Maneki gladly allowed Dorothea to lift her, purring and nestling into the woman's breast, paw resting up on her shirt. What a silly cat, to turn into this bowl of mush toward anyone that petted her just right. It made him grin, almost laugh. Cats were such fickle animals.
Isn't that why you chose her? he reminded himself as he got up from his chair. He'd been told he was like a cat, a statement that had only increased when he'd made Maneki his familiar. Couldn't blame it on the bonding, no. He'd had the attributes long before.
A loud crash filled his ears, accompanied by a shot of pain in his side. Somehow he lay on the floor, the chair with him. Blinking, he looked around at the barmen who stared at him with mixes of amusement, concern, and annoyance.
How had it happened?
<Monnayage. . . .> Maneki gazed at him from her spot in Dorothea's arms.
"Whoops! Guess I lost my balance." This assuaged the attention of some of the onlookers, their eyes going back to their mugs or speaking companions. He laughed to show that no harm had been done, then slowly got to his feet, brushing dirt from his pants. The action made him sway a little, baffling him.
<You don't lose your balance,> Maneki stated, her eyes squinting suspiciously, and she had a point. He couldn't remember ever having lost his balance before, but there was always room for a first time, right?
<I'm fine, Makki.> A little dirty, but fine.
With a glance at Darian, the man peering at him with disdain, he righted the stool he'd fallen over.
Good as new.