a day off; a social ft. ezekiel

“Uh...”

The utterance was just that. It escaped those bestial jowls of his in response to catching sight of and older individual approaching him. The gawky flavour his paces were steeped in made for the possibility of conversation between them no longer an enticing concept. The besotted man nigh bled the truth of his intoxication. Gato, however, simply had a simple, cheap, and rather widely available mug of ale.

“O-Oh, is that right?” Nicknames aside, he was alerting him to something wondrous. Though, something was pulling at his attention. Gato's eyes shifted to a window. What sat within it was a crow. Its eyes were locked upon Gato, but then they shifted to the drunken man who, at the time, was speaking of the woman-to-come's sex appeal.

“That is... one hell of a description,” he said as he returned his attention to him. Inwardly, he was complaining about the appearance of Ba'al; or rather, Ball as he called him. The day was one he had off – or so that was what he thought. Judging from the subtle motions the bird was making, there was interest in the man before him. He wondered why that was.

“I'm Gato. What – uh, kinda things do you do? Gotta make money somehow, right?” He chuckled lightly, short-lived as he reached for his beer. No longer leaning back, he brought it to his maw as he kept an attentive eye on him.

2

After the man sat down beside him, he could not help but eye the wad of cash he started tossing at the performer one bill at a time. 'Well, damn...' he thought to himself. He wondered if he was able to come into the same kind of riches. As it were, not so much – but payment was starting to increase amidst him and his fellow agents. It was somewhat exciting, but unsettling at the same time. Just what was actually going on with what he got wrapped up in, he did not know.

Then again, he was no 'Kingpin.'

“Mm... sometimes,” he replied. “It depends on the job, but not this time.” The performers seemed unable to steal his eye away for the majority of the time. “I was wondering why I'm being told to try and recruit you. I guess I got my answer.”

He scratched the top of his head as he spoke, ceasing soon after to gesture instead as he continued.

“I'm one of those new fangled guild masters now and the guild's called Mythos. We just kind of go around killing creatures.” He paused, noting what the man just said prior.

“Oh, and there's conpensation; more depending on how big the thing you killed was – or small... kind of varies.”

3

His first response was a short-lived moment – a still that blend into an abrupt snort on Gato's behalf. A chuckle ensued as the feline was tickled by how the man led him to believe another reply was being fashioned for him. On the contrary, he was apparently already on board.

“Really? Well, then I guess it's pretty much official and in record time, too.”

He glanced towards the window. It was enough to provoke movement. Conveniently the door swung open to let another patron in and in with them, the two completely unconnected, a crow flew in within their wake.

It found purchase on the table Gato and the man were at.

“Valefar,” it squawked. “Let's take, take, take all that we desire!” It inched closer as it spoke it is avian tones.

4

From that table, the atmosphere proved to be a jovial one. Neither likely expected the apparent compatibility that was unfolding between them and with the clinking of their glasses, the deal seemed to have been officially struck. Drinking all the while, Gato appeared pleased at Zeke and Valefar's evident chemistry. There was a tsunami of reasons behind his actions; but just observing the growth of something he was behind was something nigh surreal and most definitely fulfilling – surprisingly so.

“Anytime,” Gato replied. “But I think the birds are holding off for now. I think they see we're busy!” He joked – somewhat, but not really. It was not a certainty, but something he felt entirely possible. His avian friends could be very persistent and relentless with requests; but at times, nothing but silence – or conversation not relevant to their work.

The crows were clearly not ordinary. They usually had the same squawky manner of speaking. It made for a difficult time taking much of what they said seriously, but eventually one got used to it.

“She's done?” Gato questioned as he watched the woman in the process of concluding her show. “So, does that mean the main attraction you mentioned's up next?”

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While Ezekiel was confirming Gato's guess, he was inwardly imbibing him as a whole; his body, his demeanour, his behaviour and mannerisms. Gato himself had little clue as to why the powers that be were so adamant on him expanding their organization into a wizarding guild with him being at its head.

He was blind to himself for the most part, but not to others. He could not see himself as what he was. He had an appearance that placed others at ease either through endearment or ridicule. He spoke with understanding, agreeability and possessed great tolerance. At the same time, he could read nigh anyone like a book, wield whatever magic they did like a childly plaything and destroy them with the mercilessness one would expect of a demonic felid; a bakeneko. If he were to be classified as one of the Sins he was to rule over, while Envy fit his magic – always wanting to be like someone else's – how he dealt with threats – wrath was far more fitting.

Already, he deduced to have found a monster. This one required a healthy portion of respect.

And none of that was even remotely believable as the lights dimmed and a flux of awe and anticipation flooded his feline features. He was looking in the direction he assumed the woman would be entering from. His line of sight was in line with everybody else's, at least. A visual marker appeared on the curtain. So, it was obvious where one should be looking. The appearance of a leg brandishing a dragon tattoo caused his heart to nearly skip a beat.

“Oh, shit,” he said within a self-directed, hushed utterance. He was not expected a tattoo at all and the leg alone was enough to keep his eyes glued in place. The pacing of the act was wondrous. She moved when the lights supported it.

“There's, uh,” Gato began. He was speaking to Ezekiel, but there was far too much distracting him to finish the thought in a prompt manner. “One more thing I gotta do to make things official.”

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Gato was well underway to understanding what made the woman the main attraction of the establishment. After all, while he was not a creature to frequent such places, he had yet to witness such an act of physical prowess. Many dancers were skilled at their arousing dances; but it was left at that. To perform such feats of balance and physical strength and endurance was captivating on its own.

“Alright, here we go,” Gato said; though in a quiet manner more to himself than any other and with a poke of a bestial finger to Ezekiel – that was it. “Boop,” Gato muttered with a subdued, albiet still zany flare. It caused a red pigment to snake its way across Ezekiel's skin. Hardly was there any unpleasant sensations. It barely felt like anything and eventually, it would expand into a star-like symbol somewhere on the man's body.

“Welcome to the hunt, Ezekiel; Sin of Greed,” he said, finally having apparently shaken off the grand distraction adjacent to him. “...which means you can, like... lead some other new recruits when we – uh, get them...” he went on to explain.

He thought it sounded cool when he said it like that, but nobody ever knew what it was that he was talking about when he said things like that. It was understandable. After all, he did not explain the various positions in the guild. If he did, he always felt like he was ruining his dramatic welcoming.

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