He woke up only a bit ago. The noise that woke him up was squawking. This was common for him. He drew himself out from his comfortable position of laying face-first on the ground and sat up.
This was basically every morning for a little while now. As he got up, he immediately fell into a limp as he moved away from his sleeping spot by some tree.
“Shit, this didn't heal yet?” he said with a wince. Vague flashes of memory ensued – his combat with a creature that he barely slayed. The overworking of his body, the strain – quite frankly, he was not used to it. He turned his attention to his avian companion, but he was just making noise and not demanding he do something.
Not long after locking eyes with it, it stopped and just stared at him. Then it flew off. Gato watched it take flight and leave somewhere.
“Huh... guess it cares that I'm still recovering from all that this time.
Regardless of the limp, Gato relocated himself to an establishment, fairly rundown, with half-naked women everywhere grinding against poles and the like.
“How's this for a mission...” he muttered to himself, snickering as he did as he leaned back on the wooden chair – as far back as he could without toppling over.1