Mmm. Boring. What's the point in doing anything naughty if you don't brag about it afterwards? [ Heaving a dramatic sigh. ] Well, it's a good thing you remember you're dead, at least. That would have been an awkward conversation, and I couldn't have done much to open your eyes to anything of your life before. I met you post beating heart, I'm sorry to say.
[ The apology sounds tongue in cheek, but it feels oddly genuine when he says it. While the Cat can often joke and tease, he very rarely actually lies; he withholds information, sure, he dodges the truth as gracefully as one might expect a feline body would.. but lying doesn't come easily to him. It sits strangely in his mouth, makes his magic feel wild, makes his awareness feel shaken. Even if the truth will actively do him harm, hurt him, make things worse... If Charles asked what was missing, what the no doubt empty feeling in him is because of, why it feels comfortable but wrong to walk beside the Cat, the Cat would tell him. He knows he would. And he hates that.
And now, as he tells Charles that he's sorry he didn't meet him when he was alive, he's not lying about that either. He wonders if he was the type of boy who was nice to cats, despite clearly preferring dogs.
But, he does know something, doesn't he? He knows Charles chose to stay here, in the world that he was taken from, to instead stay by Edwin's side and to promise to stay there even if it took the press of claws and teeth to keep him so. There must have been something in life that made Charles feel like he needed a second chance, if he gave up on an afterlife for this. Perhaps it's better he doesn't remember. ]
I think you and your little detective team came down here once or twice.
[ He says, as he starts to pick his way along the stony beach, toward the shoreline that loops back around to the docklands, to the cannery. ]
Looking for some giant fish, or something. Nothing to do with me, though I might've helped if you'd asked. Cats are good at fishing.
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[ The apology sounds tongue in cheek, but it feels oddly genuine when he says it. While the Cat can often joke and tease, he very rarely actually lies; he withholds information, sure, he dodges the truth as gracefully as one might expect a feline body would.. but lying doesn't come easily to him. It sits strangely in his mouth, makes his magic feel wild, makes his awareness feel shaken. Even if the truth will actively do him harm, hurt him, make things worse... If Charles asked what was missing, what the no doubt empty feeling in him is because of, why it feels comfortable but wrong to walk beside the Cat, the Cat would tell him. He knows he would. And he hates that.
And now, as he tells Charles that he's sorry he didn't meet him when he was alive, he's not lying about that either. He wonders if he was the type of boy who was nice to cats, despite clearly preferring dogs.
But, he does know something, doesn't he? He knows Charles chose to stay here, in the world that he was taken from, to instead stay by Edwin's side and to promise to stay there even if it took the press of claws and teeth to keep him so. There must have been something in life that made Charles feel like he needed a second chance, if he gave up on an afterlife for this. Perhaps it's better he doesn't remember. ]
I think you and your little detective team came down here once or twice.
[ He says, as he starts to pick his way along the stony beach, toward the shoreline that loops back around to the docklands, to the cannery. ]
Looking for some giant fish, or something. Nothing to do with me, though I might've helped if you'd asked. Cats are good at fishing.