It's a boy, with a cat on his hands. And a speech impairment.

Catherine carefully inspected his every detail, trying to draw up more conclusions apart from the fact that he had an apparent obsession with cats. He looked almost like a plant, with the lucid meek blooming sunflower pinned on his verdant matte green hair like a blossom among leaves, and his slightly emaciated tall slender frame like the trunk that held it up. The way he talked was dull and lifeless, and yet one could still sense the emotions that were present in the slight and subtle variations in his tone. From these, Catherine could see that her roommate was a tree-hugging, socially-challenged, awkwardly-mannered and generally just-plain-awkward boy whose unwavering interest with cats was something Catherine could definitely take advantage of, by pointing out her paws at something she wanted and making him do what she willed at her whim.

/endpoeticwording

"Okay." Catherine said, just as she was about to leave the room. "I'm going to sleep [i]outside[/i]. Take care of the things for me, will you?"

So Catherine went outside the door, took a turn left, hid around the corner, and did what she planned to do: shroud herself in crimson mist, morph into the same ribbon-adorned dark grey Siberian cat, then walk back into the room as the mist immediately vanished, climbing up the bed, curling up in comfort and pretend to sleep.