"He's fucking adorable," Thomas ruffled the top patch of his fur. "It's illegal to be this cute."
"That's him," Dai stroked his tail. "A dangerous criminal."
Loverboy yawned, stretching.
Rue tickled behind his one ear, and he scrunched up his nose, flopping onto his back and exposing his stomach.
Fast, borderline frantic footsteps suddenly formed underneath them, and the door flew open .
Valentine Diaz swept into the room, her eyes outlined in gold and wide as saucers.
"HOLY SHIT IT'S TRUE," She fell onto her knees and held out her hand for Loverboy to sniff. "He's back."
"Quit talking about Loverboy as if he were Voldemort," Thomas grumbled.
"It's my cat, Redfield," Dai reminded him once again. "I have 'getting defensive' privileges."
"Right," Thomas leaned closer to Loverboy and ruffled his collar. "But seriously, he's just too goddamn cute for his own good."
"Uh, who are we talking about again?"
A confused Axel had returned from his coffee run duties (they'd started a system where they'd take turns purchasing drink orders now that business was picking up—a luxury that Dai never would've allowed before).
"Loverboy," Thomas looked the most gentle Axel had ever seen him. "Duh."
"And all this time I thought you were such a punk," Axel handed Valentine her latte, and Dai uncapped her iced tea. "Thomas Redfield, the softie."
Thomas grabbed a coffee from the table. "Because you've brought me caffeine, and because Loverboy is here and I don't want to traumatise him, I'm not going to slap you.
