Cat sat in the getaway car outside the embassy, engine running so that she and the gang would be… well… they’d be ready to get away.
She purred a little while stretching, because that’s what cat people did, and she was half cat (oh please dear god don’t ask me why she was half-cat, because yes obviously that means some sort of bestiality was involved, but then again if it was a lady fucking a cat-man that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?
I mean is it bestiality if you’re having sex with a cat person? I don’t have the definition of bestiality sitting in front of me — this isn’t the sort of thing I go out of my way to think about, I’ll have you know — but somehow adding the word ‘person’ at the end makes it feel better. I mean, people are animals, really, so isn’t anyone who has sex with another human being a furry?
Mind you, I’m not a furry. Go fuck yourself for even thinking that. I’m just saying, the line seems a little blurry, in a way that makes me uncomfortable, and can we stop talking about this?)
Her phone buzzed.
“Thank god,” she muttered. Truth be told she’d gotten the most boring part of this gig. So she wasn’t great with technology. So Superfreak was a better actor. So what? She was good at stealing things. She couldn’t believe they’d made her the goddamn driver, as if she–
“Help,” the text said. The sender had been Shade.
Cat took in a quick breath of air, knowing what she had to do.
She reversed out of the spot she was in, then sped towards Anne’s apartment. As she did so, she texted, because yeah texting while driving is super bad, but so’s bestiality. Badness was in her blood.
The text read, “getaway car’s leaving without you. better come up with new getaway.”
Cat hoped Shade would be alright.