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Edwin remembers each time the Cat King laid hands on him. His body lacks sensation; but his mind is quite keen to fill in the whys and wherefores of every uninvited touch. In detail. With frequency.
But the look Charles gives him over the edge of the book Edwin foisted on him for their latest case isn't the look the Cat King gave him when he wore Charles' form.
Thank god.
Edwin glares right back. "What?"
"If you're going to space out, I'm going to take a break."
"I wasn't—"
Charles smiles. No. Not like the Cat King at all.