“What do they eat? Mice?” And milk. They liked milk. He knew that for sure.

“I had a snake once. It ate mice.”

“I didn’t realize you were fluent in cat.” He shifts uncomfortably, trying to suppress the bouts of anxiety the cats were spiking in him.

“It’s like my own personal translator.”

“…Even though I agree, I refuse to believe that’s what he sounds like.” He crosses his arms over his chest, taking a seat on whatever would allow him to face the nerdy cat-lover.

“But fuck capitalism.”

“…for or against?” Could Petal speak to cats or was he doing that pet-owner thing? The Rabbit was silent pondering this, eyes narrowed behind the mask.

The Rabbit jumped… but, given the way his shoulders relaxed, seemed to relax, if only slightly.

He took down the hood, curly hair so deep brown it might’ve looked black, peaked out around the sides of the mask.

“I ain’t having a conversation with a cat.”

“No, I don’t. They’re… they’re too quiet.” He shuddered, thinking about it for too long.

A pause and then a soft sigh under the mask. Was that of relief or resignation?

“…Thanks.”

He watches them cautiously, trying to keep them in his line of sight. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal. You keep them away from me, I won’t try to burn down your apartment. Not even for fun.”

Jesus Christ, he was outnumbered.

“Can’t you… can’t you just put them outside? They got fur. They’ll be fine”

“I’m not /afraid/,” he snaps a little too quickly, releasing a breath as Rose takes the demon spawn into his arms.

“Maybe I just don’t like ‘em.”

“There’s more of them?!” His voice cracks, white-knuckles as his fingers dig into his palms.

“Why do you have so many?!”

He glances down, eyes widening. “What is it doing?” His voice is gilded with a layer of caution, posture unmoving like he has just come face to face with a dinosaur.

“Hate to break it to you, but none of it’s real.” He hummed, standing and kicking over the small pile. What a waste of effort.

“It’s all some fancy illusion to keep us all distracted. Like the cold. But, unlike the other stuff, I hate the cold. So we’ll have to find another way to warm up.”

“Listen, buddy, you’re cute but I don’t do friends and I don’t do dating. None of that stuff is real anyways.” The Rabbit tapped a finger to the chin of the mask.

“But… it would warm us up,” he teased, slowly turning to face his favorite person to harass.

“Yet,” he hums, beginning to pull logs out of his bag, propping each up until he had formed a little unlit campfire in the middle of the room.

“Got a match?”

“How fuckin’ poor are you?” The censorbar hadn’t gotten the reaction he wanted so he let it drop, the black bar shattering into pieces on the floor.

“Hm? Oh, Just trying out some new nicknames for some folks. You like it?”

“Oh, hell no. It’s cold as $&@in’ $&@& out there.” The cold eyes of the mask stare down at the vent, a sigh of resignation escaping.

“Turn up the heat, petal, or my lucky rabbits foot is gonna freeze off.”

The hoodie strings are pulled tight, the eyes of the mask almost fully obscured. “Through the hole I made in the window. I thought that was obvious.”

A censor bar appeared over his mouth as he moved towards a heater, a fireplace, anything that would warm him up. “$&@?ing balls, it’s cold.”