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While dumpster diving was not one of Bob’s favorite ways to dine out, every once in awhile he would find a treasure worth devouring after a careful inspection of the trash can’s contents.

The afternoon’s snack of choice was the remaining crumbles of potato chips out of a Family Sized bag. He’d stumbled across the overturned trash container (he wasn’t sure if he should be thanking raccoons or Mother Nature) with its innards spilled out for all the world to see. Perusing through the opened plastic bags, he found the cheddar and sour cream chip bag open and, much to his surprise, still full of crunchy morsels just waiting to be devoured. Granted, they were a tad bit stale, so it appeared after discovering the bag left open, the homeowner must have determined they weren’t worth salvaging.

Eh, more chips for him, then!

Burrowing his head into the bag, the large feline pressed as deeply as he could into the crinkly paper, pushing himself up to the shoulders inside of the bag as he continued to munch away on the stale chips.

It was days like today that he savored the fact he was a cat.

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Destiny City was far kinder to strays than she had expected-- Friendly strays, at least. Eta had come across one or two that were wide-eyed and mostly feral. They had it harder, their lack of willingness to spend any time around humans making it difficult to find the better things in life… Snacks, treats, fresh water, proper food.

When Eta heard the trash can rattle followed by the crinkling of a bag she instantly thought of one of those cats; the poor, unfortunate ones who didn’t know that they could do so much better. She crept up slowly, peering carefully around the edge of the can only to quickly step back. That was most certainly not a small, unfortunate feline. That was a momentous mound of fur; potentially a wild animal, and not another cat at all.

As the slender feline sidestepped backwards she bumped into another nearby can, rattling the lid and startling herself. She jumped, hissing at the unexpected clatter as the lid hit the asphalt, tail bottle-brushing. Honestly, not the best way to make friends or offer insight….

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He’d heard the bump before the hiss, Bob finding himself both instantly alarmed and stuck within the confines of a wrinkled chip bag. He jerked backwards, struggling to free himself from what was considered heavenly only moments earlier, pulling the bag with him as he stumbled backwards and directly against another pile of overturned trash.

His tail was erect, hair standing on end but the grease from the bag continued to smear across his fur as he moved to wiggle free of his salty prison. Hunching his shoulders down, he continued to push backwards, up until he was sitting directly on his haunches, his front paws and face now directed towards the sky.

Claws batted at the bag until it managed to be torn off in a flurry, shredded foil raining down as the bag fell to the ground with a soft, final crinkle. The ginger cat looked around, bewildered, until green eyes fell across the dainty looking, slightly-perturbed striped cat. He saw the star on her forehead - thank Cosmos above for that - and immediately burst into laughter.

“You don’t have to scare me like that to get my attention, toots.”

Front paws fell onto back ones as he continued to sit there, rather contently looking, covered in chip dust and grease.

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Everything was happening at once, far faster than her highly evolved Mauvian brain could even compute. The lid had fallen, she’d sprang to action like a youma was behind her which left the mound of ginger fur trapped inside of a crinkling metallic bag flailing around. If she wasn’t careful she was likely to wind up trampled.

Eta composed herself enough to scramble back, bouncing off of the overturned trashcan as a stepping stone to get to the top of one that hadn’t been tipped. Perched there she watched the rest of the scene play out until he calmed enough to notice her.

“Who says I was trying to get your attention?” She sniffed, head tilting up for a moment before she brought a paw up in an attempt to smooth the ruffled fur on her face. Her tail ticked behind her, twitching to and fro as a sign of her own personal irritation with herself for startling so easily. It slowed to an idle swish as she looked over the tom, clearly judging him in a way that only a high class dame could.

“I’m sure you call every lady ‘Toots’ before bothering to ask for her name… You certainly seem like the sort who would; rough around the edges, mostly wild-- You’re a complete mess, you know.” The corners of her mouth quirked into a light feline smirk as she watched him for a moment longer before hopping back down to his level. He also wreaked of Chaos, but she figured that went unsaid and as long as she didn’t feel any other sources of evil around she figured it was safe enough to carry on a conversation.


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His eyebrows rose as she chattered away at him, sounding more and more like his prim and proper mother with every insult she directed towards his appearance and behavior. So what if he was dumpster diving - he was a cat, it wasn’t like he had the option of strolling up into a restaurant and ordering whatever he wanted, right? He wasn’t even a petite, slim little pretty lady with the ability to con scraps from the outdoor tables; no one wanted to toss freebies to an overly large, extra furry ginger puss. He did what it took to salvage for snacks and unless he found an unpleasant treasure in the bin, he’d chalk it up to another food win on his talley.

“I’d say you’re quite the assumptive type, but I prefer not to label cats before I properly meet them….” His own bushy tail swished against the ground, but his expression remained indifferent, maybe hinting towards slightly complacent, even. He tacked on for effect, “....sugarkitten.”

One arm lifted and he slowly began the process of grooming, his long tongue moving to lap away at the chip grease, his orange fur glistening with the slickness of the junk food residue. Green eyes moved up to study the dame, the shine of her beautiful necklace catching his gaze. The fact she came from the other side of the tracks didn’t mean much to him - what was she going to do, nag him to death? Now if she’d dragged a senshi around with her… that was another story entirely.

“So if I can’t call you Toots, what can I call you?” He paused in his licking, figuring it would be gentlemanly of himself to offer his own in exchange. “I’m Bob.”

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“Eta. My name is Eta.” Not ‘Toots’ and certainly not ‘Sugarkitten’. More pet names that he likely tossed out at every doll that happened across his path, she was sure. Something told her that spending too much time around the ginger tom was likely to be incredibly infuriating, and yet there she stayed, curious as to whether or not he at least cleaned up well.

“Bob wouldn’t happen to be short for anything, would it?” Her brow lofted as much as a cat’s brow could, eyes watching him for any sudden movements that she should be aware of. She knew her own abilities, of course, but there was no telling what a corrupted cat could do, honestly…

“Is this somewhere you come often?” She was all questions tonight, even if the nicer thing to do would be to let him finish cleaning himself up first. She hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to many others yet, though, and it showed in how readily she chatted at him. “If you’re hungry I could make a suggestion or two on some places that I’ve found that tend to be a bit kinder to strays.”

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“Well, ain’t you just a peach.”

His words came across more as a statement than a question, green eyes floating back up from the prissy thing’s jewels up to her equally mesmerizing eyes. While she acted like a typical dame, Bob was sensible enough to acknowledge that she’d been at least kinder than most of the stuck-up Order ladies he’d run into so far. Ash, for instance, had all but run him off only minutes after their introduction. This one seemed more curious than appalled by his presence.

“Tater Bob.”

He grinned as she stared at him blankly. “My full name. Tater Bob. I prefer the latter - but if you keep playing nice, you’re welcome to call me Tater, sug---Eta.”

There. Proof he was actually rather civil, when given the chance to be.

Silence fell over the duo as he moved to clean his other arm, bringing it up to smooth back the ruffled fur on the top of his head. A few strokes more and his cheeks were restored to their normal, bristly state and it was only then that the Maine Coon rose to all four paws, standing all fourteen inches tall. “No, I can’t say I’ve been around this….” Eyes glanced to the foreign neighborhood surrounding them. Was this her neck of the woods, he wondered? “Part of the city. I try not to loiter around the same areas for too long. Animal Control and all.”

His bushy tail waved, the tip twisting as he took a step closer to where the prim and proper princess sat. “But if you’re willing to take me out on a date to show me some new places, I’ll surely take you up on that offer, Miss Eta.”


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“Are you saying that a fine feline such as yourself hasn’t mastered the art of of avoiding the authorities, Bob?” Her whiskers twitched with amusement as her tail ticked back and forth behind her. Once he cleaned himself up he really wasn’t all that bad for a dumpster diving, chaos filled monster of a tom cat.

“It really would be a shame if someone didn’t take a bit of time to make sure you were taken care of just a little bit better, wouldn’t it? While I’m sure there are far worse fates than finding yourself trapped in a potato chip bag, there are also far better things that you could be dining on.” The slender cat brought a paw up to smooth the ruffled fur of one of her cheeks out before she turned to lead the way past the trash cans.

“Just because I’m showing you where a cat can find good food around here doesn’t mean this is a date, Mister Bob.”


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An eyebrow quirked up and he grinned, feeling every inch of the devilish cat he was. Moving to follow after the slender female, he paused for a brief moment to rub against the side of the nearest box, pushing the hair on his flank back into proper place. Regardless of where she took him for a quick bite, no one wanted to give food to a scruffy looking individual.

“Whatever you want to call it, darling.” A rose by any other name was still a rose, right?

He hopped forward, picking up his pace until he was sidling up next to the smaller Guardian. Eyes fell back down to study her expression - she didn’t seem terribly put off with standing in the presence of a Chaos cat, but the line formed beneath her cute little button nose didn’t scream enamoured either. A glitter of sunlight reflection dropped his gaze back to her neck, where the ornate necklace gently bounced with every other step she took.

“That’s quite a fancy collar you’ve got there,” He mused aloud, sneaking a glance back up to catch her reaction. “Your owner must spoil you practically rotten, hmm?”

"It's not very nice to make assumptions, Miss Eta."

His tone was playful as he watched her tail bob from side to side, distracting him from the sparkly gemstones fastened securely around her neck. So adoption papers, eh? Means little miss must have been involved with a pet store or a pound. Tragic, really - he'd heard stories of Guardians finding their demise and then their offspring being abandoned into the wild... at least this dame seemed to have enough sense to bounce back from a lonely kittenhood and find a rightful spot in the world.

Her attempt at being mum was amusing, at least, as was her assumption that he was ownerless. Was he really that scruffy looking?

"I've got a guy, he's alright. His old lady used to be the real caretaker, but they split about a year back and we ended up in this fine city we now call home."

His pace quickened as hers did, mindful to also watch for wandering legs of oncoming foot traffic. Wouldn't look good to get tripped over in front of a lady-cat, of all creatures! "The Forces of Darkness do their best to catch my attention - can't cater to all the ladies all the time, you know."

He rolled the options around in his head, brain verifying with the stomach over what sounded most appealing. He'd had lasagna a night or two ago (how quaint and Garfield of him, after all), tacos the Tuesday before. Sandwiches never really did it for him, not when it came to having a proper, sit down dine (or a grab-and-dash, for that matter).

The thought of seafood resurfaced in his mind. Any kind of fish would be appealing and his stomach growled in emphasis of the idea. Tuna, trout, cod, flounder. Any fish, expensive or non, sounded absolutely delicious. Cliche but, eh, the stomach wants what the stomach wanted!

"Seafood sounds right up both of our alleys." He didn't care that he was making assumptions that she liked fish because she was a fish - if the label fit, why not wear it? "If you know a decent joint, of course."

He followed after, the effort to keep up with her at best, minimal. Long strides had him ducking down the side street after the grey girl and the large Maine Coon paused to take a seat as she'd begun her impromptu singing.

One furry eyebrow rose as the person behind the door didn't throw something at her (he always had things thrown at him when he'd started yowling, what the hell), but instead dipped down to pet her. He was gone in moments, no doubt to find something worthy of offering to the pampered princess.

"It probably doesn't hurt being cute, either." He drawled back, clearly amused by her antics. He'd earned his fair share of scraps in the past, but it had been more of a struggle than if he'd been born a cute, pampered looking cat with a pretty gemstone collar. Ah well, being large and... extra fluffy had its merits too, he supposed.

His nose wrinkled suddenly, the cat quickly adding, as if a tad defensive, "I do have friends."

He smirked, moving down to lick one paw and idly wipe back the extra fluffiness across his chest. Bob allowed the cat to settle in next to the food first, before he rose and made his way closer to the plate. The fish smelled, well, like fish and the Maine Coon's stomach growled appreciatively at the small amount of food set out for them. Or her, rather, but it seemed the lovely Eta had intentions of sharing... at least the fries, anyways.

"And how many of these sweet young men do you have wrapped around your paw, exactly?"

One paw leaned down and a single claw stabbed one of the starchy fries before bringing it up to his mouth to chew on. It was rather salty, but at least it was fresh, as opposed to sitting under a heat lamp all afternoon. Bob had to admit it - the gal knew a trick or two, at least.

"Not shabby, Miss Eta. Not too shabby at all."

He laughed at that, almost choking on the remnants of his french fry. Pity? She pitied him? How rich it was, for someone stuck with all of the work and none of the fun, showing any shred of sympathy for someone who was having the time of his life, essentially.

"You're the only one pointing out lines, m'dear." Smirking, he bent down to snap up another fry, chewing slowly as he continued talking, regardless of whether potato remained in his mouth. "I'm fairly comfortable with our current arrangement as it is, unless..."

He swallowed, his smile turning into more of a leer, "You preferred to hop over these tracks, as you like to call it, and see what it's like on the wilder side of life? Only the good die young, you know."

Her assumption had been correct: despite the fact that he was curious enough to follow her, the beck and call of fresh fish and french fries was far too tantalizing to abandon in pursuit of chasing pretty little tail.

He watched her go, offering a casual tail twitch in response to her farewell. If luck would have it, they'd run across each other's paths once more, in time. If not... well, he was fortunate enough to find a half-decent conversation and free meal out of the bargain.

All in all, not a bad afternoon to be had.