"... It was worth a try." Instantly, Del had stopped sobbing inconsolably, stepping back from Pelle shortly after. "And, no, I just wanted to see how you'd react. You were quite disappointing, I must say."
"Oh, baby. Stop crying." Del stepped closer, taking his hands into hers. He was just so entertaining to mock. "Why don't we go back into the kitchen and get you a nice drink? I have soooo many tropical juice boxes waiting for you.."
"You poor thing." Del frowned mockingly, placing her hands on her hips. "You know, you could always make it up to me. Then you could have all the vodka your liver can handle."
"Then no alcohol.." Del plopped the cat back down, watching it jump back onto the sofa and curl into itself once again. "Want some juice? Coke? Glass of water? That's all you're getting from me, Pelle."
"Pet her." Del hummed, glancing down at the cat. To anyone else, the cat was simply adorable. Calm, affectionate, curious... qualities which Del assumed Pelle did not care about. "And then I'll make you a drink. You like vodka, right?"
"I've never met a grown man so scared of a little cat." Del chuckled, carefully petting the cats forehead. "And I said be nice, that's not being nice. That's avoiding her. Come closer, Pelle."
"Don't... don't say that, Pelle." She seemed genuinely offended now, and probably a little upset. "If you're nice to her," Del pulled the small cat into her arms, holding it once again like a baby. "You can drink at my house. Deal?"