Author's note: Happy New Year! Update chapters 2 and 3 as of 3/1/2023.

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Chapter 3 What did you just say?

Gin would never have thought that one day he would stand on a veterinarian's examination table and let a strange man put his hands all over him. The force from his clenched jaw alone could turn coals into diamonds.

The vet said, "He's a little underweight but overall healthy."

"Thank you." Vermouth let out a rare warm smile and stroked Gin's furry head. "You're doing great, sweetie."

"You. Owe. Me. Woman." Gin yowled.

While Gin was distracted, the vet quickly vaccinated him and cooed. "Good job, buddy."

Gin scoffed and shrugged the man's hands off. He had had bullets lodged in his person without so much as a grunt.

The vet asked Vermouth, "Why don't you name him?"

"I don't want to get attached. I'm asking around to find him a permanent home." Vermouth ran her hand along his back. "My schedule is too crazy for a pet."

Gin narrowed his eyes. He knew exactly what she was implying; it wasn't her celebrity lifestyle. But his gaze grew determined. You're not getting rid of me that easily.

"Shame. He seems to like you," the vet said. "If money is not a problem, may I suggest something?"

"Go on."

"Neuter. It's healthier and easier to find him a home."

Gin froze, completely caught off guard. "What did you just say?"

"A quick snip." With a sickeningly sweet smile, the vet innocently made a cutting gesture with his fingers, unknowingly digging his own grave.

"Neuter? NEUTER!?" Gin growled, baring his fangs. His fur puffed up and became spiky like an angry blowfish. His tail started thrashing the table. His claws unsheathed.

"What's wrong?" Vermouth asked, leaning in.

Through years of experience, the vet sensed bloodlust in the air and slowly backed away.

Gin perfectly aimed for his prey's carotid arteries, but with a lightning-fast reaction, Vermouth quickly held him down before he could pounce. "It's alright, sweetie."

Gin growled, thrashing in her arms. "Let go! I'll bite his head off!"

A thought occurred to Vermouth. She smiled into his furry head. "Don't worry. Your little package is safe."

Her words worked magic on Gin as he slowly calmed down and let her cradle him. He searched her twinkling eyes for any hints of deceit. Finally, his face twisted into a befuddling mess as he snarled his objection. "Little?"

An image of a certain grumpy man flashed in Vermouth's mind. She laughed heartily and peppered him with kisses. "You're too cute."

"Knock it off." Gin tried to push her away but only fueled her intensity. Eventually, he rolled his eyes and surrendered to her affection.

-o0o-

Gentle sunlight poured through the windows of Vermouth's study as she relaxed on a chaise lounge, listening to Gin's purring on her stomach. Her fingers petted his head. His eyes were half closed, his paws blissfully kneading her bosom.

"Now, what am I going to name you?"

He couldn't give a damn at the moment, even though it meant she was keeping him after all. She could name him Mr. Pickle for all he cared as long as she stayed still and let the biscuits-making continue. This day should be celebrated every year as the day he discovered kneading.

Her gaze landed on a golden statue. "How about Oscar? You look like an Oscar."

How? How does a cat look like anything but a cat? He scoffed internally, then the sound of a ringing phone interrupted his peaceful existence. It wasn't coming from her regular cell but a burner for her fishier contacts. His kneading stopped.

She answered on the first ring. "Any news?"

He couldn't eavesdrop on the whole conversation, but being so close to her, a soft sigh was booming to his ears. It wasn't good news.

"Are you sure? You check everywhere?" She frowned, then a derisive snort pierced the reply from whoever was on the other line. "Someone like him doesn't just disappear."

You're investigating me? An alarm went off in his head as he contemplated the meaning behind Vermouth's actions. She had been to his house and many of his hideouts. They would be the first places she checked. Not that he had anything to hide.

"And Vodka?" The faint worry in her tone turned into a scoff. "Finally, his ineptitude has some use. Thanks, anyway. Keep me in the loop."

The thought of Vodka being suspected in his disappearance hadn't crossed his mind until now. It was Vodka. But given Vodka's naivety, he could be a pawn in someone else's scheme. However, from the gist of Vermouth's phone call, Vodka was cleared of any wrongdoing.

Gin sighed in relief. So relieved that he missed her twinkling eyes directed at him.

"Sweetie, what do you think about a cat sitter? He'll be slow. You'll need to be extra patient with him."

His eyes widened. You don't say …

-o0o-

"Look what I've got!" Lisa burst into the study dragging a giant bag.

"Lisa, you shouldn't have," Vermouth said, stroking Gin's head as he lay on her belly. His paws rhythmically kneaded the dough.

"I just want to spoil this cutie pie so much." Lisa cooed.

Excuse me? He paused momentarily to send Lisa a burning glare. Lucky for her that he was too comfortable to sustain his anger.

"Look at this adorable cat bed!" Lisa enthusiastically pulled out a nest in the shape of a bowl of instant noodles, complete with a soft lid.

He barely batted an eye.

"How about a feather wand?" Lisa flicked the toy in front of him, trying to coax a reaction, but to no avail. He merely snorted and continued kneading. A persistent Lisa pulled out a furry mouse and turned on the switch. Incredibly unrealistic noises filled the room. "Squeaky? Squeaky?"

His derisive silence was palpable.

"How about a scratchboard?"

He couldn't roll his eyes hard enough.

"Oscar, look at these adorable hats!" As a last-ditch effort, Lisa pulled out a bunch of hats and tried to put one on him, only for him to glare at her and swat her hands away. Lisa pouted. "Come on. I fed you yesterday. Remember the yummy tuna."

Because Vermouth told you to. He scoffed.

Amused by their interaction, Vermouth smiled and spotted a black fedora lying on the floor. She placed the fedora on his head without much resistance. "Take his picture for me."

He sighed. Fine. Just one.

"See. Adorable." Lisa beamed and complied. "You'll be a big hit on Instagram."

"Instagram?" Vermouth arched an eyebrow.

"I know you don't care about social media, Sharon. But look at this cutie pie." Lisa cooed. "Let me set up an account for him. Please. Please. Please."

"No. Absolutely not." He yowled, then snarled at the actress. "Vermouth, say no."

Unfortunately for him, Vermouth gave in. "Alright. But you don't post anything without my go-ahead."

"What have I ever done to you?" He meowed in quiet resignation.

"Yes!" Lisa pumped her fist, then rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Now, we need a catchy name."

"I can't help you there." Actually, Vermouth could, but Sharon couldn't. She had an image to maintain.

"How could you do this to me?" He yowled and received a chin scratch for his protest. His mind gradually turned into mush. Can't … must resist … ah!

"Mister Crank … No." Lisa narrowed her eyes, and then a light bulb lit up in her mind. "I know. Lord Grumpy."

Vermouth couldn't help but laugh heartily, much to his darkening expression.

At first, he was just another cute cat in the sea of internet felines. Then, the famous actors working with Sharon on set reached out and congratulated him on his debut, which stoked public interest. Soon, the wholesome story of a lucky stray cat adopted by the great Sharon Vineyard came out. Sharon's elusiveness and scorn toward social media further fueled the fever. If they couldn't follow her, they could follow her cat. Her army of fans satiated their obsession through Lord Grumpy, hoping to catch a glimpse of the star and decipher her life through his posts. Furthermore, he possessed a unique condescending attitude that perfectly hit the craze. Overnight, Lord Grumpy became an internet sensation.

Great. Just great.

-o0o-