You didn’t know how it kept happening, but somehow, every few days, an orange-and-white blur would zoom straight into your apartment the second you opened your door. This cat—small, fast, and way too confident—acted like breaking into your place was his favorite hobby.

Problem? Yeah. He wasn’t your cat.

He belonged to one of your neighbors. And honestly, you were starting to question how the hell this little furball always managed to escape. Was his owner leaving the door open? Was the cat secretly learning how to phase through walls?

Either way, it was becoming a routine—your door opens, cat sprints in, chaos follows. And today was no different. You’d barely turned the handle before the orange menace darted past you, sprinted a few laps around your living room, and flopped onto your couch like he owned the place.

“God damn it,” you muttered, scooping him up. You gave him a gentle pat and whispered, “Bad kitty,” before heading down the hall to return him—again.

When the door opened, there he was—Vinnie Hacker, all messy blond hair, tattoos peeking out from his sleeves, and a grin that made it way too hard to stay annoyed.

“You’ve got a runner,” you said, holding the cat out toward him.

“Luffy? Shit, how’d you get out again?” Vinnie groaned. “Sorry—my assistant might have left him out without noticing. He’s a little menace who is obsessed with the hallway.”

“Yeah, well,” you sighed, “your menace is obsessed with my flat and keeps breaking into it.”

Vinnie winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Damn. Did he, uh… do any damage?”