Broken♠Like♠Glass

[Twigtail]

Renée felt faintly embarrassed by Myrtle’s praise-of-sorts, and ducked her head in the pretense of grooming her other stripy leg. But when the older she-cat moved closer and began to run her tongue over the tabby’s pelt, said tabby jumped up and away, turning on the older cat with a squeak of surprise. You see, Renée didn’t like to be touched without warning, even though she did so to other cats all the time. She had no mental control over her spastic reactions, including this one, which had her on all four paws and staring down the bigger cat with raised hackles. After a moment, though, a moment spent realizing what had happen, the bristly spine relaxed and the she-cat stepped back to Myrtle.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, quickly but with feeling. “It’s nothing personal, you know. I’m just a spaz.” Trying to lighten whatever tensions that might have been created, a grin was offered to the blue-gray female as the giver of the smile sidled over and sat down, flattening her ears in a submissive request for forgiveness. The tabby pressed her nose into the blue-gray fur of the older cat, a little hesitantly. “Can we forget that happened?” she mewled, feeling awkward about her convulsive behavior.

[ooc: That's okay. I'm really too frustrated right now to focus, anyway.]

[Flower]

Myrtle drew back for a moment, seeing Renée jump away. She relaxed when her new friend relaxed. "Can we forget that happened?"
"Sure. It's a deal." She smiled amiably, then turned to examine her paws. The bleeding had stopped by now, and she was sure she could get around fairly well now. "My paws are feeling pretty good now. Do you want me to catch something for you?"

[Twigtail]

“Catch…?” Renée wondered aloud, tilting her head back slightly to look into the face of her new friend. Her brown ears were slightly tilted back, and her eyes were wide with questions. This Myrtle character was an oddball, alright, even allowing for her… what could Renée call this disturbance in the older she-cat’s mind? A disorder? Sure, a disorder, that’s what this was. Evidently, though, the big female knew – or thought she knew, as the case very well may be – something that her younger companion did not. To her, catch was something you did when you chased a toy. Or a tomcat, as it was with some of her old friends in the last town where she’d lived. “What do you mean? What are you going to catch?” the brown tabby inquired, her ears flicking forward and back as she tried to figure out an answer to her own question even before Myrtle replied. The off-white tip of the stripy cat’s tail twitched: a giveaway of her annoyance. Myrtle kept talking about stuff that didn’t make sense! Nofurs and docks and now catching something. Renée couldn’t imagine what was coming next, and in a weird kind of way, beneath the grumpy irritation, it thrilled her.

[Flower]

"Prey, of course. Fresh-kill. You must have never tasted it - it's way better than what Nofurs throw out. I'll show you how, even." Myrtle understood Renée's confusion and irritation. She knew the best and worst of both worlds - forest living and city living. And on the whole? Forest living was sooo much better. Her tail drooped for a moment, thinking of it... but then, she realized that first, she couldn't remember most of forest living, she just knew it was better, and second, she should at least try to be cheerful in front of Renée.

[Twigtail]

“Prey?” Renée asked incredulously. “Like… like small furry animals?” Well, no duh, Detective Tabby! But the brown she-cat couldn’t wrap her mind around such a violent image as claws sinking into the back of helpless little mouse. A rat, maybe, because they were such nasty animals, but a mouse could never die at her claws! The whole business seemed a little too barbaric for the young loner’s taste, and too bloody, and too darned hard. Yes, even she admitted to herself it would be had, trying to catch one of the little buggers.

“Um,” Renée hedged, “I just ate. Hey, I know a place where you can find a bit of nice steak-fat tonight. Let me show you.” (Of course, every meat from a human source was called a steak in her mind.) The tabby scrambled to her paws and flicked her tail invitingly, padding a few paces forward before glancing back at Myrtle. “Unless, ‘course, you’re dead set on this hunting thing you’ve got planned,” the tabby added, a little less enthusiastically.

[Flower]

"Okay. No, that's fine. I'll eat with you, then." Whatever a steak is... Myrtle thought. She had always thought that the Twolegs threw their scraps out for a reason, but hey, whatever floated this former kittypet's boat, she supposed. Formerly pampered creatures hardly ever survived in the wild for a good reason. It was all too barbaric for them, killing and eating something. Personally Myrtle was surprised kittypets that were thrown out of their homes survived for any period of time at all. She of course betrayed none of these feelings to Renée.