[ That little shoulder bump is actually pretty surprising, but more surprising than the affectionate roughhousing is the way it makes the Cat feel... It encourages a sort of throb of hunger in him, to think that this is what Charles and his friends do with one another while solving a mystery, that they stand close and smile at each other and figure things out and laugh and talk and... God. It's so mundane, so plain, so normal... and yet the Cat burns with stupid jealousy at just the thought of it alone, the thought that he will probably never have something like this for his own, the idea that it is so close and yet entirely out of his reach. Well, except for right now, of course.

He gives Charles a little bump back in return, trying to mute his grin by focusing on the upstairs window of the building rather than on that blinding grin. ]

A nasty fucking witch was stealing little girls and feeding them to her pet snake to keep herself young. Real fairytale shit. But, then you turned up: little girl saved, snake slain, witch defeated.

[ If only it had been that easy or that quick, but Charles deserves to feel the thrill of a win when he doesn't have much else to go on. And it's still not a lie; all of those things did, indeed, happen... just perhaps not in that order or by such simple succession. ]

And I'm guessing you jumped through from the Agency office back in London. [ A pause, and he looks almost amused with his next thought, and can't resist the tease: ] You can hear yourself speaking, right? Surely you remember you're from England, right, mate?