Work Text:
If Millie was honest with herself, the day really was getting suspiciously peaceful. Her stalkers had let up on the close-quarter contacts and stuck to hovering in the background, out of focus; her ever inconspicuous orange shadow had accidentally met her eyes, panicked, and fled the cafe she visited this morning (which promptly caused her to strain something trying to suppress her laughter); and, lastly, Laurent was eyes-deep in his own research and, as such, could not bring himself to bother her.
She really thought it was gonna be a good day. Which, as records had proven, was entirely her oversight.
One moment she was strolling leisurely down the streets, playing with her phone, trying to decide if she should hit the library or another tourist location just to make her stalkers sweat.
Next thing she knew, something fell with a thwap on top of her head, and momentum ensured that she went sprawling immediately.
Her first thought was that they finally had the drop on her, she was being taken to whoever tasked them with tailing her at last, but then she realized the darkness that blanketed her gaze was merely her hair, which had fallen and curtained her face. She was on all fours on the sidewalk with a crick in her neck, probably a bruised knee or two and definitely no dignity left to salvage.
Bewildered, she smoothed her hair back as best as she could- which was when she saw it.
A cat. Equally as disheveled and confused as her.
Because it fell on her head.
“Are you fucking serious?” Millie couldn’t help herself. Her neck ached dully. The cat yowled at her.
“No,” She told it. Then once more, firmly, as it sauntered closer. “I said no!”
It lifted one foot, pawed at her in the air, then continued yowling.
Millie patted herself down in quick succession; bag, books, gun, tablet, a packet of trail mix for her peckish needs, some pens and her makeup purse. Everything was in order, but- where the hell was her sunglasses?
“Are you hurt?” A calm mewl answered her. “Go on then.” An elongated, whiny mrow, then the cat dashed forward. Millie stepped to the side and, when she finally realized the thing was not running past but toward her, leap-danced out of its course of trajectory without hesitation. “No, no, no. Non. Bad cat! Stay put!”
The cat immediately sat and wrapped its tail around itself, mewling insistently.
“I’m not taking you anywhere. Meow.” She pointed at it, then the streets, then made a shooing motion.
The cat had the gall to look bored. Millie was equally impressed and offended by the sheer scope of emotion (or lack thereof) she’s gazing upon.
She looked to the balconies above to try and gauge where the cat had come from. One in particular had its doors open, and from within loud arguments could be heard- distinctly upset and very English arguments.
“Hello?” She yelled. No answer. “Excusez-moi? Earth to Planet Racket?”
And still, no sign that the occupants had heard her. She ran a hand through her hair and made a face at the sky.
“Okay, listen you airborne little heathen,” Millie started, “If you want to apologize- or an apology- go back to whoever owns you and get a load of treats from them. I can’t-“
But the cat was gone. Miraculously, it was no longer sitting where she saw it last; instead, in its place was a wide-eyed man whose hair had not seen any combing action in quite some time, hanging loose on the sides of his angular face.
For one ludicrous second, Millie was truly prepared to mewl at him. But last she checked the cat didn’t have a jar full of wiggling worms in its paws, and this guy was carrying three.
In addition to her sunglasses.
“Oh sweet merciful Jesus,” Millie said in one breath while relieving the man of her glasses, “Thanks, man. A cat fell on top of me.”
“Ah! That makes total sense!” He said brightly, because apparently cats fell on people all the time in Paris. They didn’t put that in the brochure. “Glad you have your glasses back at least!”
Millie smiled. Then, because he looked like he didn’t know what else to say and the flying cat crisis seemed well and truly over, “Say, are you by any chance releasing those worms in the park? I could use a walk.
In the end, the man, Leo he said, led her around the perimeter of the park instead and fed her ice cream from a hole-in-the-wall place that he loved. They then made a detour for a local bookstore when Millie mentioned she wanted to read up on the city’s history. Satisfied that her tails had had their exercises for the day, she then parted way with Leo with a half-hearted promise to browse the graveyard for funny headstones (which she normally would be down for, but didn’t think was wise to do when her grand-stalker had not revealed themself yet).
She went back to her apartment, threw the bag on the couch, and heard an distinctly familiar yowl.
Millie looked at the bag, then her bed. She took another step.
The yowling got louder.
“Alright, alright!” She snatched up the bag and lo and behold, the cat from earlier was blinking up at her grumpily, as if it was her fault they were in this predicament. She pointed a finger at it.
“Back in the day, stowaways like you get thrown off the ship.”
It mrow’d at her.
“No. I forbid this.”
At 2 AM, Millie went to a convenient store to stock up on cat food. The cat slept on her chest until morning.