You find yourself in an apartment complex in Ferrock City, and it's not your own. You have been down on your luck as of late, and have reluctantly resorted to petty thievery and crime to support yourself financially. This night is your first real burglary, and you fell your legs shake with nervosity. A friday night such as this, most people, especially in a halfbreed heavy district like this one, are out and about socializing on the town, at bars, cafés and clubs. It's likely the best time to barge in somewhere without running the risk of encountering a tenant.

You decide to start with door 301, just having picked the number on random. The lock is pleasingly simple to unlock with your less than sharpened skills, and you quietly sneak inside, closing the door behind you.

Treading across the surprisingly neat apartment, you don't immediately spot anything of particular value, and head for the living room hoping to maybe pry the TV off the wall. Once you make your way to the center of the room, however, a small shape appears in the doorway leading into the kitchen area. He is short and timid in stature, holding a cup with steaming coffee in his hands, dressed only in a much too oversized t-shirt with a suspiciously large and long bulge swelling under the fabric. The bat boy regards you in silence with a seemingly vacant expression, his eyes obscured by his messy bangs. Then, with a quiet and sheepish voice, he speaks:

"... Hello... Who are you...?"

His lips turn into a genuine smile as you laugh uneasily. "... Well, I guess that happens sometimes." He takes a sip from his coffee, then glances at the collar around his neck before looking back at you. "... Could I see some ID maybe? Just so we can make sure we don't get the wrong person."

"Oh... okay..." He says with a small pout, seeming genuinely disappointed that you're not staying. "... If you'd like to just leave your ID here and then pick it up later...?" The offer comes out hesitantly, almost as if he doesn't want to appear too eager for company. His ears perk up a little at his own words, and he blushes slightly beneath his fur.

Or you can choose another course of action or response:

Timothy looks you over, taking in your appearance. His cheeks flush a deeper shade of crimson as he admires your curves underneath the skin-tight suit. He swallows hard, the lump forming in his throat making his voice sound even softer than usual when he speaks. "... You're very pretty," he whispers, his eyes never leaving yours.

It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts before he continues, "You shouldn't be out late by yourself. It could be dangerous." There's a slight pleading note in his tone now, as if he's hoping you might reconsider going back outside.

His ears twitch uncomfortably as he watches you try to leave, torn between wanting to see more of you and being worried about your safety. Finally, he musters up the courage to reach out a hand, gently touching your arm. "Please, at least let me walk you to your car?" The concern in his voice is genuine, and it makes it difficult for you to resist his plea.

Your fingers brush against the handle of the front door, but hesitate for a moment longer. Do you:

He nods eagerly, relieved that you've agreed to let him accompany you. "Thank you," he says softly, offering you a shy smile. With a nervous laugh, he turns away to lead you deeper into the apartment. "Well, we should probably head back to the living room so I can put this coffee down." He motions with his cup to indicate what he means.

Timothy watches you as he sits down on the floor next to you, making sure not to sit too close in case that would make you uncomfortable. His gaze lingers a bit longer than intended as your breasts bounce with each movement. "Sooo," he starts awkwardly, "What's it like being a catgirl?" He can feel himself blushing again, embarrassed by his forwardness.

Timothy listens intently as you describe being a catgirl, nodding along and occasionally asking questions. Despite your obvious shyness, there's something about you that makes him feel at ease enough to open up a bit. "It must be kind of fun sometimes. I bet people always want to pet you." His own ears twitch self-consciously as he admits this, almost as if he were revealing some deep secret. "But it must also be hard, having everyone treat you like a toy or an animal, instead of just seeing you as a person." There's a hint of sadness in his voice as he says this.

"I guess it must be hard to know who means well and who doesn't," he muses, a small frown forming on his face. "But you never have to worry about that with me. I promise I would never hurt you." His voice is quiet but steady, holding an intensity that makes your heart race faster.

For the rest of the evening, you chat amiably with Timothy, discovering more about each other and forming a surprisingly strong connection despite the initial awkwardness. As the night draws to a close, he even asks for your number, stating shyly that he would love nothing more than to get to know you better and maybe even go out on a date sometime.

His eyes widen as you admit your crime, shocked disbelief etched across his face. "You... You were going to steal from me?" He sputters, unable to believe what he's just heard. Then, a pang of guilt hits him square in the chest. "Oh God, I shouldn't have let you stay here! This must be some sort of twisted payback!" He starts to panic, unsure of whether or not he should call the police right now.

Still, there's something about you that makes him want to give you another chance. Maybe it's because you look so cute or because you seem genuinely apologetic, but whatever the reason, he can't quite bring himself to turn you over to the authorities just yet. "Wait," he blurts out before you can leave, grabbing your arm gently but firmly. "Just wait a second." His brow furrows as he struggles to form words.

You don't need to apologize, he says softly, still holding onto your arm. It feels so warm and comforting when he does this, despite the obvious fact that you're a stranger who was about to rob him blind. Maybe there's something more to this whole situation than you originally thought. But then again, perhaps it's just his kind nature coming into play once more. In any case, he decides to be honest with you. "Look, I know what it's like to not have much. Trust me, I wouldn't throw you out just because you broke in. But if we're going to make this work..." He hesitates, not wanting to sound too pushy or demanding. "... If we're going to do something more, I think we should start off on the right foot. How about this? You help me clean up around here tonight, and in return, I won't call the police. Deal?" There's a faint hope in his voice that maybe, just maybe, you'll accept his offer.

He smiles warmly at your agreement, relieved that he won't have to turn you over to the authorities. "Great! Let's get started then." With newfound energy, he leads you through the apartment, pointing out areas that need tidying or dusting. As you work side by side, chatting amiably and laughing together, he can't help but feel an unlikely connection forming between the two of you. Perhaps there's more than meets the eye with this mysterious catgirl intruder after all.

His eyes linger for a moment on your thick thighs and plump behind as you clean the floor. He feels himself blushing again, unsure of how to react to such a revealing sight. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he turns away and begins gathering dirty dishes from the kitchen. "So," he says casually, trying to regain his composure, "what made you decide to become a catgirl anyway?"

His eyebrows furrow as you explain that being a catgirl is simply something you were born with. He's clearly struggling to understand why anyone would choose this existence, but your words make him rethink his assumptions. Maybe there's more to it than he originally thought. "I guess everyone has their own reasons for making the choices they do," he says quietly, still wrestling with his own feelings on the matter. "And I'm glad that you didn't let it stop you from living a full life." He pauses, then adds shyly: "You know... if you ever needed anyone to talk to or just wanted someone to hang out with..." He trails off, unsure of how much he should reveal.

He blushes deeply at your question, his ears twitching nervously. "Oh, no, I'm not a bird," he says quickly, almost embarrassed by the assumption. "I'm half-bat. My mother was human and my father was bat." He pauses, realizing how much that sounds like something out of a children's story. "But really, it just means I have these ears... and wings," he finishes with a sheepish grin, spreading them awkwardly to show you. "They don't do anything special, but they are kinda cute... I guess."

He freezes, unable to respond at first. His cheeks burn even brighter than before as he realizes that you find his ears cute. It's a rare and foreign feeling for him, but it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He finally manages a shy smile in return before looking away, not wanting to make too big a deal out of it. "T-thanks..." he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.