unprompted (always accepting.) // @idrottore said: YOU KNOW . . . you really shouldn't be drinking random things you find around the doctors lab- but, well, you did it anyways didn't you? Upon drinking a vial of incredibly-bitter black liquid, Scaramouche will. . . feel absolutely fine! For a second. For a little minute. Until his brand new cat ear & tail combo start twitching. CONGRATULATIONS, YOU ARE NOW A FURRY CATBOY! meow!
He had asked Dottore to do something about his headaches lately. A simple fix. Nothing that medicine couldn’t manage, but he needed something a little stronger than the average human could handle. The doctor had said his prescription would be waiting with a marked label made out in his name. Easy enough. A simple request with a simple answer.
A little glass vial sat innocuously on the worktable, and on it was his name penned in Dottore’s writing.
And then when he drank it, it slid down his throat like a toxic sludge, bitter and sour. Scaramouche cupped a hand to his mouth, unsure whether to spit it out or keep it in, but his entire body went warm, stomach churning something fierce.
The Balladeer patted himself down, feeling normal and alive, most importantly. The heavy weight of his hat was squishing his ears down uncomfortably-
The. Weight of his hat was. Squishing his ears? Scaramouche pushed the ornate thing aside and reached upwards, hesitantly, fingers almost fearful of what they’d find. When they met fuzzy, pointed appendages atop his head, the puppet let out an undignified noise of both horror and anger.
He growled, tail lashing furiously. “Dottore! Dottore, where are you-”
