#Yes i find it ironic that last fic in the series was about iskall being scared of cats and now this lol

[reblog-house]

A Normal Day at the Cat Cafe

Written for Hermit-a-day-May, day 24: Cleo!

Wc: 1,111

Ao3: Here!

Cleo’s Kitty Café was a complete success. Everyone got their cups of tea or coffee, surrounded by many wonderful kitties, and promptly ignored their cups just to get the completely free enchanted books attached to them. An incredible business model, if you asked her! No downsides whatsoever. And its placement in the shopping district was also very strategic. They should be commemorated, for all the good they’ve done to the server.

A remunerated good, but good nonetheless.

Cleo dragged their hand over the hardcovers as she walked. The texture of leather was familiar under her touch. 

They were brought back to their surroundings by a kitty rubbing its face against her legs.

“Aww,” she said and picked it up from its torso with both hands. “Now, who were you?”

Should she know the name of the cats she tamed for the shop? Probably. But also, she wasn’t the one who named most of them. Everyone was free to engrave whatever name they wished on the cats’ collars. So it was very fair, actually, that they wouldn’t know.

Its collar read ‘Poptart’.

“Aww, hello Poptart.” They tilted their head, and the cat followed the motion. 

The cat really looked dumb from that angle, being held up in the air, little feetsies dangling down.

As if the cat knew what she was thinking, Cleo received a paw to the face, right between her eyebrows. She shut her eyes instinctively and turned her face to the side.

“Right, you win.” They let go of the cat mid-air and a gentle thunk and tap tap tap taps let them know the cat had landed safely and walked away.

At the noise, little heads rose from their slumber, tired eyes blinking heavily. When they saw no threat, they went back to sleep. The more wary ones stood in alarm, ears turning in every direction, and only sat down when Cleo made eye contact. Those ones didn’t go back to bed, or not immediately. And others only twitched their ears at most, no reaction otherwise, as they were too busy sleeping soundly to care. 

Jellie was one of them. She rolled to the side in her sleep, completely unaware of the outside world.

A gentle smile pulled at Cleo’s mouth, and they looked away.

Honestly, for being a cat café, these kits kept to themselves a lot. Minus ‘Poptart’, apparently.

Cleo went to the dispensers and selected a hot chocolate. The machine whirred like the cats that surrounded it, and Cleo waited, the tall sundae glass set in place. 

Liquid chocolate poured down in a nice stream. Though the glass was tinted, they could still tell how much liquid was inside.

As she waited, she entertained herself by opening the money cabinet and seeing how many diamonds she’s made. 

51 diamonds. Good sales as always. The day they get less than 40 diamonds, they’d run out of business.

No, they wouldn’t. People may not need their services as much at certain times, but their shop was indispensable. Everyone needed it eventually. Particularly those who didn’t have, nor were interested in, trading set-ups and who were very prone to losing their stuff in lava.

Once the diamonds were safely pocketed, she turned around to the sound of tiny marshmallows plopping onto the drink.

And to think everyone ignored their beverages after so much care and attention had gone to their finest production.

Nah, at first, she’d put in the effort to get each flavor and recipe right, but when it became clear nobody was actually drinking them and were just using the cups and mugs as decoration at most, they stopped caring. No need to use up good ingredients on them. As long as the color was right, that was all that mattered. Edible dyes were more than welcomed and pisspoor quality required.

Not the hot chocolate, though. That one, she still got to perfection. It was the only drink she cared about in the whole establishment and the only one she’d ever wanted to drink. Cocoa beans crushed by hand and made into a fine powder. Just the right amount of sugar for it to be sort of sweet but not too sickly. Just the freshest of milks collected every day.

Everything else stayed there for weeks until the contents ran out.

Because she had to restock the hot chocolate every day, they only prepared enough for two drinks each morning, and basically forced people to buy the other beverages if they weren’t going to enjoy the drink.

The hot chocolate was for true enjoyers only, and they wanted to keep it that way.

With both hands, they picked up the glass — it was warm under her palms — and set off to one of the chairs; the only one not occupied by a cat. Instead, the cat was nicely curled up on the windowsill, making the most of daylight.

The cafe had seats, a couple tables here and there. It wasn’t her fault that the cats preferred taking up as much seating space as possible, barely leaving anything for the consumers.

Well, not like people sat down to actually drink anything. Any more tables would obstruct the path of the main event: the books.

…No need for Doc to know they’d said that. 

Eh, he’d already made them pay, anyway.

The cat on her left made a little squeak when it felt her approach, eyes still shut. 

Across the room, Jellie stretched, still laying down, and then got to her feet. 

She yapped and made her way over to Cleo, swaying slightly from side to side. Cleo set the mug on the table and prepared to greet the cat. 

From their side, the kit stretched, her paws coming to the side of their thigh, and then-

Fwoomp!

The queen was on her lap, staring up at her with big round eyes. She started making biscuits and gave them a slow blink.

“Aww…” Cleo presented their hand to her nose and, once Jellie sniffed it, pressed their hand over her head.

It went down with the pressure, and when Cleo let go, the head bobbed back into place. The purring was even stronger than before, like the grumblings of the beast from below.

Cleo felt Jellie’s feet search for the best position and then descended into place. Her body was comfortably warm and heavy as a folded blanket. She sighed, content, and leaned against the back of the chair. 

The cat curled up against the window sighed through its nose, and Cleo reached back for her chocolate.

It was warm, but not scalding. Sweet, but not saccharine. 

She reached down to pet the purring cat.

It was perfect.