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Richmond’s locker room wasn't Dahlia's favorite place. She liked the nooks and crannies, and she certainly liked weaving between the legs of the players, but it perpetually smelled bad. Cats had sensitive noses, you know.
But Dahlia's desire for attention and head scratches tended to overrule her desire to not smell sweaty socks and kits, so that was where she found herself.
Dahlia was poised, ready to pounce on the enemy. The enemy in question was that damn red speck that was zooming across the locker room floor. This foe was one that she had met before, and had yet to conquer.
But Dahlia felt confident: today was the day she caught the red dot.
Just before she could jump on it, the dot flew forward, past her line of sight. One of the boys yelped as Dahlia dashed forward. She had to cut Sam off in his path next, but he only wobbled for a moment. They were footballers— if anything, this would make for good agility training.
She followed the pointer for a few more steps before finding a hiding spot behind a bench. The dot remained where it had stopped in the middle of the room.
“Laser pointers actually cause emotional distress and frustration for cats. Since–” someone started to say, but Dahlia paid them no mind. Her ears were pinned back fully, her body pressed against the floor. She was stealth. She was—
“Shut up, Jan Maas,” Jamie interrupted. Dahlia leapt forward, slamming her paws on the strange red dot.
But when she lifted one of her paws to view her prize, there was nothing there! A flash caught her eye, and Dahlia looked up just in time to see that damn red dot dancing only a few steps in front of her. She had no time to waste: Dahlia pounced again, but this time the dot rushed out from underneath her and to her left.
“Hey, lads,” Jamie called out. "Watch,"
Dahlia wouldn't have paid him any mind if it wasn't for the fact that the dot ran right to Jamie. It rested beside one of his feet. Dahlia crept closer, unsure if Jamie was going to help her in her fight or not. He better not— this was Dahlia's fight, through and through. Even the strange silver stick in Jamie's hand wouldn't rob Dahlia of this sweet victory.
Jamie lifted his foot, hovering it over the dot. Dahlia was torn between stopping him, and seeing what would happen. Likely, with the resilience of the red dot, Jamie wouldn't be able to even make a dent. Dahlia had put her full force into catching the dot, time and time again, and she came from a long line of ferocious wild cats, royalty of the jungle. Jamie certainly did not come from such a lineage. At the most, he might have some Turkish Angora in him, but even that was a bit sophisticated for him.
He stomped his foot down over the dot with force.
The dot disappeared. Even when Jamie lifted his foot up, the dot was... Completely gone. Dahlia made a noise of confusion, standing up from her stealth-loaf. A few of the players laughed, but Dahlia wasn't sure at what. She walked over to Jamie, tentatively pawing at the floor where the dot was last. Perhaps there was a trap door underneath? Or maybe it stuck to the bottom of Jamie's foot? She pawed at Jamie's foot with a bit more force, just to be sure. He just laughed and stepped out of Dahlia's range before she could take out her claws.
"Don't be mean!" Sam called out. When Dahlia looked up at Jamie, he was still laughing, shrugging with the silver stick in his hands still.
"I don't know what you mean by that! I got it! I was just helping her out!"
Dahlia meowed louder, displeased.
"Hey!" That was Isaac. Dahlia liked Isaac— he knew where exactly to give her scratches every time. "Cut that shit out."
"Oi, fine," Jamie said. A moment later, the dot was back on the ground, right in front of Dahlia. There was no time to think, so Dahlia did what she did best: she pounced.