Serval and Sheep (Chapter 2)
Sometimes it takes a roommate to remind yourself of your social prowess.
Hafsa had not slept all weekend. The memories of what happened Friday evening danced around her head like mischievous children.
By all accounts, she shouldn't even be worried. I mean, she wasn't doing anything wrong. She was just eating a snack. It's not like she hasn't eaten in public before. Though baring one's fangs in public is a definite social no-no, it is always excused during mealtimes.
She tried to play it off at the time. Stuffing the crumbling granola bar back in her bag (cleaning it out later was a grim punishment) and swerving towards the corner of the room to wipe her face clean of any remaining crumbs or spit in a split second.
"Hey, Desmond! Sheep! Sheep Desmond! Y-yeah, I was just... Have a nice weekend!" She had sputtered, looking every which way except his.
Without a moment's hesitation, she lunged towards the staircase and made it to her dorm in three minutes flat.
The weekend came and went. It was a blur of congratulations and karaokes. The predicted victory lap to an election well won. She smiled and giggled and danced her heart out, with the friends that were in their own way, additional medals showcasing her hard work. She was marinated in the reminder that she. Is. Awesome.
So it was a social faux pas. Rare for her, but inevitable. Pobody's nerfect, right? Then why does she feel this bothered, even now? Is it because a herbie saw? Is it because she ran off without a proper response? Is it because something about that sheep is extremely unsettling?
Hafsa decides on the latter. Now Monday evening in her dorm, she decides to simply place the blame on that weirdo sheep and his freaky vibes. Now maybe she could finish her homework in peace.
However, the click of the door brings with it another interruption, albeit one Hafsa doesn't mind.
"I'm b-back. They were out of cheese thing you like, so I got you... a sweet roll." A Pallas cat shuffles in and sets down two plastic bags of food, doubling over her stout body to catch her breath. Her iconic look of disinterest remains furrowed on her brow even when exhausted.
"Those aren't remotely similar. But thank you, Molly!"
The cat gives herself a final patdown, pleased with her work. "I'm gonna open the window to air out the food smell."
"It's so cold, though!" Hafsa protests.
"You're telling that to the cat who went all the way to the cafeteria?" Molly pointedly slides the dorm window open, letting the cool night breeze sneak in. "Lucky for me, my winter fur still hasn't shed completely."
"That giant tumbleweed I swept up the other day wasn't all of your winter fur? I'm in trouble."
"Yeah, it's bad this year. Climate change, probably."
Hafsa squints. "No-- Yeah, no, that doesn't make sense."
Molly shrugs. "Let's eat before it gets cold. You've studied all day."
They begin unpacking the styrofoam containers on the carpeted dorm floor.
"Hardly. I've been reading this page over and over again for the last ten minutes. I still don't know what subject it's on."
"Student council life already got you down?"
Hafsa's ears perk up. "You can tell?"
"I have my ways," she mutters into her sandwich. "Are you being tainted by political complexities, corruption and avarice?"
"We didn't even have the first meeting yet!" The serval chuckles, playing with her plastic fork. "It's not even about the student council, really... I don't know. I just did something embarrassing."
The smaller cat looks up at her roommate, her expression somehow even more apathetic than normal.
"I'm guessing you breathed funny? Held a pause three milliseconds too long?" She goes to take another bite of her sandwich, and Hafsa catches a glimpse of her fangs. They're a lot shorter and thinner than Hafsa's, almost like the sharpened lead of a white pencil.
"It's probably nothing. I'd tell you to keep this to yourself but--"
"But you know I don't care enough to gossip." Molly finishes her sentence in a tone almost resembling singsonged. As expressive as Molly will ever get.
Hafsa shakes her head, holding back a laugh. "I don't think I would've won the election if you had loose lips."
"Please. You're perfect. And that is not a compliment, by the way, I meant it as in like freakishly perfect in an irritating way."
"I guess I am, huh?" Hafsa sticks her tongue out and winks. "Remember when you used to hate me?" She ignores the quiet "used to?" grumbled by the smaller cat. "You know, now that I'm the student council president, I can make all your dreams come true! To thank you for this sweet roll I don't like!"
Molly lowers her ears, closes her eyes and claps her hands together in mock prayer. "Oh, Hafsa, Your Eminence, I ask only that you give me the sweet roll so that you may be rid of it forevermore."
Hafsa flings the roll at Molly, laughing. She finally feels relieved of the weight that had been crushing her all weekend. Molly had reminded her of one crucial fact: She can be friends with any animal. Yes, even Molly, once a cold, snarky stranger, melted into a cold, snarky friend with enough patience and effort. She nearly forgot her training, her climb. This is not the first time things have gone off on a bad start. This is not the first time she has dealt with a tough customer.
And that night, when she lays her head down on her pillow, claws trimmed and teeth brushed, she finally manages to sleep soundly.