Thomas lay awake on his sofa, a ratty blanket draped over his form and nothing but the arm of the couch to use as a pillow. Sophia lay curled against his side, purring and fast asleep. His other cats were scattered about the living room and kitchen, a few perched on their many layered super-kitty cat post, and the rest with beds on kitchen chairs and the hump of the sofa. It was pitch black outside, Thomas could see from the slits in his window blinds, and the faint light that emanated from the computer cast his menagerie of felines in an eerie, luminescent glow.
The apartment was very, very quiet. There was no so much as a patter of kitten claws or a lone meow to break the silence. It was disquieting.
Thomas' hip was falling asleep, and a metal spring was digging into his shoulders. He desperately wanted to turn over but refused to disturb Sophia. Hell hath no wrath compared to a feline scorned, after all. Or perhaps it was a woman? Thomas couldn't remember. He shifted a little, but it did nothing for him, so he resigned himself to an uncomfortable night and pulled the blankets tighter around himself.
Well. This was rather rummy, wasn't it? Of course, it would make an excellent novel...German ambassador barges into lonely bachelor's apartment and demands the impossible. Bachelor objects, only to be faced with the barrel of guns, held by large, tiger-pelt wearing henchmen. Ambassador forces bachelor to spend night on very uncomfortable, million year old sofa. Might be the new best seller.
Somewhere, a door clicked open. Thomas let out a little gasp and squeezed his eyes shut, feigning sleep. Footsteps thudded down the hall, slapping off the kitchen linoleum and disturbing a few felines out of their sleep. A few quite 'mows' quivered against the silence, and the person, Thomas wasn't sure who yet, but he suspected it was one of the 'henchmen' (Mr. Bishop didn't look like he'd make much noise walking, not unless he was wearing boots), shushed it anxiously.
Thomas felt the figure loom over him. His eyes twitched beneath their lids, and he squeezed them down tighter, letting out a little moan to disguise the rather pinched look on his face.
"You, writer," a finger jabbed him in the side. He stifled an odd noise, but couldn't help but snap open his eyes. It was dark, and the man wasn't wearing his coat, so Thomas couldn't tell whether he was Tor or...the other one. What was his name? Something funny, anyway.
"Thought you'd have mind enough to high-tail it out of here, the man jerked his round head in the direction of the door, Doors right there."
"Won't you just track me down again or something? That's the way it usually happens, Thomas sat up. Sophia slipped off of him with a disgruntled meow, shooting him a glare only the likes of cat's can manage, and slunk off the sofa. He frowned pathetically after her.
The man let out a sigh and stuffed something into his hands, Take that. Get out of here."
Thomas peered down at the thing in his hands, Tickets onboard a starship? Why would I want to go on a star ship?" he squinted through the darkness at the man, Why would you want to go on a star ship?"
"To Avengaea,"said the man, more than a little whistfully,"But never mind. Just go." He grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him off the couch.
Thomas frowned, Why are you helping me? Does this really happen? I mean, surely, in books and things- Has he done something horrible to you? Are you not really loyal to him?"
The man scuffed his feet against the carpet, Its nothing to do with Mr. Bishop, it's Dag-"he snapped his mouth shut and glowered down at Thomas. He pushed him toward the door, Get out of here!"
"But my cats!" Thomas hissed back at him.
"Sod your ruddy cats."
Thomas gasped. But he did see the point. Cats would slow him down an awful lot...but...but... He eyed Sophia, who sat washing herself beneath the computer chair. He couldn't leave without her at least.
The Persian ceased licking herself, locking us with him as if she understood. She flicked her bushy tail against the carpet and watched him unmovingly.
"What are you waiting for?"
Thomas didn't answer him. Instead, he inched toward Sophia, hunched over himself as he approached her.
"Forget your cats, get out of here!"
Thomas leapt, just as Sophia rose to her paws and trotted away. He missed her, for the most part, but did manage to get a grip on one of her back legs. She let out a terrible yowl and twisted around, hissing at him with claws extended.
Noise emitted from down the calls, the clunk of glass falling to carpet and the hurried patter of feet.
"Fuck!" shouted the man.
Thomas scooped Sophia up in his arms and raced out the door.