Kitty's Keeper/No Clean Blades

II

John swore Kitty to secrecy as soon as they were both calm. "The lads are fine, they know enough, but to any outsiders that was an attempt to change your scent."

Kitty placed the freshly cleaned plate back under Paul's bar. "My scent?"

John cleaned his ear as he answered. "Yeh. You smell of George. And fish. But more George than fish, now."

"That makes sense."

"Right. And I wanted to change that. Because that's what I do."

Kitty wasn't sure how exactly the two coincided, but knew better than to argue. "Yes, John."

"Good." The ear was sufficiently clean, so he relaxed and blanketed both paws with his tail. "Now that that's settled, what do ye want to do next?"

Kitty's eyes widened with remembrance, then cast a shy, sidelong look at the counter. "May I read books in your chamber?"

John snorted. All that for such a simple question? "Of course you can, Kitty! I'm just curious as to why."

The human walked out from behind the bar. "Ringo said I should learn to relax. He asked what I did to relax before we met and I said read, so he recommended that I ask to use your library."

"When'd he tell ye that?"

"Last time you all went out."

"And we found you swaddled in his tentacles like a newborn babe?"

Their cheeks became hot. "Y-yeah. He...he didn't say anything?"

"That's your affair, love. Not his." He sniffed Kitty's face. "So your homesickness has finally come to head, eh?"

"You knew?"

"'Course I knew! I can taste it! Honestly, I'd have more questions if ye didn't! But such is the nature of these things. Either it fades away over time, or you go spilling your guts to one of us. Just as well it was Ringo, we all end up there sooner or later."

"You do?"

"Absolutely. Ringo is very perceptive. He knows your heart better than you, sometimes." With a flick of his tail, he jumped off the counter and exited the chamber. "Come 'ead."

Kitty followed John to his chamber like a duckling following its mother. John smiled at this whenever he looked back at them, as well as the acolyte's very concept. Kitty was a good human, as far as humans went. John always found their kind to be a bit fussy, but Kitty was rather agreeable. A hard worker, just like the rest of them, and desperate to maintain inner as well as outer peace. Their default current was a rich, green enthusiasm, if not warm, creamy admiration. That admiration became cloying in George's presence, to the point where the shapeshifter would be ill if he attempted to consume more than a nibble. Ringo produced bittersweet homesickness with peppery notes of curiosity, while the same notes spiced the airy, caramelized mix of serenity and trepidation they felt around Paul. (A surprisingly savory mix, that.) That trepidation carried over to John himself, who warranted a complex, hearty stew of less-than-positive emotions, including sharp intimidation, flat submission, prickly irritation, and no small amount of icy fear. However, there were a few bright spots: chunks of sweet Storge, bits of evergreen humor, a dash of refreshing defiance, and—thanks to breakfast—a lot of empathy. There was some envy too, though he couldn't parse why.

John stood on his hind legs as he presented a sight Kitty had seen several times before. "Here we are! You are free to browse to your heart's content."

Kitty resisted the urge to bound towards it, not before showing their gratitude, at least. "Thank you, John!" They lifted their foot, ready to take that first step—