technicallyhellbound | Ghostcat shenanigans

Ghostcat shenanigans

It had been a few weeks since they'd started this arrangement, and so far the Cat had, in fact, been a surprising amount of help. Enough so that Charles had stopped being mostly on-guard while in his presence and had even taken the 'puppy' nickname in stride, though he still hadn't really looked too deeply at why it didn't bother him as much as it probably should.

That particular day was neither a Monday nor a Friday, and was in fact a Wednesday, so while it wasn't one of their scheduled briefings, it was a visit that had been arranged in advance, a few hours while Crystal and Charles were at a concert, the kind of thing that while Edwin enjoyed being invited to, really wasn't the kind of thing he actually enjoyed going to, and the others both knew it, which was why they continued to invite him, even if he always declined.

It was late afternoon, not yet early evening when he stepped out of the mirror into the cannery, tugging at the collar of his slipover in much the same way he did the lapels of his usual jacket. He'd been branching out from his usual look, just a little, in bits and pieces, and now had something of a range of shades of those softer jumpers, this one was a deep bottle-green and was nearly a cowl-neck, but definitely less severe than his usual look.

It had been raining in London, or rather it had been misting heavily, and he wasn't quite sure if it was still raining here or if it had just finished, there wasn't the same kind of moisture in the air, which meant that if it was raining it hadn't been doing so for long, and all he knew was that the Cat had something planned for them to do, he was only now considering that he probably should have asked a few more questions beforehand.

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Before he started his more regular meetings with the Dead Boy Detectives, he'd idly fantasized of what it might be like to be a part of something like what they had; to have all that coming and going, to have people around you who understood and accepted your strangeness and even, in some cases, appreciated you for it. He had decided, rather pointedly, that while he couldn't decide if the idea was welcoming or terrifying, he could definitely admit to some curiosity. He isn't an abrasive Cat, in his opinion, so how is it that these relatively volatile people (with more than enough baggage that the proverbial clown car should have derailed by now) have managed to find a comfortable equilibrium with one another? It doesn't make sense. And because it doesn't make sense, the Cat is painfully curious about it.

So, the few times he's joined them on one of their little mysteries, he's been almost entirely on his best behaviour, only demanding his payment in this bargain when absolutely appropriate, and only toeing the line ever so slightly in completely innocuous ways; like ensuring he can stand at Edwin's side so that their arms brush, blowing him kisses as he leaves, taking every opportunity to stare doe-eyed at him while he talks about something powerfully dull... But he hasn't been ignorant of his other coworkers, either. Charles has become a mile less frustrating to be around the more the Cat has actually experienced of him, and though it's annoying to be caught in the trap of that charm, the Cat can't deny its efficacy. He has even, on occasion, managed to give Crystal a genuine compliment about her fashion or the way she'd done her hair and not have it returned with a defensive bark of derision. He calls that progress. Fascinating, bewildering, addictive progress.

He'd talked to his cats about it — whatever ones would listen, that is — and beguiled them with anecdotes and stories of their escapades, all framed in a tone of wonderment of this strange alluring quality to their teamwork. Cats, as a species, are designed with solitude in mind until a bond is formed — is that what's happening to him? Is that why he lays there across his pillows at night, staring at the beams across the ceiling of the warehouse, unable to think of anything except their next little outing together?

Is that why, faced with a minor inconvenience and the lack of any witch around to assist, he'd called on Edwin under the guise of an evening to spend time together as payment for his more recent involvement in one of their cases? Could he really be so taken in by all this that he can't do even this much for his town without involving these maddening ghosts?

He's lounging on his throne when Edwin arrives; sleek black fur suffocating the low light of the evening to make him look more shadow than cat, save for those reflective golden eyes that flash with interest as he takes in the changed form stepping through his mirror.

"Nice sweater," He says, tail lashing in pleasure before he jumps down and re-emerges from a flash of violet flames as a man; slicked back hair, charcoal overcoat, a dark shirt with a low collar unbuttoned to his sternum, and leather trousers that hug his figure appreciatively. He looks nice, but whether or not he put in effort specifically for this little meet up is anyone's guess. "You should let me dress you up sometime. As you well know, I have more than a few tricks that work on ghosts."

He almost didn't catch what the Cat had said, if only because he was distracted by the fact of it being a different cat than the one he'd seen the first time, and that particular transformation -and the reason for it- hadn't actually come up before, Crystal certainly hadn't mentioned it, either didn't think it was her place to do so, or didn't realize that the boys didn't know, and it really could be either.

He did shake himself from the distraction easily enough, just arching a brow at the comment, "Another time, perhaps." There was an edge of amusement there, certainly, it wasn't a flat out 'no', at least. Though while he'd shaken the distraction, he was still curious, which was why he said: "You were a marmalade before." A ridiculously fluffy one at that, like a small cloud that was somehow also incredibly condescending.

He considered for a moment before adding, "I like the new one, it suits you."

That was apparently all he had to say on the matter, because the next statement, brow arching a little, that amusement sliding into his expression and his tone again was: "I realized as I was preparing to leave the office that I hadn't actually asked what you have planned, because if it's a trip to the philharmonic I'm going to have to make some adjustments." As if anyone would be able to see him, but there was always the chance of crossing paths with another ghost or even someone else who could see them for whatever reason.

Somehow, despite the fact that Edwin had seen the physical change in him already, it had never dawned on the Cat King that he might not have put two and two together and guessed that his outfit wasn't just a simple fashion choice, but a biological change. Or, rather, he's more surprised that Crystal hadn't mentioned it when they'd all regrouped, but then... there'd been other things taking precedence, hadn't there? And of Crystal's priorities, the Cat doesn't think he rates high enough to warrant an update like that. At least that meant that Crystal either didn't know about his involvement in the boys' final capture, or didn't blame him for it. Somehow, he expects the former rather than the latter.

The comment about the philharmonic surprises a rather genuine sound of amusement out of him, an honest laugh because it seems so fucking absurd that he would have made all this effort to take Edwin somewhere where he can't talk to him and can only look at him. He might as well go back to stalking him with cats, at that rate.

"God, no. Don't worry, not an instrument in sight this evening." He's sure Edwin's seen enough of those for now, at least. But, he doesn't give any further information because Edwin didn't actually ask for it and so, petulantly, he doesn't see why he should give it. Instead, he fastens up the belt of his overcoat and holds out his arm for Edwin to take his elbow.

"And I was an angora." He taps Edwin's breastbone with his finger, relishing the new texture under his hand now that it isn't that simple wool uniform of his, and trying his best not to let the fact that Edwin thinks this form suits him go to his head. "Clearly you need to brush up on your cat breeds, Mister Detective. Or are you hoping I'll do the heavy lifting for you if you run into a werecat in the alleyways of London?"

He gave another little tilt of his head, that same bare edge of a smile caught in his expression and the amusement still clear in his tone even as he accepted the offered arm, "Apparently I do, as I was under the impression that 'marmalade' was a colorway and not a breed." Mostly he'd been under the impression that the style update was just the Cat playing dress-up, playing with outfits as Edwin had accused him of before.

"And we've met a werecat, actually, lovely woman, jaguar. To the best of my knowledge the were, that is to say the ailuranthropic genes only run to big cats, lions, tigers, panthers and jaguars, even cheetahs and bobcats rather than the household domestic breeds." Another little head-tilt, this one something of an acquiescence, "But I also know enough to know that I'm hardly an expert."

The smile was back, glancing at the Cat again, "And while I feel like I should probably ask where we're going, I've managed to avoid doing so this long, and I find I'm actually curious to just find out rather than be told beforehand." Which was another indication that he'd actually come to trust the Cat, at least to some degree. He liked knowing where he was going in as much advance as possible so that he'd know how he'd be able to get out even if it was simply walking through the nearest wall and working from there.

He squints his eyes a little at that, but physically holds his tongue between his teeth. He's not going to get into the argument of why calling a cat by their breeding is better than referring to them by their colour, because he knows exactly what Edwin will point out — everyone calls black cats by their colour — and dammit, okay, that's the one flaw in his logic and he haaaates that it's so glaringly obvious and so ridiculously on the nose right now so much that it quietens his argument completely. That, and he doesn't particularly feel like arguing semantics right now. Which, in and of itself, is pretty impressive.

"I'm ignoring everything you just said about knowing other Cats. It's terribly rude to bring them up while you're in my Kingdom, but I like you, so I won't take it as a slight." It's only a little difficult to tell if he's joking (he is, mostly) but he really does feel a strange pang at the idea of any feline, domestic or otherwise, seeing in Edwin what he sees in him; that mystery strong enough to pique even the most cautious cat's interest. And that, in turn, makes him feel that weird desire to look at himself long and hard in the mirror and question what the fuck he thinks he's doing letting things get this far, but. He's here now, and Edwin is beside him and, God, smiling at him. So he's far too weak to protest.

Instead, he lays a hand over the one Edwin has hooked in his arm and starts to walk.

"Honestly, I kinda thought the mystery would add to the appeal. I know by now how to sweeten the pot for you," He says beguilingly, as he starts to leisurely stroll with him out into the open air of the docks, the smell of fish and seawater and cold air brisk against their faces. "And I thought we could play a game while we go. Ever heard of 20 questions?"

That would absolutely have been his counter, because even in large cats people mentioned the black jaguars -or black panthers- coloration before their breed. Eventually someone would have to tell him he was being a cat-racist so that he could correct it before he actually got in trouble for it, but at the moment that was neither here nor there.

"I do know enough to know that Martinique would be quite upset to be referred to as a simple cat, she's quite proud of her heritage." There was still amusement there, tempered a little, but still there, he'd realized the Cat was a jealous sort, but hadn't realized that would extend to people who he'd never met and who were by no means a threat to his relationship -such as it was- with Edwin.

He tilted his face up into the breeze once they were outside, as if he could actually feel it, and maybe he could, it was hard to say for sure just what Ghosts could and couldn't feel, and honestly Edwin had come to learn that it varied to some degree, especially in his case, as his survival in Hell had certainly changed that kind of thing for him. He hummed an acknowledgement of the question, "We call it 'yes and no' but yes, I'm aware of the game."

Port Townsend is much the same as it ever was, save for the fact that the weather isn't quite as prone to random fits of terrible lightning or gloomy clouds now that it's resident witch has no power over it on account of her being Very Much Not Here. It doesn't feel all that much different otherwise, but the Cat feels a certain kind of freedom being able to walk around in this form with Edwin without worrying about her nasty bird spies or even the woman herself clip-clopping her way down the high street. It isn't often he walks as a human, preferring to move as a cat, but something tells him Edwin won't much appreciate being left quite literally in the dust by his quicker feline pace.

Speaking of felines.

"All cats are cats, Edwin, regardless of their size. For once, this isn't something you know more than me about—"

It isn't a spit, not exactly, but there is a show of teeth and a definite... straightening to the Cat's posture. Okay, so maybe he hasn't quite gotten used to walking around like this yet, and maybe Esther's absence is a blessing, but her presence is still heavy in the air, and maybe he's been driving himself nuts in the confines of his pillow palace and is feeling a little on edge because of it. Then, there's the problem he'd invited Edwin here to help him fix that could very well be messing with the general aura of the town as a whole and...

"Sorry," He grits out, inhaling slow and exhaling sharply out of his nose, his spine relaxing with the emptying of his lungs. He's only really shown his short patience to Edwin once, and that had left a real sour taste in his mouth, so — reluctant to repeat that — he focuses back in on the game element, without elaborating on his apology, or his apparent ill mood.

"Twenty questions should give us enough time to get there, if you want to play along." Wrenching himself back into business as usual, he tilts his head at Edwin and smiles. "Unless you want to get a little more personal; we could play two truths and a lie."

"Accepted," he replied easily, having watched that process with interest, though resisting the urge to slip out his notebook and jot it down, "but not needed, I was needling." Something he'd been aware of even if he hadn't entirely been doing it on purpose.

"I'm a terrible liar." In and of itself a lie, or most of one, but one that people tended to believe because he was honest to the point of being blunt most of the time, which did make it easy to believe he wouldn't -or couldn't- lie, "So the former is likely the better option."

His brow arched, arm curling a little more closely with the Cat's, something of an apology of his own for the aforementioned needling, "I take it that means you've got something in mind I should be asking about? Or should I come up with something for you to guess at?"

Usually he would relish the chance to witness Edwin's more prickly side in person, and the fact that he's apparently a little too on edge to appreciate it only makes him wish he had the protection of cat's body and their lack of physical tells to make him feel more comfortable as he experiences the weird shame-frustration combo that swirls in his chest. But, ever the expert at faking it until he forgets the line between reality and pretend, he firmly boxes the thought away. He does, however, let himself appreciate the closeness of Edwin on his arm, not missing a beat when he comes in tighter, his own shoulders visibly dropping a half-inch or so in relief.

"I'm not sure I agree with that. I've seen you lie. You're not bad at it, just..." Searching for a good word, he seems about to cast his eye over the town, but detonates that plan before it really takes off and looks at Edwin instead. Edwin has lied about him to Charles, he's lied about his feelings, he's lied about his motivations, his desires; and all of that only in the Cat's brief experience of him. He shrugs. "Hm. Well, you take it too seriously. You use lies like armour, and they're shitty armour, you can take that from me. You need to learn to lie for fun. Sometimes a white lie here and there can make things interesting. It doesn't have to be so serious."

But then, Edwin's seriousness is oddly refreshing to him, if equally frustrating at times. Though he's not sure he'd like it if Edwin cut a little more loose.

"Well, you can guess where I'm taking you. I think you can probably get it in- hm, maybe ten or so, if you're in top form today." A shrug. "Unless you've got an annoying little trinket or something like it in mind that you're expecting me to guess."

"Well that would hardly be fair for me to do, the point of the game is to have something unusual in mind, certainly, but still something that is ultimately possible to be deduced by those you're playing with."

Focusing on the game and the visit at hand was easier than getting into the weeds of just how well he could lie about what, and why he would do so, especially when they were supposed to be having a good time. Or, at the very least, determining that while they could work together, they couldn't actually manage being friends, though Edwin doubted that was likely to happen, and only partly because they both needed friends.

A thoughtful sound followed, already easily keeping pace with the Cat, "So you think I'll be able to guess where we're going, in near ten, before we get there, is that what I've just heard?"

The Cat could very easily point out that he's been around the block enough that his experience with magical trinkets isn't exactly limited — especially when it comes to wearable trinkets, as Edwin should well know — but he gets a strange enjoyment out of Edwin's pragmatic fairness in this regard. And oh, this is so much easier, isn't it? This is better than moping or wondering about what ifs, maybes, all of that. Whatever happened to his unaffected hedonism, what about all the fun he's had when nothing means anything?

He decides not to think about it — as easily as that. He decides to focus on this, on enjoying this, on enjoying Edwin for this limited time he has him, like he vowed to do at the market. Fuck everything else, that's for him in the future to worry about. Him in the now is delicately dancing his claws over the hand Edwin has on his arm, a physical tease as well as the vocal one he's about to supply.

"Well, if you're as good as I think you are. The game relies on how good your questions are, right? And you've got a head start, since you've already been to the town and all. Though I don't think you've ever been exactly here."

He retracts his hand to hold it up and over his mouth, the pantomime of shock.

"Oops," A smile grows. "Call that a freebie."

He laughed softly, shaking his head, "Well that's two, then, since you'd already said it was a place rather than a person or an object." Maybe he hadn't outright said it, but it was a reasonably clear implication of such.

Edwin considered for a moment, mostly just compiling a quick list of questions to start with and sorting them into the order he felt would be most beneficial, though he knew some would be removed simply by dint of answers to earlier ones.

He arched a brow then, "Is it somewhere indoors?" There were certainly some public buildings they hadn't been to in their earlier time there, and that seemed like the most sensible place to start his deductions.

The Cat scrunches up his nose at that first point — because he can't think of a single person in Port Townsend he'd want to take Edwin to (possessively, he wants to keep him for himself while he has him) and there are only so many objects of interest in such a sleepy little seaside town and he would hate to be a disappointment after this much build up — but he can't deny the little curl of his lip in amusement because, well. He really did let Edwin have a head start, even if he absolutely didn't need it. Call him sentimental.

While Edwin thinks, the Cat busies himself by patting over the collar of that sweater where it peeks out of his cuff, enjoying the fabric against his fingertips, almost absently needling it as he leads them onwards, through the quiet main roads and off down a side street, leading toward the beachfront.

"Ah...." Hm, he actually has to think about that a little. "It's not indoors, but it's not exposed to the elements, either."

What? He never said his answers would fall within the rules. Where's the fun in restraining a Cat who loves to hear his own voice to the limits of only being able to say yes and no?

"And now you're being generous with your answers." He replied, that prior sliver of amusement still very much in evidence. Right at the moment he was reasonably sure that yes, the two of them would make fine friends, though it mostly depended on just where they were going, and why the Cat thought he might like it.

But those were concerns for later, right at the moment he considered again, "And we're heading towards the beach instead of further into town or out into the woods. Not indoors but out of the elements."

His brow creased then, "Is there some sort of cave system here?" It seemed like the most logical conclusion, but he was also careful to keep his question neutral, just asking if the thing existed instead of asking if that's where they were going.

"I'm a generous Cat," He says, an idle shrug lifting one of his shoulders as he looks at Edwin's face, his single earring twinkling as it reflects off the light of the clear, cloudless sky.

He feels indescribably delighted at seeing that flicker of amusement across Edwin's features; it was a given that he'd like the gamification of this little mystery, but the Cat hadn't quite been prepared for how Edwin might look while enjoying it. So far he's only seen Edwin smile a handful of times (with varying degrees of authenticity) and so few of those times have been directed at him that now he finds being in the wake of them almost addictive, even when it's only something as low-level as this.

His golden eyes flash when Edwin mentions caves, and he purses his lips to stop himself smiling.

"There are, and quite a few stories to go along with them. I'm surprised you didn't read up on those during your time here, but then..." He hums, pantomiming genuine consideration, like this particular train of thought hasn't been tumbling through his mind the entire time he's known Edwin. "There's quite a few things you didn't manage to fully read up on about this place, isn't there?" He bats his eyelashes at the ghost.

"Yes, well, I was rather preoccupied when I was here before." He replied, because that much had been true, even without the caseload they'd taken on while they were stuck in town."

He shook his head, "One of our potential clients might have mentioned it, but it was only in passing, nothing truly related to their case." Both brows lifted then, eloquent as ever, just regarding the Cat for a moment, "Though I am curious now what would make you think that someone who escaped from Hell would enjoy spelunking."

Truthfully he didn't have any issue with caves, none of the parts of Hell he'd known were particularly cave-like. Some were cavernous spaces, certainly, but not of the underground cave variety. Mostly he just wanted to see what the Cat's response was.

The Cat pauses in his needling of Edwin's cuff to narrow his eyes a bit; like a Cat considering if the arm of a couch is worth sharpening its claws on. His smile overturns his attempts to control it, but he looks self-satisfied rather than guilty now.

"You escaped from Hell? Why, Edwin. You should have told me, I had no idea."

Apparently having swapped out needling his sweater for needling the ghost himself, the Cat relents quickly to make sure Edwin knows it's all in jest, by returning the little back-and-forth of his fingers across the seam of the cuff, and giving another casual little lift of his shoulders as they take a turn and start making their way down the little sloping road leading toward the familiar giftshop, and the lighthouse.

"Anyway, who said I was taking you spelunking? Isn't making assumptions a bad look for a detective?"

"Hm, yes, it's something most people don't know about me, actually." He was biting back a smile himself, because despite his earlier claims of not being able to lie, that was dangerously close to one and he said it incredibly easily.

The smile went a little too impish a moment later, one brow lifting, "So if it isn't exploration of the caves themselves, that means it's a feature of them. Something specific."

He shrugged then, fingers of his free hand flicking in a half-circular little gesture, "Or perhaps only something near the caves, but still out of the weather. And an educated guess is hardly the same as an assumption."

"The ghost detective doth protest too much," The Cat says easily, enjoying this little back and forth for exactly what it is: finding a relative comfortable ground where he doesn't take every dismissal or reminder of fact to heart, and Edwin doesn't assume he there is nothing to the Cat's attention other than foolish romantic intention. It's a good part of it, yes, but that's not all he's interested in. "I don't think we can call that guess educated, if we're being fair. There are plenty of things people can do in caves that don't even come close to being considered spelunking."

That could have soooo easily been turned into an opportunity to flirt, but look at him, being all normal about something he said instead of latching on to every chance he gets to level a suggestive comment at Edwin. He's not even waggling his eyebrows! Personal growth, ladies and gentlemen.

"But, while we're on the topic, I love that you use words like 'spelunking'. I don't think I've ever heard anyone say that out loud. So weirdly endearing." Okay, well. It was good while it lasted.

The Cat unfurls their arms as he gets to the little strip of wooded land before the walk down the brushland leading to the beach (if it can be called that) and the quietly roiling sea. Instead of letting Edwin hold his arm, he takes his hand, under the — very understandable, if you ask him — guise of making it easier for them to follow one another down the set of stairs leading to the rocky shore.

"It's something to do with the caves, yes. If you're scared and need me to hold your hand once we're inside, I won't mind."

"Honestly I haven't been in enough caves to know if I'm going to be scared of this one." Leaving aside the fact that he didn't scare easily, there was no reason to mention it, "And I'm well aware that there are other things to do in caves, but I sincerely doubt that you'd think of taking someone, even me, for a geological survey as a means of seduction." Were there more things that people might do in caves besides those two things, spelunking and surveying? Sure. But that was entirely beside the point at the moment.

Edwin was surprisingly sure-footed on the uneven terrain, but accepted the hand all the same even as he asked: "What word would someone use for cave exploration besides 'spelunking'? That's what it means, and just calling it 'exploring' is too general, there's all sorts of exploring, and why use two words, 'cave exploring', when you've already got a perfectly good word in 'spelunking' already?"

It was half a genuine question and half annoyance that language seemed to have moved on in a way he didn't agree with, but even on top of that it was also something dangerously close to flirting, since the Cat had said he liked hearing it.

Alright, now the Cat is really having fun. He hasn't even considered that Edwin might be saying it on purpose because he said he liked it, but all the same he's thoroughly enjoying hearing it over and over again, his grin getting a little wider and a little more genuinely amused with each repetition.

"Uh, caving?" He asks, in the tone of voice that denotes a duh without him having to say it. The way this real smile lights up his features makes him look a little more human than catlike as he turns it on Edwin as they walk, not needing to look where he's going, as he's walked this path enough times to not need to. And, well. Cats have a tendency to land on their feet. "I'm pretty sure that's what I've heard every group who come here to investigate them call it. And, speaking of geological seduction—"

They reach the bottom, and the Cat takes a moment to stop their progress, so that he can direct a more wicked grin at Edwin; back to his more typical expression.

"Some people dig it." Haha. Cave joke. "I guess it depends how into rocks you are. I've sunk to further depths than that, so if that's what gets you off, I don't mind being along for the ride."

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Ghostcat shenanigans

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