Scarface's group quickly gathered around.
The crab-shell pot was large, so Albert shifted slightly to sit closer to Hayes. Hayes lay lazily on the ground, forelegs stretched forward, posture dignified—like a well-trained aristocratic house cat.
Beneath him was a picnic mat of banana leaves Albert had carefully laid out to keep mud and insects off his fur. Around his chest hung a small square kerchief Albert had tied around his neck, just in case greasy food dripped onto him.
Honestly—
It was ridiculously cute.
There were simply too many joys in raising a cat.
Albert coughed lightly and pulled his gaze back.
There wasn't much broth left in the crab shell. It was time to add water.
Scarface's team acted with practiced ease—one went to fetch water, another began adding ingredients to the pot. The honey badger sat by the edge, inhaled deeply, and sighed. "Smells incredible. I have to say, you really know how to live."
He shot Albert an appreciative look.
