One evening, when Saionji came home earlier than usual, Touga replied to his usual greeting form a spot on the floor. There, he was surrounded by a profusion of cat toys, things that jingled and crinkled, rolled and flopped. He held the end of a string attached to a strip of tiger-striped fabric ending in a neon green pom pom, which the cat followed intently, eyes wide and tail twitching furiously.
"Where did all this come from?" Saionji asked.
Touga turned his attention back to the cat. "There's a pet store not two blocks from here. Don't tell me you didn't notice."
Saionji hadn't. He left his shoes by the door and stowed his book bag of plain, sturdy canvas in its usual spot by the desk.
"The girl working there was quite helpful."
Saionji bristled.
"She was so interested to hear about Jeanne, too."
"Jeanne?" Saionji hadn't even known that the cat was female.
"Well, you never told me she had a name, and we certainly couldn't keep going about calling her 'the cat,' could we?"
"I don't see why not," Saionji muttered, but Touga ignored him.
"The girl at the pet store even gave me her phone number. I might call her soon, she was so sweet."
Saionji almost snapped at Touga, but caught himself in time. He turned away, pulled a book from his bag, and settled down to read. Touga continued to play with the cat, and when they were finished, Saionji thought that if Touga could have curled up like the cat, head resting on its paws in self-satisfaction, he would have.
The two of them barely spoke to one another for the rest of the evening.