inbox: incensed

[steelfisted]

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text ✦ voice ✦ action ✦ etc

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[steelfisted]

They're your cats!!

... What's up? Everything alright?

[armourheart]

Brutus likes you better!!

(WHAT AN EXCUSE.)

It's a surprise.

[steelfisted]

That's only one out of seven!

[he doesn't deny it...!]

A surprise? [uh oh] Alright, fine. When'll you be back?

1/2

[armourheart]

... Eight...

2/2

[armourheart]

Anyway...!!

Probably late at night!

[steelfisted]

Late? [Not that he minds, but--] Is everything okay?

1/2

[armourheart]

(Oh, then he didn't hear the "eight". Strike...?)

Everything's really fine! Don't worry, don't worry! It's something good.

2/2

[armourheart]

(Eventually, he does come home, after a long day of shopping and of picking things from the woods, but! He does, with an improvised cart and a lot of food... And a huge smile on his face! All the cats come to greet, and he gently pets all (eight) before he puts the cart to the side to close the door.)

I'm home!

[steelfisted]

[Ed was trying to read, but once he fed all of the cats (!!! what is his life?!?) he just sort of became consumed with counting them, because he could've sworn it looked like eight cats at one point, but seven was it! That was the limit!! So when Al comes back, he sort of does a double-take at the big cart of stuff he brought back.]

Al? What is all that?

[armourheart]

I am cooking tonight, that's all. We deserve to eat a lot!

(A cat just jumps on his shoulders and he accepts it, nearly hugging the feline with all his love and care, before it gets a little harder to walk with all of them (minus Brutus) meowing for attention.)

I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!

[steelfisted]

Oh yeah? [For a moment, a fond smile crosses his face. And then--] Cooking for how many?? Last I counted, there were only two of us!

[This looks like it could feed ten people!! What the hell?]

[armourheart]

It's just for us! I need a lot of ingredients!! Just trust me!!

(EDWARD!!

He's trying his best to walk around the sea of cats, dropping all the groceries on their table, stretching his thin arms and moving to wash his hands. He's got A Mission.)