It had been ages, Ziva grooved, the dancefloor filled, friends, their partners, strangers, she missed these crazy nights. A couple of drink loosens the crowd, her eyes watered as the light show illuminated them, ears ringing, DJ BoomKitty’s bass throbbed through the chest wall, making the crowd its slave. Ziva allowed herself few extra drinks, her legs wobbled, head spun, letting her hair down she bounced possessed, the stress brought on by work released in the expulsion of energy.
Her body failed to process the alcohol, the cats cried, each grated against her, feeling weak, Ziva laid, Patches padded, Asher pawed her nose. They demanded breakfast, Ziva needed water, questioning why the room spun, her bathroom downstairs. Blinking, sunshine peeked through the curtains, she squeezed her eyes shut, but the cats knew, there would be no use pretending.
Patrick slept through his birthday having been awake teething, Emilie mixed her emotions, sobbing at failing to celebrate appropriately, gushing over her intelligent daughter, how Eliza will start school in a year. Ziva had some news, she had clocked 10,000 hours of chess, both online and in the local park, she believed she had mastered the game, her record stood, beating the amateurs of Brindleton Bay, hence the celebrating. Eliza stuck her fingers in the icing, Ziva’s cake devoured by her innocent niece, their eyes met, Eliza’s fingers pressed the stolen food to her lips and Ziva surrendered the cake.
Emilie enquired what plans Ziva had for the cat rescue group, Rylan signed rolling his eyes, he despaired over his sister’s frivolous spending on stray animals. His wife shushed him, Ziva planned to make her home inviting to strays, this included toys, feeders and a cat condo, it would be a haven. Eliza polished off the cake, licking the plate, Emilie scowled and sheepish she put the plate down.
As Ziva assisted with cleaning, Patrick stirred, deciding since the party was over, it would be time to wake. Rylan brought the sleepy child to see his aunt, he snuggled shy, he had thick black hair, and Ziva recalled pictures of Rylan at that age, there would be no doubt whose son he was. Emilie laughed, pinching both Patrick and Rylan’s cheeks, she knew her son would be angelic, she imagined him becoming a doctor or if he like Eliza loved Ziva’s animal stories, perhaps a vet, a practice in Newcrest. Patrick reached for Emilie, she had cut him some cake, it seems the love of sugar would be a sibling trait and Ziva could see them fighting over every slice.
By the Grace of Sim Gods 