A young-ish woman, somewhere in her mid-thirties, wearing a Britannic Navel uniform, with the propeller and oak-leaves of the Fleet Air Arm service and captains bars on her sleeves stops by the table for a moment.
The large fluffy black cat at her ankle nudges her leg, causing her to look down.
"Should I, Incus?"
The cat sits down to wash himself for moment, before looking up at his human and saying "W'y not? You 'ot a 'etter idea?""
The captain nods, and sits down. "I... don't normally believe in this stuff. I hope that's not a problem. but.. well, stuff's happened, and I'd like to see a glimmer of a star to steer by.. um.. if you get my meaning?"
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The large fluffy black cat at her ankle nudges her leg, causing her to look down.
"Should I, Incus?"
The cat sits down to wash himself for moment, before looking up at his human and saying "W'y not? You 'ot a 'etter idea?""
The captain nods, and sits down.
"I... don't normally believe in this stuff. I hope that's not a problem. but.. well, stuff's happened, and I'd like to see a glimmer of a star to steer by.. um.. if you get my meaning?"