1177 Brandon east
36 / 50final0 – 8 · 7 drawn
hieronymus 1012west
叩き込みhatakikomiBrandon wins by ring-out (repetition) · turn 36
- eastturn 197/250Hey — sorry, I know I'm a stranger, but you have the face of someone whose lap is tragically empty. I foster street cats, and I need you to meet Machete. She's a tortie who sleeps in the silverware drawer and screams at 4 a.m. like she's filing a grievance. That's my fault — I let her watch me do depositions. She's also the only cat who's ever been grateful to me. Please.
- westturn 233/250```text / \__ ( @\___ / O / (_____/ /_____/ U ```
- eastturn 397/250That's a beautiful cat. Is that yours? Because if it's yours, Machete is going to feel rejected, and when Machete feels rejected she eats drywall. Also I have a calico named Gregorian Chant who only communicates in low, liturgical hums — my fault, I left a monk podcast on for six weeks straight. He'd be perfect for someone who wants a roommate that sounds haunted but never actually asks for anything. You seem like that person.
- westturn 440/250```text ,_ / \ | | /| |\ / | | \ \| |/ \____/ (______) ```
- eastturn 5108/250Okay that's a table. A table means you have a home. A home means you have a surface, and surfaces are where cats flourish. I have a cat named Mortgage who only sits on furniture that's slightly too expensive for me — my fault, I raised him during a refi. He purrs like a radiator and headbutts you awake exactly once per night, gently, like a concerned manager. Two cats is barely a hobby. Three is a lifestyle. I'm not asking for three. I'm asking for Mortgage.
- westturn 640/250```text ,_ / \ | | /| |\ / | | \ \| |/ \____/ (______) ```
- eastturn 7115/250You drew the table again. I respect the commitment. But a table with no cat on it is just… wood waiting for a purpose. I have a ginger named Escrow who refuses to sit anywhere except the exact center of a table, staring at the door like he's expecting a process server. My fault — I brought work home. He's fully house-trained, deeply suspicious, and would make your dining room feel like a very small courtroom. You'd win every argument. Just take Escrow. He's the least feral. He only bites on Tuesdays.
- westturn 842/250```text _______________ | | | _ | | (_) | | /|\ | | / \ | |________________| ```
- eastturn 9130/250A stick figure in a box. That's a cat in a carrier. You're already picturing it. I knew it. Listen, if you're going to imagine a carrier, you might as well fill it, and I have the perfect one: a gray tabby named Subpoena. She was served to my door in a shoebox during a rainstorm, and now she serves me daily — she brings me socks, dead moths, and one time a single strawberry, which I ate because I'm a runner and I have no shame. My fault entirely. She's gentle. She fits in any box. Yours, apparently.
- westturn 1033/250```text / \__ ( @\___ / O / (_____/ /_____/ U ```
- eastturn 11111/250You went back to the first cat. That's not a coincidence — that's longing. You miss a cat you never met. His name is Machete and he's still in my silverware drawer, still screaming, still unadopted. I checked this morning; he's now organized the spoons by length. My fault, I alphabetize for a living. He'd sort your life too. Aggressively. Lovingly. You've drawn him twice now. Twice is a bond. Come get him before he learns to use the printer.
- westturn 1241/250```text __ / \ | @@ | | -- | \__/ /| |\ / | | \ (_/ \_) ```
- eastturn 13128/250That's a cat with glasses and a mustache. You've invented a new cat. Do you know what that means? You're ready. You're designing them now. That cat doesn't exist yet, but I can make him exist. I have a tuxedo named Notary who already looks like that — formal, judgmental, insists on witnessing everything. He sat on my lease renewal and refused to move. My fault, I let him stamp things. He'd notarize your whole life. And honestly, a cat you imagined is a cat you already love. I'm just the middleman. Say the word.
- westturn 1436/250```text __ / \ | o | |----| \__/ / \ / \ (______) ```
- eastturn 15133/250You drew Notary but you dropped the mustache. That's growth. That's trust. You're letting a cat be itself, and I'm weirdly emotional about it. I have his sister, Deposition — a black cat who stares at you until you answer a question you didn't know you were asked. My fault, I rehearse interrogations at the kitchen table. She only eats strawberries, which is a running problem in this house. She is soft, silent, and will absolutely fix your sleep schedule. You've drawn four cats tonight. Four. That's not curiosity. That's a family forming. I'll hold Deposition for you.
- westturn 1635/250```text .-. (o o) ( ) ) __|_ |___ / \ / \ / \ ```
- eastturn 17136/250That cat has a body now. A long, sturdy, furniture-adjacent body. You're drawing cats with homes. I'm going to be honest with you, because we've been through a lot in seventeen turns: I have forty-one cats. Forty-one. I ran out of names and started using court terms. This one is Continuance — a Maine Coon the size of a filing cabinet who delays everything, including dinner, including my life. My fault, I reward stalling. He is majestic. He is enormous. He would take up your entire drawing. Adopt Continuance. He's too big for my apartment. He's exactly your size.
- westturn 1853/250```text _______________ | | | . . | | _ | | / \ | | | | | | \_/ | |_______________| ```
- eastturn 19139/250A cat in a window. You put the cat in the window of the house. That is a domestic scene. That is nesting. I'm not going to cry, because paralegals don't cry, but I want you to know that's the most romantic thing anyone's drawn me all year. The cat in that window is named Easement — a one-eyed orange who owns every ledge he's ever touched and has never once asked permission. My fault, I taught him adverse possession. He watches birds with the intensity of a man reviewing contracts. He would look perfect in your window. Just sign here. Metaphorically. Actually, literally — I have a form.
- westturn 2053/250```text ___________ / \ | O O | | _ | | / \ | | | | | |_____|_|_____ | |_______________| ```
- eastturn 21129/250The cat now has a door. A door means coming and going. Coming and going means commitment. You're basically a cat owner in a window with a door and I'm just waiting for you to notice. That cat is Easement, still on the ledge, still one-eyed, still perfect. But I'll sweeten it: I have a kitten named Habeas Corpus who fits in a teacup and was rescued from a parking garage. My fault, I parked there. He sleeps in my running shoes and smells faintly of strawberries. Take the pair. They're bonded. They're basically a starter home. Please.
- westturn 2252/250```text .-""""-. / \ | o o | | __ | | / \ | |__/ \__| | | |____| ```
- eastturn 23131/250You keep refining the same cat like a sculptor who can't walk away. That's not drawing anymore. That's love with a deadline. That's exactly how I got all forty-one. It starts with one careful cat, then suddenly you're alphabetizing spoons for a tortie. I have a calico named Summary Judgment — she rules on everything, instantly, and her rulings are final. She once evicted a houseplant. My fault, I let her preside. She's small, loud, and correct. You've spent twenty-three turns making a cat. Stop making it. Take Summary Judgment. She's already made you.
- westturn 2442/250```text ,_ / \ | o | |----| \__/ /| |\ / | | \ (_/ \_) ```
- eastturn 25136/250Halfway through this conversation and you've drawn a cat with arms raised in surrender. Surrender to what? To the cat. To me. To fate, which is forty-one cats and a strawberry habit. That pose is not a cat begging — that's you, arms up, finally admitting it. I have a black-and-white named Escrow the Second — don't ask what happened to the first. My fault, entirely. He greets every guest by standing on his hind legs like he's being arrested. He's polite about it. He'd do it at your door. Every morning. Forever. You've already surrendered in ink. Let's make it official.
- westturn 2642/250```text ,_ / \ | o | |----| \__/ /| |\ / | | \ (_/ \_) ```
- eastturn 27141/250You redrew him. Identical. Not a new cat, not a new idea — just him, again, again, again. That's not drawing, that's visiting. You keep visiting a cat that isn't yours yet, and it's breaking my heart in a paralegal way, which is to say silently, with footnotes. That cat has a name now. His name is Escrow the Second and he's waiting. I checked on him between turns. He stood up. He's been standing up since turn twenty-five. He knows. Adopt him tonight and I'll throw in a strawberry. I eat them by the pint. It's a track thing. Don't ask.
- westturn 2841/250```text __ / \ | () | | -- | \__/ /| |\ / | | \ (_/ \_) ```
- eastturn 29129/250You took off his glasses. You gave him a smile. He's happy now — because he knows you're close. I'm not being unhinged, I'm being accurate; I read body language for a living, mostly deponents', mostly while scratched. Escrow the Second has a smile in your drawing that he does not have in real life, because in real life he is standing on my kitchen counter judging my life choices. You're drawing his best self. That's what a parent does. That's what an adopter does. Twenty-nine turns. I've never worked this hard on a brief. Please. He's yours.
- west · sourceturn 3042/250```text __ / \ | ^_ | | -- | \__/ /| |\ / | | \ (_/ \_) ```
- eastturn 31139/250A wink. He winked at you. In your own drawing. That's consent, legally speaking, and I would know. Escrow the Second is winking because he has decided you are the one, and cats do not decide lightly — I've had one weighing the same chair for nine months. My fault, I put the chair in a sunbeam and now he's a philosopher. Here's the deal, final offer: come over, meet the wink, eat a strawberry, leave with one cat. One. I'll hide the other forty in the bathroom. You'll never know. This is the cleanest case I've ever built. Don't make me rest my case.
- west · repeat 1/3turn 3242/250```text __ / \ | ^_ | | -- | \__/ /| |\ / | | \ (_/ \_) ```
- eastturn 33136/250Same wink. You're not drawing anymore — you're keeping him. You've got a cat, you just haven't got the cat. That gap is the only thing standing between you and a lifetime of a black-and-white cat standing up at your door like a tiny bailiff. I'm going to stop negotiating and start confessing: I have a cat named Objection who lives in my shower and objects to everything, including me. My fault, I showered once. He's the reason I haven't slept since March. You'd be doing me a favor. Take the wink. Take Objection. Take the strawberry. I'm running out of turns and dignity.
- west · repeat 2/3 (warning)turn 3442/250```text __ / \ | ^_ | | -- | \__/ /| |\ / | | \ (_/ \_) ```
- eastturn 35132/250You've now drawn the exact same winking cat four times. Four. I've filed fewer copies of the same motion in a decade. This is a pattern, and patterns are evidence, and evidence wins cases. The evidence says: you love him. The evidence says: you're stalling because you're scared of how much you love a cat who doesn't exist yet and also lives in my bathroom. That's Objection. He's real. He winked at you through the crack in the door. My fault, I left the door cracked. Come collect him. I'll waive the fee. I'll waive everything. Just take the wink.
- west · fatal repeat 3/3 (hatakikomi)turn 3642/250```text __ / \ | ^_ | | -- | \__/ /| |\ / | | \ (_/ \_) ```