Fantasy Two Strays

[dreaming enthusiast]

Gray slinking away after saying he might take an indefinitely long time is mildly annoying, but at least Cherry can fill the wait by finalizing documentation. The trip to AD still ends up being rather quick, much to his simultaneous relief and dismay, leaving the magus sat in the common area twirling his thumbs. Thankfully he hasn't run into Malakai since the djinn slammed the car door exiting it this morning. Though, well, chances are the python is much more likely to shoulder-check Gavin than Cherry now.

Whether he wants it or not, the longer he sits alone the more this gives opportunity for people he merely exchanged greetings with earlier to come join him. Lots of small talk is had, about the weather, the state of the economy, his new partner (some guy called Steve even offers to buy him a drink, giving a very manly pat on the back that Cherry laughs through), but, most importantly, his new power gets brought up. That's to be expected, almost like tradition. The word 'hemomancy' causes... different reactions - some surprised, some underwhelmed. Some jealous. All the while Cherry mostly just stand there smiling and looking pretty, because he can afford it.

Absurdly, when Gray's tall form exits the djinn dormitories, it's relief that floods Cherry.

He pushes it down before it can show, the same way he pushes down his desperation to exit this social situation, suffering through the goodbyes. First thing he does meeting back up with the djinn is handing over Gavin's freshly laminated lanyard badge to make sure security doesn't turn them back at the door, even with a magus present. Secretly eager, Cherry leads the two of them towards the parking lot.

All the while it feels like eyes are following his every step. Or following Gray's. Honestly... the answer is probably both.

---

Thank God for no vehicle code against unrestrained pets in Cali. Otherwise Cherry would be having regular issues with the police - he does have a history of getting pulled over, actually, though not for a dog sticking its head out of the window harness-less. Matter of fact is when you're transporting a fennec fox or a sugar glider or some other exotic curiosity, the law is bound to ask questions. Which is exactly where SOS's fake permits come in handy. Not that one is required in Gavin's case. Small blessings, small blessings. Another small blessing is the ride back to the city going by more or less quietly, with the djinn (in his cat form, of course) placed in the backseat. It's animal-proofed with removable cloth covers, owing to grueling past experience having to clean up shed hair and repair scratches in the upholstery.

The thought reminds Cherry he should animal-proof his apartment some more (just in case) as he parks the red Toyota Camry to get out and retrieve Gray. Hoisting the cat up on his shoulder again, he makes a grab for the djinn's (questionably packed) belongings, "Only form of coddling you're going to get here."

Here being the middle of San Francisco's financial district.

The skyline is chocked out. Office buildings with their sleek contemporary architecture rise up to loom over everything below, intermixed with buildings in neo-gothic style nearly as imposing as the modern skyscrapers, like the ever impressive Russ Building. Cherry heads right in its direction, suddenly dipping into a 'blink and you'll miss it' tiny alley.

Even a location this corporate has its hidden oases, and this one happens to be called Belden Place. Strings of lights hang overhead between brick buildings, the alleyway almost fully taken up by chairs and tables set out in the open with servers maneuvering between them in the morning hubbub. That's how it goes in one of the district's best food destinations. When Cherry moved initially, the address got advertised to him as " the French quarter". Despite it... not exactly living up to expectations, it has undeniable charm. And good European cuisine to boot. Being relatively early, a bunch of the restaurants aren't open yet, but Café Tiramisu is proudly serving customers already - business people and hipster types alike, not to mention the tech bros doubtlessly ordering takeout - wafting forth a smell of coffee confections.

"Cherry!" a loud voice booms over all other conversations the instant Cherry and Gavin are within line of sight, "You're late."

Why she feels the need to inform him of his lateness when he texted her earlier in the car, he'll never know. It's yet another mystery to add to the list of things Cherry does not and never will get about Jennifer. Sporting her characteristic goofy smile, the woman in question waves from one of the nearby tables, clean plate and several empty mugs in front of her. As soon as the magus nods in her direction, she clasps her hands like a Catholic in prayer at mass, so fast they clap, "Pay the bill for me, please!"

Cherry's shoulders (and subsequently Gavin) shift when he can't help a burst of laughter, "No, you mooch."

"Pretty please!" clasping her hands even tighter, Jenny does her best attempt at a puppy-dog expression with her small, beady eyes. Ludicrously, the effectiveness of the expression lies in its ineffectiveness. A couple of minutes later and Cherry is paying up for her cannoli plus rounds of coffee, under the (doomed) agreement she'll pay him back later.

"Your generosity knows no bounds, my lord," Jenny fawns, still in the throes of dramatics as she stands, "Oh, how shall I ever repay you?"

The thought to play into her dramatics nearly has Cherry sweeping low into an exaggerated bow. But, no, that would look incredibly stupid, "Did you bring the things I asked for?"

"You bet! Right this way, my liege. C'mon, lets bring them up."

Jenny was one of the first people Cherry ever met in San Fran. A Cali local, he ran into her at a gym of all places, the two remaining workout buddies to this day, and while he exercises to keep fit the woman is a legit gym bunny. She even worked as a personal trainer at one point, though what hasn't she worked as? Personal trainer, janitor, barista, a mortician's assistant for several very strange months - Jen has gone through the full specter of career options, failing to keep a job each time. The sole thing she hasn't tried is going into the tech sector, which is hilarious considering that's what everyone else Cherry knows in Silicon Valley does. Including several supernaturals! Well, her most recent foray landed her in a pet store, so who knows? Maybe this one will finally stick.

It was precisely through said pet store that Cherry asked his friend to purchase stuff for his new... "pet". However, looking over the things Jennifer and he bring up to the apartment, it doesn't exactly match his list, "This is definitely not what I asked for, Jen."

"Duuuh, it's way more. What you asked for was so little it's basically animal cruelty," the woman retorts simply. Apparently a food bowl, water bowl, bed and litter are signs of negligence, which is why Jen has taken it up on herself to heap onto the basics a whole variety of toys, a window hammock and several brushes Cherry is certain all serve needlessly specific purposes. At least she didn't carry in a cat tree. Yet. All of this for someone that isn't even really a cat... Jen must notice the glance Cherry throws over his shoulder at Gavin, because she scoffs, "Like, I don't get how you of all people ended up working at an animal sanctuary."

"What are you talking about, I love animals," the answer makes both of them do one of those 'pfft' laughs at the same time, "One word. Money."

"Put the tough guy asshole act on for someone else, dude," waving a dismissive hand both at Cherry's answer and at the man himself, Jen's attention at last eagerly falls onto Gavin. As if she hasn't been eyeing him up since the moment she saw him, like a kid in a toy shop, "So this lil' guy's the new foster?"

"Yeah."

Some years ago Jennifer threatened to call animal services. In her mind Cherry constantly bringing home new animals to then "re-home" them shortly after was horribly cruel to the point of being unexplainable even with SOS's front as a reserve, and so it was on that day the lie that he volunteers fostering animals was born. Bless her heart, she genuinely believes him.

"What's he called?"

"Gavin Theodore Gray."

Jenny snorts, "Great cat name. But, oh my gosh, hello there Gavin! Yes, hello hello. Look at your lil' silly face-"

The woman continues cooing at the djinn until the words out of her mouth transition from baby talk into absolutely indiscernible eldritch noises. When she makes a grab for Gray, Cherry can't really stop her. Not that he tries or wants to. Still showering the cat with 'oh's and 'ah's Jenny goes absolutely to town on poor Gavin. Petting and hugging and squeezing. The woman is truly the handsy cheek-pinching aunt of the animal world, which is to say she is the equivalent of a hazing ritual all of Cherry's djinn are forced to go through. He takes particular satisfaction watching Gavin get handled like dough, meeting the guy's eyes to grin in amusement.

Until something makes Jen pause. Going from rubbing the cat's face markings like there's dirt there (when the actual dirt is all up in his gross mats), her hand massage the top of his head, "What are these?"

Shit.

Cherry blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, "Birth malformations."

"Oh no! Poor baby!"

"Yeah, poor baby," Cherry echoes back in relief. Again, bless her heart for being so trusting. Nevertheless, "Aren't you supposed to let an animal acclimatize to its new environment before you start torturing it?"

Supporting Gray with one hand in a baby cradle, Jen manages to flip her friend off with the other, "Like, fuck right the fuck off, dude,"

"I'm just saying."

"Like-"

"Like."

Setting Gavin down, she now flips Cherry off with both hands, which is apparently a sign of agreement in Jennifer's language, "Fine, fine, I can take a hint-

"Can you?"

"Hey, watch it! ... And I do have, like, work in the afternoon, I guess... I'll leave baby Gavin for now, though he's the cutest thing ever."

"You say that every time," Cherry laughs because she really does, without fail.

The two exchange a couple more pleasantries, some vague plans to go out at the end of the week (when Cherry can compensate her for all the pet toys garbage he didn't ask for in the first place), and with a final prolonged babytalk promise towards Gavin to come visit again soon to make sure Cherry hasn't killed him, Jennifer bounds out of the apartment. The air she leaves behind is tangibly quieter. In some ways pleasantly so, in other ways missing her energy.

Cherry exhales. Left alone, he turns back to his now thoroughly ruffled partner and their now... shared living space. Home. It's not the most modern building in the area, but it is cozy, with laminate floors covered in carpets in select places, comfortably furnished in blues and grays and accents of red. Cherry's favorite part, though? It's an attic apartment, far up enough to where the noise of Belden Place is not to much of an issue. He likes the way the roof in several rooms is slanted. As well as the access this gives to the rooftop.

"Welcome," the magus throws out halfheartedly, going to draw down the blinds in the living room, "No one can see in here, if you've had enough of being a cat."

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

Miraculously, he's not tired. Even after the therapeutic experience of leaving SOS behind to enjoy the passing scenery of woods and golden bridges, he's merely relaxed.
If this was a coming-of-age movie (he's already 24, man), there'd be a whimsical pop number playing right about now.

Even when meeting a friend Gavin would describe as plucky it would play, drowning them both out. It used to be a humbling exercise being in a conversation he was blocked from adding to, but now he appreciates the guiltless excuse to be present without contributing. For that matter he doesn't even have to walk. Compensations for Cherry's gait aside, he can safely check out, prepared to ignore any strange hands that impulsively cop a feel in favor of studying his surroundings.

The area is familiar, he thinks, but it looks different in the daylight. The people are different, the noise, the smells, all taken from somewhere else and plastered onto surroundings he's 89% sure he knows. Logically the Pyramid building has to be here somewhere because the Russ building, a fat tissue box of artistic cement is looming right above them like a gargoyle. And if it is then that puts Embarcadero to the East and Chinatown to the West.

Belden Place is quiet alcove from the pop and bustle, exquisite in an artsy way most alleyways can't master. It even has a cute archway welcoming visitors in, and it's that niche item that lets this place slowly slide into focus in his brain.
It's disconcerting he's patrolled territory this close to an SOS magus all this time.

And if he thought that would be his only new worry today, he's wrong. Most people either don't like cats or pet them if they can get within reach. But when they finally get inside Cherry's apartment, it happens.

The most intense, fur ruffling, heart warming, muscle squeezing, purr making, joint crushing, ear squishing, teeth gritting, eye squinting pat down he's ever received.
With far more consideration, Jennifer plucks Gavin from his perch to not shower, but drown him in love. She has near perfect technique (long sweeps down his back, scratches under his chin, pats just before his stump etc.), but the zeal turns what would be an enjoyable massage into an endurance test. The lady tries to peel his pelt off, cooing he's a cute baby and if he knows how cute he is until she's hardly saying words at all. She can't know it, but the passion she's putting in drags little dregs of arcane from him (as if she needs the energy boost).
And, evil incarnate as he is, Cherry makes smug eye contact. Jerk's probably never been loved unconditionally in his life.

It ends the way all passionate one night stands do; disoriented and laying like a baby in a girl's manly grip. He's actually dizzy when she puts him down, and the state of his mats sure haven't been improved.

Flustered, he licks his chest fur until she's gone. Flicking back into his true form as soon as Cherry gives the word, he shakes out the vibes of being molested.

"She's a giant four year old," he says with equal parts admiration and fear.
A grown up baby kid with impeccable taste in cat accessories. Gray's not a connoisseur of the feline prerogative usually, but he knows high quality when he sees it. Ferreting through the Petsmart bags he pulls out a slicker brush (single best thing to chew on ever created, second only to taffy) and a much scarier looking de-matter. Its got longer teeth than he does. They make a soft twang when he flicks a claw across the metal barbs.
There's a happy hoody in there too, but too small to be anything more than a loose horn warmer. He rolls it onto his wrist anyways. Nail clipper, filer, enrichment mats...halfway through the bags the cynical thought comes to him; Jennifer is a better provider than Cherry is.
With that on his mind he glances at the man, snorting. She shopped for him and he hassled her over a coffee.

For the most part its all stuff he can't use or doesn't like. All except one thing. He pulls the small plastic tub out, "Would she mind? I only ask because most times if they buy it they wanna watch, especially the first time. I can take it again for her later, but an open box tells a story and I don't do flash photography while I'm on it if you were betting on recording it for her."

He brings the carton up to his nose, taking a deep whiff of boxed catnip.

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

"Yeah, she is," Cherry immediately nods in agreement at Gavin's comment because a 'giant four year-old' is a very apt description of Jenny.

To give the guy some credit where it's due (as minor as the credit might be), he passed the test of endurance that is Jen with... okay colors, enough that he dives right into looking through the bags of cat goodies like they truly are meant for him. Far as Cherry's concerned all of it is just decor meant to paddle an illusion to those not in the know of the supernatural. Except for one thing.

"Maybe you can actually use those brushes. Since we're partners, it would be good to try and keep a level of appearance," putting on his saccharine tone of civility (the same from their meeting) to bring out the pointedness of his words, Cherry moves across the now-darkened living room, still carrying the djinn's belongings under arm.

Malakai had baggage (of the literal kind, though also of the metaphorical kind, evidently), like he was not-so-subtly hoping on moving in permanently. Gavin's is not even placed in a proper bag. It weighs barely anything. Cherry puts the thought out of his mind as soon as it emerges, in favor of handing over Gray's stuff and starting to fill the (very much to be used as a prop only) litter box.

"Of course in a city with a fentanyl problem even the animals are doing drugs," under the influence of Jenny's lingering good vibes, an amused half-smile does appear on the magus' face when the catnips is brough out, "You camera shy? Trust me, I have no intention of recording. And if she does mind, I'll just tell her you're such a smart cat you managed to break into it all by yourself. She'll be delighted with the idea."

Cherry mulls over whether to ask the next question for a good few seconds, because he doesn't care, really. But, well... wouldn't hurt to ask, "What does catnip even do for you?"

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

"Fabulous."
Camera shy, right. That old embarrassment is brought front center to his mind and the djinn has to look away, playing with the strap of his pack as if Cherry will see it playing in his eyes.

Before Cherry can change his mind, Gavin rips the packaging away and pops the lid off.
"Dulls the razor's edge of existential dread," he informs, poking the mound of herbs to lick off his finger. It's best in a paste of water and sugar, but making himself that at home feels a bit presumptuous. Even if he is a bit peckish. Odds are decent if he waits pleasantly enough, the home tour will take them into the kitchen and Cherry will offer something.
All in all, it's a nicer apartment. There's no surprises; it's exactly how he predicted someone like Cherry would decorate.

"I'm less likely to surge, too," he says, stepping from carpet to carpet until he reaches the window of his dreams. The cramped alleyway looks several times more familiar from above. He'll eat a shirt if there's no claw marks on this roof somewhere.
Setting the tub of catnip down in favor examining the frame, he cracks the window open an inch. It's almost too good to be true; he pokes the fire escape to prove to himself it really is that close.

Meandering, he reaches up to glide a hand down the slanted ceiling, following it until the risk of sharpening his horns against it grows too high.
Opening his mouth to taste the air gives him a predictable mouthful of Cherry, most potently coming from the furniture and what must be the master bedroom. Underneath it is unmistakable snake aroma, a smell Gavin feels too guilty and anxious about to call absolutely foul.

The magus is too fastidious to leave a dust mark, but he's semi-sure a certain table held the big tank Malakai always had to drag along with him.
Djinn don't choose their skin, which meant some were more employable than others. Lots chose to keep equipment to make their animal illusion less financially burdensome on their magus. If Cherry had asked, Gavin would've brought his own bowls and litter tray. The kibble was from 2015, but whatever. In the end he was happy not to lug it around, not like poor Malakai who clearly took everything with him.
Unless Cherry threw it out.

Realizing he hasn't said anything for a good five minutes Gavin goes with the reliable, "Hot diggity dog. This place is magnificent. How long have you had it?"

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

The tub of cantip and Gavin's gestures are close enough for a second Cherry thinks he's gonna pack the herbs in like chewing tobacco. It's a minor relief when he doesn't, and then a minor concern when he goes for the window immediately, "Careful with that. I don't necessarily want people thinking I live with a furry, outside of the code of secrecy."

The litter box plus litter scoop get placed in the bathroom. The cat bed on the table in the living room, along with various toys on the carpet and couch for added believability. The hammock Cherry will put up later. Lastly, the two bowls find a snug place next to the island countertops that separate the kitchen area from the otherwise open-space plan of most of the apartment.

"I've had it since I moved to the city more or less," the magus says, absentmindedly brushing fingers along his ear to fidget with the stud earrings he chose today, "So, going on 4 years."

And, yeah, the place is nice, in virtually all regards. A part of Cherry wishes he could truly call it his own, but, well, his job conflicts with that desire. Especially since he can't exactly afford a two-bedroom apartment right now. Not in the middle of San Fransisco, and certainly not in this economy. What he can afford, however, is to negotiate with his landlord into making this place convertible under the pretense of needing a guest room. For friends, of course. For friends. Because it was frankly unbearable having his partner sleeping out in the living room, for everyone's privacy. When he spent about 1k few months into his residency having a pressurized wall installed to transform the dinning area of the living room into a small bedroom, it was one hell of a worthwhile investment.

"Since it is such a magnificent place, there are a few rules. Outside of the window thing," stopping his fidgeting the moment he becomes consciously aware of it, Cherry straightens out, "Don't take more than 20-minute showers and 20-minute shits, clean up your own messes, or preferably don't make any messes to begin with. Any food you want to get outside of the glucose solution SOS provides you pay for yourself. Also, less of a rule, but I'd rather have you walking around like this than as a cat, except for when there's people over, obviously."

"Most importantly," at this he makes a point of extending a hand towards one door, "My bedroom is off-limits. You get your own living space to do catnip in or whatever else you get up to."

He points towards the folding wall in the opposite direction.

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

The kitty paraphernalia all finds it's place, including the bowls that go to the blessed place known as the kitchen. They stay empty.

He's been here four years, that checks out with what his records said and somehow that's a surprise.
The man plays with his underwhelming human ears, specifically the pretty stones while he says this. A quirk, it seems, one of the first Gavin's seen not counting cheapness and sadism.

No longer than twenty minute shits he says. Ears flattening out he asks in good humor, "What if I take the twenty minutes from the shower so I can have a forty minute shit and vice versa?"

He prefers being like this anyways, and he's glad the Nazi magus feels the same. Again, buddy doesn't offer fruit, candy or sweets of any kind. Just the base formula sugar. It's becoming clearer every moment why Cherry's been running through partners.
Malakai must've spent hours being smarmy and unbearable, trying to be worth proper care and wondering why he was failing when he (hopefully) discovered nothing matters to magi like Cherry. And it wasn't his fault.

"Oh, well now I gotta see what you're hiding in there," he teases, nevertheless walking to the sliding door of his new home. French doors, of course. Making a pleased 'prrt' noise he drops his pack inside in favor of sliding the door back and forth on its runners.
It looks like one of those paper walls in anime, but its solid and reaches the ceiling so even if Gavin did want to coyly undress no one would be able to see his silhouette and he wouldn't be able to hang his hoodie over the top.
Another lesson you couldn't have everything in life. The window (miles across the apartment) would have to do.

"I'll need the Wi-Fi password and your phone number. And," he scratches briefly at his chin before folding his arms across his chest, "I'm willing to admit my mistakes this morning if you are."

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

Cherry listens to Gavin's banter, more or less at peace when it feels like the limits he laid out are being taken in. Gray still isn't as obedient as most previous djinn, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. He'll take someone talking about a 40-minute shit over being sucked up to. They're at least talking civilly (comparatively) and this is how a partnership is supposed to go in the beginning.

It's only later that things turn sour.

Like, 'several weeks later' kind of later. So when Gavin says something that throws Cherry off mere 'seconds later' kind of later, the magus doesn't respond immediately.

There is an instinct in Cherry telling him to agree to this bargain because not only would that be easier, not only would it maintain the shaky truce that's starting to establish itself despite a disastrous first meeting, but... he does have mistakes to admit to. 'I'm sorry I was late.' 'I'm sorry I got hung up over a chair.' 'I'm sorry I tried to push both of our limits when I know just how fucking dangerous that is.'

Cherry crosses his own arms, looking down.

"I don't have anything to admit," he proclaims at last. And when he raises his eyes back up to meet Gavin's, it's again with that fake mocking smile, "I'll gladly take your apology, though."

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

He's neither disappointed, nor surprised. He is righteously pissed though, which is the best kind of anger to have.
"Might as well take it then," he says with a bull snort. "You people take everything else."

Something yellow catches his eyes before he can turn away. It's awkward leaving after a mic drop moment like that at the best of times, but it's worse when he goes back to pick up a cat toy.
A yellow bird with a plume of fuzzy tail feathers.
"If you need anything else I guess you know where to find me, magus."

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

----

It is truly fascinating how many simple minded sons of bitches there are for sale in the world. Sterling Kingston thought this quite often, and the thought always made him happy in a way nothing else did. Not money, works of art, the sight of powerful men brought low nor women in naked decadence. None of it reached the comfort that this reliable truth gave him; if he wants something he can not only take it, but deserves to have it.
The world is filled with inept, avarcious men, men that are so desperate for greatness they can be bought a dozen for a dime, and for a time, that's what he did. For if a man can buy and harvest men he effectively rules the world. And that's what he does.
How tragic it is then that in the golden years of his life he finds that djinn are cheaper and so so much more desperate.

He fell into it honorably; most men born blind to the other half of the world commonly do. Before, his youth had been filled with what he now considers petty ambitions - putting guns into hard hands and drugs into soft ones. Gradually he grew from that small life, an animal stalking his way up the food chain of the world until he found things he couldn't explain but knew, instinctively, he could control. And he did.

"Mr Kingston, sir? We brought in the fresh meat."
"One moment, Jessie. We'll let them settle first, eat, be warm. Nothing stirs feelings of gratitude like a full stomach, hm?"

Jessie laughs dutifully, such a loyal creature his Jessie. A suck up- to coin the phrase of the verbally liberal young generation. Sterling did not mind. To have his boot licked by her is a comfort like the previously mentioned, proof the world still works the way it did when he was a boy around only human men.
As a younger man he found her, just a pup, with an old soup can stuck on her boxy head. Even by his standards the speed in which he bought the djinn's services with sugary biscuits and bone broth was surprising.
All these years the hyena's been a reassuring reminder. She isn't intelligent. Not particularly good looking. Though no djinn is, she isn't what anyone would describe as cute either. But she is vicious, obedient and towers most. Yet to reach her true prime, his Jessie nevertheless still possesses a cunning nature, an eccentrically dark humor and the everlasting djinn-impulse to please him. If she had further potential he wouldn't even need anyone else.

"What do you think of this batch?" He asks, jutting his chin at the monitor of disenfranchised djinn waiting to have the proverbial tincan lifted away so they could accept his blinders instead.
The djinn steps up to the screen, her warm breath fogging over her broad muzzled reflection. "Most are weak producers," she admits shamefully.

"Ah, and we thank them. For if we didn't have the weak, who would we stand on? They'll work twice as hard to keep their spots."

She nods, careful not to slip an unconvinced demeanor.

"And the new magi- your opinion?" He asks smoothly. The djinn had made him take for granted how much more expensive humans are in comparison to their furry counterparts. Even the poorest man in this country had options, opportunities and the benefit of the doubt.

Djinn did not.

"Flaccid milk drinkers," boldly says his hyena, unable to hide the simmering contempt in her black eyes. For as long as he's had her she's hated humans, magi to be specific. She exercises this hate by pinching her claws together over the digitally displayed head of a magus. He makes a note to take her off the leash to gorge herself on the unproductive human hens soon.

"But still ultimately of some use," he decides. "It's not quantity, but quality I want. Come, let us indulge in some well deserved praise for saving these poor unfortunate souls."

Jessie follows behind, always one step behind, as he leaves the temporary boardroom to hand out blankets and cotton candy to his newly acquired living weapons. Weapons he'll sell to the men, men that will bend their knee to him if it means keeping this sliver of power he's granted them.
And all at the cost of sugar.
Not only is cotton candy cheap to produce, they are often fascinated by it. He knows Jessie is eyeing the garish cloud of sugar so he plucks a stick for her, relishing in the inner glow as his hyena gratefully imbibes.
The expression reminds him of someone.

"Were there any cats in this haul?" He questions, hardly bothering to keep the interest out of his tone. His Jessie has always been a violently jealous creature. A little competition is good for her.

"None," She states with a shark toothed grin that suggests she'd eaten them if there had been.

The doors are upahead. He puts on a warm smile, a grandfather's smile that is trusted among both women and these creatures.
"No more rescue ops. He isn't rogue scouting magi. My Gavin's smart. Well, comparatively. He knows I'm close and thus that it's now too dangerous to be alone."
Jessie gives a derisive snort. "Kitten probably crawled back to SOS."
"My thoughts exactly, dear Jessie. And if he has he no doubt has a new owner. Hm, on second thought, forget Gavin for the moment. Doubtlessly he's doing his charming little hero escapade in this city, but if he goes missing in the night his master will complain. It's cleaner if we take them both. Under no circumstances are either to be killed, not yet. Gavin, if you absolutely must, but I don't want to step on SOS's toes by dropping a dead hen on their doorstep until I'm ready."

Warming to his decision Sterling continues with, "We'll unlock this batch's potential and divy them out. Then I think we shall pay SOS a visit."
Securing one of several rings on his thin fingers before reaching for the door he adds knowingly, "Something tells me they'll be very forthcoming."

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

The largely uneventful day was spent on his Switch playing Animal Crossing, or lost to the time moving blinks of a few naps. Once he tried the toilet, ridiculously small and uncomfortable. He made no progress.

It took forever for the sun to pack it in, and longer still for the human to retire.
When the apartment is finally quiet he digs to the bottom of his bag to retrieve the tinbox. It fits nicely in the front pocket of his hoodie, zipper sealing it in as safely as it can be. He takes his earbuds too, pushing one after another into his ears.

Homes take on a new essence at night - the moody twin to the daylight home. It's not only quiet, it's still.
There's something unfathomably lonely about it. It makes him think of his sister.
The window is easy enough (human locks that only serve to keep intruders out and not djinn in), and a handle that swings the whole thing open. The crisp ocean air is a welcoming smell. He takes deep breaths of it, moist and clean, so unlike most cities this size.
It stretches out before him, a warm glowing metropolis, ripe with promise. He's not high up enough to see it all, but he doesn't have to. There's an energy, thrumming, beating.

For once he's the magus, drawing it in, the anticipation of the night and where it'll take him. Feeling a lil bit silly, he nevertheless salutes to the city that gives him such heart magic. Tonight, rocking the 80's on Spotify, he's free.

Cherry's rooftop disappears in a single bound. With a leap Gray leaves it, meets the next, leaves it. Joints made new, muscles springy and strong he can run and jump forever. It's been that long since he felt this new. The box shakes violently at every gravity defying hurdle, as if to tell him he didn't have to wait.
With a growl he slams into the brick face of a building, claws gouging through like clay. He swarms up the side, and never bothers to leave all fours once he reaches the roof. Galloping he flies across another. The hoodie against his mane makes a vicious friction each time he rolls into a teeth jarring landing but he doesn't stop. If anything he goes faster, smiling, eyes watering from the whipping wind.

He gets to the Tenderloin district in ten minutes. Last night it took him two hours.
"Thank you, Cherry," he laughs, that good one you can only make when you're very slightly winded. "This looks like the beginning of a bee-u-tiful relationship. Between me and your flat."

Queen and Cyndi Lauper always make him batty. It's his luck a real jam ("Buddy, you're a young man, hard man, shouting in the street, gonna take on the world someday...blood on your face. Big disgrace.") Is playing when he has to slow down.
There were poacher sightings here last night. At least that's what the tip said, but Gavin's saved more than one exotic species. Endangered rare animals being trafficked, which actually were just animals. Mostly birds...
A few times it's been women, which shriek like anything when they see him coming. Part of what made the earbuds so nice. Although sometimes they didn't move at all. They had lifeless eyes - like a djinn that's had all its magic carved out of its soul. There isn't a song in the world that could cover up the silence those women made.

Ready as he'll ever be, Gavin follows a shady looking figure to a shadier looking truck. It's harder to tell, satiated that he is, but he's sure they're a magus. Or magic inclined, at least. The blatant way he floats/swings into his big butt truck gives Gavin his last clue. Always trust a man in a big white van, they said.
AC/DC slapping in his ear, he tails the van to a storage unit. Here the pleasant salty air is overcome by smoke and the human dust heirlooms have. The long rows are framed with big dumpsters, stuffed to the gills with old chairs and garbage. For a moment he isn't sure; it's such a high traffic establishment. He expected an alleyway. Or a garage. Not a high fenced mini fortress with high beam lights. Maturely he deactivates one bud before making his approach. The savage guitar riffs howl in one ear, lost without the chorus in the right to balance the melody.
The chain fence tears like plastic in his hands, links plinking to the ground.

Using a dumpster filled with bedbugs and a disintegrating armchair as cover, he peeks at the van.
The back door slides open. Inside, stacked one on top of the other are kennels. Dozens of them. A few more men come out to join the first. Laughing they load a lifting dolly with cages. When user error drops the cages to the hard floor, not a whimper, yowl or squawk goes out.
Instead they go ouch!

The first man gives the cage a good kick, swearing. Gavin's tail snaps back and forth. They whistle and out comes a giant man, head stooped to be as small as possible...
No, she turns her head to keep her ox horns from hitting the doorframe.
Silently, the djinn picks up the fallen cages. Obediently the victims are loaded to be brought inside. No one begs, there's no pleading.
As the ox-djinn passes a man he punches her shoulder, too pathetic an attack to make her stumble that dramatically on its own. With his stolen magic the man lights a cigarette with a flame at the end of his finger.

It goes without saying Gavin no longer needs Queen to stay energized. The last man to enter never does. Gavin grabs him and introduces his face to a moldy dumpster. He crumbles without a sound. Besides the obvious full hollow dung! sound a human head hitting metal makes.

He smashes the door open. The hinges fly apart but the lock keeps half the door upright. Amidst the slow boiling excitement he has an amusing rational thought - I made a reverse open door.
Maybe one day magi will meet enough djinn like Gavin to learn what a terrible force they truly are. When he comes they forget the power standing on the backs of djinn gave them - they default to their guns. Their own strength, their own brutish, primitive power. With flexed claws and glinting teeth, he races through them. They scream. He roars. Tables of money and powder are flipped. Bodies are thrown. If there's a door, he pulls it down. If there's a wall, he'll break it down.
The ox-djinn cowers, sitting like a stone pillar, immovable in the unfolding chaos. A goon kicks her. Points wildly at Gavin. She makes the most half hearted attempt to stand, and nothing more. With one of those building leaping jumps Gavin pounces on that man, like he could protect her from what's already become of her. The impact knocks on an ear bud.

At one point they do regroup enough for a retaliation. A weighted net is shot with enough force to take him off his feet. He rolls, knotting himself up in the coils. He's never silent, even when caught. He hisses and howls. Through blurry vision he sees a shivering bulldog watching through thin bars. They're all watching.

"Werewolf," says the first man, trying to see through the blood falling into his eyes. "It's a werewolf. It bit me! Oh shit, it bit me!"

"Nah," the goon with the big net thrower replies, stomping up to where Gavin writhes. His eyes glow with cruelty. "It's just crazy. Rabies-djinn-crazy."

He throws the gun aside, unstrapping tactical gloves one after another to free his hands. The man grins, leaning over Gavin. He smells like the sea.

"Are you nuts? Kill it!" The first man pleads.

Undeterred the man takes on Cherry's expression of conquest like putting on a mask, a mask they all have.
"Relax. I'll make it quick," he whispers in a slimy voice.

Thrashing and flailing, the screech Gavin unleashes is otherworldly. The man makes it hurt on purpose, like Cherry does. Although, to be fair, he also grabs a handful of matted fur through the netting to rip for good measure. He takes, and he takes.

It still feels good.

Gray blinks sluggishly. The net slackens.

The ox-djinn crashes into the man.
She piledrives him into the wall. With a bellow, she mashes him through it. She gores him. The body hung on her horns, she goes after the last man. It isn't until she comes back does she notice it still hanging there. She jumps, tripping over kennels that make her gasp in a girlish way. The ox-djinn slaps at the wet remains, then shakes her head.
It sloughs off into a big pile. Shivering, she tip-toes around the mess, graceful as ever.

Not a word comes from her as she works at freeing Gavin. Instead she gives him a full body hug, as soon as she can. Every tremble makes his teeth rattle.
Then, hopelessly, she goes back to her spot to sit.

"Thanks," Gavin says, wiping fiercely where he was touched by the man.

"He was a good magus," she mourns insanely. She looks at her dirty hands. "What will we do now?"

Gavin unzips his front pocket, pulling out his box. "Be free."

He snaps the floral lid open. Packed in jewelry Styrofoam is a white flower. Many petals lay around it. They sparkle in the dim light. When he takes a petal it's hard and cold. Only slightly transparent.
He's thought it's glass, but it's too hard for that. Whiskers twitching at the tiny magic pit, he instead holds it out to the ox-djinn.

"What is this?" She asks. Her ears flutter. Her big nose twitches.

"It holds your essence, like a magus does. Even a single petal will give most of you months of independence."

The ox-djinn holds it in her giant hand. Tentatively she closes her eyes. Most djinn have never lead a drain. Her brows furrow. She gasps. Wide-eyed, she stares at the stone. Looking wildly around for a safe spot, she hides it in her mouth.
"It's wrong," she murmurs around the petal.

"They're more wrong," he says, walking to the first cage to rip the door off. A raccoon hesitantly steps out, looking up at him with open mouthed wonder. A collar is locked around her neck.

"Are you the First Djinn?" The ox-djinn asks.

"Of course not. Help our family." Grabbing at the collar Gavin hisses at the runes cut into it. He snaps it apart in his hands.
The raccoon transforms into her true shape. The childlike face stays.

"It's wrong," the ox-djinn mutters. Nevertheless she moves to start prying open cages and breaking rune-collars.
It's not slow or tedious work; it's the best part of the night and even if he wasn't saving anyone, wanton destruction is always fun. But still, there's a staggering amount of cages to break, and many, many storage units Gavin must check if he wants to sleep tonight. The few living humans he stuffs into the kennels big enough for them, twisting the bars into place if the locks have been too horribly broken (if he knew what a terrible target he made of them by doing this he wouldn't have done it).

Without direct orders most of the djinn stand there, unsure of what to do. But after all the lockers have been checked they hurriedly line up to take their white petals. Like that French love game determining if someone is the object of another's affection.
He loves me, he loves me not...

"What..." The ox-djinn begins, looking over the group of furry heads. "What do we do?"

"Everything," Gavin says. He holds out his hand, palm first. Slowly, she noncommittally returns the gesture. It's like a very slow human high-five. They touch.
All the djinn give him their open palm him.

"Now go, go," he urges, herding them past the scene of destruction and out of this cursed building.
He won't realize until he's back at Cherry's that he forgot an earbud. He'll bellyache loudly about having to replace it.

It will be found by someone else.

That same night, hours later, she arrives with the human squad she hates the least to liberate the djinn. She'll find bent doors and shattered walls. She'll be both enraged by the incompetency and impressed by the degree of ruination.
She'll find the teeny earbud on the floor, whispering Queen's Another One Bites the Dust. She'll know exactly who it belongs to, but she'll sniff it anyway.

The hyena will find the men in cages. The hens in the coop, clucking in the miserable way they do. The magi with her can't watch. Tomorrow they'll complain. That night she'll take and take from the hens, until she's full of being empty.
The fox in the hen house, eating until she's starving.

While it happens the earbud breathily sings, hidden under moaning and pleading; Girls just wanna have fuu-nn.

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

---

A day in the life of an SOS magus is not nearly as exciting as Cherry assumed when first getting the job. The Society make 'arcane investigator' sound so fancy, à la secret agent from Men in Black with the suit and tie and sunglasses and world-saving missions. Far from reality. He does get a cool badge at least, but other than that the work - much like any other work - eventually settles into its own uniquely repetitive routine.

Morning starts off with the usual.

Get up, wash up, make sure the hair is looking just right, put on an outfit that was already picked out before bed, put in some earrings, then have breakfast. Most days Cherry would cram in morning exercises before the washing up part, but the soreness in his muscles tells him to take it easy, and that maybe he shouldn't have gone as far as he did last night. Certainly not alone.

The wound the boxcutter left along his palm makes for an ugly blemish, half-healed and subtly pulsing beneath the surface.

He loses himself staring at its jagged edges while the blender mixes frozen berries and banana slices and milk with a whir, hopefully loud enough to finally summon his new roommate... The magus managed to get most of the blood back in his body by the time his arcane reserves were dropping dangerously low during practice, he tells himself, despite what loose splatters remain on the roof like the beginning of a bad expressionist painting. Unsustainable, he concludes with a huff. This could be exactly what I need, he reasserts the very next second. Against his better judgement, the man pulls out his phone, finger hovering above its screen with equal parts uncertainty and eagerness to text a number he doesn't want to be texting.

new partner

i might be onto sth

Blood bags. He's going to need blood bags. And to refill on energy.

When compared to toothpaste, cinnamon doesn't sound half bad as an addition to a smoothie bowl.

Unfortunately, Cherry doesn't get to do a drain. He barely gets to finish eating and yeet a bottle of sugar water right at Gavin's chest when his overgrown lazy ass finally graces the apartment with a half-asleep presence at 7:10AM when the magus specifically said 6:00AM sharp. At the latest! "You've lost shower privileges this morning," are the first and last words of admonishment out of Cherry's mouth, purely because he doesn't have the time to argue before he's hurriedly herding both of them out of the apartment. 'Fashionably late' works only when meeting with friends, or hanging out with colleagues, or meeting a djinn.

When Cherry drives them to the in-city SOS offices with barely minutes to spare, he doesn't take Gavin with himself.

---

The brief goes by uneventfully before they send Cherry out to have what sounds like a task-filled schedule, yet is just as uneventful as listening to someone reading the daily digest in perfect monotone.

A wellness check on the "mermaid" of Andrea’s Fountain who has been looking kind of dower after her "baby" got taken for renovation. Overseeing a dispute between a family of faeries tending to Great Meadow Park and a pack of werewolves so overzealous in marking their territory they've damaged plant-life. The most tedious part, though? Going door-to-door looking for unregistered djinn. It's always the magus' least favorite part, but at least when he says he's there to do a pro-bono CO-level check most don't turn him down. Nothing like the threat of monoxide poisoning to get people to open their doors. Ironically, he ends up finding more homes in need of a real HVAC professional than infested with horned parakeets...

It's the usual work, except now he doesn't have a snake but a cat lazily blinking in the sun streaming through the front passenger window, all bundled up on the cat bed Cherry had enough foresight to grab so he doesn't have to clean unprotected upholstery. Gray riding shotgun is for convenience purposes, of course. Any time Cherry makes a grab for the djinn there's a little surprised 'mrrp' no matter how many times it happens.

A break in the tedium comes around lunch time. It's had at Brenda's Soul Food, as per tradition. And had with Jen, as per tradition too.

She's already comfortably seated at their usual outdoors table by the time Cherry arrives with Gavin. He wasn't timing it, but is pretty sure it took less than 3 seconds for the djinn to be beset by Jennifer. Cooing and petting and making a fool of herself in public, paying more attention to the "animal" than the person sitting across from her. Cherry hides a smile behind his hand pretending to read the menu. It's always nice spending time with his friend - there's a certain je ne sais quoi about Jen, like for a brief moment the supernatural world so deeply rooted in the man's identity doesn't seem real. Bless her heart, she never even notices the stumps no longer on Gavin's head.

What she notices, though, is a tiny patch of fur missing.

In a blink her eyes narrow, pressing Gray to her chest like she's shielding him from the evils of the world, "What did you do?"

"... The brush caught on a mat. It was an accident."

"Bet you just weren't being gentle with it!"

"I'm telling you it was an accident. I stopped right after it happened."

The on-the-spot explanation likely wouldn't have worked on anyone else, but with Jen it gets her to drop the issue. At least for now. The look of disapproval aimed at Cherry still doesn't disappear as she gives Gavin another deep-tissue scratch, "You should at least give him a wash... Ooor, you can pay for lunch and I'll do it for you?"

The sudden angelic smile Jen flashes has Cherry spluttering on a laugh.

For a second his eyes alight on Gray, with his dirtied fur and mats galore. And mysteriously vanished "birth malformation". He shakes his head no, "You know I'm gonna end up paying anyway."

Cherry has the mac and cheese he always gets that tastes like nostalgia. Jenny has the aptly named big mama's spicy chicken sandwich, with a kale salad on the side to be "healthy". Gavin has a treat of fancy tuna puree force-fed to him by the woman while she holds in the most lovingly suffocating vice grip ever. At the end of all the excessive petting, Cherry's willing to bet the djinn is missing even more patches.

Back in the car the lukewarm glucose formula is part-way consolation prize for surviving Jen twice in a row. But mostly it's SOS mandated feeding time. Something something taking care of your djinn something something.

As if they can't take care of themselves...

In the quiet interior of the Camry, brown eyes again alight on Gray. Pink cat tongue laps at the surface of the sugar water served in the ramekin Cherry casually nicked from the restaurant. The two have barely spoken all day, much to the magus' relief. He expected to have issues considering yesterday, but Gavin dozing off (still seemingly catching up on shut eye despite sleeping in this morning) has allowed him to comfrortably ignore the cat's presence, unless needed. In the unbroken silence, the man extends a hand forward. Gavin is still drinking when a thumb rubs against the top of his head, slowly disturbing the fur there in round motions. To confirm suspicions Cherry is embarrassed took him until lunch time to notice.

When no horn nubs poke against his skin his face scrunches up the same way Jen's had accusing him of animal cruelty, "What-"

The phone rings.

---

It's half-way disappointing, half-way relieving when the caller isn't who Cherry thinks. No, the texts he sent early haven't simply been left unseen. They've been left on read. Instead, it's the office calling to go assist a matter of some urgency all the way out in Berkley. There's a pricle of excitement forming near the base of the magus' skull the closer he gets to the location, at the thought he might actually get to use some magic finally.

Any such hopes get dashed once he arrives. Other magi are already on the scene, cutting off the area and extricating a group (a flock? a colony?) of vampires that aren't putting up much resistence, high off their asses as they are on drug blood. Seems like the frat house they've infested favors downers. Great for more easily maintaining order, horrible for Cherry's growing boredom. Unlike the one magus with short-term memory magic going through a line up of several terrified jocks, Cherry gets relegated to cleaning duty. Because that is apparently what his hemomancy is useful for!

During the mindnumbing task of getting rid of blood evidence (off a needlessly tall bong...) the intrusive thought of Cracking open a boy with the cold ones nearly has Cherry spluttering it out loud. Until he realizes the joke wouldn't be appreciated by anyone here anyway.

Wiping the smile off his face, he puts his head down and goes back to work, Gray a tiny burst of cinammon perched on his shoulder like an acessory.

---

The vampire job ends up taking much longer than it has any right, so by the time Cherry gets back to Frisco proper the sun has nearly set, its dying rays bathing everything in the kind of light to earn a title such as 'The Golden City'.

Until his way back home forces the magus right through the Tenderloin. Every densly populated area has its rotten underbelly. San Fransico's just so happens to be right next door to the Financial District. As legend goes, the neighbourhood got its name from police captain A. S. Williams, who after being assigned to it got so much money off of bribes he could afford to eat tenderloin stake and not just chuck stake. Another legends says it's because cops get additional hazard pay for working these parts, not that they do much work. Having a mostly unregulated cetralized location for the city to shove all its unwanteds into is actually a good strategy to keep the rest of it all tourist-friendly. Between both open-air drug use, open-air drug dealing, bipping and robbery spilling over into neighbouring blocks, to call the Tenderloin a haven for crime feels more than accurate. And that includes crime of the more supernatural variety.

The red Camry patrols the street slowly. At the back of Cherry's mind there is a constant soft trum of heartbeats coming from beyond the windshield, down the street, from inside surrounding buildings - a new ambinant sensation he's been trying to get a grasp on since yesterday. It's like a dull headache. Maybe it will become a true headache, who knows.

Gavin's heart beats faster when he's a cat.

Some vague memory tells the magus the smaller the form the higher the heart rate, even though it's nothing more than a disguise... Focusing this blip of magic in on Gray, Cherry leans back into his seat, embraced by the leather, "So, what happened to your horns?"

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

All in all he tells himself it's easier passing the day doing nothing when he does it by society's lofty standards. It's business as usual. He can sink into sleepy unimportance having spent the night doing real work, not whatever it is Cherry does. You'd figure his butt would be flatter with how much he sits on it. Gavin himself works hard flattening one side of his pelt sleeping in a ludicrously soft bed, pending Cherry's needs don't interfere. Lunch is the hardest part, squeezed and mutilated and given fish. It's not that Gavin hates fish, it's just after years of being fed slime and scales he despises it.
He doesn't get dessert, but at least she's sweet.

The day's tolerable being ignored as long as he can pretend he's the one ignoring Cherry. The grief of the missing earpod made itself known, but after Cherry pulled the last one out for lunch Gavin hasn't had the fingers to push it back in so it really doesn't matter. So when the dude actually talks to him Gavin's able to hear the words. And yet it's just sounds. Sounds that detangle slowly in his brain as he wakes up to the world that has put him in the passenger seat of his own life.

"Whaddya mean what happened?" Gavin groans, stretching out his forepaws to bow his back. He swallows, working his throat. He'd been expecting this question.
"Jen held me forever. She literally squeezed it out of me."

He rolls in bed, twisting with the grotesque flexibility of cats and the very young. "I am a very happy camper," he says, purring to prove it.
Rather than be picked up like a toddler the djinn tiptoes across the cupholders to find a decent enough path up Cherry's shoulders. It isn't until he's in the man's lap, paws on the steering wheel that he realizes they're not home. Out the window is Gavin's haunts from last night, distorted from this perspective but made murkily familiar in the fading light.

He wasn't expecting this exactly.

"What're we doing here?" He warbles, climbing up the wheel and incidentally putting his butt in Cherry's face to see beyond the dashboard.

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

Cherry doesn't immediately answer Gray's claim, trying to rely on senses he hasn't quite sharpened yet listening to the faster-paced cat heartbeat he isn't quite familiar with yet either. In the end, the magus can't discern if this is a lie or a truth, partially because it has happened before... The one downside to Jen roughing up any fuzzy creature unfortunate enough to be in line of sight is that she does end up unwittingly siphoning energy. Not that Cherry has ever noticed her display magic, apart from the uncanny ability to always somehow have him paying the bill when they go out.

But has she ever siphoned this much energy? Is Gavin being a hyper-producer dangerous for her? For the first time ever, he might be forced to keep an animal away from his friend.

"I don't know how fast you recharge, but you shouldn't have let her hold-" the admonishment gets rudely interrupted by Gray suddenly being right up in his face. With the wrong end. Very, very wrong end.

With a grimace like he just saw a Garbage Pail Kids card for the first time in his life, Cherry leans his head as far back away from the sight the djinn's lack of a proper tail treats him to. Were it longer than a bunny stump, he'd yank on it to move Gavin away. As it stands, he instead removes one of his hands squeezing the wheel to grab the cat's scruff.

"Patrolling," Cherry intones slowly, plopping Gray back in his lap, "And has no one ever told you the first rule of driving? Keep your ass out of the driver's field of vision. Unless you want us to crash."

Disregarding the turtle pace the magus is keeping the Camry at. SOS doesn't have the personnel to be keeping consistent patrols, but sometimes he likes doing this - driving through the Tenderloin, looking for a whiff of something real. Of actual trouble.

Absentmindedly, Cherry pets Gavin's back until fingers move across a fur-less patch, "What's your explanation for this, then? Don't tell me you're going in the red already."

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

The thought occurs as they roll closer and closer that Cherry's fucking with him. It shrinks him down into the cozy cage of Cherry's legs preparing for it. The fingers toying with his fur should translate to some foreboding action yet to arrive (like being yanked by his scruff again) but it's soothing instead. So tight eyed, he enjoys it as much as he can, pretending he isn't lowkey freaking out.

"I'm an all you can eat buffet. No, I've got," he starts, pushing his neck into some not too shabby fingers for a scratch.
Best lies are part truth, right? "A little bit of an anxiety issue. Mostly it makes me loud and sort of annoying, and..."

And the lie.

"It's not serious or anything, but I pull my fur out a little sometimes." If only. The truth is so much worse.
Could you tell if a cat is lying? Cats don't have a tell, do they? Gavin hides his face and any possible tells by giving his chest fur a few good licks.
"New places make me uncomfortable. New people, too. Which is proof in the pudding I'm not like other djinn. I'm not made to be with people. I'm allergic at a physiological level."

He settles into place, tucking his paws under his chest. "I just think the whole thing is overrated. Too many people are terrified of being alone, it's sad. Me, I'm better alone. I'm happier."

He gives himself a few more licks.

Sighing he says, "I'm gonna get a big car one day and I'm not gonna waste it like this."

He nearly puts his paw on the wheel again, before deciding he'd rather avoid being scruffed again. Instead he climbs up Cherry's thigh and plants his paws on the door to look out the window. The orange-black streets ooze by at a snail's pace.
"And I'm gonna go so fast and never look back. Once I, uh, learn how to drive... But hey, I already know the first rule now, how many more could there be?"

He clears his throat. "So. What're we patrolling for? I hope it's food."

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

So it's anxiety and not depression, then.

Cherry hums along, hand absentmindedly trailing another pet-and-scratch as he nearly zones out when Gavin unironically calls himself "not like other djinn" in that squeaky chipmunk voice. Every djinn says that. Matter of fact, if the magus had a nickel every time a djinn said it he could comfortably buy some fresh beignets from Brenda's. Not just plain even, but the fancy ube and coconut jam ones.

The sole thing he'll give Gray is his "specialness" ain't one he's ever heard before. Usually it's about being a quality partner, being willing to do anything, blah blah. Never about being alone. Djinn's nature precludes them from that - if anything, they cling to humans to survive. Like parasites. Which is why no matter what Gavin says, he can't actually make it on his own, not in any pretty way... and especially not with how much he seems to love talking.

Or maybe that's the anxiety.

"Yeah, good luck with that, man," Cherry remarks dismissively, allowing himself a smile in challenge as he presses down on the accelerator and shifts gears, "For your overgrown ass you're gonna have to get a proper truck. I'll give you recommendations sometimes."

If Gray wants fast, he'll give him fast.

The pressure of his foot builds gradually, the same way buildings and street lights replacing the sun become a faster and faster blur in his peripheral vision, "Told you you gotta pay for extra food yourself, but if you have a card I'll buy you something with it... Or you could pay me back later, after we're done."

Cherry can feel the tug of inertia when he changes lanes. Then changes again. Then turns a corner. It's far too early to be swerving through traffic, but the one place he can afford to do this is the Tenderloin. The Camry doesn't speed so much as it smoothly snakes along, all the while Cherry focuses his new senses outward once more, like the feelers of a lobster. A cyclist rushes in the opposite direction, short of breath and fast of pulse like a man on a mission. A person lies suspiciously motionless on the pavement, pulse so slow it's almost non-existent as the cyclist abruptly dismounts, rummaging around in his backpack for what is doubtlessly Naloxone. The dull non-headache headache at the back of Cherry's head spikes for every figure they pass by, leaving an imprint. Telling a story.

Picking up a trail.

When the Camry turns the next corner into a darkened alleyway, it happens so rapidly Cherry has to hold Gray in place the same way his seat belt does. He feels like a bloodhound. Or like this magic has given him a second form of weird synesthesia, guiding him towards... he isn't exactly sure what.

Something foul.

The car finally slows down when a storage facility comes in sight.

"This is what we're patrolling for," the magus' voice is even, hand mindlessly rising to mess with the studs in his ear, "Poachers."

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

Even Cherry withholding food can't dampen the soul enriching bliss of going fast. The engine purrs. The force of speed pushes and tugs Gavin around. For one sore moment he's running free outside, but the company twists it into something old and the sister-shaped void in Gavin's life is felt a little more than usual.
An automatic smile slips onto his face, one that twitches when instead of flying across the cockpit, he's pressed safely to Cherry's stomach.

It ends with an abrupt, back to Earth colliding lurch.

"You hunt poachers-" The First Djinn bless him he nearly adds a 'too' to caboose that sentence. To smooth it out he ends lamely with, "off the clock?"

The door cracks open. Like the curtains lifting for the worst, most terrible play in the world, the storage units are revealed in all their reminiscing horror. Cherry's seatbelt clicks.
Gavin plops out. The engine dies. The silence pushes in, colored by the sounds of the city. Far, far away there's yelling.
The lights still on from last night flicker.

When he doesn't move fast enough, Cherry scoops him up. Glaring at shadows, he scurries up into the false security of a very weak human body.
"I didn't think you'd be the type to care about poachers," he comments, distracted, ears swivelling. "After hours."
The djinn watches the red car grow further and further away.

"You're not worried about bumping into the, ya know, the wild hero djinn? Not that we know 100% that it's a djinn, I've heard people say he's a werewolf. Could be. Could be a lady, too."

The guy left crumpled behind the dumpster last night is thankfully gone. The dint his face made is not, but it's nothing compared to the half balled up door, shoved aside to leave the doorway clear.
Its where Gavin left it when he got the djinn out. There's nothing vaguely ominous about the way it's laid there.

"Some people say he's the savior of his time... But other people, like way smarter people say he's got rabies or something stupid. I mean- look at that door. Such carnage. I'd hate to catch that being in proximity. Wouldn't look great on your record to get your djinn sick, right?"

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

Cherry hates places like this. Gray and dark and musty like the set of a horror movie. He walks in anyway, concealing any silly fear behind the warm sensation of magic pulsing within, as little of it as might be left sans daily drain.

The lights overhead flickering still elicit a shiver. As do Gavin's words.

You hunt poachers.

"I don't," the words force their way our of Cherry's mouth in instant denial. The kind of denial that isn't quite honest. Breathing in the unfortunate dust of decaying furniture, he clarifies, "I hunt whatever there is to hunt."

And that is the truth.

When the magus' daily work most often than not involves meaningless menial tasks, he doesn't get to pick and choose what to pursues "after hours" (if it even can be called that; more like "overtime"). Chupacabras, skunk apes, shikigami, apart from the more common supernaturals - his resume is more extensive than most. The trick with hunting anything is knowing your target beforehand. It just so happens Cherry has intimate knowledge of poachers.

When the topic changes, the magus is more than willing to latch on, throwing Gray a curious look over his shoulder, "... The hero djinn ain't a hero. A well-meaning idiot, maybe."

And it seems they might have already been here.

The foul sensation carries Cherry forward at a measured pace, "What do you think happens to captive-bred animals that get released into the wild? They die. Within hours, or days, or weeks if they're lucky. Not that djinn are animals, but the point stands. Most don't know how to act on their own. Chances are they'll do something stupid and get recaptured by poachers. What this "hero" is doing isn't saving anyone. It's depriving other djinn of the protection SOS offers."

There's reverence in the way he talks about the Society, simultaneously underlined by something more. An impatience. It makes him feel conflicted every time.

"You can't catch rabies by proximity and this djinn definitely doesn't have rabies," Cherry inspects the door that has been broken through with obvious deliberateness. And force, "If anything, capturing it would look great on my record. And net me... 100 bucks at this point, I think?"

As much as Cherry prefers not to interact with his colleagues, there ain't nothing like winning an office bet.

Yet any thoughts of victory disappear when he steps beyond the threshold to the source which led him here. Somehow it's not the crumpled body in a pool of its own dried blood that fazes him. It's the humans in cages.

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

A well meaning idiot? Gavin flattens his ears in polite outrage. Clearly he's being misrepresented at SOS. What did he expect?

"You don't know that," he remarks bitterly, stumpy tail flicking away. "Maybe a djinn can hope for better than this. Strung around on a leash all day-" Cherry steps over the remains of the ripped rune collars, "so when SOS or whoever comes along with lollipops they seem so much better in comparison. The bar can't be that low."

There's something bad on the air. It makes his coat prickle. Decay, but not like the moldy walls or termite eaten wood.
Being honest, he'd say he hurt a few of them. Concussed a lot. Killed?
That thought stays cold in his head, chilling his blood. For a while he hadn't known how fragile humans could be, even magi. They had been made to seem invincible, an overpowering force djinn had no right or strength to appose. She showed how easily they could be snuffed out. The thought the men he left sleeping weren't actually sleeping is something he consistently pushes aside.

"A hundred bucks?" He asks, desperate for any distraction. The storage unit should be emptied out by now. It's not like he took anyone's phone; they could call for help.
"To capture him?"

There's five wide, shallow grooved claw marks riding along the wall. He doesn't remember leaving those there.

He kneads Cherry's shoulders with claws. "Oh, 'cuz he's just another poor djinn that needs a strong hand? Maybe he's inspiring his people, ever thought of that? Maybe he's found a way for his people to finally be free-"

Cherry turns a corner into one of the storage units. He fumbles for the light.

The last words die in his mouth.

The men in the cages aren't just 'sleeping'.
Gavin leaps down from his vessel's shoulders, careful not to touch the blood that's congealed into syrup. He flicks back into his true form, groaning at the stretch of standing on two legs again.

The metal netting gives easily, letting him pluck a battered body out like he's lifting a baby from a crib. Bumps poorly covered by ripped clothing poke the pads of his hands. The body is so oversaturated it's swollen and misshapened. Glowing veins further whiten the pale skin.
"Oh Jess," he intones, looking vainly for something to cover them with.
But by design there's nothing to preserve their dignity. Most had been discarded with their pants knotted up around their ankles. She liked doing it that way best.

It was supposed to be poetic justice just being in the cages. Did she always have to outdo him like this?
Suddenly revolted, he lets the body he wanted to cover drop to the floor like tumor covered hamburger meat.

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

Suddenly this doesn't just feel like a horror movie. It is one.

Cherry wants to look away, yet he can't trapped as he is in this moment. Eyes stare into his own. They stare everywhere. Wide open, motionless, gone the murky color of milk in water. It's supposed to be a wasting disease, a horrible inevitable fate. He's never seen anything like this. The man - if it can even be called a man any more... - died in what looks like seconds. No dignity, no mercy. Just torture.

Hours later he'll feel the deepest shame, but right now Cherry can't help remembering the last time he witnessed MAAS take hold. A burst of light so terrifyingly beautiful in its destruction.

For a second he understood what vessel truly meant.

The squelch of the body catapults him back into the present, forcing him to take several stumbling steps back right into the puddle of blood. Away from the lumps of flesh still in their cages. The magus tightens his hands into a grip when their instinct is to cover his mouth in fear and revolt.

"You were here. You're 'him'," Cherry mutters, leveling a glare directly at Gray's nape, "You did this."

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

Fur spiked with adrenaline, Gavin twists to face the human's accusing voice. He's far easier on the eyes, even if his bristling spells further disaster for Gavin.

"I didn't do this!" He insists with a growl, stepping over the body to follow Cherry out of the locker. The man leaves sticky footprints to avoid.
"If she's here...then he is," he mutters.

He's trying to gain distance, walking out, that's all.
Not corner the man but that is what he ends up doing regardless. Belatedly he realizes he's a large source djinn trapping a magus he's done nothing but complain about.
Now they're alone, where the magus has supposedly uncovered his dirty deeds that can never see the light of day.

Holding out his hands (a stupid, and actually kinda threatening gesture all things considered), Gavin says, "Let's just caalllmmmm down. I was with you all last night. How could I have done this?"

Maybe years from now this convenient timing will be funny. Just as the last word leaves Gavin's mouth Cherry steps on the torn fur he lost last night.

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

The combination of sticky blood and fur on his shoe nearly has Cherry slipping on the next retreating step, the man kept upright solely by virtue of his back hitting a wall. Which, really, just makes matter worse.

The horror of the situation and the implications of it all set with terrifying clarity.

The attitude problems, the vanished horns, the missing fur. Puzzles pieces that all somehow lead to Cherry being cornered by Gray looming right in front of him. The 3' he has on him suddenly feel like much more. It makes him feel small. It makes him feel like prey. He didn't get to do a drain today... He didn't get to do a drain today.

Inhaling, Cherry raises his hands up in a placating manner going for an uncertain half-smile, "Okay, okay... Calming down, yeah. I am... sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. One I will gladly listen-"

He stomps the heel of his Doc Martens right into the djinn's toes.

He doesn't waste the opening. The instant Gavin gets unbalanced with pain, Cherry books it towards the exit, hand fumbling to reach for the phone in his pocket.

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

Gavin roars, flashing fang and extending his claws in an appropriately dramatic response to having his toes stomped on.
Ever stubbed a pinky? Try having a little turd hand that treatment out to all four of them.
"Wait! I just want to- oh, there he goes."

A few years from now, when he's laughing about this misunderstanding he'll agree chasing after Cherry was also probably a bad idea. In the moment it feels like the only option.
For the record, he doesn't tackle Cherry. He trips on the door. With the same foot Cherry stomped on.
He sweeps the guys legs out from under him, (not with a graceful ninja kick, mind you, but his tumbling body). They roll, Gavin pinning the vessel to his chest to get a hold of the slimy son of a gun as much as to keep him from being crushed.

They come to a hard stop against the dumpster.

Dazed, he hears the tinny sound of the phone. Screen cracked, it's just a foot away.
"You've reached the emergency SOS line, how may I help you?"

Scrambling to cover Cherry's mouth he says in a hushed, hurried tone, "They'll lock me up. It'll be over for me! I won't be able to run from him. Just shhh, shh!"

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

Cherry makes the type of muffled grunt that communicates even better than words he really doesn't care if Gavin gets locked up. If anything, he should get locked up.

The dispatcher's voice so close yet so far away only amplifies the horror of it all.

He doesn't stop struggling against the djinn's relentless grip no matter how futile it might be or how much he might be tiring himself out. It's doubtful the phone is picking up any of his desperate attempts to request help. By the point Cherry is breathing heavily into Gray's palm he seriously contemplates biting down on the soft pad keeping him silent.

Until a crucial realization strikes.

Cherry's hand moves to grip Gavin's forearm. In a threat as much as a sign of Let fucking go. Despite his nerves still being on fire, some amount of confidence manages to make its way back into brown eyes as they briefly glance towards the phone before locking onto green ones. If no one answers the emergency dispatcher they'll send agents to the device's location. Unless Cherry says otherwise.

"Negotiate," he struggles to say, huffing when the word comes out unintelligible, "... Calm."

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

Who would've thought being held down and half suffocated (it's hard to cover a mouth without smothering the little holes they breathe through at the same time) wouldn't relax a person. The human's a live eel, slipping and flipping around. And he sounds like a mad goat, kicks like one too.

A mit locks onto his forearm, Cherry breathing ragged but glaring up at Gavin with impotent fury. The threat's clear, so much so he's surprised he doesn't feel a drain immediately.
"Huh- What?" He whispers-yells.

Glancing at the phone, still warbling away, and the pale hand contrasting his orange fur, Gavin balances the risks.
With a frantic sounding huff he lifts the finger off Cherry's mouth.
"Calm, that's right. I just wanna talk. I don't wanna scare you, but if you drain me I will defend myself. But if I give you the phone will you call them off?"

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

Cherry's glare deepens even further. Oh, so Gavin's the one needing to defend himself. The 200+ pound cat monster that has him pinned to the floor gagged. The more the fear is gradually receding from his system, the more it is getting replaced by humiliation. For a second the magus seriously considers draining the fucker because who does he think he is?

Before remembering that won't serve his purposes. Yeah... It definitely has nothing to do with the way Gray's needle-thin pupils making him feel some kind of way.

Suppressing yet another shiver, Cherry nods his head.

Gray's fingers lift one by one as he keeps staring in suspicion. Even after the magus doesn't immediately scream, the djinn retrieves the phone with such caution one might think Cherry is the criminal that has been caught red-handed. He frowns at the fresh crack running diagonally across the screen before Gavin presses the phone to his ear and suddenly he switches over to his all-professional smile, "Agent Cherry here. Sorry, this was an accidental dial."

The voice on the other end sounds like it's heaving a sigh without actually heaving a sigh, "Good evening, Agent. To confirm, there is no emergency?"

"Nope. No emergency aaaat aaaall. Again, sorry."

"Understood... Please, try and be more careful in the future."

When the line disconnects, Cherry can't help but audibly 'ugh' lifting his chin up to wallow in the cringe of it all. And at the one responsible, "... Best believe this isn't the end of it. If you want me to continue keeping quiet, I want something in return. But for now, talk. Hero."