Her Melting Point

Making Friends

Second half of today's update <3

She moved into her armchair, and the cat joined her immediately. She could see that the Harewickes hadn't read her message; it was rather late, after all. She remembered the family from before: several women, sisters and aunts, all fit redheads; living together in a small cottage in the woods near the Bjornsson Hall. They were indeed 'local witches,' meaning they made natural cosmetics and provided 'occult services:' Tarot readings, horoscopes; that sort of hogwash. Jackie had had the youngest of them, Euphemia, in her class. The girl had been bright and friendly, given, a tad scattered.

"I suppose, I'll text the landlord and see if you can stay." Jackie tickled the cat under its chin. "In case you're still here later, of course. No pressure."

She scrolled through her phone and stared at Alexander's name on the screen.

"I bet the two of you would get along," she said. "You know, since you're both so aloof. And tidy. And nice to touch." She ran her fingers through the fur on the animal's nape - and chuckled. It was clean, smooth and thick; and carried no smell. And then she caught herself and grumbled, "Ugh, what's wrong with me?" She shook her head. "What do you think, should I just let him know you're here, without asking for permission? I don't remember if there's anything about pets in the letting contract. And before you argue, you can't imagine the sort of problems I had run into with my old landlords. Although, I doubt he'll kick me out." She snorted. "He's got a soft spot for me."

The moggy yawned.

"I'm talking to a cat." Jackie announced into the ceiling and shook her head. "And there I thought my joints would go before my brain cells."

Alexander's answer was as to be expected: he acknowledged receiving the news and offered his assistance, if needed.

"Look at this." Jackie turned the phone to the cat. "There's just no end to the man's flirting and banter. Yeah, you're right. I've clearly lost my plot." She sighed. "Let's google what you might need if you're staying the night."

***

The cat left her side only once, around midnight. Weather permitting, Jackie always kept a couple of windows open at night. She'd lifted one corner of the fly screen on the kitchen one, which seemed to work perfectly. She heard it jump onto the sill - and then the cat was back before she had time to decide whether she was glad or upset at the development. It took its previous spot - on the throw, folded on the duvet, next to her feet - and Jackie fell back asleep.

The next morning she woke up from the cat insistently booping its nose to hers. It was Saturday, and she had no alarm set.

"Alright, alright, I'm up," she groaned and opened her eyes. "Oh, it's you."

She sat up. The animal was already in the door of her bedroom, making low raspy noises that she wouldn't be able to call meowing. It sounded more like that yellow rubber chicken that her pupils used to be so fond of, way back then.

"Right, yes, I get it, you're hungry." Jackie clumsily slid off the bed and dragged herself to the kitchen. "There might be more of that chicken from yesterday. Although I have to say, picking it off the bones for you is a bit more than I–"

The cat was already heading down the stairs. The noise was surprisingly loud, as if a miniature horse had just stampeded through her cottage. Jackie followed, rubbing her eyes.

While she drank coffee and the animal finished the unseasoned bits of Jackie's rotisserie chicken, she checked her DMs. The Harewicke witches sent her a contact phone number and a long apology - followed by a polite offer to keep the animal, since it had been in need of alternative accommodations for years, due to interfeline conflicts in its home cottage. She was also informed that the cat came with a generous dowry: a basket, a litter box, an assortment of its favourite toys - and a voucher for a free birth star chart; for Jackie, not for the animal, of course.