"That's kind of a surprise, hearing you talk like that," the Cat says, unaware of Edwin's discomfort because Edwin kind of always seems a little rigid around him, but definitely picking up on the heightened focus on him. He won't complain, of course, nor look this opportunity in the mouth, but also can't help but wonder what it is about their current situation that's won this kind of attention from the ghost.

"I would have expected you to tell me I'm much too old for birthdays by now, or something rude like that..." He bitches affectionately, though the idea has a reasonable amount of merit. He's never really celebrated a birthday — doesn't remember ever having one, or ever having wanted one — but the idea of doing so is pretty much all of his favourite things wrapped up with a nice little ribbon. Attention, gifts, being the most important person in the room...

"If it's my birthday, I think I should get another present from you, right? That's how it works. This one doesn't count, since it was for a different thing." Pushing his luck? Maybe. But when has he ever shied away from the precipice?