Jon stared at the cat, and the cat stared at her. It paced back and forth along the porch roof, keeping an eye trained on her. She didn't know how to react to this. There was indeed a part of her - a part of her that hadn't been there two days ago - that saw this as a challenge and urged her to respond to it. On the other hand, there was also her rational mind, which knew that it was silly to get involved in a territorial dispute with a housecat, and her social self-awareness, which was afraid of looking like an idiot. And there was a nagging concern that maybe, for all she knew, giving in to these instincts would only make them stronger...she didn't want that, did she?
But it was obvious that the cat expected some kind of a response, and she had some consolation from the fact that the only other person present was Karyn - Karyn, who, at this exact moment, was opening the window onto the porch as she mostly failed to suppress a smirk.
It happened fast. Distracted by noticing what Karyn was doing, Jon's guard against her newfound instincts was lowered, and she found herself giving in. It wasn't like being taken over by some outside force, the way she'd feared it would be; it was one of those things where the part of her that really wanted to do this was no longer held in check and could freely express itself - a deliciously transgressive feeling, like finally scratching an itch in an embarassing place after you've spent half an hour trying to excuse yourself to go take care of it. She leapt up to the windowsill, pulled her wings in tight as she slipped through, and bounded out onto the porch roof.
The cat had anticipated this and jumped aside as she landed. It skittered over to the other corner; Jon darted after it. They went around the porch roof several times, pausing briefly at each stop, their eyes locked. With each round the sphinx-girl could feel her blood pressure climb a little higher and her muscles tense a little tighter. By now her rational mind had recovered from the initial rush enough to have a nagging little voice in the back of her head - what was she supposed to do if he kept refusing to back down? She didn't really want things to get...serious, did she? And what would it take to break the spell this chase was holding over her?
Whatever she expected to do the job, though, it wasn't for the cat to say, in a dryly irritated tone of voice: "So, are you going to make a move? Or do we keep going in circles all night, kitten?"
The next couple moments were a jumble of disparate, fragmentary thoughts and feelings for Jon, as the sudden deflation of her fugue state left all the surplus adrenaline kicking her brain into tumble-dry. He can TALK!? she thought, stunned. He sounds kinda like Phil Hartman with a sinus problem, she observed. Oh holy shit shit SHIT this means someone besides Karyn saw me acting like a complete idiot! she panicked. She looked and saw Karyn standing at the window and shaking as she did her damnedest not to laugh. Jon shot her best friend a dirty look, flushing with embarrassment, as she fumbled for words. "Y-you can talk!?" she managed, after a minute.
"No, you're just imagining it."
Jon ignored the sarcasm and stared at the cat as he spoke. What threw her for a loop the most was that there was absolutely no visual distinction between this cat and any of the dozens of other cats she'd seen in her life. Even the heavily animal-like changed, she now realized, even people like Sarah who had a muzzle for a face had a certain degree of humanity evident in their appearance, which this creature lacked completely. There was nothing human in his appearance or body language; only the fact that he was speaking clear, coherent English gave any indication that he was something other than a mundane housecat. Did the virus do this to people?
"A-are you...are you changed?" she asked, curious and slightly disturbed by the possibility.
He gave something between a dismissive laugh and a feline yowl. "Me? Ha! Imagine me jumping around like a ninny with no idea how to handle their own instincts the way you were doing! I've been a cat my entire life, kitten."
Jon felt herself get a little hot under the notional collar at his attitude, but before she could retort she heard Karyn chuckle. "'Kitten' indeed," she laughed. "Ten bucks says he was just as silly as he's calling you when he was a kitten." The cat didn't respond, but gave her about the most withering stare imaginable, like any cat whose dignity has been impugned. Jon bit her lip and tried not to smirk too broadly.
"Anyway," he continued in a clearly irritated tone, "my human asked me if I would be so kind as to relay a message to you, vis-Ã -vis you having some kind of incredibly important thing and then losing it and all the possible kinds of trouble that could result. So this is me doing that. She wants you to come by tomorrow so she can talk to you about it. Get your friend to write down the address, kitten."
