The look on the cat's face does little to comfort you, but it does confuse you. He's clearly upset about something, but his expression seems almost human. It certainly isn't the predatory look you'd expect from a cat looking at something which might as well be a mouse for all you could do to fight him. While he's clearly angered, there's something restrained about it, tempered as only someone old and wise could do. He lowers his head, hissing softly. "You hurt Marisa, hurt me... I should make you hurt just as much." You were surprised that the cat could talk at all, but it was almost more surprising that his voice had an old English accent to it, like royalty. His hot breath washes over you, surprisingly nice on your exposed body, but hardly something you enjoy under the circumstances. "There's a reason she didn't just get rid of you, though. She does need an apprentice, and she's quite desperate after searching for so long. That unfortunately means I'm not allowed to damage you." You want to be relieved by this statement, but seeing his claws flex nearby makes that difficult.
"P-Please..." you manage to squeak out, trying to avoid looking at anything sharp on the cat's body, a difficult task. You're not sure where to go from that weak plea. The cat hasn't backed away at all, still hunched over you, powerful muscles twitching under his dark fur. You lower your head, looking down at your female body with its modest curves. It's hardly your first concern, but it does reinforce just how defenseless you feel, tiny and naked in an unfamiliar body. There must be something you can say to help your situation. Without looking up, you mutter, "I... I..."