He couldn't sleep. The physical act of laying in a bed with his eyes closed was not stimulating the act of rest that he wanted. Why? Why must his mind torment itself by replaying and centering itself on all the snubs, pitfalls, unmet expectations, unfair dictations, and uncouth pronouncements over his life? The gold eyed young man had allowed his entire life to be dictated by others. He was going to inherit father's company. He was going to marry Gemma. He was going to be her protector and savior and sex idol. He was going to be an agent of the Syndicate because she was too damned curious to keep well enough alone and he got drug into it. He was going to be a liaison for the muggles. He was this that and the other thing...Orion, help us with this...Orion, do that! Sick of it! How many people called him an asshole, a pompous jerk, a stuck up idiot...not even behind his back, but to his face? The conclusion was clear: He was not a good person.
Orion's eyes opened to scan the wood beams of the inn's ceiling. He didn't have to be a person. He could literally, in the words of one Dmitri Cross lost to time and distance, say 'fuck it' and go do something...anything...else. He could be a cat, for all the world cared.
Orion considered that carefully. He COULD go be a cat. He had the skills necessary to transform into the feline shape, and all of his aloof traits that people hated were deemed virtues for cats...yes, it was feasible. Was it worth it?
"Fuck it all...I'll be a cat." he said to no one in particular. He stood and dressed himself, packing all of his worldly goods into a small bag. There was room left over, but that was fine. Orion shrank the bag down and placed it in his pocket, then holstered his wand. Opening the window of his already-paid-for room, he jumped out. Orion the human transformed mid leap into Orion the Norse Forest Cat. He was a muscular sixteen pounds of brown tabby fluff, accented only by white toes on his broad paws. He set out into Hogsmeade to start his life over in a more simple direction.