Edwin Payne (
technicallyhellbound) wrote2025-09-06 12:41 am
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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.
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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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."
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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."
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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.
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"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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It wasn't that he hadn't caught on to the flirtation, it was just that he was too incensed by the apparent deterioration of language to actually respond to it at the moment. It was enough that he'd lost the thread of the game they'd only technically been playing, though that was probably for the greater good, really, as he'd already skipped ahead several steps there.
He shook his head, kneading briefly at the bridge of his nose as if to stave off an encroaching headache, "The art of communication is truly a dying one." He lamented with a heavy sigh before lifting his head, managing to relax some of the tension in his jaw, "But, instead of carrying on being upset about something neither of us have any control over, we're here for a reason, yes?"