fandomhighdorms | Outside the dorm, early in the morning

Pip leaned against the building before remembering that, after a run, you should keep walking to prevent cramps. He sighed, straightened up, and went for a slow walk around the dorm's perimeter.

Running outside in the morning all alone tended to clear your head, and there was something he had been forced to come to grips with.

He was a bit lonely. Everyone else had their cool roommates, or interesting relationships, or pets, or any combination of three. And he was stuck in 505 all alone. Possibly the only single that he knew of in the entire dorm.

Having your own room was great, but considering that he had lived his entire life with a lot of people around him, it was starting to get to him. Being alone with your own thoughts and memories is never a good thing, especially when you've got a headfull of memories like Pip's.

And you've just recently shot your friend in the heart with intent to kill.

"Mmmmrow."

Sure, it was what was needed.

"Mmmmmmmmmmrow?"

Hell, at the time it seemed like the only way. It was what Walter wanted.

"MMMMMMMROW!"

And he had been doing it already in the heat of battle. But coldly lining up the shot while your friend stands open for you to take is-

"OOOOOOOW! Baise du merde!"

Pip glared down at the cat. It licked it's paw innocently and stared up at him.

This was not your cute, fuzzy, cudddly Cuddles-esque cat. Nor was it your magical talking Faithful-esque cat. It wasn't even an alien and six-legged Nimtz-esque tree cat.

No, this was a big, mean, scarred, been-through-hell-and-back street cat. The type of cat that would cow the largest and most psychotic of junk yard dogs with a single glance. The type of cat that, upon hearing of a breakout at the dog pound, would head down there to see how many it could beat up.

This cat was a badass. No, more than that. This cat was no simple BA.

This cat was a Badass Mother Fucker. A BAMF. Or a BAFF. Pip couldnt' tell its gender from here.

"Mmmrow?"

"What do you want?" Pip asked.

"Mmmmmrow."

If Pip could speak Cat, he would know that he had just been told that if he did not give the cat food, it would twist his vital organs into funny balloon animal shapes.

But he couldn't.

"Look, I don't have any food. Go bother someone else. I'm brooding."

"Mmmmmmrow!"

Trans: What the hell are you brooding for? You've got a nice place to sleep and good food. Don't tell me you're still bitching about your eye, are you?

No, the cat didn't understand him, cats are just good at guessing human feelings. It's a cat thing.

Pip rolled his eye and turned to walk into the dorm, but the cat dashed out and blocked his way.

"Look, I don't have time for this."

"Mrow."

Trans: Make time, cyclops-boy! Or I will feast on your entrails, track down your family, and feast on their entrails!

Pip feinted right and dashed to the left, but the cat was not fooled by such a simple ruse. It jumped up towards Pip, claws bared. Pip threw himself forward and rolled under the cat, but hit the wall before he could spring up. Grunting, he leapt up just as the cat threw itself at him.

It was only a lifetime of training and two or so years of combat experience that saved him from having his brain torn out via his braid. He managed to catch the cat in mid flight and throw it to the side, his hands being clawed to hell in the process.

The cat, true to form, landed on its feet, and watched as Pip sprinted into the dorm.

It licked its paw, glanced to the side, and bounded up a nearby tree.

Outside the dorm, early in the morning

no subject