His name was Mr. Sunshine. One of the better known, and as properly feared, members of Pax Humanis. He had been working on a station for some time now when he meets a member of a fluffy, bipedal, cat-like species. They were frequent visitors to this station because it was one of the regular trade stops along their delivery route. They delivered medical supplies and mail, mostly. And, occasionally, carried passengers. One young female of the species meets the cat-loving Mr. Sunshine not knowing he's a dangerous man, not knowing much of Pax Humanis, all she knows he is human and she had wanted to learn about a race she'd only heard bits and pieces about from her elders. She was a grown cat, dangit! But she doesn't really understand what she becomes for him, in her own feline ways, until another human, loud and crude, tries to drag her away. -- Anon Guest
[AN: This story harkens back to two other tales about Mr Sunshine. Here and Here. Offensensitivity warning for references to violence]
Despite being an Uplift, Lil had never seen a Human in the flesh before. She had been taken from the Nufurria creches as a baby and fostered out to a loving family of more... natural felinoids. They'd helped support her extra medical necessities and raised her to be a functioning cogniscent in Galactic Society. Until that moment, she had never met her maker species, and her parents had worried about that.
Lil did some checks on her personal psych-eval app to make sure this wasn't some remnant of genengineered subservience and was relieved when she came up clear. Good. She didn't need an escort, but apparently the Human in the nice, neat sweatervest did. There was warning tape around him that blared, Caution! Deathworlder! in huge letters and rather urgent colours. Silver, black, yellow and red. Lil couldn't see what was so dangerous about a Human at an easel. He looked... perfectly at peace.
According to Lil's data-reader, he was an average Human male. Average height, average build, average colouration. She crept up to look over his shoulder, outside of the caution tape and bollards, of course. He was painting a portrait of a worn and weary Skitty who just happened to be lounging on a mossy pillow in a simulated sunbeam. This Human's picture was comparatively idyllic. The mossy pillow plant had become a grassy meadow dappled with sun and spotted with flowers. The old, battered Skitty was still old and battered, but his wounds and scars were somehow more noble. The coat was glossier in the portrait than it was on the cat.
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