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Summary
“Evening, doctor,” he says as he sits down next to Goodsir on the trunk and reaches across to scratch Fagin behind the ears. Briefly, as though in greeting. Then he begins to stroke the cat firmly along the back of the neck, his hand cupped. The gaunt tabby digs his claws into Goodsir’s belly as he presses ecstatically up into Collins’ soothing palm. His purr deepens, becomes faintly rhythmic.
“Oh, he likes that,” Goodsir observes awkwardly, not a little jealous of the rangy tom.
Series
- Part 2 of Goodcollins one-shots
