Twitterpation: Betsy and Arthur
May. 2nd, 2015 10:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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om_mainBetsy coaxes the sulky kitten that is Arthur down off the ceiling, and even manages not to laugh at him too much.
When things had finally settled down for the day Betsy wandered up to junior staff hallway, intending to stop by her room for a bit before going back to animal duty. Until the students were returned to their natural states she assumed she'd be crashing at the school to help play translator. As she passed Arthur's door she realized he was still in residence, and she hadn't seen him all day. She had to wonder was "currently indisposed" actually meant. Betsy stopped and knocked on the door.
You doing okay in there? she asked, leaving the line open in case he didn't come to the door.
It was stupid. Arthur was well aware that it was stupid, but unfortunately the irrationality wasn't actually helping things much. Eames lived to push limits, that was nothing new. And his sense of humor often left something to be desired. The idea that he'd want to have a bit too much fun with Arthur's current unfortunate state was really something he should have seen coming. Just how annoying it would be, though, was a bit more surprising. Arthur suddenly had a great deal of sympathy for the thousands of pictures on the internet of unimpressed cats in stupid hats.
And the fact that he couldn't get the stupid bowtie back off was just icing on the cake. That, more than anything, might have been why Eames was probably still wandering around with an impressive collection of scratches and Arthur was currently curled into a corner of the ceiling and glaring as balefully as he could at the door.
But Betsy at least deserved an answer. Or possibly needed one, before someone started to get worried. Fine, he sent back, short and full of barely-repressed irritation.
Betsy considered the tone of his reaction. You're something small and fluffy, aren't you? she asked.
What she got back was a wordless blast of the irritation that had been stewing since he'd woken up to fur.
May I come in? she asked. Suspect you've only had one-sided conversations all day, and talking through a door will eventually get old.
Arthur toyed with saying no for a moment, but that was perhaps more childish than even he could put up with. Go ahead, he sent back with as close to a sigh as a cat could manage.
Betsy opened the door and let herself in. She left the telepathic line open, but said out loud. "Oh god. Are you stuck on the ceiling or do you just hate the world that much today?"
He peered down at her with narrowed eyes, tail lashing behind him. Wouldn't you? Arthur sent back grumpily, as close to an answer as he was likely to get.
"Maybe, but I'm not sure about hiding on the ceiling. You going to stay up there until they fix this?"
I might. But from the sightly wry undercurrent to the thought, Arthur was well aware of just how petulant he was being. You have an alternative?
"Come down, maybe eat something? I won't suggest gracing the public. I mean, you could just sulk up there. I imagine it will be super awkward the minute you turn back." She raised a brow at him.
There was a long moment where Arthur just shifted a little. Then finally, with an internal sigh, the kitten suddenly drifted down from the ceiling, slowly sinking his way to the floor.
"Right," Betsy said. "Have you eaten? Would you like out of this room if I can keep us out of public eye?"
Can you get this thing off, first? Once he'd settled onto the floor, Arthur settled back onto his haunches and pawed at the stupid bowtie .
Betsy knelt down and reached to undo the bowtie. "Very dapper. I take it your significant other is to blame?"
He finds himself amusing, Arthur said by way of agreement, pawing at her hand in gratitude.
She gave him the briefest rub to the top his head. "I'm forever thankful he usually spares you the outrageous fashion. " She looked closer at the bow. "Your color at least."
He butted his head against her hand without thinking. Somehow I'm not reassured.
"How will your dignity feel about me picking you up?" Betsy asked.
I'll manage, Arthur promised dryly, getting back to his feet. Just don't dress me up and we'll be fine.
"Okay." She scooped him up. "Food? Or sunlight?"
Food, he said, curling up in her grip. Though preferably not catfood.
"Oh, we can do better than that," Betsy promised. "Do you want me to hide you if we run into anyone?"
No, Arthur said firmly and tipped his head back to consider her for a moment before carefully and determinedly climbing up her arm to settle on her shoulder. I don't care. I just didn't want to be bothered.
Betsy smiled and glanced at Arthur out of the corner of her eye. "Healthier attitude. Alright, onward Bagheera."
When things had finally settled down for the day Betsy wandered up to junior staff hallway, intending to stop by her room for a bit before going back to animal duty. Until the students were returned to their natural states she assumed she'd be crashing at the school to help play translator. As she passed Arthur's door she realized he was still in residence, and she hadn't seen him all day. She had to wonder was "currently indisposed" actually meant. Betsy stopped and knocked on the door.
You doing okay in there? she asked, leaving the line open in case he didn't come to the door.
It was stupid. Arthur was well aware that it was stupid, but unfortunately the irrationality wasn't actually helping things much. Eames lived to push limits, that was nothing new. And his sense of humor often left something to be desired. The idea that he'd want to have a bit too much fun with Arthur's current unfortunate state was really something he should have seen coming. Just how annoying it would be, though, was a bit more surprising. Arthur suddenly had a great deal of sympathy for the thousands of pictures on the internet of unimpressed cats in stupid hats.
And the fact that he couldn't get the stupid bowtie back off was just icing on the cake. That, more than anything, might have been why Eames was probably still wandering around with an impressive collection of scratches and Arthur was currently curled into a corner of the ceiling and glaring as balefully as he could at the door.
But Betsy at least deserved an answer. Or possibly needed one, before someone started to get worried. Fine, he sent back, short and full of barely-repressed irritation.
Betsy considered the tone of his reaction. You're something small and fluffy, aren't you? she asked.
What she got back was a wordless blast of the irritation that had been stewing since he'd woken up to fur.
May I come in? she asked. Suspect you've only had one-sided conversations all day, and talking through a door will eventually get old.
Arthur toyed with saying no for a moment, but that was perhaps more childish than even he could put up with. Go ahead, he sent back with as close to a sigh as a cat could manage.
Betsy opened the door and let herself in. She left the telepathic line open, but said out loud. "Oh god. Are you stuck on the ceiling or do you just hate the world that much today?"
He peered down at her with narrowed eyes, tail lashing behind him. Wouldn't you? Arthur sent back grumpily, as close to an answer as he was likely to get.
"Maybe, but I'm not sure about hiding on the ceiling. You going to stay up there until they fix this?"
I might. But from the sightly wry undercurrent to the thought, Arthur was well aware of just how petulant he was being. You have an alternative?
"Come down, maybe eat something? I won't suggest gracing the public. I mean, you could just sulk up there. I imagine it will be super awkward the minute you turn back." She raised a brow at him.
There was a long moment where Arthur just shifted a little. Then finally, with an internal sigh, the kitten suddenly drifted down from the ceiling, slowly sinking his way to the floor.
"Right," Betsy said. "Have you eaten? Would you like out of this room if I can keep us out of public eye?"
Can you get this thing off, first? Once he'd settled onto the floor, Arthur settled back onto his haunches and pawed at the stupid bowtie .
Betsy knelt down and reached to undo the bowtie. "Very dapper. I take it your significant other is to blame?"
He finds himself amusing, Arthur said by way of agreement, pawing at her hand in gratitude.
She gave him the briefest rub to the top his head. "I'm forever thankful he usually spares you the outrageous fashion. " She looked closer at the bow. "Your color at least."
He butted his head against her hand without thinking. Somehow I'm not reassured.
"How will your dignity feel about me picking you up?" Betsy asked.
I'll manage, Arthur promised dryly, getting back to his feet. Just don't dress me up and we'll be fine.
"Okay." She scooped him up. "Food? Or sunlight?"
Food, he said, curling up in her grip. Though preferably not catfood.
"Oh, we can do better than that," Betsy promised. "Do you want me to hide you if we run into anyone?"
No, Arthur said firmly and tipped his head back to consider her for a moment before carefully and determinedly climbing up her arm to settle on her shoulder. I don't care. I just didn't want to be bothered.
Betsy smiled and glanced at Arthur out of the corner of her eye. "Healthier attitude. Alright, onward Bagheera."
