1047/Cats and Dogs

Cats and Dogs
Date of Scene:	08 April 2020
Location:	Chelsea - Miagani Island
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Mustang Hawthorne

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Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    St. Aberdeen's is a smallish park near the University. The occasional scene of ultimate frisbee games, picnics, and underage partying, tonight the fields are relatively quiet.

    Mostly because it's somewhat dangerous to be out at night, especially in Gotham. Especially this close in junction to the Narrows.

    Phoebe walks along, the hoop of a red leash around one wrist that's tucked into her pocket. She's wearing a gray jacket, the hood down for now. Her hair isback in its usual braids and not in the 'poof' it was at the market. She wears comfy jeans and faded blue chucks, and at her side prances a dalmatian. 'Filbert' seems happy just to be out of the house, on an adventure, his tail wagging as he pauses to sniff at things here and there, but stays close to Phoebe's side.

Mustang Hawthorne has posed:
    Mustang fears many things, but none of them are the streets of Gotham at night. He knows there are scarier things. So, the youth moves with a certain confidence as he weaves through the streets of the city. The wheels of his skateboard on the sidewalk can be heard a bit before he comes into view.

    He's wearing a battere leather jacket over a faded Smashing Pumpkins shirt, tight jeans an skater shoes. His backpack is over one shoulder and partially unzipped.

    When she comes into sight he slows an then stops, kicking the board into his hand. "Hey!"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe is afraid of a lot of things -- but being afraid and doing it anyway makes you braver!

    She turns, hearing the sound of the wheels coming towards her, pausing under a street light as she regards the other teen, and she gives a slight grin, tucking her hands casually in her pocket. "Hey." she greets him, trying so very hard to be casual.

    Filbert does not know the meaning of the word casual. He gives a cautious 'boof!' in warning, but seeing Phoebe not acting afraid, he seems to decide that this new human (in spite of the way he smells) must also be good! His tail wags, and he takes a step forward, sniffing up at Mustang.

Mustang Hawthorne has posed:
    He chuckles and offers his hand to the dog to let him get a good smell of him. The cat in the backpack smells like cat...mingled with something else. Something otherworldly. He really isn't sure how Filbert will react.

    "So, let's walk?," he asks her, offering a warm smile as he settles in at her side. "Oh, right...okay, Fury...be nice, okay? I dig this girl..."

    He turns to sling his backpack around to his front, and a cat peeks his head out at her and stares, squinting. The hair from his ears almost resemble horns, and the cat could be young or old...age is hard to tell on this one.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe reeks of Holy Magic. That brightness of purity and warmth from The Light inside.

    "Aww, hello Fury." Phoebe coos gently, and then glances up at Hawthorne.

    "So when you said he's involved, is he a super smart cat that I should show double extra respect for, or a familiar that I should just show extra respect for?" she questions a moment.

    Filbert snuffs at Mustang's hand. Snuffs a little bit more, then he slips under Mustang's hand so that the hand rests on his head, and wags his tail.

Mustang Hawthorne has posed:
    The cat narrows his eyes at her and casts Mustang a very annoyed look. He then dips right back into the backpack. He sighs and shakes his head before he shakes the backpack a little bit. "Come on, you little jerk. Say hi to her."

    Mustang glances back up at her. "Well, he's more..."

    "A demon bound into flesh and fur," comes a sleek voice from inside of the backpack, with a bit of a purr to the edges of words, and a distinct British accent.

    "That too. He's pretty harmless, as the spell that made him like this robbed him of his powers. And the longer he's been like this..."

    "...The less demon lord remains, and the more I am a cat. I caught myself making noises at birds last night. It was embarassing."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... oh my. Ah. I'd better keep myself away then. I'd hate to hurt you." Phoebe states quietly. "It's -- still nice to meet your acquaintence, Fury." Phoebe states with a good deal more respect to her tone to Fury, then wincing and rubbing the back of her head.

    "Ah... Filbert is just really a dog. Normal dalmatian. Maybe a bit dumber than some." she explains, and ruffles a bit on the dog's ears a bit, and then walks along "So, how are your hands? Did you clean them?" she questions, eyeballing.

Mustang Hawthorne has posed:
    He holds out a hand to her. It's cleaned, but she can see the small cuts from claws. "I cleane them. He got me pretty good."

    "Yeah, well what'd you expect?", comes from the bag. Mustang grumbles and glances into it, replying: "No wet food for a week." The sound from within resembles kitty sadness.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Maybe you two could work a bit more on your teamwork?" Phoebe questions, and she slips off her gloves a moment, pausing a sshe steps out in front of Mustang.

    And when she touches him, again, that warm feeling, gentle fingers against his hand as she goes to turn his hand over.

    Filbert is sniffing around at something, his ears rising up.

Mustang Hawthorne has posed:
"Well, we get along alright, really. We just poke at eachother, too. But...he helps out a lot, and I take good care of him," Mustang explains.

    He stops walking when she turns to face him, and he gently lets his hand rest in hers. His cheeks flush a hint. He swallows and watches her a bit. Whatever the dog is worried about is ignored for now.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The girl gives a small smile as she curls her fingers slightly against his palm. Phoebe closes her eyes, and in the darkness of the park, Mustang would see the slightest of glows about her as she focuses her healing power. The feeling is warm as the cuts heal, purifying the scab tissue away.

    It's only a moment, the wounds taking hardly any power to heal, but he would feel positively refreshed.

    As a bonus, any recent inks are also healed, sprains and aches tended to.

Mustang Hawthorne has posed:
    He shivers at the sensation. He actually knows the magic to heal his own wounds, but decided to take her up on her offer so he could see her again. This might be way the kitty is so grouchy.

    He pulls his hand back to look at it, before flashing her a grin. "Wow, thanks!"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    There's a little swoon to Phoebe as she gives a little grin, looking to Mustang with a grin.

    "Well, yeah, I mean I can't ask you to come from Happy Harbor to Gotham just for a walk now, can I?" she inquires with a laugh, and turns to walk a couple more steps.

    "So, you and Fury have been together a while then?" she inquires, looking to the backpack with curiousity.

Mustang Hawthorne has posed:
    "Well, you could. I might even say yeah," he replies with a small laugh. He shrugs then, and glances at his backpack.

    "Few years now. The, uh...the guy who taught me helped me summon him. Otherwise someone as powerful as Fury would be way out of my understanding."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "That's fair. I heard an old adage from a book series about never summoning anything bigger than your head. I've... never given much thought to the subject. Figured it was somewhat out of my depth." Phoebe explains "So Fury, Mustang's taking good care of you though? Making sure you get enough food and water and stimulation?" she questions out of curiousity, leaning back and addressing the backpack before turning back to Mustang.

    "... he does eat, right? Not like, absorb the souls of the damned or something?"

Mustang Hawthorne has posed:
    "Ugh. Yeah, he's fine, I guess," comes the annoye voice from insie the bag. Mustang chuckles a bit and nods his head. "He's a cat, really. Just smarter and he can talk. I feed him well and I take good care of him, when he isn't driving me out of my mind." He winks.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I've never had a cat. My mom's allergic." Phoebe replies conversationally to Mustang as they walk. "Filbert here has been pretty much my only pet, and he was a gift. Mostly I have plants -- but people look at you funny when you walk a bonsai tree." she gives a light-hearted smile to Mustang as they walk. Filbert trots along happily, sniffing and snuffing about as dogs do.

Mustang Hawthorne has posed:
    "My parents were arrested when I was ten," he confesses. "I ended up on the streets. Eventually I broke into an old house for some shelter during a storm, and it happened to be the house of a cagey old warlock." Mustang glances over at her. He opens his hand and holds it out, the boy clearly offering it to hold as they walk. "I lived with him until things got complicated."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... I.. see." Phoebe replies quietly, and she reaches over, taking Mustang's hand. Even though her hand is back to being gloved, but her fingers curl against his. That warmth continues.

    "So, things got complicated, and you had to leave?"

Mustang Hawthorne has posed:
    He holds her hand, his heart jumping briefly. He weighs her question for a long moment as they walk along, as if he isn't exactly sure how to answer. Finally he sighs.

    "He wasn't who I thought he was."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe's fingers give a slight squeeze against Mustang's as they walk.

    "I'm sorry." she replies back to him, without much more to say, but there was an earnestness in her voice, her dark eyes turning to look to Mustang.

Mustang Hawthorne has posed:
    He squeezes back, and then chuckles a bit.

    "He's a piece of garbage," comes the voice from the backpack. "Ellison, I mean. The guy who taught Mustang. A real piece of work. Old, cagey magi who's sketchy as hell."

    Mustang nods to that.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "That... is a fair assessment of a bad situation?" Beacon states with a blink, peering to the backpack.

    "You know, if you don't want to ride in the backpack, my sweatshirt is super-soft. And there's tons of stuff in Gotham weirder than a talking cat."

Mustang Hawthorne has posed:
    The cat peeks his head out of the backpack, and he seems to consider a little bit. Mustang slows as the cat considers, before he finally nods. "Fine," says Fury. "Sounds comfier then this stinky backpack, anyways."

    Mustang sighs and lets go of Phoebe to open the backpack more. The cat hops out, landing on the ground and looking up at the girl.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    First, Filbert wants to sniff the small, angry, furry thing, but Phoebe's quicker than the doofy dalmatian. Without much else ado, she scoops up the demon, unzips her sweatshirt part-way and deposits him so that his head and forepaws can stick out of the shirt, and true to form it is a very soft sweatshirt. She crosses one arm beneath the cat to hold him up, the other holding Filbert's leash, and returning to curling against Mustang's fingers.

    "... it felt weird talking to a backpack."