He's skinny enough that maybe folk who catch a glimpse of him will just think she's wearing a harness - a not-quite-stray who slipped her leash. Which, given how most cats would respond to leashes, isn't too outlandish.

Then again, perhaps it would be better if people didn't get it into their heads that she's a pet in need of rescue. Not that she expects many natives to pay her much mind either way. This is New York, after all.

She makes her way across the other half of Park Avenue, then heads toward Madison. She tries to hug the curb as much as possible, the lines of parked cars a safety net she could dart between (or beneath) if any two-leggers get too interested in them.

Madison is a far less friendly crossing than Park, and she stops at the curb to wait for the light. She's going to have to take advantage of the pedestrian crossing - better that than to get pancaked - though she's not exactly feeling easy about the idea. She lets out a low, dissatisfied meow, hoping he has a good grip. This crossing is going to be a good deal faster than the last one.