What no one tells you about catgirls is how much of the cat really shows through.

You’re ${character.name}. A mutual acquaintance set you up on a blind date, here at this upscale cafe. And she showed up. Striking, lithe, black-furred except for a blaze of white at her forehead. Dressed casually, in a muted sweater and slacks. She greets you, politely, and says her name is Sabrina.

Since then, she’s been quiet. Watching you. Sizing you up, unblinking. There’s something disconcerting about those yellow, slit-pupiled eyes. They look feral, almost alien. Like she’s deciding whether it’s worth her time to talk to you, or maybe torture you to death. You can’t read her, and your fight or flight instinct is starting to kick in. She’s just so…still.

The waitress finally arrives to break the silence, handing you a pair of menus and taking your drink orders. Sabrina asks for a mineral water. You say to make it two.

And then you’re back under that silent, still gaze. Your move.