What A Day.

Last Evening.

Parlour, Conan's Bungalow.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

***************

Conan got home without catching a sight of Helena after the dine.

She was avoiding him, hiding from him and he didn't know how to feel about that.

She had left immediately after the feast.

Strangely, he felt a presence before he finished opening his door, making his eyebrows draw nearer. He stepped inside tentatively, and then he heard it, a sound.

A movement.

He could unshield his sword but somehow he felt no need to as he followed the movement and there he came face to face with a tail. It was lying on the floor and Conan believed it had to be an animals tail.

"What are you?" he whispered.

And it purred.

His brows rose. "A cat"

Slowly he drew it out of the space it had snuck into under his couch. The cat barely struggles while Conan picked it up into his arms.

"Helena" he muttered to himself.