A Brat, or a Cat?

Therasia didn’t dislike doing recon work. Still, as a rule, she never talked about it. After all, she thought there was value in people not knowing. If you were, say, a spy, then you’d hardly go around flaunting it. If your fingers were as sticky as Therasia’s, you wouldn’t flaunt it. That was how people learned to keep their possessions safe.

And besides, there were just some things that Riel couldn’t do, so she had to.

They’d met in circumstances she’d call good. She was fairly certain he thought she was a good person. She liked him a lot, even though they were ultimately very different. But none of that erased the fact that they’d met each other while they were stealing things. For the greater good, yes — Arma Caeli were still a bitter thought — but stealing nonetheless. And, well, Therasia had been fairly certain that Riel knew she did this regularly, but there was still some relief in knowing that he knew.

Still, why had his first thought been to recruit her to do something devious? Come on!

It wasn’t like she minded. She was a little worried, naturally, but it wasn’t a crippling worry. It was an exciting one, the spike of adrenaline that kept her moving forward.

She’d disguised herself well. She didn’t want to pretend she was Felis or anything like that. There was no payoff when the probability of them discovering she was human was so great. Besides, as far as Therasia understood, they had a beef with bunnies, not humans, and even if they had, she knew how to defend herself. It was better not to draw unwanted attention to herself, and so she dressed a little bit more on the dangerous Felis side. So far, she’d separated them into two categories — dangerous and less dangerous. She knew that looks could be deceiving, so the scales for these categories were pretty flexible. She kept chanting to herself that there was no Felis that wasn’t naturally dangerous.

That was how she’d found herself alone in a bar; she was looking for information and nothing else. Riel’s clothes were large on her — he was slim but tall enough that she looked ridiculous — but his accessories helped. The spiky collar and the multitude of belts and chains weren’t Therasia’s fashion choice. She preferred to be silent, but she also knew that Riel was often heard before he was seen.

He’d fit right in with the cats. Sure, his tail didn’t sway sensually, but it was long and it was magical. And he wasn’t even a typical bunny, not really. Therasia had taken one look at a Lovabun and she’d been able to Riel apart immediately. Lopilu were just different — their tails, for one, and their ears too. Technically, maybe, they were bunnies. Or hares, or rabbits or whatever. She could never tell those apart.

“So,” a bartender said when he approached her for the fourth time that night. “I’m not judging, but usually people come around to meet new people and, you know, have some fun.”

“I’m sure they do,” Therasia said. She hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed. She was a little preoccupied by eavesdropping on nearby conversations, but so far she hadn’t heard a single word that could be of use. Well— it couldn’t hurt to just ask sometimes, she supposed. “Hey, say, do you know anything about reflection slivers?”

The bartender made a nearly imperceptible pause. Then, he gave a laugh that betrayed his nervousness, as though she’d asked something she was supposed to. She’d assumed as much but — she’d only be there for the night. Even if she got in trouble, she’d just have to wiggle her way out and never show her face again.

“Hey, listen, uh—” The bartender said, then made a pause when he realized he didn’t know her name. “I know you’re all dressed the part, and that you’re probably trying to fit in real badly and… I understand these things, you know.” Therasia sincerely doubted. She could see his spotted tail swishing left and right in the low light. Dangerous. “But you don’t fit in here. I don’t think you should get your hopes up.”

“So,” Therasia deadpanned. “No reflection slivers?”

She noticed how the man narrowed his eyes just slightly. It was only a moment before he schooled his face into an apologetic grimace and shook his head. Next to her, a Felis woman — also the one in dangerous category — stiffened, and Therasia realized she wasn’t the only one who had been eavesdropping. Well.

“Well, thanks for the talk,” she said, sliding a few bill towards the bartender with the nod before she reached into her jacket for a knife she carried around just in case. It was a little funny how no one checked for weapons at the entrance because they just assumed their claws could overpower them.

Then, to make sure she wasn’t followed, or that nobody starts thinking they could intimidate her, she approached the woman that had been eavesdropping before, then did a poor impression of a hug. To outsiders, it likely looked like she’d spawled herself over her. The leather she wore stretched across her limbs, and the back of her spiky choker stuck to her skin. She hadn’t even noticed she was sweating. And yet, as uncomfortable as she was, satisfaction coursed through her because she knew the other woman must’ve felt worse.

“Listen, you little brat,” Therasia said as her hand landed on the woman’s waist and she pressed her knife to her side, just keeping it there. Her heart thundered in her ears. She whispered to the woman: “You may think you’re sneaky and all, but don’t get any funny ideas. I’m not here to make friends. If you or any goons you may have follow me—”

“I don’t have goons!” The woman hissed back, her tail swishing around in distress. Oh, those things were a tell. Therasia didn’t like it, but there was nothing she could do about it right then. “I just heard you say—”

“I know what you heard me say,” Therasia said. “And don’t interrupt me. Now, I’ll write you the address, and you’ll come tomorrow, 9am sharp, with the information I want. Do you understand?”

The woman regarded her warily, with unconcealed fear and fury. Not dangerous, then. Therasia must’ve categorized her wrong. She nodded, took a step back, then wrote the address on the napkin before leaving. As soon as she was out and around the corner, she turned her jacket out. It had been black, but not leather, rather something more malleable. It turned out easily and then dark green fabric was draped across her shoulders. If she was followed, it wouldn’t save her, but it could buy her precious seconds.

“Nothing of interest,” she told Riel when he asked about her venture. “No info on reflection slivers, nothing particular about them as beings, except that I figured out what sort of fashion they like… Boring.” And then, as an afterthought, she added: “I did make a Felis run around in circles, I think.” After all, the address she had given the woman had been made up.