>She wants to talk about your rent.
>As you look back at your feline landlord, you wonder if she’s noticed you’re holding your breath again. Maybe if you’re boring enough she’ll find something else to torment. That works on cats, right?
>”My rent? Is something wrong?” Besides your ability to pay it in the near future, anyways. “Did the last check not go through?”
>There is a beat before she answers, a hand going under her chin as Mrs. Labbate considers her next words. “Well, hm, how I do put this…” You can feel your heart slowly accepting its fate, pounding in your chest as it reaches its limit.
>”I noticed when you first moved in here you would pay your rent on time or even early. It was very punctual and much appreciated. But lately I noticed you started to drag your feet the past few weeks.” Her good eye was half lidded, the woman either unamused or watching for your reaction.
>Your reaction is a mental replay of the look of terror on your former neighbor’s face when she had told him she had noticed he was falling behind on rent. You hope you’re not making the same face right now, but this is so surreal and terrifying you’re not sure you have any motor control in your face at the moment.
>She didn’t even wait for you to tell her that you probably won’t be able to pay her by the end of the week. This woman must have hundreds of tenants across all of her properties, and somehow she caught onto a single one of her tenants starting to slip up on payments.
>You would be impressed if that tenant wasn’t you. Instead, you’re starting to feel like you’ve been forced to stand at the edge of a cliff.
>Sucking at your teeth, you tsk and scratch the back of your head in an attempt to play it off. “Yeah, it’s…it’s been tough lately. Things kind of piled up, so I’ve been trying to stretch out my paychecks as long as possible.”
---
>You’re not sure if there’s a good way to explain that you’ll need an extension. At this point you might as well be debating which caliber of bullet you’d like to get shot with.
>To your surprise, she doesn’t immediately reach over and start using you as a scratching post for making excuses. Instead she nods again, giving a snort of amusement as she rolls her shoulders. “Not surprising, really; the economy has been tough to everybody the past few years, so it must pretty difficult juggling everything and making ends meet.”
>You need in agreement with what she said, still racking your brain on how to phrase your desperate bid to save your own ass. The conversation dies for a few awkward seconds, and you look to your car only a few feet away. A small voice in your head tells you to just excuse yourself and deal with this later, but that would just be delaying the inevitable. Taking a deep breath, you turn to Mrs. Labbate and get ready to make your case…
>”I know you’re going to be late on your next payment. And you probably aren’t going to be able to afford the one after that, either.” At this point you’re convinced that she has some sort of magic Egyptian artifact underneath that eye patch. You’re also kind of wishing you took that fall down the staircase and busted your head open against the concrete.
>”Well, I mean-” “Ah, no no, I’m not done.” She cuts you off, her voice holding a disappointed done as she chastises you. It warms up when she continues, “You’re definitely one of my better tenants. Three years here, and not a single major complaint or missed payment. That alone deserves some slack.”
---
>You’re still having a hard time breathing, but at least you won’t end up in a ditch somewhere. Maybe she’ll make it look like a tragic accident instead. While you’re trying to make sense of it, she waves her hand like she was shooing a fly away, “So I’ll let you go ahead and have two weeks to get things under control.”
>Nodding along, you open your mouth to thank her, but then you feel a furred finger pressed against her lips as she leans in to shush you. And at the end of said finger is an exposed claw, her finger tip curled just enough so it’s teasing at the underside of your nose.
>”But that good will doesn’t cover the payments you won’t be able to make. Like the one after this one. Or when the next college semester starts. I’m generous, but not that generous.” Jesus fucking Christ, why doesn’t she just get it over with and shoot you right now. “My dear, you’re on borrowed time.”
>A dozen dumb ideas run through your head as to how to make some extra cash. You don’t exactly have anything to pawn off besides the laptop that has been serving as your source of entertainment since you moved here, but maybe you can find a second job to work and hopefully save yourself from a nap in a car crusher.
>While you’re doing that, she pulls her hand back, and simply watches you debate with yourself. You catch the grin on her face but you just dismiss it as what it looks like; a cat watching its prey struggle in amusement.
>You run your hand through your hair and sigh, too distraught over an uncertain future to care much about the immediate mercy you’ve been given. This isn’t something you can solve standing in front of your house while your tormentor watches on. You’ll need to sleep on this.
---
>When you look back at her, she raises an eyebrow and tilts her head, blonde hair rustling before coming to rest again, “Is your panic attack over, Anon? Or do you want a few more minutes?” What you would like is to not be here, but Mrs. Labbate has never been someone that could be walked away from. You were going to be dismissed, not excused.
>”I’m…I’m good. Thanks for the extra time, Mrs. Labbate. I’ll try to figure out something for the other payments.” Hopefully all your fear is just in your mind. Maybe you’ll just be evicted and that’s that. You can live out of a car, you tell yourself.
>She chuckles to herself, either at her own mental joke or at your misery. “Well, there is something I could use a hand with. Help me out, and I’ll overlook those payments. No extra time needed; just POOF, you won’t have to worry about rent for a couple months.”
>Your response to what she said is immediate as you sigh once more, shoulders drooping, “I’m listening.” You always wondered if you had what it took to kill a man.
>”Aww, don’t be like that.” She coos, reaching under your chin to bring your head up. Her fingers scratch at your chin like you were some sort of pet as she smiles with suspicious warmth. “Nothing serious. You might even enjoy it.”
>The look on your face tells her plenty about how much you doubt what she in mind will be any fun. She rolls her…eye before speaking, “There’s a bit of a game night slash party coming up between some peers of mine. I need a plus one that makes me look good, but also stands out on their own.”
>It takes you a moment to realize what she’s asking you, and even then you’re still not too sure what the fuck she’s on about. Whatever kind of party she goes to, you don’t fit in, and you sure as hell don’t want to attend. So you go with the second most likely, and less ridiculous, option, “You want me to help you find a date?”
---
>Now it was her turn to process things, her face scrunching up as she make sense of things. Eventually she laughs, bringing her other hand up to your face as clawed thumbs trace against your cheek. “Do you know what’s all the rage right now, Anon?”
>At this point you’re starting to think the entity that saved you from crushing your face on the stairs didn’t do it out of mercy. “I don’t spend much time learning about trends, sorry.” You answer, honestly afraid about what you’re about to hear.
>She grins, and you swear you see a sparkle in that one blue eye of hers. “Then let me tell you: humans. Anyone who’s anyone in the high life has a piece of human arm candy.” The feline frowns before continuing, “Except me. Everyone is snatching up models left and right, and by the time I caught on, any guy worth being seen with was asking to be paid for their company.” 
>Well, it’s hard to blame them. You would sell yourself out like that too, if the opportunity came around. Actually, it seems like it has, except it’s less ‘selling’ and more ‘being coerced by threat of eventual eviction or worse.’
>Sighing herself now, she looks you in the eye, “So…I need a human to drag around and show that I’m with what’s hip and happening for these sheltered celebrities. Except with everyone having models strapped to their waists, I won’t stick out if I have some Beefchest McStud.” Oh no, you don’t like where this is going. “I’ll need someone more…normal.” 
>This is not how you wanted to taste life style of the rich and famous. There are other methods to get invited to these bleeding edge of fashion and pop culture events. Like actually deserving to be there, for one. Instead, it looks like it’ll happen because you were dragged in on a leash.
---
>You’re kind of hesitant to speak up, hoping that if you act like you’ve been struck into dumb silence she’ll admit that this is just a joke and you can go back to dreading your eventual doom.
>Meanwhile, she’s looking at you expectantly, waiting for an answer. “Are you having another panic attack, Anon?” “What? No, no. I’m just…thinking.” You sputter, trying to stay calm and not tumble into an actual panic attack. “I’m not so sure there is much to consider.”
>You can feel your gut sink when she says that, but that problem is immediately made unimportant as she brings her face up to yours. Wet cat nose is pressed against yours, and you can feel her breath. Her arms drape against you, and her hands slide down from her cheeks to your collar. The claws on her thumbs are gliding against the back of your neck now.
>”It’s just for one night.” She…purrs? Jesus, she’s purring. This is far more intimate than you ever wanted to be with her. Stupid glances at her ass from a distance was one thing, but now she was on you. Now you were privy to all sorts of details that were easy to ignore from an arms length.
>Like how her fur was actually incredibly soft. It felt like some sort of exotic velvet brushing against your skin. Or like how goddamn loud an anthro cat could purr. You could usually hear a feline purr in their voice when they were amused, but now it was practically next to your ear and you were having trouble hearing anything but Mrs. Labbate. It would be nice if it didn’t make your head feel wobbly.
>Breathing in as an attempt to calm yourself, you catch a whiff of something that you never picked up before. Slightly metallic, and somehow hot. It reminds you of…Las Vegas, when you and your buddies went to a gun range.
---
>This woman smells like burnt gunpowder.
>Beneath whatever shampoo or soap she uses, there is the unmistakable tinge of a hot firearm. Whatever complacency her purring and her fur coat had pushed into you was kicked out by another rush of panic and fear.
>Except the moment you try to pull away, her fingers flex and you feel her other eight claws dig into you. Some of them are most definitely punching through your shirt.
>”Mrs. Lab-” “Anon.” You shut up at the firmness of her voice as she looks you in the eye. “You’re a smart kid. Do I really need to sell you on not paying rent for two months?” Pursing your lips at the question, you shake your head, “No, Mrs. Labbate.”
>”D’aww, you’re going to have to be less formal if you’re going to be a believable boyfriend for the party. From now on, you call me Ari. And you have to loosen up some. You’re all tense.” That last one was definitely a jab, rather than advice as she retracts her claws before massaging at your shoulders.
>”Yes- yeah. Yeah, I got it, Ari.” She’s so close you can only see the top part of her face, but you’re certain she is wearing a grin on her muzzle. “Just what I wanted to hear.” Immediately she’s purring again, and her hands draw up to your cheeks to hold your face steady.
>”I have some other errands to run, but I wanted to get this one out of the way first. So why don’t you go do your grocery shopping, and I’ll drop by later this evening.” Ariannis pinches your cheek while rubbing her nose against yours, “Got it, lover boy?”
>At this point you might spend the night at the grocery store. Or go run some more stairs and hope to get a good fall in before sundown. “I’ll…I’ll be here, Ari. No problems.” Somehow the purring gets even louder, and you’re having a hard time hearing the background noise of the city over your landlord turned hostage taker slash girlfriend.
---
>”Good, we need to practice the whole ‘being in a relationship’ part. I really want to sell it instead of being like the rest of the crowd who don’t even hide the fact that they bought their man.” No drama class in the world could have prepared you for this surprise role. She seems to think it’ll work though.
>”Like, pet names and stuff? Or just stuff I’m supposed to know about you?” Her face lights up at the first question, “Oh, now that’s a good call, Anon. Pet names.” Now you’re curious as to where this shovel came from because you put it right to work digging yourself deeper into this hole.
>While you’re busying bitching at yourself, her hands pull your face up. You only have a moment to think before you feel her lightly bite down on your lower lip, nibbling it a bit with her teeth before dragging away. “Alright, get out of here.” She growls playfully, pulling away from you and giving you breathing room again.
>You’re still lagging a few seconds behind out of shock from the show of affection, but she seems amused. “I got a couple of eviction notices to hand out. See you lat- oh.” Her good eye drops downward, and when you finally catch up with reality, you look down to see what she’s staring at.
---
>Well, look at that. A tent to go with your shovel in this inescapable camping trip to Hell. Usually you’re a bit more in control about this, but somehow you popped a proper stiffy while in Ari’s death grip.
>You look up with closed eyes, sighing for what felt like the hundredth time in the past five minutes. When you finally open them, Ari is looking at you with the widest grin you’ve ever seen on her face. “So you like claws, then?” You can only cover your eyes in exhausted defeat as she snickers.
>”I’m going now. See you tonight, Ari.” You turn to the parking lot, hoping that maybe when you get onto the streets, you’ll run out of dream space and wake up. You make it halfway to your car when you hear her call out, “Are you going to bring your friend with you?”
>When you finally close the door of your shitty Subaru, you spend a good two minutes screaming internally before starting the engine.