The funny thing is, Shyla never seemed offended by Wick. 

Confused sometimes? Absolutely. 

There were moments she’d stop mid-step after one of his surprise tail swats, standing perfectly still while her brain recalculated the situation. You could almost see the thought process happening in real time: 

Something touched me. 

Again. 

Meanwhile, Wick would be hanging halfway off the end table above her like a tiny furry gargoyle, completely fascinated by the fact that her tail existed. 

Not attacking. 

Studying. 

Obsessing. 

He treated that tail like it was the greatest mystery ever presented to modern science. 

And Shyla, ancient soul that she was, tolerated it with the exhausted patience of someone who had simply lived too long to waste energy on nonsense. 

Looking back now, I think that’s part of why they worked so well together.