Ghostcat shenanigans

[technicallyhellbound]

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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[technicallyhellbound]

Edwin nodded once, "That's good to know." It was the work of a moment to uncoil the knot of the cord from around the Cat's wrist, movements tidy and precise as ever, and doing it one-handed all without spilling any of the liquid in the cup.

There was only a brief moment, calculating distance and potential for splash if he missed before tilting the cup carefully, movements cautious and measured until he had the thing fully upended. Even he could tell when some of the pressure of that magic eased off, just as the Cat had said it would, like feeling a thunderhead roll by in the distance instead of rolling directly overhead.

It was an odd sensation, but not particularly uncomfortable, even in the more fully tangible state he was currently in. Returning to the Cat's side, he asked, "I'm afraid most of my first aid experience is out of date, but I sincerely doubt that bandaging techniques have changed that much." It was an offer to help, if needed, as he wasn't entirely sure what the Cat's healing situation was.

[catting]

The moment the magic is unfastened from his wrist, he feels like he wants to sink his claws into something and scratch, sharpen them and feel the satisfying way they sheathe and unsheathe as he flexes. But he closes his eyes to that feeling, bottling it as he digs his nails into his palms instead, and waits for the telltale pulse of energy to brush warm air across his senses. It smells like the sea and metal when it does, and the Cat exhales slowly through it, feeling the oversensitivity of his magic crest and wane like the rolling tide, ebbing out to the back of his mind where he keeps it under much better, easier control.

When he opens his eyes, Edwin is back at his side again, still looking warm and vibrant in the relative dark of the cave, but less like something the Cat would have a hard time resisting sinking his claws into. Now, at least, he'd be clear-headed enough to ask, if he was feeling particularly emotionally masochistic.

At Edwin's offer to help, the Cat's expression falls into a strange look of surprise, almost like he assumes Edwin is joking before he remembers who he's talking to, and a smile starts to form instead.

"Why, Edwin. Who knew you had such a bedside manner? You know I can't resist the opportunity to let you play nurse." He says, using some of his magic, a little weary though it is, to summon a short roll of bandage which he hands out to the ghost. "Oh, one sec-" Before he stretches out his arm, he uses that slightly longer than typical tongue of his to catch the streak where blood had dripped off his elbow, and laps up over the wound while he's at it. Cats don't have healing powers as a rule, but a Cat King's magic can be applied in a myriad of ways, particularly when licking one's own wounds; the gash doesn't seal, but it does start to knit, and the bleeding stops immediately.