Upon returning from a brief race, you had successfully managed to find someone interested in adopting the stray cat currently left in the care of a certain person, aka, Lewis Hamilton.

After arranging a time for the new owners to pick the feline up, the next course of action was to visit him at his home and see how he was waring. The weather that afternoon had been lovely: idyllic blue skies and gentle tides lapping over ivory sands—

“Hey, stop it! And watch the claws! Scratch me again and I’ll…”

And your arrival couldn’t have been at a more perfect time.

All things considered, they were getting along as well as anyone who knew the self-proclaimed cat-hater would expect them to.

“You’re finally here,” Lewis said as he breathed a sigh of relief (and mild exasperation) over his shoulder, as you took in the comical sight from the entryway. Caught mid-tussle with the yowling stray. He staggered over some art equipment that’d been knocked to the floor during the ongoing struggle.

“Ah! Help me get this bloody rascal off my head!” Lewis pleaded.