“CAT!” It was a man’s voice, and he was fairly bellowing as he clattered down the last flight of stairs. ”So help me, you’re better be—” he emerged from the building and stopped abruptly at the sight of Summer and the little black kitten. He was a tall man, built along graceful, long lines rather than powerful ones. His black hair was swept back from his patrician face, and he wore slacks, button down shirt and a vest.
“…pardon me, but it appears as though you have located Cat.”Summer’s mouth twitched suspiciously. She glanced down at the feline lounging in the curve of one arm, then back up. “You let your human name you Cat?” Shaking her head, she walked up to the man and offered the cat. “He’s a friendly fellow, your Cat.” Her eyes danced with laughter. “Maybe a little too friendly, hey?”
Loki took the kitten, cradling him in two long hands.
“He keeps slipping out—I have no idea how. Magic, I think.” He was frowning down at the kitten—who was unabashedly chewing on his cuffs—speaking rather absently. ”…his name is actually Macrowafter, but he usually comes when I call ‘cat’.”
“All cats have the magic of escape,” Summer said sagely. “Or at least, all the ones I’ve ever known, and that’s quite a lot!” She petted Cat’s nose softly. “They’re born stinkers.”
Looking up, she offered a bright smile. “I’m glad we could find you. I’m Summer.”