Erik narrowed his eyes upon unlocking and opening the door. Ayesha wasn't in her usual place waiting for him, looking up at him with her tongue sticking out just a little.
He pushed the door all the way open for Chirstine to enter but he didn't wait to close it after her, instead quickly going inside to look around. Christine closed the door after herself, turning the once familiar lock, then walked through the entryway, looking for Erik.
"There's my number one girl," he said from the other room, his tone warm and affectionate.
Her heart skipped a beat. What did he mean by that? Did he really think of her that way, even after—
She entered the sitting room to find he wasn't talking to her at all. He was, in fact, addressing a cat sitting on the couch. She felt her face turn red for thinking he was talking to her. Of course he wasn't! She wasn't his girl! She didn't want to be his girl either, obviously. She had no reason to be embarrassed, and yet—
"I didn't know you had a kitty!" She said, trying to pull her mind away from its strange line of thinking. She approached the couch and the cat turned its round face to look at her—or try to look at her. The poor thing's eyes were crossed, and Chirstine couldn't tell where, exactly, it was trying to look. She frowned.
"What's wrong with it?" She asked, hesitating.
The warm smile on Erik's face faltered.
"There's nothing wrong with her," he said softly.
"Oh." She resumed her move towards the cat, eager to pet the animal. She was covered in soft looking cream fur except for her face, which had smoky dark fur. Her poor eyes were such a pretty blue. Chirstine reached a hand out to pat her head when suddenly those pretty eyes narrowed at her, her dark ears going back flat on her head.
The cat hissed louder than Christine realized a cat could hiss as it disrupted it's comfy position in the shape of a loaf of bread to swat a dark paw at Christine, claws out.
Christine yelped and pulled back just in time, terrified. The cat made to leap at her again.
"Erik! Make her stop!"
"Ayesha! What are you doing?" Erik grabbed Chirstine's arm and pulled her back to a safer distance as Ayesha wound up her arm for another swat.
"How do you keep such a terror?" Christine cried.
"I've never seen her like this," Erik chuckled nervously. "She must not like your perfume or something."
She scowled as she watched the cat jump off the couch and slink out of the room, giving Christine stink eyes as she left.
"Well, I never," Christine said, scandalized.
Erik cleared his throat.
"Why don't you sit down for a bit while I finish up preparing lunch for us, hm? I'll call you into the dining room when it's ready."
She nodded, sitting in Ayesha's spot on the couch, the offending cat gone. She squirmed a little on the spot, looking around the room curiously. Not very much had changed since she'd been there. She was suddenly seized with the desire to see her old room—she would surely have enough time to go peek in before lunch was ready.
She jumped up from the couch and snuck down the hallway, her heart pounding just a little. She noticed the door was part way open, so she pushed it open just enough to look in. Her eyes went wide when she saw—and smelled—what had become of it.
All of her own belongings, of course, had gone with her. The furniture was the same, but the mirror on the vanity had a large black lace doily covering the surface. The bookshelf was mostly empty, a few odds and ends there she didn't recognize except for a peacock feather, a brush, and some crumpled up papers. There was a fancy dish on the floor at the foot of the bed that looked like it had water in it, and the bed itself was piled high with pillows and blankets she'd never seen before—and in the middle of the pillows was Erik's awful cat. Her ears were still flat back on her head as she squinted at Christine, clearly displeased at her palace having been barged into. Christine's eyes strayed to the corner of the room and noticed the pan full of sand and she realized where the scent was coming from.
Erik had turned her old room into a room for a cat.
Christine huffed, oddly offended, and turned to leave.
She tried to push it out of her mind as she sat down to lunch. It was Erik's room to do with as he pleased, not hers. It shouldn't—didn't!—bother her.
Lunch was going well. The food he had prepared was delicious, and it gave her an odd thrill to be there with him again, to know that he had made all this for her. That they were able to achieve this after everything made her heart feel full. They were equals now, or at least it felt closer to that to her. Now that the time spent around was far less in quantity and much more in quality, she was able to appreciate him and what he was like.
She was listening with interest to a story he was telling, her lips quirking a little at his dry humor as he told it, taking a quick sip of her sparkling wine, the bubbles dancing in her tongue. The moment was perfect, they were both enjoying themselves, everything was right with the world—until a hint of motion behind Erik caught her eye. She glanced to the side, her smile fading and her brow furrowing as she saw that Ayesha had decided to join them.
The cat sat in the doorway, giving Christine a haughty stare as her tail flicked, agitated. Her horrible eyes were narrowed in a way that made Christine uneasy.
Erik paused his story, noticing Christine's discomfort. He followed her eyeline and saw Ayesha watching them, a fond smile breaking out over his face.
"Oh," he said, scooting his chair back a little and beckoning to the cat. "Ayesha wants her lunch, too. Come here, sweet girl."
Christine pressed her lips into a thin line as Erik made kissy noises at the cat, who eventually deigned to approach and sniff Erik's outstretched hand. To Christine's dismay, Ayesha climbed up to sit on Erik's lap, sniffing in the direction of their plates. She made a face when she saw Christine across the table, and Christine returned the same look to her.
Erik went right back to tell the story he had been in the middle of, completely oblivious to the look of horror on Christine's face, because he was too focused on pulling apart his sandwich to feed little pieces of meat to Ayesha.
Christine found her appetite was not exactly improved by watching the little beast put her paws on the table and eat the same lunch they were having off of Erik's fingers, licking her lips and chewing open-mouthed without any sort of manners.
Ayesha looked up at Erik adoringly, placing a paw on his masked face. He chuckled and grabbed her paw, giving it a quick kiss before placing it back on his lap. She tilted her head at him. He knew she was likely confused by the mask—ever since Christine had moved out, he'd had no reason to wear it in his own home. Ayesha was used to his bare face, and this odd thing covering it puzzled her. He had to admit, he'd almost slipped up and taken it off when he'd first arrived home, almost forgetting that he had Christine in tow. No matter how many iterations of masks he'd been through in his life, no matter what material or how it was fitted, they all began to irritate his already sensitive skin after a handful of hours. He was glad to have Christine here, and he wanted to be polite in how he presented himself to her, but he was looking forward to when he could remove the mask and splash some cool water on his chafed skin.
Her meal finished, Ayesha started to squirm, and Erik set her down on the floor. Under the table, she brushed against Erik's ankles, Christine keeping a watchful eye on her. She casually stalked her way over to Christine's legs, but Christine quickly pulled her legs up and tucked them under herself, frowning at the cat.
Ayesha stopped and stared at Christine with wide eyes, her tail going back and forth, and finally she turned to leave. Christine shuddered.
When lunch and their conversation was finished, Christine reluctantly walked with Erik to the front door. The afternoon had been so lovely, for the most part. They said their lingering goodbyes, and she was on her way.
Ayesha was right behind Erik when he closed the door. She looked up at him pitifully, meowing.
"What's wrong, darling?" He asked, reaching down to pet her, running a hand over her, head to tail, trying to smooth down the fur that was bristled like a bottle brush. "Why don't you like her?"
Ayesha merely blinked at him and wrinkled her nose.
