Cillian woke slowly to something warm and heavy on his feet. For a second, he didn’t even really process it. His eyes opened briefly, very briefly, but slid shut in seconds.

And, then, he realized there was something warm on his feet, and they snapped open to stare at the ceiling. Julius was staring down at him in silence, and Cillian stared up at him.

“Are you happy now?” Julius asked bluntly.

“Why are you watching me sleep?” Cillian demanded.

“Because I have nothing better to do,” Julius replied and jerked his head to the side. “You. Happy?”

Slowly, Cillian looked down the length of his body stretched out on the splintered floorboards of the dilapidated cabin with its sagging thatch roof. There, laying on his feet and shins, was a massive, furry, black object.

“Is… is that the stray?” he asked and Julius pursed his lips.

“Pushed the door right open, shut it, and flopped down on you,” he said, and Cillian blinked as he finally realized just how badly he had fucked up.

“How am I supposed to feed something this big?” he asked, and Julius inhaled sharply.

“That’s what you’re worried about?”

“Isn’t that what you’d be worried about?”

“It knew how to work a door.”

“Well, it’s clearly a genius.”

“It closed the door. Do you not find that creepy?”

“Well, it was making sure all our bases were covered,” Cillian said defensively, and a rumble started up. For a second, Cillian froze, before he realized the cat was purring. “Oh, I’m keeping you.”

“You can’t keep a monster!”

“Yes, I can,” Cillian shot back and went very, very still so as not to disturb it. “It’s just a big baby.”

“It is a killer.”

“It literally broke into the cabin and politely closed the door to snuggle me.”

“You are the most infuriatingly stupid and stubborn person I have ever met,” Julius stated flatly, as if it was a fact, not an opinion, and Cillian stared at him.

“I don’t like being called stupid,” he said quietly, because he had never had many brain cells outside of writing, and got called that a lot thanks to his empty headed stare and general confusion when it came to interacting with other humans. “Please apologize.”

Julius stared at him, like he was flabbergasted that Cillian had the nerve to demand an apology from him, and oh, right. Las Vegas mobster. Of course he didn’t apologize to people.

“Never mind,” Cillian muttered and sat up, now no longer caring enough to not disturb the cat, and it stirred slightly before lifting its massive head and giving him a ‘mrrp’. “I’m going to go figure out food for this guy.”

Julius, mercifully, said nothing as Cillian swung around and inspected the dried poultice on his shoulder. The wounds were closed, but they were scabbed over, not fully healed. He’d slept eight hours, probably, and hiked three, cooked, stayed up for another two, so he probably needed another three until they were fully closed. With a sigh, he inspected his boots. They were still a bit damp, and he was probably going to get some kind of fungus.

“Here,” Cillian said to the cat and dropped out the meat he hadn’t eaten the night before. They had good bonuses to vitality, he’d discovered, and dex. Each of them had gone up three points. The cat needed it more than him. It was still skin and bones.

Without another word, Cillian tossed the meat to the cat and pulled his thick wool socks, mercifully dry still, and then the boots, followed by the hatchet. He picked up the cloak that had gotten tossed off at some point in the night while being used as a blanket and swung it over his shoulders, buttoned it, and made for the door.

“Cillian,” Julius said, and Cillian paused with his hand on the latch.

“What?” he asked, unable to disguise the bitterness in his voice.

“Don’t say ‘I don’t like being called stupid’ if you’re going to demand an apology out of people,” Julius said, and his voice was weirdly tight. “Just say ‘I’m not stupid’. Otherwise you’re just telling them you think they’re right and you don’t like it. It’s cowardly.”

Cillian pursed his lips and then lifted the latch. The statement didn’t make him feel any better, and he wanted Julius to know that.

“Well. I think we’ve already established I’m a coward,” he said and pulled open the door. The cat perked up as he fully opened the door, a piece of meat still in its mouth, and Cillian stepped out into the warm sunshine. How the fuck did time even work here? Ugh, whatever. He had a cat to feed. Even if the damned thing sounded absolutely disgusting when it ate.

He'd wait until the wounds were fully closed before he went to go hunt down the cats. They'd taken a roundabout route to the cabin, crossing the path multiple times and walking up and down streams to cover and muddy their scents, so hopefully the cats wouldn't be able to track them to the cabin.

Though…

Cillian looked over his shoulder at the door.

Somehow, that cat had managed it. Unless it just followed them, but did it cover its scent, too?

He wasn't sure, and now he was worried. Would it be better to wait at the cabin to see if they'd come or not? That seemed like the better option, really, but he imagined a cat of that size needed a lot of food. Like, a lot of food.

What should he do in this situation? He knew the cat would eat other cats, and if they did manage to follow, it would be better in the long run. Objectively, he knew he had won no real affection from the creature. It was just really hungry and knew he was "better" at hunting than it. After the threats to its hunting ground were gone, so would it.

Ah, what was he even doing, debating this back and forth with himself? He needed to go hunt. If the cats found him, well, he needed to kill them anyway.

"Cillian."

And there was Julius.

"What."

"Can you even kill a deer with just a hatchet?" Julius asked, and Cillian pursed his lips.

"I'll figure it out."

"The cat will be fine for a while. Let's go do target practice."

"I would prefer to be on my own right now," Cillian said bluntly, and Julius inhaled sharply.

"Why did you even accept my help if you won't accept my help?"

"Why did you ask to accompany me if you didn't plan for me doing things exactly as I would do them?" Cillian shot back. "Sorry, but either you figure out how to apply your ideas to how I am, or I'm not going to listen to you."

"You are impossible," Julius stated flatly.

“Thank you,” Cillian replied on reflex, and Julius stared at him like he couldn’t make him out.

“You still need to do target practice,” Julius pointed out, and Cillian ignored him as he started walking towards the forest.

“I’m going to go kill a deer.”

Hopefully the Tower did the skinning and gutting for that, too, because otherwise he was going to have to swallow his pride and drag a deer carcass all the way back and ask Julius for help. Which he desperately did not want to do right now. Oh, well. He was a pretty good shot with the hatchet already. It was just not the same range as a gun, so he would have to be stealthy, but his dex was pretty high, wasn’t it? Dex should translate well to stealth, shouldn’t it?

Ah, if only the Tower had the same system as dnd. There could be so many more options available to him.