"Thanks," Kieren calls quietly, still sitting on the edge of the bed for a little while longer after Kal goes to make himself comfortable in the living room. He hears the brief one-sided conversation, at least until he's distracted by something rubbing across his shins, nearly making him jump.
But when a cat looks up at you balefully there's only so much you can do, and gently shooing it away doesn't seem to have any actual effect, so Kieren has to just kind of accept that suddenly Kal's cat is just kind of...here, and apparently determined to leave a smell on his leg by way of rubbing his face on it. Kieren lets it go for now, but he scoots back onto the bed proper and spreads out the blanket to finally get comfortable enough to power down for the night. It would be much easier for him to run his self-repair, and really make good use of the thirium that the human had scrounged for him.
Ending up with a large amount of fluffy, squash-faced cat resting on his sternum during the night isn't ideal. But it is nicer than just laying there alone, anxious that something is going to happen in the night where neither he nor his host could react to it.
In the morning Kieren would be coming out of sleep mode, but still resting a little while longer, just listening to the world outside waking up as well. Early morning traffic always makes the biggest racket...but it's nice to just listen to it until he actually needs to do something.
There's the occasional breach of claws from the beans of its paws, the slow and intrepid kneading of a cat who wants to nest into him - but otherwise, it's a quiet night rife with crickets and the brief flit of traffic from the early mornin' crews.
Consciousness hits Kal around 8a and he palms for his phone, sliding off the couch by plying his legs forward, and eventually he hits all fours on the carpet. Spine arches, shoulders roll, and he makes sure every vertebrae is still intact with a stretch that creaks and pops. It's enough to wake Ivory up from her diagnostics run, and she drops her single-optic gaze down to stare at the kid until he fucking realizes it's time.
And Kal does, he doesn't forget the promise he made. He palms for the remote, whips it toward the tele, and flicks the station to a daily talk show with the juttin', polished profile of one Andrew Andrews, who is talkin' somethin' smooth about local restaurants.
He eventually gets to his feet and to the kitchen he goes, maneuvering through the morning rites of cheap coffee, off brand cream cheese, and a couple slices of bread.
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Date: 2018-08-31 03:03 am (UTC)But when a cat looks up at you balefully there's only so much you can do, and gently shooing it away doesn't seem to have any actual effect, so Kieren has to just kind of accept that suddenly Kal's cat is just kind of...here, and apparently determined to leave a smell on his leg by way of rubbing his face on it. Kieren lets it go for now, but he scoots back onto the bed proper and spreads out the blanket to finally get comfortable enough to power down for the night. It would be much easier for him to run his self-repair, and really make good use of the thirium that the human had scrounged for him.
Ending up with a large amount of fluffy, squash-faced cat resting on his sternum during the night isn't ideal. But it is nicer than just laying there alone, anxious that something is going to happen in the night where neither he nor his host could react to it.
In the morning Kieren would be coming out of sleep mode, but still resting a little while longer, just listening to the world outside waking up as well. Early morning traffic always makes the biggest racket...but it's nice to just listen to it until he actually needs to do something.
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Date: 2018-09-02 12:58 pm (UTC)Consciousness hits Kal around 8a and he palms for his phone, sliding off the couch by plying his legs forward, and eventually he hits all fours on the carpet. Spine arches, shoulders roll, and he makes sure every vertebrae is still intact with a stretch that creaks and pops. It's enough to wake Ivory up from her diagnostics run, and she drops her single-optic gaze down to stare at the kid until he fucking realizes it's time.
And Kal does, he doesn't forget the promise he made. He palms for the remote, whips it toward the tele, and flicks the station to a daily talk show with the juttin', polished profile of one Andrew Andrews, who is talkin' somethin' smooth about local restaurants.
He eventually gets to his feet and to the kitchen he goes, maneuvering through the morning rites of cheap coffee, off brand cream cheese, and a couple slices of bread.