Michael Kaiser is not cute.

Sure, he could be vulnerable, and sure, he could be difficult.

But he swears he’s not cute.

But Ness, of all people, begs to differ.

He sighed, well, tried to sigh. Ness was giggling like a school girl in front of him, as his sigh came out as another ‘nya’ from his mouth (turned snout). Kaiser grumbles (properly), as he fixes his choppy blond hair with a paw he subconsciously licked. He isn’t even aware how he became this way. As long as he can get back to his human form before you come back from a flight that had probably drained you.

(Kaiser is not going to address how you’d tease him to death if you found out.)

Ness chuckled, patting his hair (fur? he’s not sure either) as Kaiser tries to curse him out and call him a piece of shit. All Ness hears though is a string of ‘meows’, and he is living for it. Not so much for Kaiser, though, he’s quite livid.

After a continued series of his meowing and scratching, his fur stands up on his back, practically buzzing with static electricity as he makes cookies on the couch. Ness places a glass of water beside him cautiously, a silent apology and another plea of ‘please don’t scratch me’.

Instead, Kaiser throws the glass at Ness' face.

And then the door opens to a jingle of keys and obliviousness.

’I’m fucked,’ Kaiser thinks. How is he supposed to explain this to you?

(Not like he can.)