she didn’t know. But she felt wrung out, paws and tiny muscles too small.

“Boss-lady?” Luke and Kieran’s voices were suddenly close.

Lois opened her eyes, seeing the crow masks poking under the bedframe. Then they looked at each other, heads suspended upside down.

“Does she like the sheets because of the scent?” Luke inquired.

“Could be Boss’s,” responded Kieran. “Her nose is more sensitive in this form.”

“Well, if she’s calmer, that’s good.”

Her stomach suddenly churned, hunger and thirst rearing its head after hours of having nothing.

Her meow was loud, drawing both of the twins’ attention to her.

“Need something?” Kieran asked.

“Meow.” She paused for a moment, wondering how to communicate her needs. She scuttled out and lightly nibbled on Luke’s finger.

“What’s she trying to say?” Luke withdrew his hand, glancing at his brother.

“Are you hungry?” Kieran guessed.

Bless him. She nodded emphatically.

“Alright. We’ll find you something to eat, Boss-lady.”

They twins disappeared, steps almost silent against the hardwood floor. She hoped they’d also bring water…

Lois had nearly nodded off when she heard the wood creak with the brothers’ return. Her eyes opened, a little blurry. The twins were back, each holding a bowl in careful hands. Kieran had an extra cardboard box with the flaps torn off.

Lois smelled something strong from Kieran’s, her tail and ears perking up before she even realized she was padding toward the light. Luke set down water (thank God) and Kieran slid an assortment of tuna and scrambled eggs over.

“Just until Boss gets back, okay?” Kieran rubbed his head awkwardly. “Sorry if it’s not perfect cat food.”

As Lois sniffed at the bowls, Luke reached to fold the tattered sheets into the cardboard box to form a makeshift bed. Her attention, however, was focused on the water. It was cool, refreshing after hours without a drop to drink. Then she turned her face to the food. In human form, she’d never been an enthusiast over boiled fish and scrambled eggs, but right now? Nothing had ever smelled better.

The twins sighed with relief as she began to eat. They watched, entranced by her jaw and throat moving and the quiet meows of a cat enjoying good food.

“Meow.” Lois crept out further. The twins blinked at her curiously, a little wary that she might start clawing at them again.

Instead, she rubbed her head against their ankles, looking up at them with slow blinks.

“You enjoyed that, Boss-lady?” Kieran asked, reaching out his hand to attempt to pet her once again. She only flinched a little this time before finally allowing herself to be touched.

What a simple brain this cat body had. If it was fed and provided for? It would feel safe.

Luke’s eyes lit up as he reached over tentatively. “Can I, Boss-lady?”

His response did not include being bitten, so that was probably as good a yes as he’d ever get.

Luke hummed as he scratched her ears. “Maybe we should get Boss to feed her. Then she’ll be as affectionate as always.”

Kieran snorted. “As if Lois is openly affectionate.”

Luke’s expression was so dry it could dessicate. “You have no clue the kind of things I’ve walked into, dude—hey! Don’t scratch me!”

“Mrooow!”

Kieran burst into laughter as Luke fled.

“I’m right, Boss-lady!” he yelled as he dove into Sylus’ bathroom suite and slammed the lock shut. “And being a cat makes you grumpy!”

Lois pawed at the door once—the urge to scratch returning—just as Kieran tapped the bowl with the food.

“Still some left, Boss-lady.”

The cat’s mind changed gears so quickly that Lois didn’t realize she was zipping back to the food until her mouth was full of egg scraps. A smart way to prevent the door from being clawed open, she had to admit. The twins thought fast.

As she lapped up the last of the tuna juice, Luke crept out.

“We should leave her alone,” he suggested, eyes darting between the bed and the exit. “Let her rest.”

Lois let out a satisfied mew. The twins looked back at her.

“Boss-lady, if you need us, we’ll be in our rooms, okay?” Kieran said.

“Mew.”

Kieran gave Lois one last pet and the two finally left with the empty food bowl… perhaps for the night. She wasn’t sure.

The lightswitch clicked as the twins flicked it. Then she heard the door close, sealing her into this dark but familiar room.

Lois settled back into the soft sheets, stomach full of food and water. The mixture of scent and sustenance made her go limp as sleep took over at last.

~

Her second day as a cat had started poorly and steadily slid into deeper agitation and irritation. Lois swore it was the new instincts.

She awakened to the dark room she’d fallen asleep in, groggy and unsure what time it was. Her tiny steps padded across the cold floor, searching for a clock or screen that might give her a clue.

Lois knew where Sylus’ grandfather clock stood—picked up from some auction a few years ago and painstakingly refinished by his own hand. Seven in the morning. Ha. The time she woke up for work, which she was now missing. She would deal with trying to explain this predicament to her captain later—my reason for absence? I turned into a cat.

She turned back to the entrance. The door was closed, and these paws were not helping her with anything. If the twins weren’t awake, then she might be trapped here until… who knew.

Her eyes darted to the ajar window that she knew was meant for Mephisto to come and go from Sylus’ bedroom. Outside, faint light filtered through from the N109 Zone morning. Even the perpetual night let some dawn through.

She moved, hopping onto the shelves right next to the window, weaving through Sylus’ decor carefully. She pushed herself up on her hind legs and hopped onto the sill. Outside, the sloped roof tiles unfolded, just as obsidian as the rest of the Onychinus headquarters. Wind whistled through the second floor and her fur.

If she darted out through here, the chances were high she wouldn’t find another open window. Lois sighed, settling with her nose pressed to the window and staring out at the horizon. It was a cloudless day (or night?).

Lois didn’t know how long she sat, staring at nothing at all, until she heard the shriek of a familiar mechanical crow. She perked up, ears swiveling as she hopped onto the shelf to give Mephisto the space to land.

With a quiet flap of wings, Mephisto landed right outside and ducked his head to waddle inside.

“Meow!”

Mephisto whirred as he looked down at her, perched right beneath him on the bookshelf. Then he cawed softly and fluttered to join her.

The bird seemed so much larger in this body. Lois felt her body tense, claws unsheathing against her control at the sight of a bird to hunt.

Mephisto’s wings fluttered, cawing in alarm as he saw the glint in her eyes. Lois tried to hold back the urge to pounce. A low growl escaped her throat.

The bird made an undignified croak and flew off. Lois gave chase, yowling loudly as she lunged to grab the bird. Internally, Lois fought to stop her legs.

Mephisto tossed something—jingling, fluffy looking—and her cat self pounced, immediately pawing at it. The crow circled, waiting for her to be completely entranced before finally landing a safe distance away.

Lois chirped, still batting around the toy. Mephisto chirped back. Still, when her attention shifted back to the gift-giver, Mephisto squeaked in terror.

Instead of trying to claw his metal skin open, she just padded over and bumped her head against his. The crow cooed, confused.

“Caw?”

“Mrow.” She licked at his feathers, then made a face at the metallic taste.

Mephisto cooed again, and nuzzled into her own head, trying to preen her and sulking when he couldn’t manage to fix her fur.

“Meow, meow?” Lois tilted her head, trying to ask where Sylus was.

Mephisto cawed apologetically. She did not understand the bird any better than she did in her normal body. All the bird could do was shake his head.

She felt uneasy again. Mephisto tried to preen her again but was gently pushed away.

As she completed another circle of the room, she heard Mephisto’s wings flutter and the click of the lights. Her eyes blinked rapidly as they adjusted to the golden glow of the lightbulb.

“Mrow.” She watched Mephisto rejoin her on the carpet.

Mephisto hopped and fluttered behind her as she continued pacing. He chirped, trying to catch her attention from her silent prowl. It was abundantly clear to him that she was deeply unnerved.

Lois finally scurried back under the bed, curling back up in the box. The scent was still there, but it was fading.

Mephisto peeked under the bed, then cawed. She still didn’t know what that meant.

The bird inched closer, pecking at the box once. Lois tilted her head, then inched over, leaving a small space for the crow to join her. With a low, satisfied coo, Mephisto settled in the right side of the box, pushing around the sheets until he was satisfied with his new nest.

She sniffed at the crow, letting out a sad meow when she couldn’t sense any of Sylus’ scent. Still, she laid her head down, and felt Mephisto continue to fruitlessly but painstakingly preen her.

Her eyes were focused on the door, waiting for a man’s return. Why she missed him so, she didn’t know. Was it instinct or her own desire?

How flighty, she thought. The cat who had refused to let him pet her was now yearning for his return.

When Mephisto darted to move, she mewled pitifully. Stay.

The bird swiveled, chirping in quiet confusion. Lois moved closer, wrapping her paws around his talons.

“Caw?!” The bird nearly shrieked.

“Mew…”

Mephisto tried to inch away, but her grip was steadfast. Eventually, the bird let out a puff of air suspiciously sounding like a sigh. He returned to preening, but the gesture felt less utilitarian and more comforting.

“Caw, caw.”

Lois didn’t leave that room for the rest of the day, even as the twins at last opened the door and came to check on her. The room moved in a blur around her—Luke and Kieran bringing new toys and food (but no sign of the buyer…), Mephisto fluttering in and out between Sylus’ errands and back to check on her, and even some of the cleaning staff who spoke to her warmly from a safe distance.

She clawed at the multi-tier scratching post, pawed at the absurd quantity of fake rats and left most of them with their stuffing falling out, and hid in the proper cat castle for a few minutes before returning to the cardboard box.

“You’re being finicky, Boss-lady,” Kieran said quietly. The twins were both sitting right next to the bed, watching her. “Are these toys not to your liking?”

“Mrow,” she replied, her voice more quavery than usual.

Mephisto poked his head right into the dark space with a feathery toy, shaking it temptingly. “Caw!” he said through the toy in his beak.

Lois shook her head.

“Boss-lady… is there anything we can do for you?” Luke’s voice was tired. They’d spent all day trying to appease her, but she refused to eat or emerge from the bed after evening had fallen. In her agitation, she’d almost shredded the mattress too. The latest victim to her throbbing claws was Sylus’ closet door.

Deep down, Lois felt terrible for making them all go through so much. But the instincts that had quieted yesterday were now yowling. Her head pounded. Her chest ached. She wanted to claw and claw until the throbbing all went away.

The twins watched as she darted toward the closet door again.

“Boss-lady!” they both shrieked again, diving to stop her.

In their haste, Luke yanked down on the handle and gave her just enough of a gap to slip into the walk-in closet. The automatic lights flicked on, revealing rows of suits and pressed shirts and fancy leather shoes.

Kieran dove into the room, eyes scanning to see where she’d gone. “Boss-lady! Don’t go for Boss’ clothes! Please!”

The twins shut their eyes when they couldn’t find her, already fearing the worse.

“We’re fucked,” Luke said, burying his face in his palms. “His sheets were bad enough.”

“Meow.”

A gentle sound escaped from a lower shelf, where dress shirts hung. The twins crept over, expecting ribbons of silk and twill. Instead, they found a cat pawing at the fluttering fabric.

“She’s not tearing it?” Luke said, glancing at his twin as if he’d have an answer. Kieran just raised his eyebrows. He didn’t know either.

Lois managed to get the clothes off the hanger. She immediately wriggled into the neckhole, burying herself in the faint scent of cologne.

“She misses him,” Kieran whispered. “Only his clothes or sheets have made her calm down.”

Luke lifted the bundle back to the cardboard box. Lois didn’t even snap at being carried or pet; she just let out loud, yearning mewls.

(6:23 PM)

Kieran: boss

Kieran: progress on the antidote?

Kieran: we’re worried about Lois

Luke: [VID_124PM.mp4]

Luke: she’s been listless all day even giving her the toys you dropped off

Luke: only calms down when she’s in your clothes or sheets

Luke: I think it’s the scent

Kieran: she’s already caused a lot of chaos

Kieran: we love her but we can’t handle this anymore 🫩

Kieran: come back soon boss

Luke: please

(7:01 PM)

Sylus: Ill be back before dawn tomorrow. tell her that.

Sylus: My cologne is in the first drawer of my nightstand

Sylus: Use as much as she needs

~

“Is this it?” Kieran lifted the glass bottle to the light. It was a simple square shape with a black lid with gold accents, almost empty. Oddly enough, it had no label—perhaps a custom blend? Sylus had specific tastes and the wealth to back them up.

“Looks like it.” Luke shuddered. “We should have read his message more clearly before opening up the second drawer.”

Kieran just mimed cutting his throat. “Look, whatever Boss and Boss-lady do is none of our business.”

The twins tested a single spritz on Luke, giving it a quick sniff.

“Smells masculine. I don’t know how to describe it,” Luke muttered.

Kieran raised an eyebrow. “It’s not bad. You think we should also start wearing cologne?”

“Maybe. Boss could give us recommendations.”

A fluffy mass was doing figure-eights between their legs. The twins looked down to see Lois gazing up at them with growing pupils.

“She smelled it already,” Kieran said with a chuckle. He grabbed the bottle to spritz her makeshift nest while Luke leaned to let Lois sniff at his wrist.

Luke and Kieran practically sagged to the ground when they saw her return to her box and purr. For the rest of the night, she was a model cat: ate her kibble, stayed relatively quiet, and nuzzled their hands without fleeing.

“Shit. That was the last of the cologne,” Luke muttered, shaking the glass bottle and seeing the bottom was empty. “How long does this stuff last?”

“Long enough, I hope.”

“Meeeeeow.” Her cry interrupted their conversation.

“He’ll be back before dawn tomorrow,” Kieran murmured to Lois, who was sitting in his lap. “Don’t worry, Boss-lady.”

Her whiskers twitched in acknowledgment.

The twins stayed by her side until they dozed off on the floor with pillows and blankets they’d taken from their own room. It was the kind of sleep that came from finally running out of fumes.

Lois watched them rest with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. When she was back in human form, she’d have to treat them for dealing with her feline fussiness. Soundlessly, she pulled the blankets higher with her teeth.

Sylus would be back soon.

~

Deep red black and mist coalesced into Sylus’ silhouette, dropping him mid-air. His shoes clacked against the floor one by one as he took in the whirlwind that had struck the room.

His entire mattress had been stripped clean, and a few claw marks that seemed disproportionate to Lois’ size marked the foam. They looked more like a tiger and less like a housecat. The walls had also been scratched, though mercifully only the superficial paint. There was a deep red stain on the carpet from an overturned bottle of century old Cabernet, with a trail of pawprints leading to the closet.

He knelt to examine the interior of the closet. Shirts and ties and socks had been taken, he noticed. Hangers were empty, with puddles of fabric everywhere, though nothing was shredded.

“I return late by a day and a half and return to a rage room,” he murmured, standing back up. Lois was nowhere to be seen. As he bent and examined every crevice, he took a brief pause to dab the last remnants of scent from his empty cologne bottle—he’d have to order another batch after this.

He heard the sound of scratching against the bathroom door and angry howling. Had the twins put her there?

Sylus was about to open it when the twins stumbled into the room, posture drooping like withered flowers.

“Boss,” they chorused. “Please don’t kill us.”

His eyebrows raised. “For allowing Lois to tear up my room?”

Luke scratched his ear. “Um… that too, but Ms. Tang told us you have a critical meeting scheduled now with those two merchants. She already pushed it back after your unexpected leave.”

“Don’t blame her,” Kieran said quietly. The dutiful personal assistant was unaware of this predicament.

“I’m well aware.” Sylus turned around slowly, his gaze freezing solid. “However, tell me. What could be more crucial than checking on Lois right now?”

The twins knew better than to even try responding to that.

“I’ve left more boxes in the storage unit. Unpack them here, and get the housekeepers to clear this room before I return.”

His irritation surrounded him in a palpable swirl of red and black wisps. Even the black market merchants—two men hardened by smuggling and dealing with risky negotiations—paled as white as snow the moment they saw the hardened expression on Sylus’ face.

“Pardon my foul mood,” he said, sitting at the head of the table with a calm face. The way a shoreline drew back before a tsunami came to destroy everything. “I have an urgent engagement after this, so I expect a quick negotiation.”

The merchants exchanged nervous glances.

“So, gentlemen. Speak before I lose what little patience I have left.”

Two hours later, the twins came into the dining hall after the men had been ushered out by armored Onychinus operatives and smelled gunpowder. No blood.

“He shot at them,” they both said immediately.

“That’s one way to negotiate for sure,” Kieran muttered.

“It’s just a cherry on top at this point,” Luke agreed. “No one negotiates with Onychinus at an advantage.”

“You think he’s already with Boss-lady already?”

“He probably sprinted there the moment those two poor bastards left.”

~

The bathroom was silent behind the door. No scratching, no meowing, not even footsteps. Sylus opened the door and saw a cardboard box sitting squarely on the tile floor. Empty.

In the rest of his room, the twins had unpacked the deluge of cat luxuries—catnip toys, sturdy toys made of feline safe materials, and an even more grand scratching post. The housekeepers had swept up the entire room, repaired the mattress, and replaced the silk linens with a spare set. The only indication of any disturbance was the empty space on the floor; the carpet was temporarily being deep-cleaned.

“Darling,” he said softly, leaning down to look under the bed. “It’s me. I’m back.”

Two faintly glowing eyes stared back at him. Yet she made no sound.

“Are you angry because of my tardiness?”

A petulant meow escaped the bottom of the bed. Light paws darted across the wooden floor to the other side of the bed.

Sylus moved swiftly, leaning just as Lois came to a halt at the edge of the bedframe.

“I’m sorry, darling. The errands I was running took longer than I expected. Will you forgive me?”

His voice, as coaxing as it was, elicited no response. So, Sylus reached beneath the bed—to hold her hand? To prove he was genuine? He wasn’t even sure—and received a sharp swat.

“Meow!”

“You’re holding a grudge against me, darling?” He tried to keep up the amused smirk he always wore, but his gaze wavered.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Sylus lowered himself to sitting a short but tangible distance away.

He waited, head leaned against the edge of his mattress. It felt too long before he heard her gentle shuffling again.

“Mrow?”

“Yes, darling?” He stayed stone still, yet his eyes immediately moved to the underside of the bed.

“Mew.”

The tips of her ears emerged, head swishing from side to side as if scanning for threats. Then her blue gaze appeared, unblinking.

Sylus was deliberately looking away.

“I’m not ignoring you,” he murmured. “I’ve missed you dearly, darling. But I don’t want to push my attention on you either.”

He only turned when he felt her paws knead against his knees. The softest brush made his breath hitch.

With quiet mewls, she nuzzled into his hand, nose sniffing along his palms to the divot of his wrists where he’d dabbed his cologne. The smell was faint to him, yet she was entranced.

He was still too hesitant to close his hands and scratch her ears, but resisting the urge was painful. Yet she still remained close, even licking at his wrist before his stern warning (“Don’t lick that, darling, it’ll make you sick.”) made her shrink away.

“May I pet you, darling?” His voice was even softer than her tongue’s affections.

Lois let out a meow in the same gentle tone, sticking out her head in an open invitation.

His hand moved slowly, still half expecting her to dart away in a blur of rusty red the moment before his fingers could make contact. But he brushed her ears gingerly and watched her nuzzle back against him.

“Have you forgiven me?”

She let out a soft meow. After a brief pause, she nodded.

He got onto his stomach, eye to eye with her, still stroking her ears as the quietest purr escaped her.

Sylus’ expression melted even further. “You must have missed me dearly. You know, earlier, when you refused to let me touch you… I was hurt.”

She paused her nuzzle, poking his fingers with her nose as if in apology.

A smile flickered onto his cheeks. “And I know it was no fault of your own. You cannot control your instincts. Still, I crave having you close, darling. Human, cat, whatever form you take.”

Lois hopped over his head, landing squarely on his shoulder blade and scurrying lower. Sylus stayed still, then let out a startled chuckle when he felt her hands kneading at his butt.

“There, darling?” He craned his head to see her diligently making biscuits from his behind. “Is that what you missed?”

She traveled back up, curling up on his upper back—the lats that her hands always gravitated to when she hugged him.

“Mm-hm. That’s what I thought.” He smiled, reaching over his shoulder to stroke her ears. “Let me hold you properly.”

Lois meowed, and hopped off his back to let him roll over. He carried her, cradled to his chest, onto his bed proper.

“There we are… good kitten.” He leaned back against his pillows and watched her fidget with the buttons of his shirt. One swat, then another nudge with her nose. Engrossed in such a feline activity, Sylus reached to stroke her ears and was rewarded with a soft purr.

“You’re the only cat that won’t run when I come near. Fearless lady.”

He lifted her gently, hands supporting her hips and chest. She wriggled a little, paws flailing without solid ground—how could cats feel so liquidy?—but didn’t start hissing or swatting, which had to be a good sign.

She let out a squeaky meow when he lifted her right over her face. The flailing returned as he laughed properly for the first time since she’d transformed.

“Don’t be shy,” he said as he dodged the flurry of paws batting his cheeks and nose. The laughter escaped him, rich and warm. “We’ve done far worse than kissing, darling.”

“Meow!” Her feline face managed to look more embarrassed than her human visage could.

“You’re actually delightfully easy to read in this form. I think I like this.” Sylus lowered her onto the upper half of his chest, almost nose to nose. He loosened her hands to let her go, free to scurry away if she wanted to.

But she curled up, pawing at the collar of his shirt until it was nearly turned inside out. By the look of her half-lidded eyes, she was perfectly happy where she was.

His own smile had turned into something fur soft. “After this, you can’t argue that you really are a cat, darling. You’ve got the feline temperament.”

An annoyed grunt escaped her even as she melted into a purring mass every time his hands scratched the spot behind her ears. She stretched closer to his face, tail fluttering side to side as she rubbed against his cheek.

“Scenting me, mm? You always find a way to mark me. I can’t say I’m complaining.”

He lifted her once again, a little more confident in how he held her.

“Will you let me break this curse with a kiss, kitten?”

Sylus expected an indignant scowl or hiss at the cheesiness of his statement, but was pleasantly surprised when she meowed softly. He slowly lowered her, fingers just loose enough for her to wriggle away if she so desired.

The kiss was more a peck than anything—his lips brushed her nose with a soft press.

Lois stiffened when he pulled away, blinking rapidly. “Meow?”

Her head tilted. Something had happened in the brief kiss, and she couldn’t seem to figure out what had happened. She turned to examine her paws, then her sides, and even walked in a circle glaring at her tail as if it was the guilty party. Then, a faint trembling ran across her body as her eyelids fluttered. Something was happening.

“Looking for this?” Sylus held his palm up with the syringe and vial.

Lois’s ears flattened with realization as the trembling grew more intense.

“Meow?”

“Antidote serum,” he confirmed, stroking her ears “This was why it took me so long to return to you. You should be completely back to normal in three days at worst.”

She licked at herself, letting out a disgruntled sound at the feeling of the serum coursing through her veins. Then she began to scratch at herself, letting out a pained meow as her fur bristled.

“Steady. He pried her paws away from her own ripping muscles. “Don’t hurt yourself. Hold onto me.”

Her claws dug into his skin as her body continued to shake. Another mewl escaped her as the sharp points of her nails drew blood.

When the red appeared through his shirt, a louder meow of panic escaped her.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, cupping her as she writhed and dug her claws deeper. “Use me as you need to. I can heal in a moment.”

“I’m here, darling, I’m here. You’re strong, my love.”

His petting anchored her through the spreading pain, as his murmuring whispers lulled her into a hazy half-conscious state where the pain didn’t rage so strongly.

Sylus set her down on the pillow, watching her curl around herself in the dreamy daze. Every once in a while, her body vibrated before she went still again.

He stayed close, stroking her ears and spine as her little body rose and fell with every breath.

“Rest well.”

~

Lois was incredibly, incredibly hungry when she awoke. Her stomach was practically gnawing at the walls of her abdomen for something substantial.

She pushed herself up, realizing that she was looking at palms and fingers rather than paws and claws. One tightening of her fists, though tingling with pins and needles, confirmed she was back to herself. Finally.

The rest of Sylus’ room had been restored to complete normalcy. Even the poor rug was back from being deep cleaned from the wine stains. The gentle ticking of the clock in the distance was a comforting welcome back. But it was also notably empty of Sylus’s presence.

It was glorious to not feel as if her mind was stuck in a tiny, furry flesh box. The overwhelming instincts and scents had settled into an even, albeit tired tranquility.

At some point, Sylus had dressed her in her pajamas, the navy set with a revere collar that reached to her wrists and ankles with one of her usual black tanks underneath. She did not want to think about what she was wearing, if anything at all, when she had transformed back.

She pushed herself off the bed with a rustle of the sheets. Even a few days in feline form had done a number; her legs wobbled a bit as she returned back to being on two legs. Without conscious thought, she was moving toward the kitchen.

The smell of something savory made her move faster, steps going from silent to light patters of bare feet against marble.

“Hungry, darling?”

Sylus spoke before she even turned the corner to the kitchen. The door was propped open rather intentionally revealing a kitchen taken over by fresh ingredients and cutlery. Had he driven his private chef out temporarily?

“Yes,” she admitted, moving to stand next to him at the stove. He was frying rice with a pair of chopsticks wielded like a weapon. If the massive bowl of beaten eggs next to the burners was any indication…

“Are you making omurice?”

Sylus hummed a sound of affirmation, lifting the pan and flipping the rice. “Yes. I figured you might not want something too rich after transforming back.”

Satisfied with the even cooking of the rice, Sylus turned from the fried rice, which was more vegetable than rice, really, to her. Without a word, he tilted her chin up and stared intently at her face. His gaze traveled down, a furrow forming when he realized her pajamas were in the way.

“Off,” he said.

“... In your kitchen? This can wait.”

“Off,” he repeated, more softly. “I need to make sure you’re facing no lingering side effects.”

Lois glanced at the open doorway, a prompt moment before a tendril of red and black mist moved to close the metal firmly shut. Her gaze returned to his expectant eyes.

She began to unbutton the pajama shirt before his impatient fingers took over. The fabric came off with a whisper, left on the counter next to an arrangement of spices.

He examined her with both gaze and touch, fingers grazing over familiar skin and planes in search of anything out of the ordinary. Truly, no one else could probably manage this task—no one else knew what scars and divots already existed as well as he did. He took a brief look under the tank and hummed with satisfaction when he found nothing wrong.

Warm hands turned her around—“You’re treating me like a rotisserie chicken.”—once he was satisfied with her front view.

As Lois rebuttoned her shirt, he lifted and sat her on the counter to tug her pants off. She stayed perfectly still as he started from her feet, turning each limb around with the same furrow that accompanied his pure focus. He traced up her ankles to her knees, then delicately glanced over her thighs, gaze lingering no longer than necessary.

“Good?” she asked when he straightened.

“Good,” he replied, leaning to press a kiss to her forehead. “It seems as if those idiotic fools weren’t lying to me that there should be no impact once the antidote was used.”

Sylus stepped between her legs and wrapped his arms around her hips. His face pressed into her neck, so close that he could probably hear her breath and pulse.

“How do you feel?” he asked. Her legs hooked around his waist, clinging to him and the warmth of his body—witthout the pants, she was already chilling.

“Hungry,” was the first word that emerged. “Cold, without my pants. And…”

It was then she remembered exactly how terrible her behavior had been as a cat, and her ears flushed red.

“... Deeply sorry for being a hellion of a cat.”

His chuckle rumbled through her skin. “You threw quite the tantrum, I’ll admit.”

Lois groaned, refusing to lift her head from where it was buried against his hair. “I’m so sorry.”

He pulled away, eyes dancing with mirth and warmth alike. “I forgive you. Really, it was refreshing seeing you let yourself be angry. You never allow yourself to be upset around me.”

“I do,” she replied. “I just don’t get this fussy. That cocktail of cat instincts and my mind being squeezed into a box did a number.”

“Mm. I know. Don’t feel apologetic for what you can’t control.”

Sylus pressed a kiss to her lips, one where she could feel his smile through the contact. Then he pulled away, his usual smirk already returning.

“But, if there is one wish of restitution I have…”

“Mm?”

He leaned in, nipping at the skin right beneath her jaw, then slowly traveled down the length of her throat alternating between bites and wet kisses. “Keep that cattish honesty. You make yourself ever so difficult to read.”

Her hands buried in his hair, stroking rows into the silver strands as he moved lower. She was rewarded with a rumbly hum of satisfaction.

“You’ll have to earn it,” she replied back, though the teasing was evident. His smile widened against the base of her neck. “After all, that’s what cats do, yeah?”

“I should take your word, given your newfound familiarity.” He straightened, admiring the damp trail of kisses and barely there indents. If he had his way, Lois thought, there would be deeper marks soon enough.

“Then let me learn your tells, kitten,” he purred, pulling her even closer. Their noses bumped, eliciting a low chuckle from them both.

Sylus paused. “Even after turning into a literal cat, you won’t let me call you that, will you?”

Her smile widened. “Still no.”

“So cruel,” he replied with a shake of his head and a fake sigh. “Even after all you did to my furniture and staff.”

“Now you hold it against me?”

“I have to play dirty to keep up with a cat like you, darling.” He nuzzled into her cheek in a mimicry of her earlier gestures. “Beautiful, sharp creature with my heart in your paws.”

“You don’t need to,” she said, reaching to cup his face. Her voice was almost too quiet to hear. “You have mine too.”

Sylus heard it.

It had not only been instincts and discomfort that had driven her feline self.

His hands moved, closing around her wrists to lift her palms to his lip. He left a kiss in the center of both of her hands, touch as reverent as if he was caressing the most delicate treasure. His eyes, the sharp red melted into something warm as candlelight, faced her with adoration so pure it made her chest ache.

“Then I’m thankful you let me have it,” he murmured.

As Sylus’ hands traveled lower and her breathing hitched, the smell of something smoky was the only thing that halted them in their tracks.

“Shit,” they said simultaneously.

Sylus slid off Lois as she readjusted her pajamas and dove for her pants. One flip of a section of the rice revealed char.

“... I’ll still eat it,” she offered as Sylus began scooping out the unsalvageable bits onto a plate, muttering something about ‘interrupted by rice’ and ‘damn cereal grain.’

“I’ll remake it.” His jaw was stubbornly set.

Lois buried the smirk threatening to break “No, really, it’s—”

“Shh. No self respecting lover of mine is eating burnt food.” This was a matter of pride now, if the rumbly growls escaping his throat—textbook dragon annoyance, probably directed at his own blunder—were anything to go by. He opened the garbage with more force than necessary and dumped the guilty rice away.

The kitchen was once again filled with sizzling and the sound of chopping, warm in a way that only good food and good company could create. Lois remained perched next to a razor-focused Sylus and his redemption omurice, conversation rising and falling as the meal was back on an unburnt track.

“I wonder. Should we adopt a cat?”

Sylus’ eyebrows raised as he glanced at Lois. Her gaze was contemplative, her mind probably a little ways out from the shiny kitchen they both occupied presently. A rare look, she knew.

“I didn’t expect becoming a cat temporarily would make you want to adopt one.” His voice was even, leaving the door open for her next thoughts.

“I’ll admit it was more seeing how kindly you treated a cat. You’re sweeter to felines than you are to corvids.”

“That was mostly because that cat was you, darling,” he replied, tone bone dry. “Mephisto isn’t a pet. And you of all people know how little actual pets tend to fancy my presence.”

“So a real kitten is mostly out of the question?”

He nodded. “The N109 Zone isn’t generally hospitable for cats, and I do fear a house cat might do poorly without natural light. But, if you do wish to adopt one for your own place, consider it paid already.”

Lois let out a laugh. “I haven’t even truly decided, you know.”

“I move quick,” was his unrepentant response. “There’s no use in hesitation. If my darling wants a cat, she’ll have one. It’ll just need to be brave to not flinch from me.”

Sylus’ hand reached to brush her knee idly.

“But if she doesn’t, then I’m perfectly happy with the kitten I already have.”

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