Charlie couldn't tell time but he knew what time it was. It was the time of day when the Nice One came outside and left him something good to eat. He watched the house from a safe hiding place, keeping well out of sight until he saw her come out. There weren't many Nice Ones around this neighborhood. Usually when people saw him, they shouted at him for rummaging through their trash in search of scraps or for hunting rats in their yard. Sometimes they turned a hose on him or threw rocks at him. Charlie didn't get it. What was with people always being so protective of their trash and their rats? It's not like they were eating any. But the Nice One didn't do any of that stuff. Not yet, anyway. So far all she'd done was accidentally leave food out for him day after day until he was pretty sure it wasn't an accident anymore.
The first time he saw her it took him by surprise. He'd been hunting birds in the backyard, chasing and leaping high into the air after them. He'd just missed one when he turned and spotted her watching him from a window. They'd locked eyes and he stood there frozen in fear. She'd raised her hand in a friendly wave moments before he turned and bolted away. But she didn't yell at him or chase him out of the yard with a broom like her mother, the Mean One, did. Still, given his past encounters with people, Charlie was weary of anyone he came across, unsure of how he was going to be treated and always expecting the worst.
So he stayed hunkered down in his hiding spot under a leafy shrub, waiting for her to step out of the house.
With it being Friday, Chrissy figures practice won't run that long, but she's wrong — it ends up running later than usual because they keep messing up a new formation. By the time she has a chance to look up at the clock, it's around the time she usually feeds the stray that lingers around her house. Some girls mention staying behind to watch the basketball team practice, and others want to get something to eat; while it sounds fun, Chrissy declines because she doesn't want to leave him waiting too long.
It's late, and most of the staff have gone home already ( she doesn't blame them, it's Friday after all, and she wants to be home, especially since her parents are out for the evening, maybe even gone until Saturday — she didn't get a real clear answer — and she doesn't have to worry about listening to her mother ).
Before leaving school, she stops by the lost and found to dig through it for anything that looks comfortable and warm that might fit the stray — it is starting to get colder at night, and her mom would freak out if she wanted to buy guy clothes at the store. So at least she can throw these in the wash when she gets home, and they'll ( hopefully ) be clean and dry by the time her parents get home.
She shoves the clothes into her gym bag and starts heading home, alternating between running and jogging, so he doesn't have to wait any longer.
Instead of messing with the front door, she heads around the side of the house, opens the gate, and heads straight into the backyard.
"Hey, sorry for making you wait," she pants out, still trying to catch her breath as she steps into the backyard and moves towards the back door to take a seat on the steps. Not sure where he is; she's speaking out into the backyard, hoping he can hear her. "Mom and dad aren't here, and I'm going to order pizza. Do you want to come inside and have some with me? If not, I can make you something else. Maybe some sandwiches? There might be some leftovers I can warm up too."
At the creak of the gate, Charlie jerks to attention and peers through a screen of leaves as he watches her enter the yard. The shrub is still holding onto its autumn foliage so it gives him plenty of coverage to flatten himself beneath it on his stomach and remain unseen. Once he determines that the coast is clear and her words aren't directed at someone else, he scrambles out from his hiding place and up to the steps.
But he's careful not to get too close, keeping a healthy distance between them as he stands near the edge of the step. Like usual, he looks leery and mistrustful with eyes that glance this way and that as though he expects someone to burst out of somewhere at any moment and chase him away. On top of that nervous energy, however, is an excited energy because she's pretty much his favorite person and his mind is whirling with all the choices she's offering.
"Yeah! Yeah, I'll take that," he nods ecstatically, his voice still a bit high and chirpy from his hurried scramble to get here. "I'll take whatever. You don't even have to warm it up." Charlie didn't care, he'd eat that shit cold. Frozen, even.
The thought of food at all makes him lick his lips while he brushes dirt off his jeans. His state of dress is a pair of blue jeans full of scrapes and rips and a dirty t-shirt. With the nights getting longer and colder, it wasn't exactly suitable for the season and Charlie isn't fortunate enough to have a luxurious coat to keep him warm in the winter like some "breeds" did. He could almost pass for human if it wasn't for the set of pointed ears on his head, medium brown like his messy hair and surprisingly soft in appearance. It puts him in the awkward space between not human enough and not cute enough to make a desirable pet.
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The first time he saw her it took him by surprise. He'd been hunting birds in the backyard, chasing and leaping high into the air after them. He'd just missed one when he turned and spotted her watching him from a window. They'd locked eyes and he stood there frozen in fear. She'd raised her hand in a friendly wave moments before he turned and bolted away. But she didn't yell at him or chase him out of the yard with a broom like her mother, the Mean One, did. Still, given his past encounters with people, Charlie was weary of anyone he came across, unsure of how he was going to be treated and always expecting the worst.
So he stayed hunkered down in his hiding spot under a leafy shrub, waiting for her to step out of the house.
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It's late, and most of the staff have gone home already ( she doesn't blame them, it's Friday after all, and she wants to be home, especially since her parents are out for the evening, maybe even gone until Saturday — she didn't get a real clear answer — and she doesn't have to worry about listening to her mother ).
Before leaving school, she stops by the lost and found to dig through it for anything that looks comfortable and warm that might fit the stray — it is starting to get colder at night, and her mom would freak out if she wanted to buy guy clothes at the store. So at least she can throw these in the wash when she gets home, and they'll ( hopefully ) be clean and dry by the time her parents get home.
She shoves the clothes into her gym bag and starts heading home, alternating between running and jogging, so he doesn't have to wait any longer.
Instead of messing with the front door, she heads around the side of the house, opens the gate, and heads straight into the backyard.
"Hey, sorry for making you wait," she pants out, still trying to catch her breath as she steps into the backyard and moves towards the back door to take a seat on the steps. Not sure where he is; she's speaking out into the backyard, hoping he can hear her. "Mom and dad aren't here, and I'm going to order pizza. Do you want to come inside and have some with me? If not, I can make you something else. Maybe some sandwiches? There might be some leftovers I can warm up too."
no subject
But he's careful not to get too close, keeping a healthy distance between them as he stands near the edge of the step. Like usual, he looks leery and mistrustful with eyes that glance this way and that as though he expects someone to burst out of somewhere at any moment and chase him away. On top of that nervous energy, however, is an excited energy because she's pretty much his favorite person and his mind is whirling with all the choices she's offering.
"Yeah! Yeah, I'll take that," he nods ecstatically, his voice still a bit high and chirpy from his hurried scramble to get here. "I'll take whatever. You don't even have to warm it up." Charlie didn't care, he'd eat that shit cold. Frozen, even.
The thought of food at all makes him lick his lips while he brushes dirt off his jeans. His state of dress is a pair of blue jeans full of scrapes and rips and a dirty t-shirt. With the nights getting longer and colder, it wasn't exactly suitable for the season and Charlie isn't fortunate enough to have a luxurious coat to keep him warm in the winter like some "breeds" did. He could almost pass for human if it wasn't for the set of pointed ears on his head, medium brown like his messy hair and surprisingly soft in appearance. It puts him in the awkward space between not human enough and not cute enough to make a desirable pet.