Sitting around on the narrow steps is a small group Raman has seen here 
before. Some kind of gang, he supposes. Tonight, there are seven. Five females 
and two males, all young. Adolescents. Some dress like kick-artists, others like 
fans, wannabes. All have had their features remade to resemble cats, alley cats, 
house cats. Their heads are covered with a thick, downy hair like fur. Their eyes are golden. Their ears protrude from near the tops of their 
heads and flick back and forth. Their bodies are slim enough to seem almost 
elven. The females have little more than the mere suggestion of breasts. The 
downy hair that covers their heads runs down their arms and over the backs of 
their hands. All have long fingernails resembling claws.