So today, he decided to take the day off. And taking the day off meant, unsurprisingly, that he loitered about the front of the Cat Café and appraised all willing occupants with a discerning eye. Repeat customers knew him as His Imperial Majesty, Lord Ouija and paid their respects accordingly. Newcomers simply observed him as a cute cat and tried to pet him with an almost expectant ease, to which Faust retaliated with a heavy (albeit clawless) paw slap on the hand. Only when they let him have a sniff of their fingers did he deign to let them pet him. More than a few tried to remove the sticker over his star, to which he backed away wit ha huff, and most got the hint.
The practice soon grew boring, though, and Faust barreled back into the establishment to relieve some boredom by teasing its owner. Quenton often busied himself behind the barista stands when working a shift, and Faust found it simple enough to dash in, slap the blonde on the ankle a good dozen times, then edge toward the door with heavy expectation. Often Blondie needed a lot of assistance in getting out the door, so Faust essentially walked half a step in front of him and constantly looked back to ensure that Quenton still followed.
Usually this practice resulted in one to two kicks to the rump, but Quenton improved by the day in this matter.
This time, Faust waited not for the blonde to start following. He dacked back toward the outdoors with renewed energy, gladdened by the change in weather. The sunny day offered warm sidewalks and every opportunity for the café owner to take an impromptu break and pet his goddamned cat.
zaiafantasy
ivynian
