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[fleahopping]

Bring it here.
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[outofgalway]

[cont.]

When Flea arrives back where they were, Colin isn't anywhere in sight. He does arrive a little while later, though, carrying a dead prairie dog, and smiles when he spots her.

"Hey. You were fast." He has no idea if she can respond in human language, and doesn't really expect it. Shame that Night Hunter isn't around, he could translate for them... well. In a pinch they can always get their phones back out. "I'll have to dress and cook this first, since you wanted cooked, I hope the wait is okay." Not like she has another choice, really.

[fleahopping]

Cats are fortunately patient creatures, used to stalking elusive mice and shy birds for hours, so she doesn't mind the wait. Instead she sits down on her bum and starts cleaning up, tail, back, paws. He arrives to the sight of her contorted as she tries to reach her stomach. Once he's there, she quickly changes into something more dignified, looking up at him. She has spoken human since she became a reaper, she understands him perfectly.

"Well, I suppose as long as you entertain me in the meanwhile." He gets the equivalent of a feline smirk, because she fully expects that he can talk and dress his kill and cook it, too, at the same time. Then, a bit more softly, she says: "Any after-effects of your little incident last night?"

[outofgalway]

At least she wasn't licking her butt when he arrived. It could always be less dignified. Not that it would have bothered him. It's a cat thing.

"Not much, no. Except for this." He taps an angry, ragged scar that runs over the side of his neck and vanishes under his collar. It looks worse under the fabric, but he's not the kind of person who would run around shirtless to show it off. Or who has the money to get a new shirt that at least shows off a bit more of it.

He's still not fully recovered, that aside, but... that's just how life goes. It will pass with time. Ignore and move on. Even if he's still shaken from the experience. There's no point in dwelling on it.