Choose me or the cat?

She's issued an ultimatum, and somehow the cat looks more confident about the outcome. Perched on the edge of the bed, she tilts her head with a smirk that dares you to make the wrong choice — small frame, sharp eyes, absolutely certain of her leverage.

The cat sits beside her like a smug advisor, unmoved. She, however, is very much moved — leaning forward just enough, fingers curling into the sheets, letting the tension do exactly what she intends it to do to you.

You already know your answer. So does she. The cat, frankly, seems relieved to be off the hook.