Roleplay

"It's a bit rude to eavesdrop don't you think?" Came a whisper from behind the cat farthest from the duo of she-cats. A short calico tom was standing a ways behind him, with an impish look on their face. A bit of visible curiosity stained their expression too though.

@Gyftrot { In case you haven't subscribed to the thread yet. }

Spirits, two more cats? The she-cat thought anxiously. She had hoped that luck would be on her side, and let her get out of this quickly, but apparently not. Why couldn't these cats be more uncaring and less helpful? She appreciated their good intentions, but this was racking at her nerves.
"It's a flesh wound, nothing I can't handle myself," the grey cat hissed with venomous defense. Though now that she was aware of it, the sting was becoming more and more uncomfortable, edging toward actual pain. On top of it, she could feel her fur matting from the seeping blood, turning a streak of her pelt a tainted grey crimson. She doubted that image helped her retort. The sharp sting in her side was still their, but had dulled only slightly to an intense throbbing that made her light-headed.

He shrugged a bit,"I know, I just wanted an excuse to use the word. The situation was close enough." Giving a sideways glance to the she-cat he added on,"Yea that's definitely more than 'a flesh wound' though." Mocking her words good-naturedly, but with concern in his tone,"You, as said, should rest or have someone check on it, or even better both."

He took a few cautious steps in her direction to get a better look at it, cringing at the sight of blood he stepped back at a respectful distance. ".. It would be a good decision to just accept the offered help, or go to someone else you know for help."

"Since when did a bunch of strangers become my den mother?" she muttered to herself, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear. Was the laceration from her jaw really that bad? Maybe it was just that the pain in her ribs overshadowed the sightly mark. Her claws were dug into the wood, just to keep herself steady.
"Thanks for the tip, it wasn't exactly part of my planned wardrobe," The apprentice-aged she-cat quipped back, eyes now narrowed in annoyance.
Her head then turned to the farthest Tom. "I can handle it myself, thanks," the she-cat enforced, though her voice was barely trembling from the worry and tiredness. Being generally inexperienced, her last catch had been two mornings ago, and the lack of food, plus physical and mental exertion was taking it's toll. She just needed these others to wander off, she could find some intact leaves to cover the wound, and...well, find food, somehow.

He nearly panicked as the other left,"Wait actually could you-" Letting out a puff of breath in defeat stopping mid-sentence, he was not running after him. Turning his attention back to the she-cat his concern grew,"Are you sure? That's a real nasty wound and I wouldn't want to have the guilty conscious that I left a cat to fend for themselves injured."

"I am so sorry to be such a bother by the way, I just stress these things too much." He let out a nervous laugh, then shuffled a bit anxiously pondering his words. "Is there anything at all I can do to help?"

Golden eyes blinked slowly as a large tom surveyed the garden beyond. While he looked relaxed for the most part, his ears twitched and swiveled towards sounds on the outside. There were cats out there, past the fence. He could hear them and while he relished the warmth of his upwalker's den the curiosity was tickling at his paws and he weighed heavily as to whether or not he wanted to go out. Part of him wanted to simply know what was going on, while the other part of him was bored to tears and was itching for a confrontation. He'd love to chase off a loner or two if they dared cross that fence. There was a hiss in the distance and that did it. Pascal stood, stretched his long, limber body, and hopped down to the cool tile floor below. He was large with an angular, wedged face and piercing golden eyes. While his pelt was that of a marbled tabby, the grey, brown, and reddish ticked fur matched with his muscle and proportions betrayed Bengal in his lineage.

He plodded along the tile, cool on his pawpads, and ignored a quizzical glance from his upwalkers small, yappy dog. It didn't follow him, knowing a scratched nose would more than likely be the result, and simply curled back up into a button in it's bedding. Pascal continued on, shouldering his way through the dog flap and into the cool, clear night. Moonlight bathed his garden and the chirp of insects was like music to the tom. He thoroughly enjoyed his garden and his upwalkers let him come and go as he pleased as he usually didn't stray far and always came back. He relished the sensation of freshly cut grass beneath his paws, but his attention was on the wilderness beyond. His golden eyes blinked owlishly and his whiskers twitched as he scented the air.

He couldn't quite make anything out at his distance away, but he could hear the murmur of voices nearby. He sprang upwards with a powerful leap, perching on the wooden fence that partitioned his garden from the outside world. His tail lashed as he balanced and scanned the wood beyond.

"Oi, what's going on out there? Don't make me come down and rough you up a bit. All the noise you're making you'll draw upwalkers out and that only spells trouble."

(Hope it's okay that I hopped in!)