I’m a cat. We aren’t required to make sense.
When Rome burned, the emperor's cats still expected to be fed on time.
Who would come for her?" he snarled, rallying. Behind me, a voice shouted, "Tybalt, King of Cats. My claim precedes yours.
Tybalt’s what we call ‘Cait Sidhe’— the fairy cats. Which explains the attitude. And the eyes.” “Meow,” said Tybalt, deadpan.
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