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Chewing on the end of the stolen pen (it was pink and therefore immediately claimed by her, from wherever it was she'd found it), Prissy was hard at work filling out the latest quiz from Cosmopolitan entitled "Are You Too Hot For Him?". According to the questions, she was feeling rather smug with her situation in life - then again, she already knew she was a prize catch.

A fuzzy dark blob caught the corner of her eye, causing the pinkette to glance up from her answer circling. She blinked once. She blinked a second time.

She wasn't one hundred percent certain but she was at least ninety percent certain that the little black cat she was staring at was not her pretty little Lace. And, judging by the way the cat was staring at her as if she were a french poodle (which is what she'd certainly be, if she'd been cursed to live her life as a canine), it wasn't the sweeter of the kitten twins.

The pen left her mouth and her eyebrows furrowed.

"What the heck do you think you're doing here?"

She laughed at the audacity of his words, although her eyes narrowed at the mention of mustard. Cleaning the yellow from her hair and clothing had taken forever and the pinkette had half a mind to fetch the bottle herself and let him feel her pain.

Knowing the twerp, he'd probably enjoy being doused with condiments.

"Yeah, you have fun opening the door with those thumbs of yours, Scrappy Doo."

Tossing the magazine over to the table for anyone to find later (just let them see how she was winning on that quiz), hands moved forward and she pushed herself towards the edge of the couch to peer over at the little annoying furball. He'd grown a bit since their last encounter and apparently so had his attitude.

"But you're in the wrong house. This is my house. I have a bed and a key, courtesy of the fact that I live her."

Why was she lowering herself to arguing with a cat? Then again, why was this cat so gosh darn annoying? Weren't Mauvians supposed to be cute little eager helpers?


"Could it be rabies? I hear that messes with the brain." Her voice rose an octave as she mused innocently, one finger tapping against her cheek. "Poor kitty, maybe we should take you to a vet and have you checked out."

She would have started laughing at his shocked expression if she hadn't been so confused herself.

Wait....

"How do you know Chase?"

She rose from the couch and bare feet (complete with pink polish, naturally) padded their way towards the young Mauvian. She kept her distance, knowing he was capable of dastardly bastardly things, but peered down at him all the same. Arms folded across her chest and her head tilted, pink curls resting on her shoulders.

"One of the senshi things?"

If he knew about the Wolfpack, it meant he was aware of Chase’s collection of underlings. If he was aware of it, it more than likely meant he was a part of it. This notion was a horrifying thought - why was Chase bothering with this nasty little oversized rat?

Despite her irritation, her gloating won out. The slim line across her face curved up into a grin as she spoke to him in her most saccharine-like tone. "Sweetheart, I'm not just one of his senshi things."

She paused, allowing her grin to grow even wider.

"I'm his girlfriend."

The grin dissipated. For being a kitten, he certainly had a large mouth on him and knew an effective way to knock a c***k out of her figurative armor. Prissy knew she was objectified - it was just another burden that beautiful people had to endure. Most of the time, it was advantageous. Getting spoiled, pampered, shown off on someone's arm. A prize, maybe, but she wasn't anyone's toy.

"Hmph."

She turned away from the brat, moving to look for one of the cushions on the couch for thwapping purposes. One hand reached out to snatch one of the square pillows, but fingers hesitated on the edge of the material as a malicious thought came to mind.

"You want to talk about value, you little rat? Well, where were you when your General was in need of rescuing?"

Spinning back around, pillow now clutched between both hands, she took another step towards the door in his direction. Her smile hadn't returned, but the mocking tone had. "When he was hurt and bleeding, where was his faithful little pussycat, if you're such an asset?"

Her chin tilted up, haughty as ever. "Can't even bother helping him out when he really needed it. Guess you really are the Scrappy Doo of the group."

With that, the pillow went sailing towards the small black cat.

She watched him shoot off like a furry black rocket under the couch, her heels spinning to keep up with where he was. Knowing their past history together, Silk was the furthest thing from trustworthy. If what he said was true, then she knew there was no way she could evacuate him the house - but it didn't mean she had to like the idea of being forced to share a home with the brat.

"Aren't you supposed to be clever or somethiiiii---hey!"

Her words morphed into a shriek as hands went out defensively, watching the Mauvian take a leap in her direction. Claws, sharp claws, were aimed directly for her and she scrambled to take hold of the cretin.

Claws slashed and thrashed against both her arms and the front of her shirt.

Of all the times to wear shorts and a t-shirt.

She did her best to try to remember how Kat and Chase had always handled Momewrath. She'd always cradled Grendel and Lace, but this thing looked about as ready to be cradled as an angry rattlesnake did.

"You terrible little beast, you're going to ruin this shirt."

Fingers enclosed around his armpits (did cats have armpits??) and she stared him down, ignoring the sharp stings now peppering her arms. Prissy could already feel the blood beginning to seep through some of the cuts - little jerk was going to get it.

Bare feet started walking towards the bathroom, a determined scowl across her face. She'd also seen Kat take Momewrath to the bathroom and the pinkette was good and ready to try the grooming technique she'd formally laughed at the other girl over.

"I'm going to clip your nails, Scrappy Doo." She told him confidently, a short hiss escaping between her teeth as he swiped at her face. "And then we'll see how tough you really are."

"Don't be dramatic, I'm not declawing you, you little monster, as much as you probably deserve it." Snorting at his threat, she shook her head and laughed. "You act like I haven't thrown anything worse at him."

Her eyebrow rose at his intensified squirming, only for her face to twist in anguish as his mouth clamped down on her slender wrist. Okay, was teeth filing a thing for cats too? Because the little b*****d really needed those needles filed down, as far as Prissy was concerned. All of the scratches on her arm and cheek were nothing in comparison to the jaws on the tiny black kitten.

Shaking the cat in an attempt to get him to let go, she stopped in the hallway, directly outside of the bathroom. The little jerk was really good at hurting - no wonder he was Chase's cat.

"Okay, okay. Truce."

She could hardly believe she was saying it. "You stop scratching and I'll stop tossing crap at you. If we're going to have to deal with each other daily, I'd like to limit my scarring to a minimum."

As soon as he released his hold on her, her free hand moved up to rub against the sore, faintly bleeding spot. Bruises weren't uncommon in her line of work, but she wasn't in the market for adding scars to her beautiful skin.

Eyes glared right back at the little brute as he snapped back at her. Insulting little jerk - how could anyone tolerate a little cretin like that??

Her mouth opened up to sass back - did he want her to shut up or did he want her to answer questions? He couldn't have it both ways, after all.... but she held her tongue. No, she had her own questions in need of answering and his question posed an interesting... dilemma. How long had she been here? No - how long had he been there!?

"I moved in almost a year ago, duh."

Duh - always a classic comeback.

"What about you? I think I would have noticed a bratty little cat snooping around here by now."