Aw... [ He coos, turning his head to send Charles a faux-empathetic pout... and then he sees the flush to his cheeks, and if he hadn't already made the decision to throw inhibitions off the dock and into the surf, that would have been enough to convince him to do it now. He's so used to ghosts falling back on an unaffected state, controlling themselves to the point where their power remains mysterious — half the reason the Cat finds them so fascinating, can't quite stop staring at them, even when they're not two devastatingly attractive ghost detectives storming into his Kingdom — but Charles is beautifully unaware of his own strength like this, and it's making him want to ease his claws under his fraying edges to see what else he can't control. ]

Don't say it like that. We'll get you there, eventually. It's not a memory wipe. If it was, you'd have no familiarity at all, just emptiness. The fact you know you've been here, the fact you recognise me, the little lighthouse trinket? All good signs. You'll remember everything sooner or later.

[ A little gentle reassurance, a little hush puppy you can trust me, a little quiet soothing to make sure this dog continues following where he leads, keeps hanging on his every word. Yet again, he can't help but think that it makes sense why Edwin likes this position; it feels good to be looked on like this.

But yes, you usually swap one word at a time for whatever the first word made you think of, but I don't like to play by the rules. Where's the fun in doing what everyone else does? He takes them toward the small slope leading toward the gift shop, and the viewing platform for the lighthouse, but turns to smile almost invitingly at Charles before they come level with it. ]

Want to? We can think of a safe word if you want to tap out and stop playing.