<strong>Name:</strong>Hatter<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Hatter's Hovel<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Cat<br/><br/>The Cat had come back, the very same day. Oh frabjous day. Never a patient man, he had nearly decided to give up hope on the Tweedles returning with anything worthwhile. Perhaps take the time to visit the Broken Cup, or summon Rabbit here, though as the minutes ran down the face of the grandfather clock in the parlour (crafted with four actual grandfathers) and his mood turned darker he realized that the sort of play he required would not have fit Rabbit's fancy. It didn't rule things out, per se, but the repercussions might have been somewhat... sticky. The last thing he needed was a Rabbit wedge; she was too independent as it stood now.<br/><br/>Which is why the sight of the crumpled Cat at the base of the grand stairway was such a delight. He nimbly ticked off the list of offenses as his footsteps measured the descending wooden stairs.<em>Shouting in the house, Tuesday's panties on a Wednesday, Use of the front stairway at back stairway time...</em>And, of course, the kicker.<em>No biscuit.</em>The list of crimes wasn't strictly necessary; he could punish her for less. For nothing. For random whims and future transgressions. She would always come back, because he had what she needed. Just as she did for him, of course, in a circular IV drip of pain and redemption that ran around and around between them like an Escher waterfall.<br/><br/>She was his Cat. Only his. Ever his. It even said so on her foot, visible through the holes in her ruined stocking. PROP---F M---TTE-----TURN IF----ND. Clear as a day in Wonderland.<br/><br/>His descent ended at the step next to her awkwardly angled head. The arrangement of her body was almost artistic, the sort of serendipitous positioning that she seemed so naturally good at. He raised his right foot and placed the pointed toe of his shoe onto her ass. With remarkable balance for one so, well, unbalanced he gently wobbled her back and forth on her uncertain perch, feeling exactly how much force might be required to complete her unfinished tumble. With each sway slightly more pressure was put on her bent neck, pressed as it was beneath the weight of her body against the edge of the hardwood step.<br/><br/>"Dear Cat. Sweet Cat. I am<em>ever</em>so happy to see you. Because I<em>know,</em>I have<em>great faith,</em>that the swallowing sound I just heard did not mark the end of the biscuit you were sent to acquire. I'm practically<em>certain</em>of this fact, but it would be<em>ever</em>so wonderful if you would confirm that for me. Dear." At the last word he kicked, the heel of his shoe striking her solidly on the rump. Belatedly he realized that in her previous posture she might have served as an acceptable bud vase for an hour or so. Every decision removed four possibilities; he marveled sometimes that he was able to act at all, but then took solace in the notion that consideration of consequences was a mark of lesser men. Or beasts.<br/>