Ah, the diner. Widget remembers them! Well, the real them, back when they weren't retro and they just...were. Sure, she couldn't really go in them and even if she did she couldn't pay for anything, but there were times she just /got/ food and that was simply awesome. Now, though? Now she has coin! Glorious dollars! Perfect to order Widget's usual, which is basically everything plus a medically unsafe amount of meat. Like you do.
The gremlin wearing her usual brown boiler suit, eating like a starving dog, which she smells of. Well, okay, they're very well-loved and well-fed dogs. But dogs! She likes them, when they aren't trying to eat her.
At some point in time, someone wasn't paying enough attention when they walked into the cafe. Shame on them (thank you, them). Stealthily slinking in their shadow, the grey-streaked feline moves with predatory care to stay where the evening's lighting will be least likely to catch her, and moves only when there are distractions to hide her presence, the allure of fooooood more than enough to draw her into the cafe. After nibbling at dropped snacks below booths and finding them largely not to her liking, she follows her nose, slinking sneakily beneath Widget's table and hugging the far wall to avoid being noticed by any waitstaff walking by. Fur bristling at the scent of DOG, she hesitates, ears laid back.
Widget likes food. A lot. Some could say she's psychotically protective of it. She's no slouch at spotting things that might take it, animals much less so. She's got that cat made, not really reacting more than a sort of hunch for a second. Her food. HERS. Kinda. Have some ham, cat. Provided her main plate goes unmolested, weird new stranger cat is getting....an awful lot of food. Does it want it? Eh? Just gotta bend down a little to be all sneaky-like.
Those ears remain flat, and the feline interloper presses herself back against the opposite side of the booth in reaction to the sneaky hand so sneakily providing food, but...food! While she does bare her teeth in a soundless hiss, staying right where she is, eventually, hunger wins out over wariness, and the dropped offerings are tentatively accepted. With no collar, no jingly bell, there's nothing to alert anybody to her presence there, or the way she delicately, but rapidly, makes any of that meat disappear into that whiskery face.
Widget smiles, happy she's made a friend. Maybe. She's really easy to make /think/ you're her friend, doubly so if you're an animal and can't steal her wallet. Not that sh- It's easy, okay? So cat is fed. Cat is feed a lot, a few slices left to eat while Widget looks over the cat. No tags. No collar. No bell. Hm. Does it not have a home? Does it...does it want headpets? Widget doesn't know how to cat and the only other cat she knows yells at her in Russian and is magic. Just be veeeery careful....
Being a Provider of Noms does not entitle one to head-petting privileges, it seems, as the feline jerks her head back, ears flattening again, and drags her last scrap of meat with her, out of easy reach, so she can bite off small, manageable pieces. In order to try again, Widget would need to half-way crawl under the table, which would be pretty obvious to anyone watching her. There is no sign of ownership on the cat, however, beyond the fact that she IS quite well-groomed, and doesn't seem to be unhealthily thin. Wherever she lives, or lived, it was certainly a place with plenty of food.
Oh, um, okay. Unfortunately, Widget is the exact type of person to lean down and try and try again. A waitress looks over for a second, gives with a 'Oh, it's you, okay then' and gives her a grace period to make sure she's not setting a fire or anything. "Hi cat." Let's try again! At least she's a clean cat! She? Surely. There's a way to check but let's make sure it's not gonna scratch.
Yeeaaaaah no. This cat has had enough of the petting attempts. She backs away, and when her rump bumps the booth seat behind her, she starts edging out a weeeee bit too far. Widget isn't setting anything on fire, no, but she IS feeding a wild(?) animal in a human eatery with a strict No Pets Allowed policy, and that floofy bottle-brush tail, fur all the floofier with the feline's hackles being raised, is enough to catch the eye of a passing waitress. Looks like Widget gets the rest of her meal to herself! The cat, fleeing a broom, scampers toward the front door with tail held high, and darts outside into the cold the instant she is able.
Oh no. Um. Widget can explain. She'll...she'll explain later. Honest. Widget horfs down the rest of her food, leaves a much larger tip than usual, and flees the diner before a certain someone gets notified and Widget's behavior gets Remarked Upon. Remaaarked Upoooon. Or worse. Far worse.
Was it gone? Like gone-gone? Because Widget's great at looking for things? No? Okay. She'll just leave some hash in the alley. Yeah.
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