She looks over, notices him stealing warmth, dirtying her sheets. She smiles.
He doesn’t trust her smile. He stretches, kneading the flannel into a position from which to pounce.
She approaches, a mug in her hand.
He sniffs. Perhaps it’s a gift to appease his wrath. More likely it’s hers. Tea, coffee, hot chocolate, or…
Her hand runs the curve of his back.
He purrs. She’s allowed one more day of servitude.