2019-11-13 - The LONG walk home

Taking his right hand out of his back pocket, Everett returns the wave towards Abby, complete with the finger waggles she saved for the cat. Gina's deadpan is missed, willfully or otherwise, "Oh good," Everett makes grabby hands again as both hands come out of his back pockets, willing to accept Vee back again, "During these playdates, is it a catnip-free household, or can me and the little man imbibe?" Deadpan check, and mate. Everett purses his lips and shakes his head, watching Vice more than Gina. "Naw," now it's his turn for deadpan, "you don't look like you've hurt an axe in your life." And follow he does. Look at that, Gina's picked up two strays.

All this time locating and coaxing Vee means the sky has darkened even further, though there's still a bit of light out. Still, it's impossible to miss the rise of Gina's brow at Everett's amiable inviting-himself-along - but, well, he's willing to carry the cat, and he's physically distinct enough she can call the cops if he runs off with Vice, so after about two seconds of consideration, she hands the cat over, then starts walking again, brushing hairs and whatever the cat rolled in off her coat. "Catnip is a treat. Keep it above the living room in a birdcage." Gina casually adds, before the joke about axes has her slanting her eyes to where he is. Yes, that's a bicep. He's huge. "Sharp enough axe and nobody really gets hurt, though. All a matter of angles and location."

Accepting the feline wordlessly with both hands, Everett holds the little man over his head, while holding the cat under its arms with that stiff-arm hold, rear legs on Everett's collar. "Who's a dirty kitty?", the giant asks, maybe even words similar to the ones she'd used in that Slavic tongue she'd used. But Everett doesn't hold the cat in that uncomfortable position for long, holding Vee over his shoulder so the cat can receive stritches along his back.
"Is there a bird in the birdcage too, so the tweets signal the cat's interest in either treats, or is it empty? Oh," his army green eyes widen, looking Gina's way, "Or is there just a bird skeleton sitting on the perch. That would be an easy pet to take care of." He returns her attention and shrugs the shoulder the cat isn't perched on, "I mean. Angles, location. Brute force."

Gina's gaze cuts upward at Everett's similar-sounding words, but she doesn't do much more than look forward again and stick her hands in the pockets of her maxi jacket. The little charms and bones click slightly with every step as they walk. ""I'm delicate." Gina deadpans, her hands slipping into her pocket as she strolls along the street. "And the only thing in the cage is the catnip and some cat skulls." She clarifies. "I don't like bird remains. Unless it's cooked poultry, anyway. Besides, they catch enough wild birds, the little menaces."

"Yeah, you're a delicate little flower," Everett replies, following along faithfully turning his attention away for only a moment to make sure the cat is getting enough attention and comfortable enough from way up here. While his cadence is a deep basso, he can add dry humor all his own. The reveal of what else is inside the cage causes Everett's soft smile to lessen, though it's followed with a thoughtful sound. "Do the cat skulls hold any special significance, or is it just decoration?" At the inference to the feline, Everett turns his attention back to Vice and makes some kissy noises to the cat just to distract him from looking around curiously. "Who's the dirty bird killer? Yeah, you are."

Vee has resigned himself to being carried like a prince. Oh no. He's a little wriggly, it's true, but mostly just seems to squirm to look at something, or see how much he can climb Mt. Everett (ha, ha). Gina is looking forward, so she doesn't catch the way the smile fades. But she does glance at him at the sound and the question, then...shrugs, attention sliding back forward. "They were gifts. Who am I to say no to somebody's good will. That's just rude." That ambiguous tone, as if there's a lot going unsaid-- never said. But - shockingly - she takes the initiative to ask EVERETT a question! Gasp! It's almost like she cares. "You own a cat or what? You seem pretty comfortable with them."

Stopping for a step, or two, Everett readjusts Vee, for a lack of wanting the cat to be worn like a crown, muttering under his breath, "... squirmy little..." Certainly there's more, but it's best left thought then spoken while the cat is repositioned, then having to have Everett's dangling earbud taken away. When he gets Vice on his back, cradled in his left arm, and sacrifising his right for biting, Everett picks up his pace so he's once more abreast the purple haired cat-lady.

Since he doesn't know her by any other name.

"Sort of how like you gave me your cat," Everett offers. "It would be rude not to accept him." Long hair dangles at Vee, Everett realizing he's given the cat more to distract him while he looks down and asks Vee, "You hear that? You're mine now. Your mom can visit you every other weekend. And on Christmas," he adds, looking back up to Gina, "I suppose, because I'm not an axe murdering monster." Asked a question of his own, he nods his head, "I grew up with a calico named Mister Mittens. She was a stray that just showed up one day. And I had a girlfriend before moving here that had two also. Actually, I thought I was more of a dog person."

It's not obvious-- but Gina's stroll does slow slightly as Everett goes out of her peripheral vision. After all, the man has her cat. But she does keep going, not looking back! But when Everett mentions her giving her cat, her head turns, slowly. Her expression is impassive, but she's looking up thoughtfully at Everett. "Pretty sure I didn't give him to you. Vee caught you first." A helpless shrug, "Think that puts you in the category of half-chewed mouse left on the doorway or mangled bird on the lawn. Considerate of Vee to have you walk your way over so I don't have to drag you." She reaches out and gives Everett's arm a "friendly" pat, before she scritches at Vee's lower back. "Can't stand dogs. Needy, obsessive fucks. Cats are more my speed. Thought about lizards but didn't really want to do the roach farming."

"I have him, don't I? Isn't there something about possession being nine-tenths of the law?" He's a big man, this mountain. But even he isn't going to come between someone and their beloved pet. So he's quick to both add and smirk softly, "Calm down, delicate flower." As though she were being a bundle of energy, "I'm just teasing. It's not my fault he recognizes we're bros," Everett's booming voice softens when he adds the aside, "or that I cheated, and bribed him." Vice is given a long look before Everett gathers some of his hair and lays it on the cat's face. "But I suppose half-chewed," he shows his sausage index finger least she's forgotten Vee giving nibbles.

Everett looks down coyly, "Hear that, little man? She's going to drag me back to her place?" His cheek bulges convex as he pokes it outwards with his tongue after. As he teased her enough? Maybe. "Cats are good; mostly independent. Is that what you like about 'em?"

Vice stares at that hair at first. Following it with his gaze, intently. Then there might be a test bat or two. But soon there is ALL THAT HAIR in the cat's face and it attempts to hug/claw/capture it ALL AT ONCE. Before it escapes! Quickly, get a good grip! Oh no it keeps sleeping! A mewl of stifled confusion, but Vice is gamely trying. There might be some back claws digging into Everett's coat. Sharp little back claws. Gina watches the whole thing for a moment, before she looks up at Everett's face. "Yeaaah. Bros. And you cheated /him/. That's why he gets the free lift home in somebody's arms instead of the harness, and a little long pig for a snack." So dry, as she points all that out.

There's a smirk, though, when Everett mentions being dragged back to her place. But the question has her shrugging again. "They're demonic, spastic, weird furry things that are equally split between little cunning genius murder machines and dumbass idiots. And they always look good. They're cats. They don't need me to like them until they want to be liked. So probably the confidence the little fuckers have."

Everett doesn't seem put out by this, as though his hair has been used to simulate something that can be a delicious bastard once or twice before. The leather does a good job of keeping the scratches of claw and Gina's witticisms down to a minimum, and he murmurs, "It's a small price to pay. And I don't mind. Oink." Listening to her opinion, Everett nods his head softly, and what that may do to his hair that he allows getting fierce-cat-chewed while he puts his large hand on the cat's belly to lightly run his thick fingers through the grayish cat's normally white fur.

"I think you're right," he murmurs, "Take them or leave them, they'll be just fine either way. Is that how you are?" the giant asks pointedly looking down at the side of Gina he's on, looking at her cheek and the hood she lifted over her head while in Abby's yard.

"I'm not really that complicated. I hate most people. Some people I grow to not hate. Some people I click with. But I'm a delicate rosebud in our little town," The tone of voice doesn't eve shift, just that natural progression right into dryness. Gina glances down the lonely road, before she turns on one heel midwalk, to walk backward and face Everett for a few steps-- still heading down towards Oak. "And what's your story? You're not a local." Certainty, there. "And something tells me you're not seeking revenge for your ax-murdered parents from when you were a child." A pause, as she looks at the cat trying to curl itself around Everett's hand, to get back at those sausage fingers.

Also-- Everett can probably tell by this point. But Vice IS neutered.

"MOST people," Everett repeats, adding the infliction on his own. It's the second time she's referred to herself as delicate, and sarcastic or not, Everett purses his lips together, glancing her way still but with a gaze that could be cantankerous, if humored. When she turns around, Everett's head lifts, to look innocently at the sky as though caught doing something he shouldn't: like amateur meteorology.

But the question makes his gaze turn down, a surprised expression on his face. The hand with the finger currently being chewed on lifts so he can point at himself. Who me? "Me?" he asks, pointing at himself with the finger tattooed '1'. He pouts his lips, as though unimpressed. "I don't have a story," he protests, if but for a short moment while he glances towards the street and follows a car rolling by while giving Vee exactly what the finger-biter wants. "I'm just your average guy from anywhere, USA," he says with a crooked smile when he turns his head back to look her way. "Can't you tell?"

"So what you're saying is you're a man without a past, with no roots, who could be anyone, anywhere, at any time. Impressive. Not really sure if I should be hanging out with that kind of dangerous character. You'd probably be a bad influence on Iggy and Vee." Gina clicks her tongue in false disappointment, her hands still in her pockets. Vee just grabs on to that finger and continues trying to get at the jerky that's probably stuck inside it. She does go quiet for a moment, before adding. "Most people. Nothing's certain in life."

"Oh, I'm the worse," he pauses to steal a sideway, and down, look towards her, letting a pause become pregnant, "kind of character. His gaze turns back down to the feline in his arms, chewing fingers. Especially for little kitties, ain't I? I'mma spoil you rotten," promises the giant. His gaze lifts back up as he nods, "I can't disagree, most people are a disappointment. At least -- OW," Everett doesn't look away, and makes the sound of discomfort in the middle of his sentence, "sometimes. I think," he shifts his eyes to the street again for no particular reason than reminiscing, "I think sometimes a person can let that disappointment define them, or not. Depends on the size of the hurt." Fingers are removed from getting chewed, so the large man can pet cat stomach, at least for the short term, before Vee pulls the hand back to his mouth.

Gina's not very expressive. Plus, that hood is up, though not all the way. Her expression, even when no one is looking, tends to default into resting apathy face, a very close cousin of resting bitch face. Usually. For now, however, she keeps looking forward as it grows darker-- and maybe there's a small quirk of her lip upward, when Everett informs Vee he's going to be spoiled rotten. It grows into a full smirk at the OW of pain, but she slips as she glances towards Everett-- but thankfully, he's not looking! So she also returns to looking at the street. "Pro bono philosophy? Or pro-bono therapy?"Gina asks, finally. "Because you're not saying anything new. People are the sum of the shit that happens to them and how they react to that shit. Defining yourself is a waste of time, since it'll change the next time the universe shits on you. And other people's opinions are only important if it amuses you."

Shrugging the shoulder on her side, Everett's dispassionate reply is only, "Just. Pro-bone head thinking. Take it for what it is: the mad ramblings of a man with no history, holding your cat in toothful hostage." The next words are spoken in a hushed tone, or at least what passes for one with his deep voice, "Cut it out, you furry little bastard." Not that Everett disways Vee from chewing by a single action, like, say, removing his hand. It's not altogether painful, when Vice doesn't use his back teeth, and it's keeping him distracted. But then his attention turns back to his walking companion, "So what's that say about you?" He makes a show of looking above her before adding, "There has to be a big mound of shit over you, crushing down on your shoulders then, Flower."

"Me? Not really. A lot less shit than other people." Gina holds out her arms towards Everett, making 'gimme' motions towards the dirty cat. "I'm pretty grateful my life's pretty easy." It's so hard to tell if she's being sarcastic or serious, and Gina's little half-smile is a little too Cheshire to call it. "My life is easy peasy. What, is my sunny disposition and friendly attitude telling you that it's all a cry for help and I need a few more hugs in my life?" Well, that sounds amused. Teasing, even.

Making a point of looking down at the arms, Everett turns his torso away from the outstretched limbs, hugging Vice closer to his broad chest. He doesn't say no, but does make an upset sound in the back of his throat while he listens. It's with interest that he turns back, a smile of his own, nearly distracted from the chewing. "Oh?" the thug looks down at the open arms with a bemused smirk, "is that what you're offering? Hugs?" His half-smile widens, but he stops walking and leans forward, to make the fuzzy transfer easier, with a concerted effort not to touch the woman, "Here you go, fuzz-butt. She won't say it, but your Mom misses you. Now let go. Let go."

Staying attached by cat mouth, Everett continues to lift his hand until Vee lets him go, the gorilla shaking his hand once its free then takes the other earbud out of his ear, taking his smartphone out from the other side of his leather jacket, twining the cord around the phone and putting it back. "But," he starts, getting back to the conversation, "no, I don't believe your life is as easy-peasy as you want to make it seem. Otherwise you'd be more like," he jerks a thumb over his shoulder, to possibly indicate Abby. "Or maybe her life is crap-tastic too but she hides it better with drugs."

Vee meows, and tries to get a good grip on Everett's hand to take his new toy over- - but Gina has no qualms about initiating contact, seems like, and helps tug free the finger and replace it with a light rub between the cat's eyes, down to the nose, making Vee blink and mewl. Soon enough the cat is firmly in her arms, held against her check while she scritches around its collar. "Of course. I offer hugs to all my feline friends." Vee tries to shift, head lifting to try and poke its nose against Gina's neck, but she adjusts the creature and scritches at just the right spot to make the cat's eyes close in relaxation. No purrs yet, but Vee is definitely zen'd.

"What, so I can't just have an easy life and not want to encourage people to get closer? The whole reason for having an easy life is the lack of fucks I give about bullshit people think of said life. Also? Pretty much all the drugs. Or self delusion." She glances over her shoulder towards where Abby lives, "Or just ignorance. Always easier to be cheerful when you don't acknowledge the inevitable fallacies and questionable behavior of mankind."

"Mee-ow," replies Everett, not a second after being told feline friends get hugs. The flirtation isn't held for want of a hug, though, as Everett goes to the other side of his biker's leather jacket for the pouch of Canadian jerky. He holds a piece a little over an inch long between his teeth while putting the bag back where he got it from and resumes walking after pulling the jerky from his mouth, then silently offers her the half strip that remains, his brows up with the unspoken question if she wants some.

As for the question, he ponders for a bit, while chewing. When he swallows, Everett offers, "Well, no. You could be a delicate little flower with an extremely easy life and still be a sourpuss." He leans a little in her direction, left brow lifted while he glances sideways to her direction. "But that wouldn't follow what you were saying before. If I think you were projecting, and I do, then I think something happened to you." He holds up his hands defensively, quickly and follows with, "Don't tell me. It's ok either way. And I get it. That's all."

"Wasn't planning on telling you." Gina says mildly, even as she readjusts the cat in her arms and ignores the jerky offering. "It's cute you think I'm honest, though." They get to the end of the block, just meeting Oak street, and she turns to face Everett, with a little half-smile on her face. "A lot of dishonest people in the world, Rapunzel. Especially ones who want to feed you their life story on a walk home. Isn't that right, Vice?" The cat has been scritched into a purring state of contentment. "This is where you go back and don't walk me to my door. No offense but my axes haven't been sharpened enough. Pretty embarrassing." Gina looks REAL... not embarrassed. At all. "I'll call you about babysitting my cats sometime."

The large man uplifts his chin and smiles a little wider, a secret little smile, while he stops at the corner of the street, and looks around. Maybe for witnesses, as he tucks his right hand into his back pocket with his wallet. The other, still holding the remainder of his jerky, hangs down by his hip. Drawing his gaze back, he starts at her feet before crawling his eyes over her, then tsks softly. His eyes blink, looking up, and flicker back to hers, "Geeze, calm down. You're going to cause a public scene with this flood of tenderness." Reaching over, he gives Vice a little scratch at the base of his tail, "My buddy here has my digits, Flower. Maybe by the time you call, your axes will be sharp enough." With a nod of his head, Everett turns around and walks back the way they came, putting the piece of jerky in his mouth to free his hands again to get his phone back out of his inside pocket while he walks away unceremoniously.

"But my heart gushes with affection and overwhelms me, princess." If that was any dryer Gray Harbor could become a tourist destination. Either way, Gina remains where she is, Vince in arms until Everett has gone far enough to suit her. Only then does she smirk, looking down at the cat, "Another new food source, huh? Charming little kitty, conning food out of people." She praises, heading to her house on the street. The evening is over, the cats are safe.

Now the adventure of trying to give a cat a bath can begin.

"Rasputin!" Everett shouts out over his shoulder, "And I know. It's really kinda gross." He does the same thing she had done, turning around to walk backwards while he puts the earbuds into his ears, making shout all the more. Buds firmly in place, Everett turns back around, continuing his walk and, can't help that he's in a better mood than he was the first time she wolf-whistled at him.