The Cat's mind is full of thoughts of trades and bargains, of deals and promises, of hope and of disappointment. But also, amidst all those tumbling and tangled thoughts, the memory of a warm body against his, a soothing hand at his back, a soft touch to his elbow — not enough, never enough for his greedy soul, always wanting so much more than he deserves — along with the security of more, should he ever need it. It feels impossible to summon the words, even for someone who speaks truth so brazenly when it suits him, but it's certainly there, sitting warmly somewhere in his heart, keeping his senses alive in the memory of that touch.
So, when Edwin speaks up, the words take him out of his own thoughts, ennui thankfully paused until later when he's alone with no distractions, rather than dwelling on them now and wasting precious moments with Edwin.
"People, no. Cats, yeah. You've gotta know which are the best for scraps, which have too much foot traffic, which have good access to the rooftops... You'd be surprised how important alleyways can be to those who get around town using the shadows..." Is that the tinkling of a bell on a cat's collar? The pad of little feet scampering up a fire escape? The mysterious mewl of an eagle-eyed observer watching from somewhere dark and unseen? Who knows. "Maybe I'll give you a tour someday."
And then, because he can, because this is easy and practically expected conduct between the two of them now, the Cat slides his hand into the crook of Edwin's elbow as he guides him along, back into the thrum of Port Townsend, and eventually, back to his office and his friends in London. Until next time, that is.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2025-12-19 05:38 pm (UTC)So, when Edwin speaks up, the words take him out of his own thoughts, ennui thankfully paused until later when he's alone with no distractions, rather than dwelling on them now and wasting precious moments with Edwin.
"People, no. Cats, yeah. You've gotta know which are the best for scraps, which have too much foot traffic, which have good access to the rooftops... You'd be surprised how important alleyways can be to those who get around town using the shadows..." Is that the tinkling of a bell on a cat's collar? The pad of little feet scampering up a fire escape? The mysterious mewl of an eagle-eyed observer watching from somewhere dark and unseen? Who knows. "Maybe I'll give you a tour someday."
And then, because he can, because this is easy and practically expected conduct between the two of them now, the Cat slides his hand into the crook of Edwin's elbow as he guides him along, back into the thrum of Port Townsend, and eventually, back to his office and his friends in London. Until next time, that is.