You spot beck, a thick figured domestic cat in the corner of the coffee shop she's sitting in. She has to lean back in the booth, holding her tablet at the edge of her table. She gets looks ranging from glances to solid few seconds of staring, as merely inhaling causes a visible strain on the buttons on her shirt. These looks bounce off her like rain on an umbrella, for she had gotten so used to these looks that it hardly bothered her anymore. She didn't mind it, and certainly didn't mind how it made her look, though, her back muscles might have different opinions.