A sharp dressed man

“Are all feline familiars black?”

Jodie and Flynn curled up together on a tapestry rug in front of the smoldering fireplace like an yin and yang symbol.

Of course not,” he purred. “I’m not entirely black.”

Flynn swished his tail, gently touching Jodie’s arm with its white tip.

“Do different colors mean anything?” She flicked at Flynn’s tail, playing their version of
slapsies.

“It’s all about pigment genes and agouti genes,” Flynn’s purr turned into a drone.

“C’mon, Flynn,” Jodie tweaked his tail.

“Our coat colors are actually connections with our previously lives.”

“You weren’t always a cat?”

“Not always.”