“…This is stupid,” Viperstream growled, begrudgingly bringing up another tacky holiday banner on red wings and, with a surprising amount of grace, resting it on yet another nail sticking out of the wooden trellis. “Felis only knows why you decided to sign us up for this.”
Wesker, with that damnable and knowing smile of his, only rolled his eyes. A pang of something guilty for the negativity tugged at the cat’s heart… but it wasn’t quite enough to make her second guess her expressed lack of sentimentality towards… this holiday season, as it were. The most experience she’d ever had with it was that one leaf-bare she’d spent with the… well, the humans who she’d once cohabitated with, at best. “It’s fun,” he chuckled.
“Maybe for you,” she growled. “This is Two-leg— er, human stuff, where I come from. Cats don’t do parties.” Maybe some part of her wished she held the same fondness for the season; it surely wasn’t everyone, but other people sure seemed to be having a better time with this sort of thing. Particularly Lydia, who seemed in particularly good spirits lately, and who’d decked out the bar in all manner of tawdry décor she’d amassed over however many years — or lack thereof — she’d spent in this place. For the unlife of her, Viper couldn’t quite comprehend her particular love of what she called Christmas, though it wasn’t as if she had asked much herself, and mostly knew only what she’d heard in passing chatter or eavesdropped from the bartender’s discussions with more… enthusiastic residents.
“Maybe not cats where you come from, but I know plenty of cats who know how to party. And — regardless, you do plenty of “two-legged” stuff here, that’s no excuse.” His retort was playful, a glint in his eye; almost as if he’d read her mind, or at least some part of it. “Really, how many cats back home like spending their free time getting sloshed and doing illicit light reading?”
She shot him a glare, but ultimately, he was indeed correct, and the complaint was flimsy at best. So much for that. “…Okay. Touché.” Viperstream replied, as she brought herself back to the ground — with one final, emphatic flap of her wings for good measure as she touched down on the wooden walkway. “Then… well, I dunno. I guess it just doesn’t really make sense to me.”
“What about it doesn’t make sense?” He tilted his head.
“All this… urgh, this hullabaloo,” she replied, begrudgingly. She recognized the very word rolling off her tongue as having come from him and felt a sort of sickeningly saccharine fondness dance across her mouth, swiftly replaced by the temperate, earthy scent of Kee’s gardens. Thank all the stars.
Wesker laughed. “I mean, it’s different things to different people,” he said. “I can’t give you just one answer. You’ve been around long enough, I’m sure you’ve seen a few.”
“Yeah, and that’s just it,” she replied. “If it’s so many things, then what is it?”
“…Well,” Wesker started, tapping a claw to his chin thoughtfully. “I guess it’s like… hmm, a time for people to come together, but I’m sure you knew that. You know, catch up, enjoy one another’s company, support each other…? That sort of thing. And reflection too, I suppose. For a lot of people, it’s — a season of forgiveness.”
She rolled her eyes and offered him a wry smile. “I’m sure I could have gotten on board with maybe one of those things — but, you know, you had to go and ruin it with that,” she snorted. It was only half-sincere.
“Come on,” he chuckled, barely offering her more than a passing acknowledgement of her glum demeanour. “You don’t have anyone you want to forgive?”
“Hell no,” she scoffed.
“…I don’t know why I asked, that sounds like you. Cheers,” he replied. “Okay. How about people you want to forgive you?”
She shot him an equally bemused look, wrinkling her snout in mock disgust. She had opened her mouth to dish out another equally blunt response but then paused just as quickly when someone did, indeed, come to mind at the last moment. “—Jennifer,” she blurted out without much of second thought. Her paws shot up to cover her mouth as she sat back on her haunches, balancing herself on her powerful tail; she hadn’t exactly told Wes much about her previous — and only — love before they’d gotten together, and the obsessive memories of Jennifer she still held close to her she kept close for a reason. “I — er, I guess I’d want to find out what’s going on with her.”
“…Who?” his voice was laced with confusion, but genuine curiosity. He tilted his head at her. “I don’t recall you ever mentioning a Jennifer.” He didn’t sound particularly upset, but as she was wont to do she honed in on the hint of apprehension in his tone as he added — “Sounds important.”
Well, no point in embarrassing myself. What was said was said, and even though she’d very much rather not have to talk about anything actually meaningful about her prior life she had this time unfortunately backed herself into a rather pathetic corner, from which trying to escape would only make her look worse. And dumber. A lot dumber. She shifted on her feet, feeling her paws against the boards. “She’s…” Viper mulled over the words for a few seconds, “an… old friend of mine.” Yes, a friend. And only a friend. “From way back when. Whatever is going on with her — or this version of her, at least… she won’t come near me. I — I guess I want to figure out why. If it’s something I did.”
“How unlike you,” he teased. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were fixing to replace me.”
Viperstream shot him a scowl, to which he only shrugged good-naturedly with another playful laugh. She scoffed at the thought. “What? Of course not, you big dork.” A paw quickly darted forward to give him a bap on the forehead. “You can’t get rid of me that easy.”
“Well, thank my lucky stars,” he chortled.