"Mon ami, how does she keep getting into the back porch when we are not opening the screen door for her?"
"I don't know. We just have una gatita intelligente!"
The trio was puzzled as to your ability to do things for yourself almost like a human. They were also wondering who was stealing Gilbert's chocolate milk out of the mini-fridge while Francis and Toni swore up and down that it wasn't them.
Meanwhile you lounged in a lawn chair next to the pool.
Francis glared at you. "She probably tore a hole in the screen or somezing. Stupid chaton."
Everyone knew that Francis pretty much had a vendetta against you. Like you were going to try to make his life miserable or something. You didn't CARE whether or not he was happy or sad or about how much he liked his carpet spotless. If you had your way, you wouldn't have anything to do with him.
He shooed you off of the chair so that he could sit down. There was an empty chair beside you, but nope, he wanted your chair.
You hissed in cat speak for 'What is your PROBLEM?!' and ran over to Gilbert. You started pawing at his pant leg for his breakfast wurst. He leaned down and handed you a bit. You ran to the sliding glass door and sat down expectantly as was you daily ritual.
Spain tried to explain why you couldn't go inside (for the 6th time), blah blah blah, keep the carpet white, blah bla-
"Gatita, are you listening to me?!"
You stared up at Toni, licked your whiskers, then turned your head and ignored him.
"It's not like she understands you, ami. Stupid chaton probably has fleas in her ears anyway."
You reached up a back leg and scratched at your ear just to rile him up.
"See?" He yelled, "See?!"
Monday afternoon, all of the guys were either out working or running errands. You were enjoying quiet time in human form. You stole a leftover bikini from a party a few nights ago and took a swim then decided to sunbathe for a while. You also took a chocolate milk just for good measure.
When you heard footsteps outside, you pulled on your normal clothes human clothes, which were a tank top and plaid shorts, turned back into a cat, and went to investigate. What you saw was a grown man crying in the shade of a big oak tree in the back yard.
When you got closer, you identified him as the one and only Francis Bonnefoy. You walked towards him, stopping when he threw a stick at you.
"Stupid chaton." He growled.
You growled too, but as much as you disliked the Frenchman, you didn't like to see him cry either. You sidled up to him as he cried into his hands, pulling his knees up to him.
He was ignoring you, and if there was one thing that you wouldn't stand for, it was being ignored.
You pawed at his arm until he looked at you with teary blue eyes. You both glared at each other for a minute, then you pushed your (h/c) head into his hand and purred for all you were worth. He broke down again, picked you up, and buried his face in your soft fur.
So you were now a pillow.
"Mon amour dumped me, chaton" He said after a while of crying.
You looked up at him, surprised. Wasn't he, like, a lady killer or something (not literally)?
"She told me zat she had been seeing someone else for a while and zat she wanted to break it off. She said zat I would understand because zat's the kind of person that I was."
He scratched your ears and head.
"I don't know why I'm telling you this. You are just a stupid chaton."
He frowned at you for a minute and ruffled your neck fur.
"Is that the kind of person zat I am? Do I look like a bad person?"
You pushed your head against his cheeks and nuzzled his chin in a reassuring fashion as if to say, 'no, of course not!'. He seemed to be getting over his bout of depression rather well and when you saw tears start to threaten again, you distracted him by pawing at his face.
"I know, I know, chaton. I just really liked her. I thought zat she might be 'the one'. Silly me, right?"
You just purred and loved on him more.
"Well." He said, getting up. "I suppose I owe you my thanks, stupid chaton."
He picked you up and took you into that castle they called a house. Well, it wasn't really a castle, but it was freaking sweet.
He set you down on hard wood flooring. You scampered around the first floor kitchen, admiring the chrome fridge and granite counter tops.
"Here, chaton!" Francis called from across the house. You ran over to him and leaped onto the couch he was sitting on. You planted yourself right on his lap with no intention of moving.
He flipped on 'The Expendables' (a good bro-movie for getting over a bad breakup), and you both watched the delectable carnage and explosions. All through out the movie all that could be heard from the two of you were little, surprised 'Ohs!' from Francis and astonished 'Mrows!' from you.
After about an hour of violence (although Francis did cry at the one emotional scene due to his current fragile state), Antonio and Gilbert came strolling in. They almost dropped their bags at what they saw.
You curled up on Francis' lap. Watching a movie. INSIDE the house.
Francis looked up with a frown.