[ It's a very good thing that Charles moves on quickly from the comment about not being able to see his own reflection, because the Cat's instincts have him stringing together a lavish little description of what, exactly, he looks like to form on the tip of his tongue before the conversation moves on. And, he reasons, once the comment has slunk back down his throat, that it's probably for the best. Glazing someone in Charles' vulnerable state on their attractive qualities won't do either of them any favours — and the Cat doesn't need further reasons to remind himself how objectively attractive this little ghost is.
And then he says that and the Cat actually has to close his eyes and wonder if the universe is testing him. ]
Cat, is usually what you call me. [ Well, he's heard some other choice phrases from Charles' mouth when he thinks no Cats are watching — whiskers, prick — but he doesn't feel the need to remind him of those just yet. ] But I wouldn't be opposed to you showing a little more respect more regularly. Your highness, your majesty... I'm not fussy on the title, just the honesty behind it. If you're saying it to be sarcastic, don't bother.
[ That sounds fair, right? And it puts Charles in the clear standing that this cat, though flirty and relatively easy-going and very obviously willing to help this poor lost ghost, is not a King to be taken lightly. But he also isn't worth beating away with a cricket bat. Not for no reason, at least.
And that makes him think. If Charles isn't immediately mistrusting of him, then that means that he must not remember why. He remembers he's a ghost, but not why he chose to linger. He's forgotten Edwin. Immediately he feels like he should tell him, but he also feels a strange disconnect with that better judgement; because if he tells him, Charles will want to find him, will want to return to where Edwin is and find out all these things from him instead. Which would be better, in the long run, but would put the Cat in the same position he always finds himself in: left behind to lick his wounds in the cannery alone.
Well, that particular reveal can wait a little, right? It's not lying if he merely doesn't say anything. Right? ]
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And then he says that and the Cat actually has to close his eyes and wonder if the universe is testing him. ]
Cat, is usually what you call me. [ Well, he's heard some other choice phrases from Charles' mouth when he thinks no Cats are watching — whiskers, prick — but he doesn't feel the need to remind him of those just yet. ] But I wouldn't be opposed to you showing a little more respect more regularly. Your highness, your majesty... I'm not fussy on the title, just the honesty behind it. If you're saying it to be sarcastic, don't bother.
[ That sounds fair, right? And it puts Charles in the clear standing that this cat, though flirty and relatively easy-going and very obviously willing to help this poor lost ghost, is not a King to be taken lightly. But he also isn't worth beating away with a cricket bat. Not for no reason, at least.
And that makes him think. If Charles isn't immediately mistrusting of him, then that means that he must not remember why. He remembers he's a ghost, but not why he chose to linger. He's forgotten Edwin. Immediately he feels like he should tell him, but he also feels a strange disconnect with that better judgement; because if he tells him, Charles will want to find him, will want to return to where Edwin is and find out all these things from him instead. Which would be better, in the long run, but would put the Cat in the same position he always finds himself in: left behind to lick his wounds in the cannery alone.
Well, that particular reveal can wait a little, right? It's not lying if he merely doesn't say anything. Right? ]