Private tender greetings / cinnamon

[Tugger]

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Gentle rain woke him: a soft tap-tap-tap against his flattened nose. Copper eyes glanced off his daughters and ricocheted against Ram and Goldie out towards the pier - a ship had blown a solemn call in the distance, but nobody shifted... it was just him.

He allowed himself a beat to collect himself (comb back downy fur, tangled and splintered from the last several years on the road... how his old handlers would scream if they could see the state of his coat now.) Despite the rain, it was not a bad morning, just a quiet one, and who was he to deny a quiet beach on a gentle morning?

Fog rolled over the pebbles and sea-glass as he disentagled himself from his family, and Tugger's ears perked up as vision blanched. He knew there were other cats lingering around, but he had yet to see any. "G'mornin'." he shot into the haze, "Nice weather, huh?"

@Cinnamon

 

[Cinnamon]

Cinnamon has been up since before the very beginnings of the morning rays cracked the horizon, with much to do she could not afford to slow down... Not when hunger gnaws at her stomach today, unusually strong; she had caught something in the rolling waves for once, and now she returns, thankful she had begun before the rain had started. The fish is held tight between her teeth as she walks despite being on the smaller side, not knowing where, but she has a purpose to find somewhere nice to rest and eat. The rain that pitter patters against her pelt was annoying; the ship that blows a horn in the distance was a little creepy.

G'morning, a voice calls from the low rolling fog, and dual-toned eyes slide over to where she thinks the voice came from, halting in her tracks. "Good morning," she echoes back (a little muffled between fish scales) in a meow, hoping that it was meant for her and not anyone closer. Now that would be embarrassing, wouldn't it? Her face contorts in to a grimace at the thought, exhaling sharply as she turns her body to look down at the pebbles beneath her paw, ready to move on and start walking until the voice speaks again. Nice weather, huh? She snorts in slight amusement at this, shaking her head despite the fact that he probably couldn't see her; she couldn't see him, after all. "Sure," soft sarcasm laces her one spoken word, the edges of her eyes crinkling ever slightly.

She feels awkward, really, leaving the conversation in favor of eating so she awkwardly lingers, dipping her head slightly and flicking her right ear. She sets the fish at her paws, heaving an inaudible sigh before she parts her lips to ask a question, "Have you eaten? I caught something earlier, if you'd like to share." she does not know him, does not know very many cats in the shipyard, but it does not stop her from extending an olive branch. She'd want someone else to do the same for her if given the chance, after all.