Ren Morin/IF-69.420

[TRANSLATED AS TO BE PERCEPTIBLE]
It’s been a few months since I was swapped out for Matteo. Thinking about it still stings a little. I’m not mad, far from it! I will admit that seeing Matteo out and about makes it hard to keep up a smile, which may be a good thing as I’ve scared many children smiling in the past. I rather like working in the cat cafe, actually, and I appreciate Hades giving me a job, but nothing feels quite as good as knocking a ball out of the park. Or bunting. I rather liked bunting.
I hear an infernal chime from the front of the shop, followed by the soft clicking of dozens of tiny claws on the hardwood. The cats are loose. A large pink fellow enters the shop, gently closing the door before any of the cats can get loose into the street. 
“Hello, Richmond,” I say to my guest, watching as the mob of kittens attempt to nibble on his ankles, smelling fish.
“GBBLBGBBGLBGGLGBGBGLBGLBLG,” He responds, kneeling to pet a rather feisty calico.
“Oh, you know, same old, same old. Not much is going on over here now that the season is in full swing.” I grab a pot and begin to heat the water. I’m still not entirely sure what this ‘coffee’ thing is, but I think I’m getting the hang of it.
“GLBGBLG. BLGBLBGLBGLBGLB?” Richmond picks up the calico, seemingly unbothered by it chewing on his gills.
“Of course. One ‘coffee’ with extra sugar, right away.” I clear a table of cat fur, most of which is not mine, and set a place for Richmond to sit.
As I prepare Richmond’s ‘coffee’, I find myself staring into the cup, swirling with bean juice and cane sugar. I’m reminded of Emmett. I never thought about it, but he was pretty passionate about this stuff. He was passionate about a lot of things, but even though I didn’t get a lot of it, it was nice to listen to him talk. He took his ‘coffee’ with extra foam, and would chug the stuff while he worked. Not quite sure how, considering the lack of lips and digestive system, but he loved it. It’s been more than a decade since I lost him, but thinking about him hurts just the same as it did the first day without him.
“LBGBLBGBLGLBGLBGBGGLBG?” Richmond jolts me back to reality, a caring look in his eyes... or it could be the mucosal film over them. It can be hard to tell sometimes.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I say as I finish his cup. “Here you are.” He gladly takes the ceramic mug and peers into the liquid. He appears far more invested in the fluid dynamics of the ‘coffee’ than the consumption of it. 
After a bit, Richmond hands me his cup, which I promptly dump down the sink.
“BLBGBLBGLBLBLGBLB!” He exclaims loudly and standing upright, shocking the cats and causing them to scatter.
“It was nice to see you, Richmond. Give the other’s my best.” I say, waving goodbye as I see his Charon™ Lyfe™ pulling down Styx Street. 
“GBLGBLBLBLGBLBLBLBGBBLLLLBLGB. GBBLB!” Richmond gurgles as he steps out the door, the screams of the damned briefly filling the shop.
I sigh. Alone with the cats again. They look so familiar and I can’t quite put my paw on why. Something about their physiology. Somehow they seem… primordial. Otherworldly, even. Cosmic, primal, all-knowing— oh god that one is puking oh god oh god.