(OOC: Taken from my teaser thread. Re-writing it out of second person was becoming a bear, so I just left it for now.)
A gray cat sits before you, staring off to its right. As you approach he looks up toward your face and his tail twitches across the ground, curling around his rear leg. It seems to study your face; you're quite sure it just seems to be studying it, because everyone knows that cats don't have higher thought processes. You mutter something under your breath and walk on past the cat, away from its unnerving gaze.
"Sorry, what was that?"
The voice comes from behind you. It seems masculine, but you're not quite sure. You pause in confusion and turn around, but see no one else. The cat is still staring at you, those piercing green eyes judging you silently. Or, they would, if cats really did judge. They certainly seem spiteful enough creatures, but you know that most people merely personify their own feelings onto animals. That cat can no more judge you than it can actually have 9 lives. You shrug and turn back around to continue on your way.
"Um, excuse me? I asked you a question. It's only polite to answer."
Mid-step you freeze. What is going on here? You turn around again, to find that no one else has appeared. The cat has tilted its head to the side, but just as you narrow your gaze it begins to groom its paw. Is there someone invisible there? Are you being pranked? You bite your lip and turn as if to go, only to turn back again as quickly as possible. Nothing jumps away, nothing mysteriously vanishes. The only thing of note is the cat, still grooming its paw.
"I must be losing my mind," you say quietly to yourself.
Once more you turn around and take a few steps, until the quiet voice retorts, "I assure you, you aren't. You're just as sane as most people."
You freeze and the hair on your body raise. The cat walks up on your right side, tail flopping from side to side. It looks up at your face again, seemingly smirking. You blink quickly and shake your head; cats don't smirk. They just look like they're smirking because of the cut of their lips. You're sure you're only projecting onto the cat again. Yet even as you think this, the cat jumps to a higher elevation and turns to face you.
"Anyway, I've decided that answer doesn't really matter. Bored of it now, in fact since you were so impolite earlier. Now, what I want to know is, just who are you? And more importantly, why was I drawn here, out of all the places and times that I could be, to you on this particular day at this particular time, and in this particular place?" the cat says to you rather frankly.
You find yourself just a tad bit dumbfounded. Either you have gone irretrievably mad, or you did just indeed see that cat start talking to you. More importantly, he just called you rude. For a minute, you don't even really know how to take that, much less how to respond. But the clock is ticking, and he's staring at you again.
What should you do?
Dr. Lansing's post:
Dr. Eric Lansing stared at the cat, and then winced as the pocket of his lab coat stirred. Sharp little claws pinched him as the previously sleeping occupant in his pocket awoke and poked its head out to figure out what all the fuss was about.
Probably no one would expect a rat's face to peer out, let alone one that glowed. And if it were possible, the rat glowed a little brighter, whiskers twitching before it chattered its teeth at the cat in warning.
Eric hastily covered the rat with his hand. "First things first," he said to the cat, "you don't eat my rat friend, Tungsten, and I promise I'll try to return you to wherever you came from. And Tungsten, don't tease the cat or I won't be giving you any peanuts. You hear me?"
Tungsten chattered softly back and then burrowed back down into Eric's pocket, where it curled up to go back to sleep, leaving Eric to deal with the temporally dislocated cat.
"Right, so...what exactly are you? You're not just a cat, if you can speak to me. Oh--my name's Eric. Doctor Eric Lansing, and this is my lab." He gestured at the smoking remains of what was a vat of something viscous and bubbling, and the blackened concrete wall behind it. "Er, this was my lab."
New Post:
The cat studied the rat as it burrowed back down inside the doctor's pocket, following the glow until the doctor's hand gestures pulled his gaze away. He then looked around, really noticing the details of his location for the first time. Various lab equipment lay scattered around, and the bubbling, smoking container gave off an acrid smell for him. He sat down slowly on the lab work table, lest he suddenly find a puddle of liquid with his rear.
"Well, Dr. Lansing, I sometimes ask myself that very question from day to day, believe it or not." He sighed, a bit dramatically for effect. "Tell me, are you familiar with quantum theory? From the state of your laboratory, I'd wager to say your some sort of chemist, but I've been wrong before. I certainly respect the need to double, or even triple dip into whatever branches of science are necessary for research and discovery."
His tail swept out, bumping into any beakers or flasks on the table, but the pressure wouldn't have been hard enough to knock them over. He watched Dr. Lansing, and more specifically watched his pocket for signs of movement. Regrettable though it was, instinct is a powerful thing and not easily forgotten - even in a thought experiment turned reality.
A gray cat sits before you, staring off to its right. As you approach he looks up toward your face and his tail twitches across the ground, curling around his rear leg. It seems to study your face; you're quite sure it just seems to be studying it, because everyone knows that cats don't have higher thought processes. You mutter something under your breath and walk on past the cat, away from its unnerving gaze.
"Sorry, what was that?"
The voice comes from behind you. It seems masculine, but you're not quite sure. You pause in confusion and turn around, but see no one else. The cat is still staring at you, those piercing green eyes judging you silently. Or, they would, if cats really did judge. They certainly seem spiteful enough creatures, but you know that most people merely personify their own feelings onto animals. That cat can no more judge you than it can actually have 9 lives. You shrug and turn back around to continue on your way.
"Um, excuse me? I asked you a question. It's only polite to answer."
Mid-step you freeze. What is going on here? You turn around again, to find that no one else has appeared. The cat has tilted its head to the side, but just as you narrow your gaze it begins to groom its paw. Is there someone invisible there? Are you being pranked? You bite your lip and turn as if to go, only to turn back again as quickly as possible. Nothing jumps away, nothing mysteriously vanishes. The only thing of note is the cat, still grooming its paw.
"I must be losing my mind," you say quietly to yourself.
Once more you turn around and take a few steps, until the quiet voice retorts, "I assure you, you aren't. You're just as sane as most people."
You freeze and the hair on your body raise. The cat walks up on your right side, tail flopping from side to side. It looks up at your face again, seemingly smirking. You blink quickly and shake your head; cats don't smirk. They just look like they're smirking because of the cut of their lips. You're sure you're only projecting onto the cat again. Yet even as you think this, the cat jumps to a higher elevation and turns to face you.
"Anyway, I've decided that answer doesn't really matter. Bored of it now, in fact since you were so impolite earlier. Now, what I want to know is, just who are you? And more importantly, why was I drawn here, out of all the places and times that I could be, to you on this particular day at this particular time, and in this particular place?" the cat says to you rather frankly.
You find yourself just a tad bit dumbfounded. Either you have gone irretrievably mad, or you did just indeed see that cat start talking to you. More importantly, he just called you rude. For a minute, you don't even really know how to take that, much less how to respond. But the clock is ticking, and he's staring at you again.
What should you do?
Dr. Lansing's post:
Dr. Eric Lansing stared at the cat, and then winced as the pocket of his lab coat stirred. Sharp little claws pinched him as the previously sleeping occupant in his pocket awoke and poked its head out to figure out what all the fuss was about.
Probably no one would expect a rat's face to peer out, let alone one that glowed. And if it were possible, the rat glowed a little brighter, whiskers twitching before it chattered its teeth at the cat in warning.
Eric hastily covered the rat with his hand. "First things first," he said to the cat, "you don't eat my rat friend, Tungsten, and I promise I'll try to return you to wherever you came from. And Tungsten, don't tease the cat or I won't be giving you any peanuts. You hear me?"
Tungsten chattered softly back and then burrowed back down into Eric's pocket, where it curled up to go back to sleep, leaving Eric to deal with the temporally dislocated cat.
"Right, so...what exactly are you? You're not just a cat, if you can speak to me. Oh--my name's Eric. Doctor Eric Lansing, and this is my lab." He gestured at the smoking remains of what was a vat of something viscous and bubbling, and the blackened concrete wall behind it. "Er, this was my lab."
New Post:
The cat studied the rat as it burrowed back down inside the doctor's pocket, following the glow until the doctor's hand gestures pulled his gaze away. He then looked around, really noticing the details of his location for the first time. Various lab equipment lay scattered around, and the bubbling, smoking container gave off an acrid smell for him. He sat down slowly on the lab work table, lest he suddenly find a puddle of liquid with his rear.
"Well, Dr. Lansing, I sometimes ask myself that very question from day to day, believe it or not." He sighed, a bit dramatically for effect. "Tell me, are you familiar with quantum theory? From the state of your laboratory, I'd wager to say your some sort of chemist, but I've been wrong before. I certainly respect the need to double, or even triple dip into whatever branches of science are necessary for research and discovery."
His tail swept out, bumping into any beakers or flasks on the table, but the pressure wouldn't have been hard enough to knock them over. He watched Dr. Lansing, and more specifically watched his pocket for signs of movement. Regrettable though it was, instinct is a powerful thing and not easily forgotten - even in a thought experiment turned reality.
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