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Summary
The Cat King was still going on and on about Edwin’s apparent crimes, ending it off with, “We should discuss your offence. Privately.”
Or something like that. Charles might’ve been a tad distracted by his absolutely mint outfit. It took Edwin pointedly clearing his throat for Charles to snap out of it, stepping closer to him and curling an arm around his waist. “Not without me, you don’t. We’re a matched set and all.” Edwin curved easily into the touch, their spectral edges overlapping with a soft buzz of energy. “What’s his is mine,” Charles said, with an obvious flick of his gaze over the Cat King.Or: Who would win, an immortal child of Desire, or two nympho ghosts?
