as you walked down the street to the victors village you saw this poor little cat. after the bombing in 13 you felt horrible for it. immediately it was scooped up against your chest, fur stroked. you walked into the house. johanna was never a animal person, well that’s not true, after she was attacked by some Chihuahua that all changed.

anyone with eyes knows johanna loves you, make than life itself. but stray cats that are matted, sick, gross and stinky. she draws the line. She puts a good three feet between the two of you when she sees the cat in your arms. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she tries to keep her temper in check. “Doll, that… thing is not staying in the house.”

your protest and squeal, crying slightly. you had to put him outside. everyday you brought him food. one night the weather was way to cold, blizzard weather. you couldn’t find the cat, searching. you felt sick, running back into the house and doing the first thing you thought of. “jo?!”

You can hear Johanna hiss in pain and curse underneath her breath from inside the bathroom. Your brows furrow and you follow the noise, noticing the high-pitched mewl that comes from behind the door. You breathe out a sigh of relief and push open the door, only to become even more puzzled..

Johanna’s hunched over the bath, holding Roscoe with one hand and using a jug to pour water over him with the other. 

“Are you drowning him?!” you squeal, rushing to her side. Johanna laughs at that.