FIC: To the Changing Moon (1/?)
Apr. 15th, 2008 03:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: To the Changing Moon (1/?)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance
A/N: Yes, there will be more of everything else. I'm writing again regularly. This will... just be one of the updated things. Emerging from the same convo that yieldedpoisontaster's East of the Sun, West Hollywood.
"The cat went here and there
And the moon spun round like a top,
And the nearest kin of the moon,
The creeping cat, looked up.
Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
For, wander and wail as he would,
The pure cold light in the sky
Troubled his animal blood...
Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils
Will pass from change to change,
And that from round to crescent,
From crescent to round they range?
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
Alone, important and wise,
And lifts to the changing moon
His changing eyes."
- Yeats
Two boys hunch over a cardboard box, a sight so keenly familiar that it clenches Jeff's heart. One of the kids has a lighter; there's a frantic, restless scuffling from inside the box, like little paws. Bisou tenses like she knows, surging to the end of her lead with a piercing bark that brings both kids upright. And they are kids, but it doesn't stop Jeff from leaning like he'll let Bisou go and snarling, "Get out of here!"
They bolt fast, scared, not guilty. Jeff stands for a minute, glowering after them. It's rainy, it's cold, he's in no goddamn mood for this.
Bisou jerks against the lead again, keening, a noise he's never heard her make. He stops himself just short of snapping at her. Exhales, blinking against the rain in his eyes, and bends down to her level. Cradles her shivering body between his knees and says, "Hey. Sit."
Bisou sits, mostly as a courtesy, poised to get up again as soon as he straightens. She's not walking away from the box. Truth be told, he isn't, either.
Thumping her side, Jeff tells her she's a good girl, and steers her firmly behind him. She's gentle, his girl, but if the thing in the box is hurt, she's still a dog. She slinks after him, resentful.
There's a small ball of fur crouched in the corner of the box, shivering, hiding its face. It's so damn miserable that it takes Jeff a minute to identify it as a cat. A little blood smears the inside of the box, the cat's hind leg scratched up, but it's nothing worse than Bisou's gotten from catching her claws in the sidewalk.
"Hey," Jeff murmurs, kneeling down by the box. He dips his hand in, almost touching, and it flinches tiredly before going limp. Jeff winces. "Shh, baby, nobody's gonna hurt you. Shh."
The cat stirs a little under a gentle touch, peeking from beneath its dirty paws. Jeff feels helplessly, stupidly charmed. He expects a fight when he touches its hurt paw, but the cat is quiet. Probably exhausted. Jeff speaks low to it as he maps the scratch, nothing deep, an experimental cut. He hopes the cat shredded those little bastards.
Taking his hand back, Jeff hesitates, then loops Bisou's leash around his wrist. He trusts her not to go running off, at least not while she's fascinated by the cat. Then, gingerly, he picks up the box and holds it to his chest. The cat shivers, tail twitching, and closes its eyes. Its ribs work like bellows, fierce and steady.
Jeff starts walking home.
****
"C'mon. Eat, honey."
In the corner of the box, now tipped sideways to let the cat come out, the cat crouches with its tail over its nose. It's wet, scrawny, not particularly cute. It watches everything Jeff does with big green eyes, ears swiveling, trembling when Jeff moves too fast.
Nudging the bit of tuna closer to the edge of the box, Jeff coaxes, "You've got to be hungry. You're a skinny little thing."
Its ear twitches. It glances down at Bisou dancing on the floor, back up at him. Skeptical.
"Don't think I won't sit here all night. Just ask her. I'm pretty stubborn." When it just stares at him, Jeff pinches off a bit of the tuna and sniffs it. "Mm. It's good."
The cat looks like it's realizing it's in a den of lunatics. Better sooner than later.
Bisou nudges him hard in the leg, whining like she's never been fed. Of course. There's food in play, and she isn't getting any. Rubbing her ears, Jeff gets up and goes to the fridge. It's only a few feet, and he can keep an eye on the box from there.
When he comes back, hands full of deli turkey and Bisou's dinner of last night's stew, the cat is stretched out on its belly commando-style, peering around the edge of the box to watch Jeff.
Jeff grins. "Oh, it's like that. Watched cat never moves. I see."
It lays its chin down, cutely, and blinks.
Leaning his back against the counter, Jeff tears off some of the turkey and drops it into Bisou's waiting maw. She snaps it up noisily as ever, but that doesn't seem to bother the cat any.
"You're gonna see the vet on Thursday," Jeff told the cat, shredding another bit of turkey. "Guess I should name you something."
Twitch. Blink. The cat sniffs, watching the turkey. Jeff drops some for Bisou, then offers some out to the cat. It sniffs again, whiskers quivering, then snatches the turkey away and darts into the box to devour it. This time, Jeff ignores it, and the cat comes creeping out a minute later.
So Jeff divides the turkey like that, a shred for the cat and a few more for Bisou, until it's gone. By the time he runs out, the cat is almost close enough to touch. He doesn't try it. He grabs a spoon and eats the stew cold.
Turns out, the cat likes beef, too.
After dinner, Jeff can almost see the cat's belly swelled up with food. The cat gets up, painfully slow, and Jeff can see it's a male. Not neutered. The cat goes to the edge of the counter and peers down at Bisou. Bisou makes a chuffing noise, companionable, and stretches to touch noses. They snuffle at each other.
"Gentle," Jeff warns.
Bisou gives him a sidelong look, unimpressed, and greets the cat with a sloppy lick. The cat blinks again, sneezes, then tentatively pats Bisou's muzzle with his paw. Then he looks at Jeff and opens his mouth. His meow is a rusty, shy chirp.
Jeff grins. "Well. Hi, there."
The cat circles himself, stumbling on the bad paw, and stares at Jeff hopefully. Jeff tries to pet him, but he shies away and cries louder. This goes on for a minute, the cat getting increasingly frantic, until he goes to the edge and yowls at the ground.
"Down? Okay, okay. Sorry. I don't speak cat." Slowly, Jeff reaches over and puts his hand under the cat's belly. The cat freezes, but lets Jeff scoop him up. Jeff takes a minute to be selfish, cradles the cat to his chest. The cat is too light, ribs obvious under Jeff's hand. Moving gently, Jeff picks up the cat's bad paw and checks it for swelling. The gash is already knitting, too shallow to go through muscle. The cat doesn't react when Jeff probes the edges of the wound, looking for anything broken. He makes a small, pitiful noise when Jeff rubs a wet wipe over the cut, but doesn't struggle until Jeff is finished cleaning him.
As soon as Jeff puts him down, the cat skitters away and glowers at him. His back is up, fur ruffled except for one strange patch at the nape of his neck. But the cat doesn't retreat far enough to be traumatized, just goes huddling against Bisou's side and furiously cleans himself.
"Yeah, I know," Jeff says fondly. "It's horrible."
The cat gives him a pointed look. Bisou sits, curling around the cat, and licks his fur up in damp tufts. Seeing how he rates, Jeff stays back and watches them. He can't stop smiling.
This time, he isn't stupid enough to call it fostering. The cat is his.
****
Jeff stays in for a few days. Works. One advantage to being a homebody in graphic design is that he can drag his laptop into the living room and keep an eye on the cat, who hasn't worked up to courage to creep down the hall.
The cat is unquestionably feral. He startles at any loud noises, from traffic down the block to footsteps in the apartment above him. Starts like that send him tearing behind the couch, or the TV. Jeff only bothers trying to coax him out the first time, and nearly ends up needing stitches. When he backs off, the cat comes out eventually to look for food, or Bisou. He ignores Jeff to the point of making it an artform, sprawling with his back to Jeff and rotating his ears to the song of Jeff's typing.
For the first few days, Jeff figured he was expendable in the cat's universe. He let Jeff take Bisou out, after all, and even tolerated an afternoon-long trip to a pet store for cat equipment. Then Jeff tried to sleep in his own bed, and heard piteous, searching yowls coming from the end of the hall. When he came out to check, sure that cat had stuck his tail in the garbage disposal, the cat had stared up at him with tragic eyes and whimpered. He'd even let Jeff pick him up for a minute, though he tried to bite through Jeff's thumbnail when Jeff started to carry him to bed.
Jeff sleeps on the couch after that. The cat doesn't sleep with him, though occasionally Jeff feels fur skim beneath his dangling hand, and the whiskery drag of the cat scent-marking him.
They have a rhythm going, a good life. The cat sleeps, eats, harasses Bisou. He gets more steady on his feet, more bold in the apartment. Once, Jeff finds him sitting on the kitchen counter, looking bewildered as to how to get back down. The cat doesn't come when he calls, but cats never do, and Bisou seems happier than he's ever seen her.
Then Jeff tries to take him to the vet.
****
There are only so many places a cat can hide. He can't be gone.
Jeff sits in the center of his wrecked living room, trying to calm his heart. The carrier sits forlornly open. Bisou keeps snuffling around, tail wagging, oblivious to Jeff's panic. Which is probably good, because he doesn't need her freaking out, too.
The cat couldn't have gotten out. Nobody opened the door. He's afraid of the noises. He's skittish, and small, and... easily lost.
Scrubbing his face with his hands, Jeff goes to look under the bed again. His voice is hoarse from too much calling, but he keeps up a steady coaxing chant. "C'mere, sweetheart, don't be scared. I'm not going anywhere. We're just going to get you healthy, okay? We're just going to get you checked out, I'm not leaving you anywhere, I'll be right there the whole time..."
Something moves in his closet. Jeff freezes, mid-peering under the bed, and turns to look. The hangers shift a little, metallic rasping. Heart lurching between anger and relief, Jeff gets up and goes to the closet again. This time, he sees the cat slung across the hangers, balanced over Jeff's jeans. He flinches from Jeff, trembles, and closes his eyes. He's so scared it stills the angry voice in Jeff's head that wants to growl at him.
"Baby," Jeff breathes, and touches his side. The cat curls tighter, whining, and Jeff gently pries him free. Rather than twisting and snarling, the cat clings to him. Pushes his face against Jeff's chest and hides there. Jeff feels the cat's heart hammering fast as he strokes his back. His fingers trip over the patch on the cat's neck, where the hair grows wrong, and he feels the scars there. A bunch of tiny, pinprick scars.
Track marks. Syringes. Jeff pushes the fur back, mapping the extent of the damage, and finds a strip of black ink. It's part of a bar code, pushed into the cat's skin where the fur had once been shaved.
Fuck. The cat had been in a lab.
He knows what logic says: that he needs to be a responsible pet owner, that he should harden his heart. But he sighs, disgust with his species heavy in his chest, and goes to put the carrier away. It won't happen like this. Maybe later, with sedation and trust, but not like this.
The cat doesn't let go of him for a long time. Jeff takes him to bed, not sure which of them he's reassuring.
****
When Jeff wakes up again, there's a naked man draped on him with a barcode on his neck.
Author:
nilchanceA/N: Yes, there will be more of everything else. I'm writing again regularly. This will... just be one of the updated things. Emerging from the same convo that yielded
poisontaster's East of the Sun, West Hollywood. "The cat went here and there
And the moon spun round like a top,
And the nearest kin of the moon,
The creeping cat, looked up.
Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
For, wander and wail as he would,
The pure cold light in the sky
Troubled his animal blood...
Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils
Will pass from change to change,
And that from round to crescent,
From crescent to round they range?
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
Alone, important and wise,
And lifts to the changing moon
His changing eyes."
- Yeats
Two boys hunch over a cardboard box, a sight so keenly familiar that it clenches Jeff's heart. One of the kids has a lighter; there's a frantic, restless scuffling from inside the box, like little paws. Bisou tenses like she knows, surging to the end of her lead with a piercing bark that brings both kids upright. And they are kids, but it doesn't stop Jeff from leaning like he'll let Bisou go and snarling, "Get out of here!"
They bolt fast, scared, not guilty. Jeff stands for a minute, glowering after them. It's rainy, it's cold, he's in no goddamn mood for this.
Bisou jerks against the lead again, keening, a noise he's never heard her make. He stops himself just short of snapping at her. Exhales, blinking against the rain in his eyes, and bends down to her level. Cradles her shivering body between his knees and says, "Hey. Sit."
Bisou sits, mostly as a courtesy, poised to get up again as soon as he straightens. She's not walking away from the box. Truth be told, he isn't, either.
Thumping her side, Jeff tells her she's a good girl, and steers her firmly behind him. She's gentle, his girl, but if the thing in the box is hurt, she's still a dog. She slinks after him, resentful.
There's a small ball of fur crouched in the corner of the box, shivering, hiding its face. It's so damn miserable that it takes Jeff a minute to identify it as a cat. A little blood smears the inside of the box, the cat's hind leg scratched up, but it's nothing worse than Bisou's gotten from catching her claws in the sidewalk.
"Hey," Jeff murmurs, kneeling down by the box. He dips his hand in, almost touching, and it flinches tiredly before going limp. Jeff winces. "Shh, baby, nobody's gonna hurt you. Shh."
The cat stirs a little under a gentle touch, peeking from beneath its dirty paws. Jeff feels helplessly, stupidly charmed. He expects a fight when he touches its hurt paw, but the cat is quiet. Probably exhausted. Jeff speaks low to it as he maps the scratch, nothing deep, an experimental cut. He hopes the cat shredded those little bastards.
Taking his hand back, Jeff hesitates, then loops Bisou's leash around his wrist. He trusts her not to go running off, at least not while she's fascinated by the cat. Then, gingerly, he picks up the box and holds it to his chest. The cat shivers, tail twitching, and closes its eyes. Its ribs work like bellows, fierce and steady.
Jeff starts walking home.
****
"C'mon. Eat, honey."
In the corner of the box, now tipped sideways to let the cat come out, the cat crouches with its tail over its nose. It's wet, scrawny, not particularly cute. It watches everything Jeff does with big green eyes, ears swiveling, trembling when Jeff moves too fast.
Nudging the bit of tuna closer to the edge of the box, Jeff coaxes, "You've got to be hungry. You're a skinny little thing."
Its ear twitches. It glances down at Bisou dancing on the floor, back up at him. Skeptical.
"Don't think I won't sit here all night. Just ask her. I'm pretty stubborn." When it just stares at him, Jeff pinches off a bit of the tuna and sniffs it. "Mm. It's good."
The cat looks like it's realizing it's in a den of lunatics. Better sooner than later.
Bisou nudges him hard in the leg, whining like she's never been fed. Of course. There's food in play, and she isn't getting any. Rubbing her ears, Jeff gets up and goes to the fridge. It's only a few feet, and he can keep an eye on the box from there.
When he comes back, hands full of deli turkey and Bisou's dinner of last night's stew, the cat is stretched out on its belly commando-style, peering around the edge of the box to watch Jeff.
Jeff grins. "Oh, it's like that. Watched cat never moves. I see."
It lays its chin down, cutely, and blinks.
Leaning his back against the counter, Jeff tears off some of the turkey and drops it into Bisou's waiting maw. She snaps it up noisily as ever, but that doesn't seem to bother the cat any.
"You're gonna see the vet on Thursday," Jeff told the cat, shredding another bit of turkey. "Guess I should name you something."
Twitch. Blink. The cat sniffs, watching the turkey. Jeff drops some for Bisou, then offers some out to the cat. It sniffs again, whiskers quivering, then snatches the turkey away and darts into the box to devour it. This time, Jeff ignores it, and the cat comes creeping out a minute later.
So Jeff divides the turkey like that, a shred for the cat and a few more for Bisou, until it's gone. By the time he runs out, the cat is almost close enough to touch. He doesn't try it. He grabs a spoon and eats the stew cold.
Turns out, the cat likes beef, too.
After dinner, Jeff can almost see the cat's belly swelled up with food. The cat gets up, painfully slow, and Jeff can see it's a male. Not neutered. The cat goes to the edge of the counter and peers down at Bisou. Bisou makes a chuffing noise, companionable, and stretches to touch noses. They snuffle at each other.
"Gentle," Jeff warns.
Bisou gives him a sidelong look, unimpressed, and greets the cat with a sloppy lick. The cat blinks again, sneezes, then tentatively pats Bisou's muzzle with his paw. Then he looks at Jeff and opens his mouth. His meow is a rusty, shy chirp.
Jeff grins. "Well. Hi, there."
The cat circles himself, stumbling on the bad paw, and stares at Jeff hopefully. Jeff tries to pet him, but he shies away and cries louder. This goes on for a minute, the cat getting increasingly frantic, until he goes to the edge and yowls at the ground.
"Down? Okay, okay. Sorry. I don't speak cat." Slowly, Jeff reaches over and puts his hand under the cat's belly. The cat freezes, but lets Jeff scoop him up. Jeff takes a minute to be selfish, cradles the cat to his chest. The cat is too light, ribs obvious under Jeff's hand. Moving gently, Jeff picks up the cat's bad paw and checks it for swelling. The gash is already knitting, too shallow to go through muscle. The cat doesn't react when Jeff probes the edges of the wound, looking for anything broken. He makes a small, pitiful noise when Jeff rubs a wet wipe over the cut, but doesn't struggle until Jeff is finished cleaning him.
As soon as Jeff puts him down, the cat skitters away and glowers at him. His back is up, fur ruffled except for one strange patch at the nape of his neck. But the cat doesn't retreat far enough to be traumatized, just goes huddling against Bisou's side and furiously cleans himself.
"Yeah, I know," Jeff says fondly. "It's horrible."
The cat gives him a pointed look. Bisou sits, curling around the cat, and licks his fur up in damp tufts. Seeing how he rates, Jeff stays back and watches them. He can't stop smiling.
This time, he isn't stupid enough to call it fostering. The cat is his.
****
Jeff stays in for a few days. Works. One advantage to being a homebody in graphic design is that he can drag his laptop into the living room and keep an eye on the cat, who hasn't worked up to courage to creep down the hall.
The cat is unquestionably feral. He startles at any loud noises, from traffic down the block to footsteps in the apartment above him. Starts like that send him tearing behind the couch, or the TV. Jeff only bothers trying to coax him out the first time, and nearly ends up needing stitches. When he backs off, the cat comes out eventually to look for food, or Bisou. He ignores Jeff to the point of making it an artform, sprawling with his back to Jeff and rotating his ears to the song of Jeff's typing.
For the first few days, Jeff figured he was expendable in the cat's universe. He let Jeff take Bisou out, after all, and even tolerated an afternoon-long trip to a pet store for cat equipment. Then Jeff tried to sleep in his own bed, and heard piteous, searching yowls coming from the end of the hall. When he came out to check, sure that cat had stuck his tail in the garbage disposal, the cat had stared up at him with tragic eyes and whimpered. He'd even let Jeff pick him up for a minute, though he tried to bite through Jeff's thumbnail when Jeff started to carry him to bed.
Jeff sleeps on the couch after that. The cat doesn't sleep with him, though occasionally Jeff feels fur skim beneath his dangling hand, and the whiskery drag of the cat scent-marking him.
They have a rhythm going, a good life. The cat sleeps, eats, harasses Bisou. He gets more steady on his feet, more bold in the apartment. Once, Jeff finds him sitting on the kitchen counter, looking bewildered as to how to get back down. The cat doesn't come when he calls, but cats never do, and Bisou seems happier than he's ever seen her.
Then Jeff tries to take him to the vet.
****
There are only so many places a cat can hide. He can't be gone.
Jeff sits in the center of his wrecked living room, trying to calm his heart. The carrier sits forlornly open. Bisou keeps snuffling around, tail wagging, oblivious to Jeff's panic. Which is probably good, because he doesn't need her freaking out, too.
The cat couldn't have gotten out. Nobody opened the door. He's afraid of the noises. He's skittish, and small, and... easily lost.
Scrubbing his face with his hands, Jeff goes to look under the bed again. His voice is hoarse from too much calling, but he keeps up a steady coaxing chant. "C'mere, sweetheart, don't be scared. I'm not going anywhere. We're just going to get you healthy, okay? We're just going to get you checked out, I'm not leaving you anywhere, I'll be right there the whole time..."
Something moves in his closet. Jeff freezes, mid-peering under the bed, and turns to look. The hangers shift a little, metallic rasping. Heart lurching between anger and relief, Jeff gets up and goes to the closet again. This time, he sees the cat slung across the hangers, balanced over Jeff's jeans. He flinches from Jeff, trembles, and closes his eyes. He's so scared it stills the angry voice in Jeff's head that wants to growl at him.
"Baby," Jeff breathes, and touches his side. The cat curls tighter, whining, and Jeff gently pries him free. Rather than twisting and snarling, the cat clings to him. Pushes his face against Jeff's chest and hides there. Jeff feels the cat's heart hammering fast as he strokes his back. His fingers trip over the patch on the cat's neck, where the hair grows wrong, and he feels the scars there. A bunch of tiny, pinprick scars.
Track marks. Syringes. Jeff pushes the fur back, mapping the extent of the damage, and finds a strip of black ink. It's part of a bar code, pushed into the cat's skin where the fur had once been shaved.
Fuck. The cat had been in a lab.
He knows what logic says: that he needs to be a responsible pet owner, that he should harden his heart. But he sighs, disgust with his species heavy in his chest, and goes to put the carrier away. It won't happen like this. Maybe later, with sedation and trust, but not like this.
The cat doesn't let go of him for a long time. Jeff takes him to bed, not sure which of them he's reassuring.
****
When Jeff wakes up again, there's a naked man draped on him with a barcode on his neck.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 07:25 pm (UTC)I cannot say HOW UTTERLY HAPPY THIS MAKES ME! *twirls you*
no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 07:30 pm (UTC)Okay, I was sortof waiting for that last line, because the cat was far too smart, even for a cat. And because I cheated and read the fic PT posted earlier today about the Jensen-cat. :) But then I was sure the line wasn't coming, what with how long the fic was, and then you whammied me with it!
So glad to see you back in the writing swing! :) I won't harass you for more Deathknell or OT3verse or Retrieververse or anything, 'cause I know how it goes. But this fic is joining those as my new favorite, and I just thought you should know. :)
no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 07:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 07:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 07:38 pm (UTC)And there I was, ever so worried that Jeff was going to take the cat to the vet to get him neutered ... ouch!
I do it every time you write, with the older stuff and the new, but I have to ask.... more soon please?
no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 07:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 07:41 pm (UTC)*blinks blinks*
OH!
I am so happy right now, I can't tell you. I'd like to encourage more conversations if they lead to these sorts of things.
*hugs everything*
no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 07:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 07:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 07:55 pm (UTC)Yes, there will be more of everything else. I'm writing again regularly.
Hurray! And not just for the promise of more fic, but also for the indication that things are finally going betterr in your world.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 08:18 pm (UTC)Although, speaking from my selfish bits, this is fantastic (but what's new about that?). I love the way this started and the way it's heading. Wonderful descriptions.
And I swear I'll wait patiently *crosses fingers* for more.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 08:34 pm (UTC)Waits for more.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 08:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 08:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 09:36 pm (UTC)(but I am STILL absurdly charmed by Jeff, Bisou and the cat....)
no subject
Date: 2008-04-16 03:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 10:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 10:08 pm (UTC)Love this :)
Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 10:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 10:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 10:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 10:49 pm (UTC)You guys, with the weird cat-people-thingy!!
*flails happily*
no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 11:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 11:27 pm (UTC)Yay! for naked men *g*
no subject
Date: 2008-04-15 11:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-16 12:21 am (UTC)"Yeah, I know," Jeff says fondly. "It's horrible."
Hehehe!
Does Jared show up in this verse or is this strictly Jeff/Jensen? Just curious. I love it to pieces either way!