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It was not the crash that had brought Will running. It was the sound, a bone chilling cry, high pitched and terrified, and all rational thought scattered to the deafening thud of his heart. Something was threatening what he had bought with his life’s blood. Someone was attacking what was his.
Save him, save him, save him.
Bursting into the galley, Will found Hannibal clutching a knife, more or less whole and squared off against the source of the noise: a very tiny, very angry kitten. Dirty orange fur blazed out in all directions.
“It appears we have a stowaway” Hannibal said.
“So I see” Will replied, weak with relief. He took a step towards the kitten, then hastily stepped back as it turned and hissed at him, ears flat. It looked like it had been dragged through a very unfriendly hedge and then dunked repeatedly in a swamp.
Hannibal carefully laid down the knife and inched along the cupboards, keeping a wary eye on the intruder, while Will circled around, giving it as much room as possible.
“Where did it come from?”
“It was asleep in one of the cupboards. I opened the door and it launched itself at my face.” Hannibal looked genuinely hurt by this, as though unable to imagine any creature not liking him. There was a long angry scratch running down his right arm.
“Battle scars, doctor?”
Hannibal smiled ruefully. “It drew first blood. A worthy opponent, I'm sure you'd agree.”
“You were ambushed.” Will said, trying to suppress a grin. Hannibal’s smile widened.
“By all means, Will, if you can do better, please, be my guest.”
Will got down on his hands and knees, ignoring the angry protest from his shoulder. “Hey there. Are you a boy or a girl? Who’s a good kitty then?” The kitten glared at him. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Hannibal had made it two inches closer to the fridge. Will extended his hand slowly to the kitten, who regarded it with contempt and then hissed again for good measure. Hannibal smirked.
“Look at us” Will shook his head. “The great dragon slayers, cowering from a cat.” The kitten let out another ear piercing yowl and both men winced. “I think it's hungry.”
“Beasts of prey are always hungry. Aren’t you, darling?” Hannibal said. Will didn’t dare ask which of them he was addressing. “We’ve been very rude” Hannibal continued, reaching tentatively towards the fridge. The kitten snapped its head back towards Hannibal, narrowing its eyes and puffing its tail out some more. “We have intruded on your territory. Allow us to apologize.” He produced a plate of sliced tuna-fresh, Will noted with amusement-and laid it carefully on the floor, before backing up, joining Will in the corner. The kitten gazed at the tuna longingly, fear warring with hunger, before apparently deciding that fresh fish was worth any risk. It padded over to the dish, sniffing it with suspicion before pinning a slice with a dainty paw and tearing a piece off with delicate ferocity. He-it was a he, Will could see now-ate like he was starving, keeping one yellow eye on them at all times.
“Do you think he’ll let us back in the kitchen?” Will said out of the side of his mouth. He got quietly to his feet, wincing at the cracking in his knees.
“I hope so. I wouldn't want our dinner to go to waste.”
“What are we having?” The kitten had by now almost forgotten his fear and was shoving the plate around the floor with his face. His fur was nearly flat again and Will could see how skinny he was.
“Sashimi on a bed of wild rice”
“Well that appears to be off the menu at any rate.” The kitten began washing itself with more enthusiasm than skill.
“We have more.” They stood shoulder to shoulder, listening to the faint beginnings of a purr fill the galley. “Mischa always loved cats.”
Manipulative, brazenly manipulative. It certainly wasn’t Mischa who was staring at a matted, feral kitten with a look of fascination and delight. Will had only ever seen that particular look directed at him, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about sharing it with a cat. He opened his mouth to point out that they were on the run, that the kitten was almost completely wild, that even the most charming cat was not and could never be a dog-but what came out instead was “You’re on litter detail.”
Hannibal beamed.
“And don’t feed him people. He’s aggressive enough as it is.”
“As you wish.” Hannibal said demurely. Will resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The kitten, satisfied with his ablutions, had curled up on a seat and was now fast asleep.
“What shall we call him?” Will asked, dreading the answer. No doubt Hannibal would suggest something like Mephistopheles, or Azrael or-
“Kasha.”
“Kasha?” That sounded almost...normal. Cute, even.
“In Japanese folklore, Kasha are demons who take the forms of cats. They are said to ride on burning chariots and drag the souls of sinners to hell.”
So much for normal and cute . “Well that sounds appropriate. He’s certainly a demon.”
Hannibal shot Will a reproachful look and took a step towards the kitchen. Kasha flicked open one eye and Hannibal froze in place.
Will snickered. “Want me to watch your back?”
“I believe I can adequately defend myself” Hannibal said. “But perhaps you’d care to sous-chef?”
“Sure.” Will pushed off from the wall. “We can protect each other.”