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"Go away." She scowled, but the male (so typical for them) refused to heed her words. "I don't have anything for you. I don't like you." //I'm not my mom.//
The tom cat, half-grown, half-starved and absolutely certain she was going to be his personal hero, mewed at her in a breaking, scratchy voice.
Still scowling, Helena bent down, scooping the cat up and tucking him against her chest. "You're explaining this to Barbara," she said in exasperation as she headed for the Tower. His only answer was to purr, a buzzing content noise that called back to her childhood.