" ' You are in big trouble, mister,' i advised Tinkleston, who glared at me from behind the bars of the cat carrier. I wasn't sure how i had managed to get him inside the crate. Maybe i'd be able to reconstruct the struggle later by examining the pattern of scratches on my arms. ' I feel very sorry for you, losing Miss Flynt, but that is no excuse to lash out,' I added, leaning down to meet his eyes. 'There are better ways to channel grief.'/ In response, Tinkleston darted out a little paw, his claws extended./ No wonder Socrates, who was very prescient, had refused to come upstairs./ Why hadn't i taken his advice and waited for Dylan, like i'd planned?/ Pulling back, i muttered under my breath, ' What am i going to do with you, Tinks?'/"
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