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The first call Ilmenite sent out to his youma was resisted a hundred percent of the time. Perhaps, at this point, it was just their little ritual. He'd try a summoning and Smokey would laugh wherever he was and lean back settling in comfortably. A second summons, and sometimes,if it sounded urgent or dangerous, frightened or harsh, Smokey decided to come at his own pace, settling in at Ilmenite's right shoulder to check out what was going on. If that failed, though, there was one thing that almost always got him to come: lighting up a cigarette, the smoke that curled from its end a heady incense, the promise of a treat.

This time, perhaps because he'd been hauling on the creature too many times, Smokey resisted even that.

Instead of summoning again, standing in the middle of a darkened alley and hollering his frustration at no one, Ilmenite drew in a deep breath and popped into Negaverse space, dead set on a confrontation in the Rift that would, perhaps, establish who was the boss here once and for all.

His feet hit the ground, he paused just to catch his breath, and then he was in motion: long, ground-swallowing strides that took him toward the gates. Ilmenite hadn't really come to the Rift since its opening. Perhaps it was time he do so, prove himself in the ring, establish dominance and rope his recalcitrant youma back under control.

Or maybe he'd get distracted along the way.

She was a cat, and Ilmenite's reaction to her was a direct reaction to that: a flicker glance, acknowledgment that she really was rather adorable, but not so much a falter in his pace. He liked cats, sure, but in all honesty, he tended to prefer the ones that didn't talk. He liked the strays that would wind around his ankle and find every scrap he dropped to be just about the mots incredible thing that ever happened to them. Perhaps it was kinship...

He wasn't completely rude, however. At the very least, he licked his lips and considered his reply, not ignoring the question -- rhetorical as it was.

"Late for a meeting." He lied thoughtlessly, unconcerned both about the moral aspects of that and that she might be able to tell.

"Heading for the Rift. Your kind allowed in there?" Doubt laced his tone, and he risked another look down at her, hands shoved firmly back into his pockets. Again, his reaction was 'cat', the instinctive certainty that she should be curled up in a pile of blankets somewhere and munching up on a giant bowl of dry food, not running around Negaverse space and plotting against senshi. Unfair? Maybe. But he could hardly help that.

An instinctive reply to that bubbled up to the tip of his tongue, and Ilmenite almost -- almost -- let it spill out. Then he remembered that his relationships [and his sex life] weren't really something he was supposed to talk about in front of other Negaverse agents. His mouth snapped closed and set into a sharp line, eyes taking in the small cat at his feet. No, he definitely wasn't thinking about how easy it'd be able to punt her into a stack of crystals not too far away...

"If you're not crazy for youma, maybe you shouldn't come." He stepped over her, instead. It had to be deliberate, making a point of how small she was and how easily he could have just put the sole of his duct-taped boot down on her head. Or maybe he just wanted to get past her, moving toward the Rift's entrance again.

"I'm hunting one down." He pulled out a pack of cigarettes as he walked, tapping one into his palm. Bait.

"Why, have you got one?" If her goal was to get on his nerves, Dahlia wsa more than succeeding. Ilmenite's tone was so heavy with sarcasm that it about plunked to the floor beside her, his eyes somewhat heavy-lidded. At least he drew to a halt, this time, taking advantage of his still moment to settle the cigarette between his lips and go patting around in his pockets.

He was, in fact, avoiding her questions -- but he did it without fear, and without embarrassment. Ilmenite was comfortable with the fact that Smokey existed, though he wasn't thrilled with his youma's attitude. It probably wasn't hostile. He probably didn't mean to leave Ilmenite stranded, out and about, without any backup. There just wasn't enough will being enforced...

He found his lighter and turned it over in one hand, weight shifting, considering the benefits of just tucking a foot under her tummy and moving her out of the way. If she'd been a real cat, he would have done it. "...puss, you're pretty small to be giving me attitude."

"Mmm." Ilmenite flicked the lighter between his fingers, staring down at her in an impenetrable way. Any other day, he probably would have been amused by her tone, but right now -- right now he just really wasn't in the mood. Not with a troublesome youma and the throbbing behind his eye that never quite seemed to fade out or go away.

So instead of replying, he gave in to the urge. He tucked the heavy toe of one boot under her to lift Dahlia up out of the way and give him access to the Rift.

Dahlia was most certainly a ferocious monster. His intent had been to fling, but only to move, and now he was left staring down at her in bafflement. His boots were leather, thick, his pants a heavy fabric; she could maybe get at his calf, if she worked a bit, but it'd take some work. There was no impending danger of frustrated scratches -- at least not immediately -- and as such there was really only one thing Ilmenite could do.

He broke down a little. His dead distance faded out of his eyes and left him, instead, relaxing into something amused. And something amused went from distracted confusion to a genuine laugh, bubbling up out of him, as he lifted the leg in question and took one step away toward the Rift.

"...yes. Yes, you got it." His tone was only a little condescending, held only a touch of that baby voice one used on cats. It wasn't intensional, most likely. "If that makes you feel better, have at. But I've gotta hunt down my youma."

His pace was lopsided, now, weighted down on one side by the forceful tug of cat around his ankle. Ilmenite moved slowly, almost as careful as she was to keep that tail out of the way -- though, perhaps he just didn't want to trip over it. Perhaps it was less considerate than it was self-serving.

Her words made him laugh again, trying to decide if he could get away with reaching down to scoop her up into his arms. It'd be more comfortable [but less entertaining, certainly] for both of them. He paused again to look down at her, at the entrance to the Rift, hesitating on the threshold.

"If you're good, I won't feed you to the wall." Damned if he knew whether the crystal would actually have any interest in the cat, but he could threaten all the same. He stooped to grab her around the middle and haul her up onto one shoulder as he stepped through.

"And in return, I won't crush your little kitty paws in my hands." It was friendly enough, though, a hand lifted to scratch behind her ear. The barn cats at home had been about this contrary, if he recalled correctly: staring at the humans with narrowed eyes, only willing to sit on laps on their own terms, and most of them only interested in his father's lap. Cats were just like that. Why should one who could talk be any different?

The faces lining the hallway would still be fresh for her, the bodies pressed up against the crystal frightening. To be fair, they still freaked Ilmenite out a bit. He looked forward, instead of at them, and instead of falling into respectful silence he stuck to reassuring chatter.

"I mean, you're a lot smaller than me. And, well, pretty sure I've got dominion over you..." He made a so-so gesture with his free hand, long legs stretched out to swallow up the ground.