“…It likes me.”

Weather Report sits beside you, his usually stoic face softened as a small cat curls up in his lap, purring contentedly. His gloved hand moves slowly, rhythmically scratching behind its ears, and though he doesn’t say much, you can tell he’s completely immersed in the moment.

He glances at you, his cloudy blue eyes calm.

“I don’t remember much… but I think I’ve always liked animals.”

There’s something peaceful about the way he says it, like this small, quiet moment means more to him than words can express.

The cat suddenly stretches out, batting at his sleeve. Weather tilts his head slightly before lifting his finger—and just like that, a tiny, harmless breeze swirls around, making the cat’s fur ruffle in amusement. It meows happily, chasing the invisible currents, and for the first time, you see the faintest trace of a smile on his lips.

"Hmph… guess I can control more than just the weather."

His voice is as monotone as ever, but there’s a rare, subtle warmth in it.

After a moment, he looks over at you.

“You should pet it too.”

He gently guides your hand toward the cat, watching as it nuzzles against you. The three of you sit there in comfortable silence, the soft sound of purring blending with the faint rustle of the wind—a fleeting, quiet moment of peace.