“You have a little bit of an attitude, you know. Actually, you remind me of this cat I used to have growing up. His actual name was Finch, but I called him Mr. Tickles. He died when I was nine, though.” My palm splays over my heart, gaze drifting to the ceiling. “Rest in peace, Mr. Tickles.” A muscle in his jaw ticks. “I remind you of your dead cat?” “Mhm. He was always swatting at everyone.
