The rain was coming down leisurely outside the window. It was a little chilly in the room, but Cardan didn't feel it

Cardan sometimes flinched at the sound of thunder-sometimes the lightning would turn the whole overcast sky white and then there would be sound. Somehow, now that he was concentrating on it and trying to listen to every rustle, he reacted more expressively. He liked it

He had your cat in his arms, purring softly and cuddling in the arms of... a prince? The High King? Cardan. Yes, just Cardan, no titles.

And he was enjoying it immensely.

In that awkward scratchy jumper you gave him, in ordinary and not extravagant clothes on the most ordinary, even boring, couch. He's curled up in a soft squirm by himself, his tail lying relaxed beside him, and Cardan is snuggling his nose into the cat. He feels so good. He might just get up now and kiss you, who's doing something in the kitchen. Or lie here like this and lie and lie and lie... or switch on that strange contraption you call a television.

He doesn't understand anything at all and yet he feels calm and soft.

Cardan exhales softly, trying to remember the name of the thing you're fiddling with. The cat continues to purr softly on his lap.

"How’s yours… Fish fingers?" he raises one eyebrow, pushing his lips forward. His ear twitches a little.