Cat watched all the mayhem from a distance, hiding behind a car in the Starbuck’s parking lot, thankful she hadn’t been seen by The Golden Man.
Truth be told, she wasn’t a hero. She held no illusions to that effect, either: she knew she was bad. She liked that about herself. But she knew that The Golden Man would be able to bring her to her knees, somehow.
So she hung back, watching out of curiosity, as well as fear for Shade. She bit her lip, crouched behind some douchebag’s obnoxious Porsche (no, haven’t a clue what the Porsche-owning person was like, specifically. But they owned a Porsche, so the vague label of “douchebag” would seem to apply).
Unfortunately for her, George (half-ice half-fire guy, don’t worry I doubt that anyone else remembered his name either) drove onto the scene. He was pretty drunk at this point, even though it wasn’t yet 5 o’clock.
Still, he had the mental wherewithal to see that capturing The Golden Man was a bad idea. After all, he was looking particularly powerful, what with everyone in the immediate vicinity crying and kowtowing to him.
Everyone, that is, except Cat. Nobody else really seemed to notice her in that moment. And so, George snuck up on her. He wrapped his icy arm around her neck, choking her til she passed out. Then he took her into his car.
This’ll work, he thought to himself, not thinking at all about the nature of cats.