Chapter 8; Guests

The kitten was looking up at Louise, her front paws on the woman's legs.

"I'll be alright," Louise was telling the kitten, rubbing her gently between the ears. "They're good guys, these two."

The kitten nodded in agreement. Humbert was almost certain of it, but Louise had stopped crying, so he pulled out another of his kitchen chairs and sat down so that he could talk to her.

"Oh, hey Humbert, I was just reassuring Haru here that I was okay," Louise said, looking up at the man from the kitten.

"But you're not, not yet anyway," Humbert said. She hadn't called him Humbert since she had started calling him Baron, not once since then. "Haru?" he asked, taking in something else his friend had said.

"That's what she says her name is, don't look at me like that. Da used to hit everyone; it's just been such a long time since he did it to me, I'd forgotten. Really, I'm fine," Louise insisted, changing the subject from the kitten to her bruise then bringing her teacup to her lips.

"Yeah, alright, but look, I've unrolled the sofa-bed, so you and Greg're welcome to stay here tonight if you need to. Your dad might be on the rampage still after all, and he knows where you two live," Humbert pointed out, picking up the kitten and settling her in his lap.

She hadn't been in his life long, but she was a warm, comforting presence already, even if he had panicked about his mother seeing her the day he'd found her in the bin. The little one even had a name now: Haru. Even with the sun rising in her face, Louise had done what she always did – solved his little problems before he had time to worry about them – without even thinking about it.

Haru purred as he ran his fingers along her back. Humbert had no idea what sort of name Haru was, but it was easier to go with it than try and think of something else. Actually, it suited her. Haru was an unusual name to him, and the kitten was also unusual – completely brown, a rare breed.

"Haru, huh?" he murmured.

Greg made dinner. Humbert told him – several times – that he didn't have to, but Greg had insisted. Ten minutes later, when all four of them were eating Greg's hearty soup (yes, even the kitten Haru had some in her bowl), Humbert was glad the fellow had ignored him.

The man could really cook. It was fantastic, and there was extra, so Humbert could freeze some for another meal some time.

Louise and Greg went to sleep on the sofa-bed, too stressed from a sudden and violent day to fool around, and grateful enough to Humbert to not want to make any noise that might disturb him.

Humbert walked almost heavily up the stairs to his bedroom. He wasn't used to having days like this one, but the next day was Monday, and he had to work. That meant getting a good night's sleep so that he would be able to work. It wasn't anything spectacular, just tuning engines at the 'shop, but he was good at it and it paid.

The bed he'd bought for the kitten he placed in the cozy little space under the desk in his room. It wasn't quite the same as having her purring from beneath the bed, but he should encourage that sort of thing with pets – according to the pamphlet that he'd been given at the vet's clinic.

"Goodnight Haru," Humbert said quietly, enjoying the velvety feel of her ears and fur between his fingers before he changed into his pyjamas and flopped onto his bed. "What a day," he mumbled to himself. "And work tomorrow on top of all this."