Chapter Text
Klein had considered bringing all six kittens with him to Welch's place.
But the thought barely lasted a minute.
They were far too curious. Far too restless.
The moment he let slip that he would be heading out—and that he intended to take them along so they wouldn't be left alone in the apartment—the entire group erupted into chaos.
The scattered in all directions.
Klein stood still for a moment, watching the disaster unfold with quiet resignation.
His gaze first landed on the black-and-white kitten wearing a pair of tiny golden glasses. It was oddly fitting—this one was the most inquisitive of the lot. It sniffed at everything, wandered everywhere, and more often than not ended up by his diary, pawing it open and flipping through the pages.
Almost as if it were reading.
If Klein didn't know better, he might have believed it truly was.
Before he could dwell on that unsettling thought, his attention snapped elsewhere.
The other black-and-white kitten—this one with the small orange pendulum—was once again squeezing itself through the railings of Benson's bed, teetering dangerously close to the edge. One slip, and its fragile little body would break upon the floor.
Klein immediately moved to retrieved it—
—and promptly kicked something soft.
He didn't even need to look down to know which one it was.
The orange kitten.
It had a habit of appearing underfoot at the worst possible times.
At the same time, he felt a faint tug at his back.
Again.
With practiced familiarity, Klein reached behind and plucked the culprit off his shirt. As expected, the cloaked kitten gazed up at him with wide, innocent eyes, as though it hadn't just been dangling there moments ago.
Klein opened his mouth to complain—
—but something suddenly landed on his head.
He didn't even need to guess.
The other glasses-wearing one.
Sure enough, when he reached up and pulled it free from his hair, his suspicions were confirmed.
Now, Klein stood there, holding two kittens by the scruff, while the remaining four continued to run amok, exploring every corner of the apartment as though it were an uncharted world.
Then, with a quiet sigh, Klein made his decision.
Welch and Naya would simply have to forgive his absence today.
"Alright," he muttered, exhaustion seeping into his voice. "Looks like I'll be staying."
The response was immediate.
Six meows rang out at once, unmistakably pleased.
Klein had to take a moment because he could have sworn they were cheering.
Mischievous little things.