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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[catting]

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."