Welcome to Gaia! ::

Resumes put in at three separate IT recruitment agencies meant that Veer could take a break for 'lunch' -- assuming it could still be called that at three-thirty in the afternoon. Broke and living off charity meant that he didn't have cash to splurge on five pounds of thai food, as he would have liked. Instead it meant he was working from the eight-fifty he'd grabbed out of some poor sucker's pocket after a wraith had drank down his energy, just another shard added to his collection.

Eight-fifty meant pizza. Pizza and mountain dew.

He ate perched on the edge of a park bench, legs sprawled out in front of him. It was, at least, double-cheese with pepperoni, dripping with grease, two incredibly generous sized slices. Two slices that kept many patrons rolling their eyes, 'who could possibly need this much?'

Veer. That's who. He ate with the pizza folded in half, content, only a napkin serving as barrier between its dripping oil and his borrowed t-shirt. It wasn't doing a very good job, either.

...cat. Veer blinked and then froze as the cat leaned in over his lap and thoughtlessly, casually, stole a pepperoni off the top of his slice of pizza and then effectively covered it with cat saliva. By that point, of course, he'd already given it up for dead, and was more focused on moving the rest of his slice out of the reach of hungry little paws.

He moved over an inch. And then another inch. Slow and careful, so that he wouldn't attract the wild thing's attention, too much. Were all strays this friendly?

"...oh, son of a b***h." He scowled down at his pizza as he said it, spotting a lone white hair across the entire slice, and turned the look on the cat. Ruined. He wasn't eating cat hair. So he moved to start tearing away the afflicted spot and set it carefully on the bench next to him.

"There. That's yours. The rest is mine, so lay off."

Talking to a cat had seemed crazier before he'd met some that talked back. He shook his head a little.

The cat ate quickly, yeah, but -- so did Veer, working his way through one of the slices in the time it took the little cat to devour her little piece. Which did, of course, still leave him with half a piece of pizza, held just out of reach of the cat, his head tilted to the side so that he could squint down at her in a mildly-annoyed manner.

"No kitty, this is my pizza." ...except. She did have a cute little face. He reached out, curiously, to catch the key around her neck and turn it to look at the other side. While taking another bite of his pizza, of course.

"Hmm. Booze-y kitty." It was mumbled around his mouthful of pepperoni, and he considered her for a long moment before, sighing, he put down the rest of the slice for her to eat. Under one condition: his fingers scraped over the top of her head, behind her ears, and then backward to test her spine and her ribs.

Was she a well-fed booze kitty, or was she a half-starved one? He frowned a little, thinking about it, eyes skating around the area. Mostly office buildings, here. It seemed somewhat unlikely that a stray could make a living...

She had a name so, presumably, she belonged to someone -- or had, at some point -- and yet. Veer frowned, as he polished off the rest of his crust, licked at his fingers, watching her eat. And yet she seemed hungry, and perhaps a bit undersized, and she was friendly enough to strangers that maybe she was just getting her meals from anyone who'd take her in.

Veer hummed at that, leaning back, and weighing his options. On the one hand, he was supposed to drop off more resumes today, pop in more places that might yet be hiring, work toward potential work: something that would occupy his days, and that would bring home enough money for him to donate to the pot. Maybe he'd even find his own place again, and get off Quinn's couch.

On the other hand -- any excuse not to do that. ANd the cat was adorable. He should take her home, take her in to a vet, get her checked out for fleas...

Absently, as she finished off her piece of pizza, Veer caught her under the armpits to haul her up against his chest, standing as he did. The coat would protect him from any claws, as he tested her willingness to be carried off. "Want somewhere warm to sleep, tiny?"

Warm bed, he could definitely do, though it wouldn't be his own; warm couch he could share in better conscience. For now, though, he was just going to stand, abandoning a paper plate and an empty Mountain Dew can where he'd been sitting on the bench, and start away toward home. It wouldn't take him long to regret his choice. Carrying a cat meant the long way. It meant hopping the turn style at the subway, it meant climbing stairs to Quinn's apartment, it meant entering through the door....

He grumbled as he started off, fingers still curled against her spine.