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One thing that Sue had learned over the years: It was impossible to persuade a cat to wait for a meal.

His four foundlings were expecting a plate of tuna served up for them at precisely seven in the evening on Mondays and Thursdays. Any sooner, and they'd take it to mean they could ask for it earlier - any later, and they would get upset with him. It was a delicate balance that must be observed, and for the sake of the trust bond he held with them, Sue was extremely diligent.

By six-thirty, he had all of the ingredients set out. Assembling them wasn't hard - his meals were mostly tuna, and he just had to add some hard-boiled egg and wheat grass, sometimes some chicken broth (Nibs especially liked that addition), and then heat it up. The resulting mixture was a kitty godsend, steaming slightly when exposed to the cold autumn air outside - and its reek of meat and gravy could draw a cat's attention from at least a hundred yards downwind.

Slightly after six-fifty, Sue was heading out the door with a small pot of the stuff, wearing a jacket to guard against the cold. The spot they'd be expecting him at wasn't too far off-grounds; just tucked on an urban sidestreet to Barren Pines' right, in a little corner that was mostly shielded from rain by a balcony overhead. Bartholomew was already there when Sue arrived, roosting on a stone banister - unsurprising, as the cream-colored longhair was always there. It was the closest thing to a home that he had anymore.

Keeping Sue company with an eager purr and many ankle-rubbings, Bartholomew observed the teenager's work as he laid out four paper plates, setting rocks on them to keep the wind from whisking them away, and began heaping up the night's spoils. Each plate was set with a perfect amount of food, a sloping pile that would tide a cat through many days of missed meals, in case something should keep them from coming for regular kibble over the next few days.

Once the plates were all set up, Sue dropped the spoon into the bowl and gave a small smile to his feline companion. Thus signaled, Bartholomew let out a loud declaration of a mewl, and hunched down over one dish with noisy, happy smacks of eating.

Other cats began to appear then - first Stripers, who made a beeline for her plate and began vacuuming up the meat there; hulking Mackie, who grumped at the others for starting without him before marching to his plate; and the last was the timid little Nibs, who skirted the others to reach her food.

Sue, for his part, sat himself down on the curb. It would be rude for him to just wander off before the rest had finished their meal, after all. Sue nibbled at the remainder of food in the bowl, pinchfuls at a time, while the rest ate.

After many frustrating beats of quiet oblivion, in which he continued to nibble at the bit of food remaining (how much was left anyway? It couldn't be a great deal!), Sue finally noticed that his humble gathering had acquired a sixth member. His lips moved in a silent "oh", but not a sound came through them. The last thing he ought to do right now was make noise and draw the flock's attention to the new cat!

He recognized what he was looking at immediately - a feline that was new to the area, only possibly a stray. Even in the dimming light, Sue could see that its fur was clean and well-kempt, and certainly its weight showed it was used to a comfortable life. The fact that it stared right at Sue meant it had no fear of humans - bad, that was bad, this cat was going to get itself into trouble!

"Well, look at you," Sue murmured, his voice pitched gently so as not to disturb the diners already accounted for. He flicked the pinchful of chow between his fingers into the bowl and carefully - quietly - pushed himself onto his feet, crossed several yards away from where the other cats were eating, and set down the bowl. "Feeling hungry?" he nodded to the dish at his feet. "You can take it. The others won't bother you, not so long as you steer clear of them."

As might be expected, there wasn't much left in the bowl - enough to make maybe two meatballs out of - but hey, it was there, it was free, and it didn't have the other cats slobbering over it. What was there to lose?

Sue most definitely caught sight of the collar, and gave a relieved sigh. Not a stray, but just an outdoor cat. Which meant not a cat that Sue had to feel responsible for, but maybe one that could use a dose of common sense.

"Now you're getting a free meal, so you can listen to me a second," and he squatted down to have a serious chat with the feline. "If anybody else around here tries offering you food, you walk off. Some stupid kid nearly got Stripey a few months ago with poisoned meat, and some of the kids at school wouldn't think half a damn about picking on you."

At the sound of her name, the brown-striped cat picked up her ears, her attention swerving over to the duo. It was harmless, though, and her interest in her food was greater than in the group's company - but the motion tipped off the hulking big boy of the group, Mackie, and he was far more interested in preserving his territory. He stared right at Grendel, a low growl beginning in his throat.

Now, there were some things that Sue could explain away. Certain mannerisms that made sense taken in a certain feline context, which let Grendel by. Honestly, if he'd kept his yap shut, there was nothing that Grendel could have done that would have tipped Sue off for certain that something was unusual.

But he'd hissed. And rather than hearing feline smacktalk (like what Mackie was saying - "boy you better stand DOWN from that food of mine, or I'm-a pad my way over there and scratch some FEAR down on that pretty muzzle o'yours!"), he just heard... well, a hiss.

Am I broken? was the first thing to leap to mind. But Mackie was still rumbling threats, and so that clearly wasn't the case. Maybe... it was just a slip. Just a moment. And that was all.

"Mackie...." The name was all the warning Sue needed to give. The growling cut out, except for the barest traces. If Sue were more concerned, he'd probably have told Mackie off at this point, forced him to stop trying to push his alpha cat all over everyone else - but really, he was too busy trying to puzzle over the feline in his lap.

Putting a hand on Grendel to keep him steady, Sue dropped down to a proper sitting and pulled the bowl over, so that Grendel was able to eat without leaving his lap. "Hey cat. You've got a name, don't you? What do you go by?" Sue questioned, hoping for a second chance at understanding his new companion.

Not so far away, Bartholomew had finished his meal (having been the first to start on it, of course) and began licking at his chops. Another satisfactory meal had put him in a pleasant mood, and now he was ready for play, pettings, and the general silly antics that he'd been raised to indulge and love. The cat trotted within a few yards of Sue and Grendel, at which point he stopped, lifted his ears, and watched the duo. Was this an introduction?

Now it was. "That there is Bartholomew," Sue attempted to tell Grendel, now worrying whether any of his own words were getting through. "He's got no problems with anybody that doesn't have problems with him, so you don't have to worry about him. That big boy was Mackie, and he'll throw his weight around, so I wouldn't tangle with him much. The tabby girl there is Stripey, and the other is Nibs - just leave her alone, and we're all good. Do you understand me?"

Meanwhile, Bartholomew began stalking curiously around to Grendel's blind side, stepping as softly as he was able in his approach. While Grendel was distracted with his food, maybe Bartholomew could get close enough to get a good sniff at the newcomer....

No, really. Butt sniffing. It was like everything you needed to know about a stranger, you could read on the seat of their pants. With your nose.

Well, Sue and Bartholomew exchanged equally baffled looks, and that was that. There'd been something weird about that stray from the get-go, but if he was any kind of smart (or any kind of hungry), it was certain that they'd be seeing him again. And if not? Well, Sue was better off focusing on the cats that needed him, anyway.

Though he had a feeling, this would be bugging him for a long time yet....