Disclaimer: Oh no, I actually wrote it. This can't end well...
AN: This is set, of course, during case four of Justice For All. I have to say... I feel sorry for de Killer here. It's not a job I like to do either. And seriously, if you don't think you can handle great volumes of kitty vomit, turn back now.
The noise was unmistakable. Unique and instantly recognizable, even to those who had little experience with animals. Very much like a gunshot, de Killer mused grimly as he watched Shoe continue to retch onto the foyer's pristine white carpet. This, among other reasons of course, though this was particularly high on the list, was why he disliked pets. They destroyed your things and filled your home with disgusting smells.
With her upset stomach finally empty, Shoe gave one last mighty heave then sat back on her haunches, looking up at the assassin with an aura of sheer pride. It was akin to a preschooler showing off the lopsided popsicle stick and pasta sculpture they created in class. Look what I did mommy!
De Killer was not amused. Intrigued, astounded, and slightly nauseated, yes; but not amused. The emotions he felt were quite appropriate, however.
Intrigued because of the shape Shoe had managed to maneuver the pile into while laying the foul material down. From his elevated view of her "masterpiece" he could see the yellowish-brown pool of vomit had been wrought with feline precision into the rough shape of a fantail goldfish, complete with undigested pieces of said goldfish from the aquarium and bits of chewed metallic cellophane wrappers for that extra pizzazz.
Astounded because of the sheer volume of material. How could such a small cat produce so much?! There had to be more there than the infernal cat's own body mass!
And slightly nauseated for obvious reasons, plus the dilemma of exactly who was going to deal with the mess when he and Shoe were the only souls in the house.
For a long moment de Killer refused, turning his back on the mess and deciding to let Engarde clean up after his precious kitty once he returned from the Detention Center. His reasons were simple. One, it was disgusting; and two, he offered aftercare as part of his service, not animalcare. As an assassin he could not be expected to pick up piles of cat puke, nor would he. Besides, if Engarde had the money to hire him, he would certainly have the resources to have his carpets professionally cleaned or even replaced.
It wasn't until the assassin was halfway down the hall to the kitchen that the thought occurred to him: For this aftercare package, he was supposed to be the butler. The butler who takes care to arrange the household's affairs and keep the mansion itself spotless. No... The vomit was directly in the center of the foyer. Should visitors like Mr. Wright or anyone from the Criminal Affairs Department come calling there would be no way they could miss such an obvious blight on the carpet. It might throw suspicion onto the "butler" and endanger his client. He... He had no choice but to clean it up!
Shoe, who followed de Killer down the hall (staying close behind and batting at his coattails as he went in an attempt to be adorable) purred loudly as she saw the assassin pull the assorted cleaning supplies from the manor's closest broom closet. It only confirmed de Killer's belief that she was an even crueler, more sadistic and controlling creature than her owner could ever hope to be.
This was going to cost Engarde extra, of that de Killer was sure, but luckily he was quite skilled at removing stubborn stains from carpet...
AN: Ah, cats... I love them, really, but I absolutely loathe cleaning up after them. That's what I was doing yesterday, by the way. My dear, gigantic cat decided to get into the trash, eat some candy wrappers, and go on a puking spree. By the time I finished cleaning it all up, he was chewing on a another wrapper. Do you have any idea how hard it is to pull cellophane out of a cat's mouth when they want to swallow it?