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“Stop moving.”
Puss grumbled but tried his best to stay still as the tip of the eyeliner pressed softly against his face. The pressure intensified as Kitty brushed the pencil along the thin line of his eye lit. Once at the edge she finished the piece with a winged shape just as Puss had requested. She leaned away slightly to get a good look at the entirety of his face and ascertain both eyes were even.
"Ya," Kitty announced as she twirled the pencil around her fingers and set it down. "My work is done,"
Puss opened his eyes and blinked a few times.
"Toma," she handed Puss a makeup mirror.
Through the broken shards of glass he observed Kitty's work. The wings were a shade longer than usual and the tip was curved upward. He liked it.
Kitty swelled with amusement at seeing Puss' giddy expression as he admired the new look. Puss became aware of the set of eyes observing him. He cleared his throat and compelled his face to become more neutral.
"It is good." he said with false indifference.
She crossed her arms and threw him a knowing look.
He exhaled and admitted defeat. "Fine, it is very good."
"Of course it is. I'm not just a master of the blade, I'm also a master of the pencil."
"And you call me egocentric." he mumbled with a smile.
As a response Kitty rose and dumped the hat forcefully on Puss. He chuckled and maneuvered the hat so it settled properly.
Puss then stood and stretched his back to alleviate the pain from the uncomfortable position he had taken while Kitty applied his makeup. He bent down to pick up the pencil, mirror, and brushes from the floor and deposited them into the small pouch he kept stored on his left boot at all times.
"Why do you always get so jumpy when I do your makeup?" Kitty asked suddenly.
Because it makes me feel vulnerable.
"Because you could poke my eye out." he shrugged.
"Oh spare me. I taught you makeup. Before I came along you couldn't even put on eyeliner without almost going blind."
Puss dismissed the comment with a shake of his hand. "That was in the past. I am now an expert. After all, I do my own makeup everyday. Even on the dark days of Mama Luna I had to conserve my dignity somehow."
"Dignity," Kitty huffed. "Sure thing, Pickles."
Puss' face flushed instantly. "Hey! You promised not to bring up that name."
Kitty raised her hands. "Okay, perdón. It's just hilarious to imagine you as a lap cat. I bet you looked adorable with your little mittens."
Puss groaned at the memory.
"I am not adorable."
Kitty thought for a moment before sliding towards Puss.
"Would you prefer pretty?" she proposed with a sly smile.
Instead of coming up with a flirtatious come back like would be usual for Puss, his expression turned unreadable and he turned his face away from her.
"Go back to adorable." he uttered.
Misunderstanding his discomfort for embarrassment, she continued. "Why? You are very pretty."
"No."
Now Kitty was unsure.
"What's wrong with pretty?"
Puss turned towards her again. "There's nothing wrong with pretty. I just-I prefer other adjectives."
"Why? The 'Macho Gato' can't be called pretty?"
"No, eso no es. It-it is hard to explain."
Kitty stared at him with confusion.
Puss surrendered under her gaze. "I can tell you but…"
His sentence cut short. That's when Kitty took a more careful look at her partner. He was fidgeting with his fingers and his ears were very slightly slumbed back as he stared at nothing ahead. Puss looked nervous and discomfited almost as if he was…self-conscious. But that was an emotion so alien on him that Kitty couldn't be sure whether she was imagining it or not.
Instinctively, she turned her gaze towards the dark sky outside the opened door. While Kitty and Puss came to the room to rest, Perrito had insisted on taking the first watch. She could hear his small paws moving across the hollow wood.
Should she call Perrito? He always knew how to calm him down.
No —she decided. She needed to help him on her own.
Kitty put a tentative paw on his shoulder so that his gaze turned to her. She sat down on that spot and patted the floor next to her. Puss followed suit; slumping down clumsily and crossing his legs.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"It is not something I talk about—to anyone." he paused. "But you are not just anyone, Kitty."
Kitty felt a surge of gratitude but tried to keep her expression calm.
Puss took a deep breath and exhaled before continuing. "I was…born differently than you might think."
Puss glanced at Kitty, but her face showed she didn't know what he was getting at.
"Let me explain. When I was brought into Mama Imelda's care she tried giving me a name. Naming me was a hard task for her because at every name she proposed, I shook my head no. None of them felt like me. Even at that age, I knew that with certainty. Until finally, after the seventh attempt, she seemed to get it. With the warmest of smiles she gave me my name; Puss."
His eyes shone with glee as he recalled the story of his name.
"Mama Imelda introduced me as such to the rest of the orphanage, and as expected, there was much confusion. The other orphans did not understand why I was the way I was, and like everything, people fear what they do not understand. And these kids…well, they were mean. As a kitten they would chase me around calling me "gatita linda". They called me pretty as an insult because they knew it would get under my skin. Humpty would always fight them off, getting himself in trouble."
A mixture of sadness and nostalgia composed his expression as he remembered his friend and brother. He took a breath and resumed talking.
"For this reason I did not speak for the first few years of my life. I despised the sound of my voice so I would practice in private. After much and much practice, I was left with a voice deeper than any of the other boys in the orphanage. After that, they stopped making fun of me. The rest, you know. I saved the chief's mother, became a hero, and gained my boots," he lifted one of his boots in demonstration. "I acquired such confidence in myself that nobody else questioned it again."
Puss remained in silence for a few moments–absorbed in memories of the past, things that felt like ages and ages ago. He came back to the present; to the governor's ship, the warm-lit room, and the even warmer presence of Kitty next to him. He had not noticed when Kitty had taken his paw in hers. Most likely because of her 'soft paws'.
Puss cleared his throat and turned his attention to Kitty for the first time since he started talking.
"That is the reason," his gaze drifted down suddenly. "I hope this doesn't change how you think about me."
Kitty's expression was so full of fondness and love that it took him by surprise. She lifted her other paw and brought it to his cheek. He leaned into the touch; it was so soft he felt compelled to close his eyes.
"Estúpido."
She'd said it so softly the meaning was almost lost to him.
He gaped at her. "Eh what?"
Kitty rolled her eyes affectionately—something only she could do.
"Puss, this would never be a reason for me to think badly of you. If anything, I think more of you. You knew who you were and you never let the opinion of others drive you away from the truth."
Puss let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"I apologize for not telling you before, Kitty."
She shook her head, dismissing the apology. "It's okay, Puss. You didn't need to tell me, but you chose to. And I'm grateful for your trust. Besides-" she cupped his face, "-eres muy guapo."
"Heh, now that is an adjective I do not mind." Puss said and nuzzled his cheek against the softness of her paws. Kitty's smile twinkled.
"Gracias." he whispered.
"For what?"
"Just...for everything. Gracias, Kitty." he repeated.
Kitty shifted positions, settling besides Puss and resting her head on his shoulder.
"Gracias, Puss."
With so much love and kindness,
what is there left to wish for?