Summary:In which Hank and Sharon are covered in cats. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
   |
Catseye comes bouncing in, tugging Hank behind her. The moment she arrives, she is the center of feline attention. The bags she has in her other hand are no doubt why… kitty treats! The expensive, freeze dried pure meat kind. She giggles as one of the cats meows and runs between her feet trying to trip her. "Not going to work! Ask nicely!" The english does nothing to make them behave, but when she makes some high pitched chirps, that makes them at least stop and look at her rather than trying to trip her. She puts the bags on the counter, and scatters some salmon to the kitties who are now waiting (semi) politely with a giggle.
For his own part Hank isn't exactly fighting the tug - he can't help but laugh at the host of kitties. "Oh, this is even nicer than the one I picked, good eye, Cat." He watches with vast amusement, not at all surprised that the girl manages the nigh impossible task of getting a pride to behave more mannerly, not TOTALLY mannerly, but that's unrealistic in the extreme! Eyes bright he finds himself scooping up a black and grey tabby and setting it on one shoulder while he lavishes the chest and and cheeks with scritches. See, claws, even on his scale, good tools for that sort of thing!
Behind the counter, an elder woman chuckles.
"Welcome to Purrfection, and welcome back, Kitten, dear. I see you've brought plenty of treats for them," she notes, eyes scaling over Hank's frame without much judgement of him; same as she had done with Sharon.
"What can I get you?" she asks, motioning to the menu of coffees and teas and small treats and pastries. At the bottom it states that these are not for cats. And then there's a smaller menu under that that declares: THIS TREATS ARE FOR CATS. A quarter each, the treat bags are small and dainty and clearly marked. There are only a small amount set out each hour and so it's noted that if the cat treats tray is empty, then all the cats have been fed and are lying if they try to convince you otherwise.
Catseye smiles at Deanna, "Vanilla Latte, pleaseandthankyou. And treat bag." She shakes her finger at the kitties, "The ones you are supposed to have. Not starving. Not even close." The cats are unimpressed, especially now that the few flakes of dried salmon are gone. Though one starts to climb Sharon, and she boosts it up easily to her shoulder, purring at it as it starts grooming her hair.
"Double espresso, please…two cinnamon rolls, one for Catseye, and an assortment of treat bags please. I can never decide, so…" A helpless shrug from the man, he's careful not to disrupt the grey tabby on his shoulder of course. He is quick to pay for everything, Sharon's money is no good here! Not when Hank is around. "Thank you for this, Cat, I've been a bit busy, as well you know." He does smile to the Hostess, however. "Hank McCoy, miss, thank you for your help…it seems you two know each other?" A brow quirked as he looks betwene Cat and Deanna.
The amount Deanna offers does not seem to add up with the prices on the board, short by both drinks. Behind her, a much younger barista sets about to fill the order as Deanna offers the white Square iPAD for Hank to pay with.
"We do. She came in the other day. It was a wonderful pleasure to meet her, and one of her friends." Deanna pauses to extend a hand. "Deanna Robins. A pleasure to meet you, Hank."
Sharon snags a throw pillow and sits down on the floor, back to the wall, the better to be cat furniture. "Had nice talk, and visit with cats. Though furryHank might like, chance to relax after last week." She smiles, an impish sparkle in her eyes. "Cats have sense to eat when hungry, sleep when tired. FurryHank… is not a Cat." She's definitely teasing the poor doctor! If the look in her eyes didn't give it away, the twitching tip of her tail would.
KNOWING that such places rely on their tips more than their other goods, Hank adds a very generous gratuity on the iPad when he pays. He's no Tony Stark, of course, but he's fairly affluent all the same. He takes the offered hand, turning it so he can bow over it and kiss the air just above it. "A distinct pleasure, Miss Robins, to make your acquaintance." The man is almost absurdly urbane, despite his bestial appearance.
Which is the point for him.
A grin at Cat, and then he looks about five years younger, more maybe — than his twenty-three years as he pulls a face at Cat and sticks out his tongue at his dear friend. "No, I am not a cat." He agrees, then looks to Deanna like 'See? See what I have to put up with?', it is a very heartfelt seeming look too! Unless one looks at laughing eyes of blue.
Both looks have the motherly figure chuckling as she closes out the transaction. Undisturbed by the furred hand, Deanna does blush ever so lightly at the gentlemanly tones of Hank's greeting.
"Of course, dears. Go. Find a comfortable place to settle and I'll bring your drinks and snacks out shortly," she says, handing Hank the assortment of cat treats so the two of them can enjoy having the cats crawling on them for loves. While the drinks are made and the rolls warmed, Deanna makes sure the new treats are placed in stock and ready to be added to the cat menu when it's their turn.
Sharon soon has a cat in her lap as well as the one on her shoulder, and is purring blissfully. Both cats are being scratched, and she curls her tail around the one in her lap, who looks between it and Sharon a few times, as if confirming to itself that yes, indeed, the tail goes with the tall one. Then it starts grooming it's left paw, right paw wrapped around Sharon's tail as if to make sure she doesn't leave.
Gratified by the blush from Deanna, Hank is rather pleased with himself. "Thank you, Miss Robins, terribly kind." He ambles over to where Cat is currently seated and plops down with a boneless grace a man of his bulk absolutely should not be capable of. The treats bags are sorted between them, and then he shifts the grey tabby from shoulder to chest, if she allows it, and then proceeds to quite methodically try to turn the kitty into a puddle of bliss by bringing both sents of claws to bear, scritching with less talent and insight that Cat has, but as she pointed out — she's CAT, he's merely fuzzy.
Sharon alternates between scratching the kitties and giving them treats. She is blissfully content, but when a small puffball zooms by, she reaches out and snags it with faster than human reflexes resulting in a tiny indignant mew. "Deannafriend? Think have escapee from kitten area." The little grey kitten is gently scruffed, making it go limp, but she doesn't hold it off the ground by the scruff, the little paws remain on the ground. It's just enough to prevent the squirmies… or worse, kitten zooming off again.
Sharon's much better at reading the little ones, but he has a good heart, and the buzzing purring of the kitty he's spoiling is very soothing to the man. Truth be told he /needs/ this, right now. He's been dealing with some fairly awful, awful stuff of late, and that's no joke. Hank is a strong man, strong in body, if anything stronger in will, but there are limits. without the means to blow of some steam he'd go mad.
Another couple cats come to check out Big Blue, and Hank just sighs and relaxes, tension flowing out of him as he tries to make friends. He cheats too! Treats all around, starting with the grey, of course, she was there first.
Cups and small snack plates balances on a tray, Deanna makes her way over, frowning disapprovingly at the little escape artist.
"Oh, thank you, Sharon-love," she says to Cat, setting her and Hank's items down on the low table near them. Hands free, she reaches down to gently collect the scruffed kitten, clicking her tongue at it.
"Silly little thing," she tells him, holding him securely so he doesn't wiggle out.
Sharon chuckles, "Everything an adventure at that age. Would go kitten area, but no human food allowed there and /know/ what happens." She sighs, taking her vanilla latte, "Mama-cats look, decide 'baby sitter!', and drop off kittens then LEAVE. Is -exhausting-. Adorable, but exhausting." She alternates sipping her drink and having bites of cinnamon roll with petting the two cats nesting with her. "Kittens get into -everything-."
When the cats realize Hank won't fuss if they climb on him he'll soon find himsel with several draped all over him. Hey, he's warm, he fuzzy, and he doesn't swat, nip, or otherwise abuse. He's warm too! Did anyone mention warm? He is essentially immobilized by the cats, too gentle to move and disturb them, which is probably amusing as heck. He does his best to distribute pettings and treats fairly, but…yeah, even using one of his feet, only has three limbs to work with.
Eyes of blue look longingly at his drink and sweet sweet cinnamony goodness, but he he's a cat tree now.
"Oh, yes they do," Deanna agrees, chuckling at the thought of Sharon getting used as a baby sitter for the wee little things. The kitten room attendant makes his way over, relieving his employer of the tiny burden. Deana's not even upset. These things happen. As for Hank, Deanna moves over to help get cats off him so he can enjoy his drink before it or the pastry get cold.
"You know, you can shoo them," she tells the gentle beast of a man, her smile equally gentle.
Sharon laughs softly as Deanne frees Hank. "FurryHank too nice. Warm too, just doesn't smell like cat." She points to one of the cats who is rubbing against him. "Tabby is trying to fix that for you." She winds up with a few of the cats evicted from Hank, and doesn't mind at all. She's pragmatic enough to keep one hand free for her own snacking.
Cat can smell Hank's mixed amusement and BEmusement at his predicament, and then Deanna comes to his rescue! "Ah, yes, I suppose I could." Hank admits, but once the kind lady frees him he takes a few moments to drink some espresso and eat some of the cinnamon roll, and does his best to keep an arm free as Cat does.
Bullied by animals like…a twenty-fifth, probably less, than his mass.
He grins over to Sharon. "Oh, well, it is nice of the cat to share. Does that mean I'm being claimed, then?"
Chuckling, Deanna pats Hank's shoulder affectionately, before giving Sharon's head a scritch. She steps away then, moving to check on another patron, but always keeping an eye on Hank; in case he needs another rescue
Catseye purrs at the scritch, then grins over at Hank, "Seen Red Dwarf? Remember Cat? This is mine… and this is mine… and this is mine…" Her tone is rich with amusement.
Hank smiles up to Deanna, head inclined in thanks…which of course ends up as another nesting point for a cat, but…well..fine. Cat-Hat.
Hank laughs at the Red Dwarf reference. "I remember 'Do you want to spend the rest of the trip in cryo' 'No' 'Do you want to give me the cat?' 'No', thene the captain looked grim. 'Choose'. Yes, Hank clearly remembers the show. "And if I recall he pointed at something and 'ende dwith 'But not that, THAT is definitely NOT mine.'" He grins. "I didn't know you liked brit-coms!"
Sharon grins, "Watched lot of TV trying to understand people better. Didn't always help, but was fun." She finishes her drink and roll, and scatters the treats that are left, which does an efficient job of getting cats off of her so she can stand. She returns her cup and plate to the drop off, then pays cash for another little bag of treats. Scattering those around Hank does a remarkable job of de-catting him in record time. She laughs as the cats abandon him for the salmon treats. "Sorry, furryHank. Is cupboard love."
Hank definitely enjoys his snacks and the kitty time, but when he's freed he takes his feet, and then puts his plate and cup in the drop off as well. "Miss Robins, I must compliment you on your establishment. If ever you run into technical problems with your wifi, or your hardware, power system, plumbing—anything, please. Call me and I would be happy to help." He offers her his business card, and then bows to Cat. "Alas, I think we need to get going, thank you again for the distraction, just what the Sharon ordered." A grin to Dea, "Good night, Miss Robins." That done, out they go, two friends.