If it had been the old days, he would've stuffed hands into pockets and walked around with that carefree air of his. But it wasn't the old days. In fact, it wasn't even old anymore. There weren't hands and the pockets were nothing short of useless. Instead there were paws, fluffy furry paws. A tail too, or rather, three tails. He wasn't sure he'd ever be quite so comfortable as a near-literal animal of sorts. He wasn't exactly the cat he was named for, but he was a beast of sorts. As he padded forward, the bell around his neck jingled lightly. It signified more than just perhaps a fashion statement. It was a set of morals and reasoning. The ideal that he belonged only to himself. An ideal that gave his features quite the smirk.It was normal day, so he thought. Boring. Questionable. Lonely and carefree, as the days usually were. He didn't mind any of these things. Perhaps the boredom, but not so much. He enjoyed his stray cat life, for no matter what he was now, his heart was a Sweeper, just as he'd given in to being all that time ago. No matter who was here and who wasn't, or what happened and what didn't. Things were just like that. However, no matter what he was, if there wasn't a bounty on anyone, then there was no money to be made. And if there was no money, there was no food.
It was this thought that made him sit down on a precariously placed rock overlooking headquarters. Peaceful and hungry was not a good combination.
