Admittedly, Hardison was a bit wary to buy Parker an old 19th century camera. Yes, the big kind with a stand and a drape to go over the photographer as they bent down to take the picture. But she begged and pleaded him with those cute eyes of hers and he couldn't resist. So he'd ordered one and it'd been dropped off at the brewery and now resided in a corner of his workroom. At first, it seemed looked like she hadn't touched it. It just sat there, keeping him company as he tinkered with his toys, and he never saw her touch it. He thought it had just been a passing fancy of hers and now she had moved on to something else.
That was, until he started hearing the meowing.
It was subtle at first. He thought it was just his imagination or he'd rubbed something and it'd created that sound. But after a while, it started to become louder and more frequent. He looked all around his workroom and, when he didn't find a cat hiding anywhere, he started looking for some sound device Eliot might've put there to annoy him. His search came up empty.
Until he'd been standing next to the camera and heard an especially loud "meow".
His head snapped to the side and his eyes widened.
"No." He breathed. Parker wouldn't actually . . .
He lifted the drape and used his fingers to pry off the side of the camera. When the siding came off, he found himself staring at an adult tabby cat, looking up at him with wide eyes. Startled and confused, he placed the siding back on the camera and left to find Parker.
"Parker?" She looked up at him briefly from her place at the bar, where she was fiddling with some locks. "You remember that camera I got you a few weeks ago?"
"Yeah?" Her attention was back to the particularly stubborn lock in her hand.
"Did you put an entire cat in it?" He asked.
She looked up at him, without a hint of embarrassment or shock, and said, "Yeah," before going back to the lock. Hardison's mouth opened and closed and his hands made random patterns in the air. After a few seconds, he got his voice back.
"Why?"
"Because I could. I mean, he just fits in there so perfectly." Her voice held a trace of excitement as she looked up at him.
"Is that why you wanted that camera?" His one eyebrow raised at her.
"Yeah. What else would I use it for?"
Hardison's hand flew to his mouth and he looked up at the ceiling. "You can't just shove cats into cameras, Parker."
Well that was a phrase he never thought he'd say.
"Why not?" She seemed genuinely sad and the lock in her hand drooped slightly.
"Because cats don't go in cameras. They belong outside of cameras. In fact, cats shouldn't be shoved into anything." He tried to explain, his hands flailing now.
Eliot burst through the doors from the back, holding up the cat in question by the scruff of its neck. "What the hell was this doing in a 19th Century camera, PARKER?" His gaze trained on Parker.
"He fit perfectly!" She half-shrieked at him.
"You don't shove cats into cameras! I'm taking it outside!" He shouted and started walking to the exit of the brewery.
"No! Don't take Parker Jr.!" She flung herself after him.
Hardison put his hand on his forehead and sighed. He could hear them as they argued out of the brewery. Maybe he should take that camera back.
