Double Trouble for @catting

[just_aces]

It wasn't often that Charles went to visit Port Townsend on his own, nor, specifically, the cannery and the Cat that lived there. But this was a special occasion, and time-sensitive, and on top of that their initial uneasy truce on Edwin's behalf had become something far more than that, though Charles didn't particularly think there was a word for what they were now.

Regardless of any of that, it was mid-morning in Washington -and evening back home with Edwin and Crystal off to a holiday market- when Charles stepped out of the mirror in the corner of the warehouse dedicated to their comings and goings, with a greeting of: "Oi, Cat." And upon realizing that the Cat in question was currently holding court, possibly, it was hard to say if the array of cats was some sort of official business or if it was just the usual, he amended to, "Your highness. You have a minute?"

The thing was, Charles knew full well that the Cat was a shapeshifter, he'd seen it in action more than once, and it had been months since Edwin had told him what had happened at the lighthouse their first time in Port Townsend, and while his initial, knee-jerk reaction had been upset, that had only lasted a moment before turning to curiosity, and when his next question had been 'well was he any good at it? Being me?' which seemed obvious to him, but was apparently not so obvious to Edwin, given the answer was a confused 'I suppose not?' Charles had put the issue to bed, at least as far as Edwin was concerned.

He had, however, kept thinking about it, the beginnings and bare tap-roots of a plan starting to settle into his mind, and now with Christmas, and shortly thereafter Edwin's birthday -which Charles hadn't yet given up trying to get him to celebrate- on the horizon, it was time to see if the plan was even a feasible one.

Comments

[catting]

The Cat sits there, full of roaring attraction and frustration about said attraction cropping up just from that stupid wave, and turns his back on the mirror with a quiet grumble before shaking the thought from his head, and setting to work.

On the date given on the invitation, the Cat arrives in the pokey little corridor outside the offices of the Dead Boy Detectives, late by a fashionable five minutes, dressed in a deep burgundy shirt with a golden bow around the collar, a pair of flared trousers with a skirt bustle clipped to the belt to elongate the silhouette, and silver pointed-toe shoes poking out beneath the hemline. His coat is red with white fur around the trim, and it's covered in a slight dusting of snow, which is absolutely performative given that it's snowing in neither Port Townsend nor London right now.

He lets himself in through the door without bothering to knock — he has an invitation, after all; a physical one and everything — and delights in the little tinkling of the old-fashioned bell that heralds his arrival. Thematic and appropriate. Not knowing what to expect, what kind of clientele they've invited to this particular party, and unsure of how many familiar faces he'll find, he looks for the three he knows the best, and smiles.

"Sorry I'm late." He's not.

[just_aces]

The office hadn't been transformed, it was still most definitely the office, but there was a small tree sitting on top of one of the low shelves, a silver tinsel thing probably circa the mid 60s, as it also had a four-color pinwheel light pointed at it. The ornaments on the tree were eclectic as anything else the boys had collected over the years, with no discernible style or pattern to them.

Crystal's contribution -besides the snacks- was an incredibly mis-matched Nativity Creche under the tree, apparently made of single figures from at least a dozen different sets. There were also actual evergreen boughs hung over the doorway and the window, decked with broad red bows.

It wasn't a large crowd -the office simply wasn't big enough for that- but it was their nearest and dearest, as it were. The beekeeper -in rough-spun robe and wicker mask- was just preparing to leave as the Cat was arriving, giving a silent nod in passing. There was also a pair of women, the redhead was somewhere around six foot four, her thick braid decked with Christmas roses and holly leaves, the other one barely crested five foot tall, her pouf of black curls held back from her face with a red satin headband with a massive poinsettia on it, the pair of them conversing with Crystal near the snacks.

Edwin -as Charles had predicted wearing his holly bow tie- was having a spirited discussion with probably their oldest friend, the bookseller from down the way, a young man who looked barely older than the boys and who would have made an excellent Puck -or even Ariel- if he'd gone into theatre instead of bookselling.

Charles, who had been seeing the beekeeper out, beamed at the Cat's arrival, "There he is." He caught the Cat's elbow gently, "Right, so the one just left is the beekeeper, they're just making the rounds, and that's Arthur probably having the same argument he and Edwin have every Christmas, over with Crystal that's Bunny and Alexis, and I can let you guess which one's which if you like, or I can just tell you, though they like watching people guess."

[catting]

The Cat isn't exactly surprised to see no one he knows here aside from the titular detectives and their little psychic add-on, but the sight of such variety definitely takes him aback for a moment. He's regained composure by the time Charles takes his arm, so it doesn't last for long, and he listens with large, curious golden eyes scanning about the room as guided by each introduction.

He's intrigued, as he always is, by the sight of unfamiliar faces, but being a creature like the one he is who normally exists in the shadows has him feeling slightly on the backfoot. So, he loops an arm through Charles' elbow, claws drumming his sleeve, and gives the ghost a little raised-eyebrow look.

"Quite the turn out. Is the taller one Alexis?" He asks idly, scanning around for all the things he normally scans around for even though he's been in this office thousands of times by now; window, comfortable place to sit, dark shadowy spot, Edwin, Charles. Though that last one is simply a convenient excuse to look back at the boy in question. "And... it must be a fucking thrilling argument to want to rehash it every year."

[just_aces]

"Something about Sir Gawain and the Green Knight," he shook his head, "I've given up trying to figure out exactly what it's all about, and this is the only time of year they have it because they spend the rest of the year coming up with new theories, I used to think it was flirting, but they're really just trying to outsmart each other, somehow, and honestly they just both like the discussion."

The smile returned as he steered the Cat towards the trio near the snacks, "And got it in one, Alexis, Bunny, this is the Cat King of Port Townsend, in Washington." Up close it was easy to tell that the Christmas roses in Alexis' braid were actually growing there, the vine wound into the plait like a ribbon, there was also the tingle of nature magic around her. All Charles knew was that she wasn't fully Fae, though he wasn't sure what else she was, but she got decidedly Scottish when she got worked up about anything -angry or delighted as Charles had learned- and that amused him to no end.

Bunny on the other hand was exceptionally French, though she, too, was Something Else as well, skin a little too pale, fingers -or maybe just the nails- a little too long, eyes depthless-dark, but she offered a hand, smiling almost as brightly as Charles did, though it was all cold moonlight where Charles' was sunny as anything, "Petit Lapan, a pleasure your majesty."

[catting]

The Cat considers an argument that trying to outsmart someone kind of is flirting for someone like Edwin, but he figures Charles of all people would know if there was anything more than the surface-level smart person dick measuring going on. If the three of them didn't have the relationship they have, the Cat might have even needled Charles about being jealous, but given that these two ghost detectives seem to have one of the healthiest relationships he's seen for a very long time, the Cat keeps his pretty mouth shut.

Ever the sucker for a pretty face, especially two of them and especially ones brimming with magic like these ones are, the Cat King takes up the offered hand and lays a kiss to her knuckles.

"Charmed," he says, golden eyes sparkling with that intense kind of interest he shows everything new and nice to look at, before sliding it over to her companion and nodding his chin in a polite little bow in case she's not the hand kiss type. "And Merry Christmas, too, right? Since that's why we're all here."

[just_aces]

Given time to think about it, Charles wold probably cede that it had likely started as flirting, at least on Arthur's side of the thing, but hadn't been so for ages at that point, but Charles also wasn't given to that kind of reflection unless it was immediately important, so instead he just smiled letting the others get through the greetings.

Alexis smiled in return, accepting the hand and the knuckle-kiss, "Aye, and a blessed Yule, and a Hogmanay soon after. All kinds of things to celebrate in the next couple weeks. It's good to meet you, we've been hearing stories."
Bunny smiled again, patting his arm, "Good ones, don't fret."

Crystal, who had somehow managed to get ahold of an actual knitted sweater with the Tongue & Tail logo on it in lieu of any kind of ugly sweater theme, rolled her eyes, though it was oddly affectionate, "They're like this with everyone." She gestured to the table, "Anything on the green plates is cat-approved, I checked. Red is not, and silver is I'm not sure. Anyway, these two run the Sweet Shop down at the market-on-the-river."

Bunny beamed again, "Yes, just two bluestockings branching out in our educations, and the educations of others."
It was a statement that made Alexis smile fondly and Crystal bite back a laugh, badly, shaking her head and turning to refill her punch so that she didn't laugh outright.

[catting]

Stories. That makes the Cat raise his eyebrows, sliding his gaze first over to Charles and then to Crystal. What might be considered good stories to them might not be considered good to him; Cat Kings are notoriously private, mysterious beings. If they've been sharing humorous little anecdotes about his more domesticated tendencies under the roof of this office without him here, then there'll be a lot more annoying cat antics coming up in their futures.

At Crystal's gesturing to the table, he puts an affectionate little hand over his heart, pantomiming how touched he is by her efforts (only a little, because he is genuinely quite touched) and sending a wink and a blown kiss her way since he likes her reaction to those much better than any audible thank you.

He reaches down to pluck up a cocktail stick upon which is what he assumes to be lactose-free cheese cut up into small bites and little twists of deli meat. Popping it in his mouth and getting his red lipstick literally all over the stick like a movie star with a cigarette, he turns his attention back toward Bunny, swallowing before asking:

"And what education is that? Sweet shop trade, or something sweeter than that?" The Dead Boy Detectives (& Co.) don't make friends with simple sweet shop owners without a little something extra, surely.

[just_aces]

Crystal's nose wrinkled theatrically, miming catching that kiss only to shake it off her fingers onto the floor, wiping her fingers off on the napkin in her other hand once she had. She was smiling, however, or trying not to, but it turned out the same.

It was enough to make Charles laugh softly, shaking his head and giving the Cat's elbow a gentle pat before disengaging to serve him up some punch.

There was another knife-flash smile from Bunny at the question, she and Alexis sharing a glance before she answered, "That second one. But a little," a measurement between thumb and forefinger, a very small one, "of the first one also."
Alexis nodded, "Chocolate is one of the easiest ways to administer a certain sub-set of potion work, after all."

Before either of them could say more, Edwin -who had apparently finished his argument for the time being- crossed the room, Arthur in tow to make introductions, "You made it, it's good to see you. Arthur, this is the Cat King, our civilian informant, Cat, Arthur, proprietor of the best bookshop on the strand, and I'm not the only one who says so."

Arthur, for his part, looked curious, a bit like a house-finch presented with a peanut rather than seeds, "I suppose it stands to reason that cats have a King." He nodded, apparently determining that yes, that information would do him, before adding, "It's always good to meet other acquaintances of our Detectives."

[catting]

The Cat's eyebrows quirk at that, his golden eyes sparkling with interest. That kind of underhanded tactic is sneaky, but also appeals wholeheartedly to the nature of a Cat. It's why they typically work so well with witches, after all. He would have no doubt pried a little more, asking of the nature of those potions and their uses relating to detective casework, or if it was a byproduct of a nearby something or other, like his fraternisation with the Dead Boys was-- when Edwin, as usual, takes his attention completely.

It's hard not to reach out and tug at that bow tie, but the Cat knows better by now than to paw at Edwin in public, and especially not in front of people he likes well enough to invite them places. Charles is different; he can lean on him and play with his earring and ruffle up his collar for the pantomime of it all, but Edwin is a treasure to be coveted in private. Instead, he merely smiles in that slightly less sharp way he does when he sees something he likes rather than something he only wants, then directs his attention toward the bookseller.

Seeing curiosity reflected back at him is a treat, not one he indulges in often, so he performs another regal little bow of his head, never once taking reflective golden eyes off this pretty little thing. Human, he wonders? Something else?

"Oh, we're very well acquainted. I keep asking them to install a cat flap, but you can imagine how that conversation usually ends."

[just_aces]

The comment got a sigh and a barely-suppressed eye-roll from Edwin and an amused snort from Charles, and was enough to turn that satisfied curiosity in Arthur's expression to sheer amusement, a laugh simmering up, almost surprised to be making the sound himself, it was also enough to reveal the shape of his teeth, small fanged canines and all, which would point to vampire of some stripe rather than human, "Yes, I suspect it's quite similar to my suggestion of better window shades."

Charles laughed in turn, handing Cat the cup of punch, even though he answered Arthur, "Already gloomy enough in here, mate, and we all know the office is haunted, but it hasn't got to look haunted, aye?" It was definitely a tease of a conversation, and one that had been well-tread.
Edwin nodded, "Exactly so, and we know that His Majesty wouldn't use the flap, but the local mogs would, and we're trying to stay on the right side of the local regent." One that they'd only met in passing a handful of times, "as it's probably some sort of gaffe to invite a visiting dignitary to the festivities over the local one."

[catting]

There are all sorts of interesting people in these boys' line of work, aren't there? And the thing about the Cat is, as the detectives well know, that meeting him once and having said meeting go reasonably well is practically a guarantee that he will ensure you meet again. Knowing there's more to London than his little distractions might just have him popping up more often, even if only to scope out the wares of this, ahem, sweet shop. And to buy some books. Which he will no doubt shove on a shelf somewhere without cracking the spine, just like the rest of his collection, but no-one needs to know about that.

The comment about his overseas counterpart makes him laugh, though he does let his eyes flash cautiously over to the fogged-up window behind Edwin's desk, a faint yowl of feline magic skittering through the air as he ensures his spies are in place and not the ones he doesn't want to see.

"Mmm, makes me feel good, though." He shrugs, lifting the cup to his lips and taking a hearty swig, relishing the flavour and licking his lips a bit before he glances at Bunny and winks. "And I'm the more fun one, anyway."

[just_aces]

"Now that is a certainty." Bunny agreed with a decisive nod, something that had Alexis smiling , fingers toying briefly with the ends of the other woman's curls, "Indeed, but wouldn't do to say so outside of present company."

It was a response that made Bunny scoff, "Of course not? I'm a professional and we are in present company, non?"
That was a point that Alexis could cede, and did so, even despite Arthur's agreeing with the assessment as well.

As the party progressed, Charles' two main predictions -that Edwin would wear his cracker crown for less than a minute and that they'd all shuffle down to look at the shop window displays down the block from the office- did come true, though in the opposite order.

In the end it was Arthur who peeled off first somewhere around ten, followed not long after by Bunny and Alexis, who didn't leave without slipping a business card into the Cat's jacket pocket along with the insistence that he come and visit them sometime.

Perhaps the most surprising thing was that Charles somehow managed to keep his eagerness and buzzing excitement in check well enough as to not raise Edwin's suspicion when he -as predicted- offered to walk Crystal home, as it meant he could help carry the grocery bag with any leftover snacks in it.

[catting]

The Cat has ended up with a nice sprig of holly in his hair, slipped behind his ear by a pair of hands at some point while he was deep in conversation with Arthur about something dreadfully boring and therefore entirely fascinating. Now he sits with it resting gently on the top of his ear as he admires the very classical Christmas wreath he gifted to the agency about halfway through the celebrations: a vintage-style one with small berries, carved orange slices, delicately tied sticks of cinnamon and small golden bells attached to scarlet ribbons all dispersed evenly around the fir and pine branches that make up the body. It had been quite the labour of love, but... well, a guy has to have a hobby. Even if that guy is a cat.

He's got the business card that was slipped into his pocket in his hand, and the elephant in the room is making his mind wander a little as he feigns warm festive nostalgia, performing the perfect impression of a man lost in idle thought.

"I'm trying to work out," The Cat announces to the room at large, just him and Charles, his claws pressing at the corners of the nice, expensive-feeling cardstock. "If you invited those lovely ladies to your intimate friends-only Christmas shindig because you work in the same circles and have grown close that way, or—" He turns his head but not his body to flash golden eyes and a knowing smile at Charles. "If you've bought so many of their wares that a friendship was inevitable."

[just_aces]

That was not the question Charles had been expecting after the Cat's seemingly-fretful silence, and it was enough to have him laughing, just shaking his head, "We met them because of a case, love potions, nasty business, but all we'd known at the time was that they dealt in potions. Well, knew they dealt in potions and weren't likely to be the ones responsible, not with as long as the shop had been in business."

He shrugged even as he moved to start clearing the top of the desk, "We found out about the rest of their usual wares later, and yeah, we've bought some, but mostly they're our go-to when we know it's a potion but don't know the origin, the two of them are brills at picking apart ingredients just from a sample if Edwin's not able to."

It wasn't something that happened often, not with the amount of potion work Edwin did himself, but having on-hand experts to brainstorm with had always been a boon, and just as Charles believed in giving credit where it was due, Edwin was a believer in fully using one's resources, including subject matter experts like the girls.

[catting]

The Cat huffs at Charles' reaction, even if he does enjoy the fact that he made him laugh with his question, and slips the little card back into the pocket of his jacket before he sheds the whole thing and snaps his fingers so that it disappears completely. He's well aware the action was rather pointless given the uniform he's soon going to be wearing for their little plan to take shape, but for now, while he's still chatting with Charles, he decides to keep it simple.

"Well, that's boring. I was kind of hoping for Yeah, mate. Sometimes we wanna shake things up a bit, so we've got a whole collection in one of the drawers of the curio that you can look at some time if you want." The Cat says, performing an almost entirely perfect rendition of Charles' voice with impeccable ease as he gets his ass up off the desk and starts idly watching him move things from the surface.

Then, a thought strikes him, and he reaches out a clawed hand to rest softly on Charles' arm.

"Don't tidy away too much, puppy, or he'll know we planned it as soon as he catches sight of us." Freaky Sherlock Holmes detective senses. "Put a few things on the floor like we knocked them off."

[just_aces]

He snorted softly at that mimic, "Well first off, they wouldn't go in the curio, that's where we keep the cursed items, it keeps them quiet, and secondly, it doesn't count as 'a collection'," there were finger quotes and everything, "unless there's more than three of them, or so I've been told. And lastly," there was a pause, biting back a smile as he set things back to where they'd been on the desk, "You're right."

With things back where they'd started, he swept everything but the blotter to one side with an arm, careful not to shuffle anything important -not that there were any open case files on the desk at the moment- just scooping it all out of the way as one, leaving a couple of folders hanging precariously over the edge, but not falling just yet, though the movement did send the pen cup toppling to the floor, something that made Charles wince briefly, but shook his head a moment later, "There, better? Look a bit more impulsive less set-up?"

Edwin would catch on that they'd planned this relatively quickly regardless, but the Cat was right that if it looked deliberate, he'd definitely catch on before they even got to derailing his brain about it.