Fantasy Two Strays

[SquigglyWiggly]

Her beady black eyes widen and then soften around the edges to hear her name said by the most mid dude in existence. She glances at Gavin, almost like he appeared out of nowhere and hasn't been here the entire time.
"Oh for sure, for sure. Let me get you started on that right away."

The canary flutters away to push papers and tap her beak one key painstakingly at a time on the computer. She even makes a call, pushing a scheduled appointment forward.
"Just down the hall," she chirps. And then, like an after thought, "Oh, actually Gavin I need you to fill some paperwork out. You go on ahead, Cherry."

Charlotte sighs longingly at the magus' retreating back. Wary and guilty, Gavin shifts his weight from leg to leg. So much has happened since he last saw her. As crap a friend as she is, he misses her.
"What is it?" He asks, half suspecting a request to get her and Cherry together for dinner.

"Why are you seeing the seer?" She asks.

Gavin shrugs. "I'm...just keeping my options open."

She makes a curt sound. "You're going to need a better answer than that."

She holds him on the line. To make sure he knows she's mad, she does some office work to let him simmer in it. You don't know frustration until you've watched an eight ounce bird do in five minutes what a two hundred pound Goliath could do in five seconds.
Finally she deigns to mention, "You need to tell your sister to stop calling."

He blinks. "What?"

"Once or twice is fine, but spamming isn't."

Bewildered, he stands there. "She usually calls me if she calls at all," he explains.

Finally showing pity, or at least an interest in drama, Charlotte pitter patters closer on her ridiculously tiny stilt legs. Gavin slips his pack off his shoulder, digging around to find his phone. The notification light blinks sleepily at him when he presses the on button.
"Is everything okay? I could take your phone and charge it, if you want. Only...it will take me two years since I'm so small and useless."

His whiskers twitch. "Could you?"

She pretends she can't hear him. Gavin sighs up at the ceiling. He looks down the hall, before leaning into the counter. "I'm sorry you feel you have to be small and dependent on everyone to feel beautiful."

She squeaks in outrage. All those carefully smoothed out feathers fluff out in an instant. "I'm sorry you have to look like a dumpster raccoon to somehow feel better than everyone else!"

He whispers furiously, "I'm not! I just don't need to get stupid magi attention to feel good about myself."

Tiny legs walking so fast they're a blur of orange she paces back and forth. "You don't because you already have it, Gavin. You don't need to try, not like the rest of us. Like it or not, life's easier for you."

He laughs humorlessly. "My life's easier because I get Mr. Strawberry?"

"Your life's easier because there will always be a Mr. Strawberry to take you back. Most of us have to take what we can get."

"Don't!"

This time she scoffs disbelievingly. She shakes her head, as if she's at a loss for words at how stupid Gavin must be when she's the one who's eating off sugar. Presented with almost everything he hates about djinn in one conversation, Gavin's claws have pushed themselves out onto the countertop.

"Thanks for letting me know," Gavin says in a grueling huff. With a devastating thought he decides to voice as he leaves he says, "If I were a magus you'd be dying to make up." The accuracy of the comment seems to hurt him more than her.

"Thank the stars you're not! I'd hate to have to force myself to be..." She trails away, but they both know what she was going to say.
It hangs in the air.

He wrinkles his nose, stomping away to find the stupid door stupid Cherry slipped through. It's not the first time he's been here, obviously. It opens up to a moist, green garden slap in the middle of the building. Humidifiers puff out steam, speakers burp out frog sounds and spiritual music. He's often wondered if they needed this environment to work, or if the whole thing was a hoax and they needed it to look at least somewhat convincing.

His sister is trying to reach him. He only really feels the impact of that now. The timing couldn't be worse, but man he misses her.

"No- no no," the soft shelled turtle is saying, lazing on her electric heated rock. Her beak is speckled in jam where she's eating the remains of a raspberry.
"Gavin, Cherry is your vessel. We dreamed it, we saw it, just like we saw you'd try to weasel out of it. Out the door, go. I'm eating my berries."

"She's eating her berries," the turtle's magus repeats, like that's a justifiable explanation. In his prime he was an accomplished hunter. Now, with a turtle that gives him no skill beyond pairing people who hate each other, he's retired to this room. Don't get Gavin wrong, it's a great deal. Especially for an aging pair. But still, he can't help but find sitting in a bucket of water day in and day out as an old man's pet to be a horrifying visual for purgatory.

A digital cricket beeps.

Gavin exchanges a glance with Cherry. If he hadn't had the heated fight outside, or maybe if he just hadn't bumped into Steph he wouldn't feel the need to say this.
"But we're awful together," he states, looking at Cherry to get some support for the most obvious declaration in history. "The only thing that makes us compatible is our magic potential."

The old hunter shakes his head. "That's actually what stands in-between you most. It does with a lot of pairings."

Gavin rubs his mane back, peeling his hood off in the process. "I forgot you were nuts," he mutters to himself. "We didn't really come here for a therapy session. I just need to find people I'm compatible with. I'm looking... I'm looking for a certain power."

The old hunter squints at him, deepening the crows feet lining his dark eyes. Anyone looks mystical in a foggy room, but they do a good job of appearing even more mysterious.
The turtle nods sagely with food on her face. She snaps at a berry, missing it completely. "Everyone wants the best match, leapfrogging from person to person and dropping them if they have the slightest defect. What are we but an amalgamation of loveable defects?"

"Please," Gavin pleads, "stay focused. I need help."

"Yes, you do," the old man says gravely, and points to Cherry. "And there he is."

"I don't need his help! I don't need any stupid magus' help! Except...except for right now," he amends after yelling into a senior magus' face. He takes it gracefully, offering his turtle a blackberry which she gratefully takes once she can see it with her squinty eyes.

The turtle sighs, shakily lifting her wrinkled head in a way that suggests it takes a lot of her dwindling strength. It's so dramatic it almost looks fake.
"You want help with the djinn broker. There isn't one connection that's like any other. It's very unlikely you'll find someone that brings out the same in you."

It's the biggest load Gavin's heard. Everyone brings out the same in him; exhaustion.
When all hope seems lost the hunter murmurs, "Some can be similar. And others can be developed and influenced over time..."

The turtle swings her head to her partner. "Shh! The last thing we need is to get tied up in this when we're so close to retiring."

The man sighs. "We've broken rules over a lot less."
"Shshshssh shush! Nothing good comes from meddling. They're together. That's it. Back in the old days you found a djinn or a magus and made it work. Nowadays people turn their noses up at everything. 'Oh his hair looks like a tomatoe. Oh he gallivants around as a vigilante'. Ridiculous! Especially you, Cherry. Tsk, tsk for shame. You are both the most ridiculous, prejudiced, self reliant, dummies I have ever met."

She waddles off her rock, wheezing to drag herself to Cherry. "Neither of you will leave until your palms are read. You still won't be satisfied, but I'll be that much closer to a nap. Lemme look at your hand, son."

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

For someone that comes to the Garden awfully often receiving a match, Cherry never gets used to it. Or more like he never gets used to its occupants. There's mild relief when Gavin finally catches up, loud-mouth anxiety-induced antics at the ready to take the heat off the magus so he can simply fade into the green background (as much as "tomato" hair will allow) and observe the turtle's rejection rather than argue with her, all the while the once-proud hunter plays the role of hypeman/back-up.

There's rumors about the Seer and the Sage.

Granted there's rumors about every magus and djinn in this building, but these ones are different - some say the two sleep together. Or used to sleep together (hopefully, considering their age). Both usefulness and seniority keep the gossip from becoming malicious, of course, but in their youth the pair must have gathered a lot of judgemental looks. Not all touch is made equal. Certain touch can heighten a drain, strengthen one's magic. There are radical magi sects that practice 'carnal arcana' or whatever nonsense name they choose for it precisely for such reasons. Yet relations of the sort are frowned upon within SOS, not merely because entanglements between colleagues can get messy - questionable ethics, questionable morality. Questionable safety too... Unbidden, the scene from last night and Gavin's words about 'her' surface in Cherry's mind. He tries to shake them off...

Either way, it's an unwritten rule not to sleep with djinn, the way 'don't adjust your crotch in public' is an unwritten rule - most people follow it. And those that don't, well... The magus tries to keep himself from cringing at the way the hunter talks, like the turtle is his actual partner. The thing that makes him most uncomfortable every time seeing the pair is just how familiar their attitude towards one another is.

And how reminiscent the hunter's dark eyes are of Samuel's.

He tenses when the turtle approaches, despite her painfully slow pace. She calls them both 'ridiculous, prejudiced, self-reliant dummies' and he has to worry whether she or her magus divined any part of his current thoughts to come to that assessment, and which part would be worse - the one accusing them of fucking, or the one where he's comparing them to his mentor. Honestly - and this is a hot take among hot takes - but he's always fucking hated divination powers. Something about them makes their users unbearable, so when the djinn insinuates they've already foreseen reading Gavin's and his' palms Cherry feels nearly offended. Masking his feelings, he keeps his hands to himself when addressing the hunter.

"What do you mean magic can be developed and influenced over time? I've never heard of such a thing," part of him perks up in curiosity, though a larger part of him knows to take the Seer's vague, mysterious statements with a grain of salt. Influencing one's power to change? Now that's ridiculous, "You obviously know about the... "djinn broker", so you also must know how important what we're trying to do is. For everyone. Is it breaking the rules if it's for the greater good? We need to find Gray's match."

For a split second Cherry's eyes fleet over to his djinn, "Plus, that way I won't have to tell anyone you've been aware of Gray's vigilante-"

"I called in the appointment yesterday! This is bullshit!" the door bursts open with a yell, the Garden invaded despite any efforts Charlotte might have made to the contrary.

Cherry startles, twisting around on high alert, only for the sight of pale yellows scales and livid reptile eyes searching the vicinity to startle him all over again. Oh, Of-fucking-course it would be his luck for this to be the appointment the bird djinn pushed forward! In this moment, the magus can relate to how Gavin's first partner must have felt bumping into him. Difference is, he can't retreat further into the room so instead he hurriedly kneels down to show the turtle djinn his palms, pretending like he didn't just see his ex storm in.

The way Malakai immediately quiets, however, he's definitely noticed Cherry. Maybe it's the fact they ended their work relationship days ago, but the magus can sense it - the barely concealed anger within the python that only grows at the unexpected sight, even as his voice sounds merely confused on his slow approach, "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, just- getting my fortune read," out of all the fabulous lies he's ever told this might be one of the least convincing-sounding ones, so quickly he covers it up with a question, "You?"

"Getting a new match. Or trying to."

Malakai... If Gavin is an all-you-can-eat buffet - and everyone loves an all-you-can-eat buffet (those that claim the contrary are lying) - then Mal is the dish people are hesitant to try. Like pâté. Blended liver doesn't exactly sound appetizing at first hearing, after all - the guy is the textbook example of your average djinn when it comes down to magic potential, not to mention his disguise isn't an easy fit. In comparison to a cat, it's awkward to carry around a snake at all times; it takes significantly more effort to set up a proper living situation front too. The one thing Malakai has going for him, however? A relentless drive to prove himself as a good djinn, even at the expense of his health. Most he should be doing right now is signing up for a draining program.

"... Diving back in already? Isn't it a bit too early?"

"All due respect, this is not the time for you to act like a caregiver," then in a softer tone, like it bares repeating for politeness's sake, "All due respect."

Whatever respect Malakai is talking about completely vanishes as he turns to Gavin. When the python scoffs it's a hiss, "So first you steal my magus then you steal my appointment?"

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

"Oh for - what is the obsession?" Gavin demands of the room. The senior magus fiddles with his hands. The turtle washes the berries down with a breath of humid air. The Garden is cozy with three, crowded with four, and down right suffocating with five.
Gray doesn't have much maneuverability to evade a pale yellow lizard man.

Charlotte could be this big and beautiful if she tried to be.

"What is wrong with everyone? He's not even a person he's just - just a black hole! That's what they all are! And do we care? The werewolves have gotten their land back, the mermaids have their freedom. But us, have we tried to get any respect and independence in the centuries we've been here? No. We just take it because we think it'll make us happy. Not me. I was made for so much than that."

Like being alone in the woods.

"'All due respect,"' Gavin repeats, shaking his head. He scoffs, spitting a little and wipes his chin. "Save your respect for people who earned it."

Avoiding a potential sucker punch, Gavin steps back into a shrub, something the turtle disagrees with if her disapproving tut is anything to go by.

"But the appointment, okay, yeah," Gavin allows awkwardly for the bitter man lizard, "I could see where someone would be irked by that. That is a genuine, 'my bad' moment. But I swear it's for a good cause."

Curling his hands together he seeks the dwindling hope from the seer and sage that he has a chance in the world.
"It is," he reiterates. In the reply of silence he balances the risk and decides he's going for it, "And Cherry did have a point. If you helped no one would need to know if-"

The turtle rolls her eyes, a gesture that would be completely lost if she didn't also roll her head. "You won't tell on yourself. We don't need divination to know that. You'll need better leverage than that. Sorry."

Gavin snorts. "Thanks for nothing."

He grabs the wrist of his vessel - whiskers twitching - and leads them out together past bushes of plastic leaves and humming humidifiers so Cherry can't gossip without him. Outside produces no answers, but it does have a few waiting chairs. Gavin picks the nearest one and the cushion sneezes out air when he plummets down on it.

With nothing left to do, he pulls the hood over his eyes and slumps into the seat to laugh.

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

Somehow the discomfort of running into Malakai gets one-upped when a paw latches onto Cherry's wrist. Is he eager to get out of the Garden? Yes. Is he mortified to be dragged away by his djinn? Absolutely. What magus lets themself get manhandled like this? The most embarrassing part is when he gives zero protest on the way out, like there would be no point - if he were to dig in his heels, it feels like that would do nothing to slow down Gray anyway. Not without magic. Pulled along like a rag-doll, Cherry doesn't dare turn around to observe Malakai's reaction.

When he finally comes back to his senses outside, it is to hear Gray laughing.

Merde. What a shitshow this trip to HQ has turned into. Cherry sits on the edge of the chair next to Gavin, both glaring and spitting daggers when he speaks, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Gavin isn't looking. Concealed within the hood the djinn isn't meeting the magus' affronted stare, and that so endlessly infuriating. Jaw clenched, he leans further right into the guy's face, "I don't know what impression last night left you with, but "prisoner" or not you're not going to touch me like that again. Not in HQ, not in front of other people."

"... Did you hear me?" Cherry reaches to lift the hood from Gray's eyes.

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

There's something uniquely terrible about feeling this defeated in public. Oh how he yearns for bed.
He waits for his vessel to say something concerning the brightly embarrassing display and Cherry doesn't disappoint. There's some dark satisfaction to be plucked by ignoring him, like there is for being called out for it, so he lets it run its course until the man lifts the sanctity of his hood.

"Yeah, I heard you," Gavin replies with a bitter huff, although there's traces of try-me in the angle of his ears.

"Is that all you're going to say? I'm doomed, and that's all I get? 'Don't touch me in public'?"

He sits back, wallowing, and doesn't receive any more attention. Blame narrowing his eyes he glares at his emotionally barren vessel.
In a moment of low self control and childlike distress, Gavin leans over to poke Cherry's cheek.

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

In the most purposeful disregard, Gavin's claw dimples Cherry's cheek and the magus scowls around the gesture. He should reprimand him again (for all the good that would do - in one ear out the other) or bat the offending paw away. Instead, the magus meets the childish display with one of his own.

His finger pokes directly into Gavin's cat nose, "Oh woe is you! You are doomed. You have been doomed from the start if this is how you react to a single rejection."

Cherry huffs. Talk about self-centered - what is Gray expecting, to get pet and told he's perfect and right and it's all going to be fine, actually? The magus shouldn't have to say any of this, but with what a pitiful sight the matted, anxiety-ridden catman makes for it feels necessary.

"Come on, fancy yourself a hero but get all mopey this easily?" the poke becomes a flick, "We still have options. We- You need this, yeah?"

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

He's been booped. Quite harshly in fact. Anywhere else he's protected from the direct touch of oblivious or rough hands. It's the one place he feels everything.
The flick shocks an abrupt squall out of him. It brings his fur puffing up again too. Too late, Gavin claps a protective hand over his face. Cherry really is just the meanest, cruelest most awful person!

His tongue slips out to nurse the nose, wiping away the traces of the touch. Leaning away from Cherry hopefully seals the message.
"I could kill myself," he suggests, bringing his knees in to curl deeper into the chair that was becoming his home away from home. "That really show 'em."

Stealing a glance at Cherry he adds, "I don't care anymore. Let's just do your rounds and I'll figure something out. And don't make fun of me."

Prodding the scraped pads of his paw he says, "I really was a hero."

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

The magus chooses to count the way the djinn retreats from the offending flick as a win - Cherry 1, Gavin 0 (nothing previous counts towards this score, of course, because he's only going to start keeping track now). The victory thought of 'Get booped, idiot' is unfortunately interrupted when the catman's suggestion earns him an unimpressed look back.

And said look is hopefully more than enough to tell Gavin exactly what Cherry thinks without him having to verbalize it.

"A piece of friendly advice, asking someone not to make fun of you guarantees they will make fun of you," definitively unfriendly guarantee made Cherry rises, fixing up his sleeve for real this time. Gray's tactics for avoiding negative attention are truly bizarre - it's almost like he's asking for it with how much he makes himself stand out. On the other hand, Cherry's always found blending in to be the best method. Not in the sense of becoming unmemorable, but in the sense of acting how others expect you to act, not letting them see any weak spots worth ridicule. Or worth hate.

Messing with his earrings turns into brushing back a stray strand of hair.

"Do my rounds and then we train. You promised," the emphasis on that last word sounds a little pathetic, but, well, Gavin did promise, hero that he is. Or was, according to his own words, "... Why did you do any of it? The heroics, I mean."

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

"I hated everyone," he answers blithely. It's not a very heroic reason. No doubt from experience, Cherry says talking too much is an invitation to be ridiculed and Gavin is already dangerously close to finding a window to jump from. A less fulfilling replacement is dropping his head on an arm he has wrapped around his knees.

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

The reason Gavin gives is not what Cherry expected. And it probably isn't the truth - not the whole truth, anyway - but he hums in ascent regardless, nodding because sometimes it just be like that. Not that Gray sees the gesture, eyes concealed yet again. Cherry keeps watching the djinn, getting just a smidge worried he'll actually start pulling out fur. Even more worried when he doesn't know how to handle this. Comforting a distraught partner or whatever is not in his job description... well, it is, but it's nonsense!

Shit, he just wants to get out of this building already...

In the awkward pause that follows, he tries not to fidget, "... What do you want for lunch?"

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

Gavin's ears shoot up. "Nothing," he says, and lifts his head to see if Cherry cares. "I'll just grab something here so I don't have to beg to be treated with common decency."

He reluctantly uncurls from his safe spot to put his feet on the ground, and then his weight on those feet. He's not leaving for Cherry, he just doesn't want to bump into Malakai.
"I hate you in every conceivable way and I promised we'd train, but I will be as big a pain about it as possible while you rape my soul for the third time."

He walks away. It'll probably be the last time he sees Charlotte, but she pretends not to see him and he doesn't look long enough to see her demeanor rapidly warm once Cherry's in view.

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

---

With no greater rebellion left in the world, Gavin settled for the short but sweet attempt on Cherry's life. Like before it was a little like punching through nothing, but that afternoon he finally felt a little bit of familiar resistance.
A vessel reaching their tipping point, far from bloated but unhappily full. Like he was, most of the time. In a matter of moments Cherry corrected the imbalance with a few girly flourishes of his hands. Gavin couldn't.

The rest of the day passed away in a blur of sleep that was constantly interrupted by car door slamming and horn honking.
So this must be what a human felt like. A really tired, depressed human that had reached rock bottom. Cherry, the villain, dragged him off the car seat like a wet blanket. And by the scuff, of course.
And then, finally, put him against his shoulder. The gentle swaying and fatigue is nostalgic, pulled straight from his childhood. Normally he'd never put thoughts of his dad alongside those of the magi, mostly because it felt disgusting in some indefinable way. Is it disgusting for dad, or the magi? Would he see home again? He'll talk to his sister - that is guaranteed - but maybe that's as close to home as he'll ever be again.

Such is the intensity of his dream thoughts concerning the end of his life, he forgets all about Jessie until she's there. Right there.
Overwhelmingly there like a bad smell or a thunderstorm. At the top of the stairs she sits, a dark silhouette with boxy shoulders and a dome shaped head. She has her gloved hands clasped together, in mimicry of a teacher's moment of disappointed contemplative silence before laying into a pupil. Then, so Cherry knows the building hasn't been invaded by just any ol' burly biker, she flicks up her fanged visor to show a real mouth of teeth.
It's not just her. Most long snouted djinn have trouble smiling in a friendly way. This grin could make a rock cry. But the lick of her chops is less to do with intimidation and more to keep from drooling on herself. The muscles of her face weren't meant to be expressive like a human's.

"Your door's broken," she says helpfully, and reaches for the railing to haul herself up. The wood whines and trembles under her weight.
"You're lucky I was here to make sure no one broke in."

She turns away with a sniff, pushing the door open to help herself inside. If there ever was a time to run, it was then. It wouldn't have made much difference, but it was still an option.

The hyena glides back into the doorway, no longer smiling.
"It's too damn late to be scared," she informs, resting her forearms against the doorway to lean out into the hallway. Her boots scuff the landing. The leather of her jacket creaks.

Her dark eyes blink softly. "Get your cute lil' asses in here before I get impatient."

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

Oh, this is exactly what he needed - to be leered at by the djinn that broke into his apartment now re-breaking into it, at the end of a long, fruitless work day that has gotten him closer to nothing save passing the fuck out. From exhaustion or, now, from shock.

The hyena grins, and in lieu of taking an instinctive step back Cherry's hold on Gavin tightens.

He seriously contemplates bolting right then and there back down the stairs into the safety of Belden Place, but when she warns of impatience he's willing to bet being in public would do little to deter the hyena's pursuit. His nerves spike the same way the overflowing magic still within him roils, and it's the sole comfort the magus possesses as he slowly climbs the stairs to his thoroughly invaded private space. Maintaining eye contact with Sterling's lackey the entire way doesn't feel like a battle of wills. It feels like observing a predator at all times to make sure they don't strike in the split second it takes to blink.

How many scary, temperamental djinn are too many for a single day? If Cherry never saw another one for the rest of his life, he'd die happy.

"Returning to the scene of your robbery so soon?" it's a bold move for her to be back. An unhinged, psycho move.

He covers yet another step on his way to the landing, then stops - the instinct to bolt is still there, evident in the way Cherry continues to squeeze Gavin draped over his shoulder, yet the thought he shouldn't cower is stronger. The pathetic display of running away shouldn't repeat itself. After all, he has magic now.

And enough wits to bluff, "SOS are yet to be informed of anything that's happened. Storage facility details included. I don't know what the fuck you think you're doing here, but if you want things to remain hush-hush, I suggest you get your "cute" ass out of here."

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

Cherry squeezes Gavin so close he never had a chance to run even if he wanted to.
Transforming doesn't even occur to him. He stays plastered to Cherry's tapdancing heart.

"Oo, I get tingly when a guy takes control like that. Call me cute again."
Jessie is unbuckling her helmet like she's eager to get to it after coming home from a long day. Whatever 'it' is has Gavin needling Cherry's shoulder, even when the hyena is only passively exploring the living room.
"Have you noticed nobody owns anything real any more," she says, flicking through the things to be perused in the entertainment center. "That's what I thought last night. I thought, 'this guy has nothing to throw around', aside from a TV and a computer or whatever. No books, no movies. Erm, CDs, I guess. But they're clearly well loved. There is nothing cheap and worthless like a bargain bin movie disk case."

She rests an enormous arm along the top of the screen. "If you only wanted to take the movie out for a spin you could rent it. Rest in peace Blockbuster. But now? Do they even manufacture physical movies anymore? Now TVs holds all the movies. And thousands of them. So no one ever has to hold a physical movie to use it ever again. Good thing movies don't have feelings."

She unzips her jacket, fanning herself with the lapels like an elephant does with it's ears. She's barefur under there, a mound of stiff muscle rounding out her chest that might've passed as a lady's bosom in the right lighting. Somewhere under the terror Gavin notices the carefully doted on fur, shaved to further emphasize what's there. The tuff filling out her chest is almost cute, reminiscent of a cartoon character.
Only there's another one jutting out underneath the dip of her belly button, spiked around the belt of her chaps. It's much less family friendly.

"Sorry. Sitting around forever makes me crazy meditative. The warehouse was full of poachers, and they deserved every bit of what they got and that's saying something. And what I stole belonged to my associate in the first place. Speaking of which..."

She digs into her jacket pocket and it's going to be a gun. It's going to be a gun and he's dead. He's just dead.

It's a little glass marble. A petal.

"Where'd you get that?" Gavin asks.

"Well, I didn't steal it," she says pointedly, "A cow just gave it away in turn for being stabled up in Sterling's cozy barn."

"No, she didn't."

Jessie points at him, viciously satisfied, "I didn't say 'she'! You know exactly who I'm talking about, and why she did it. At the end of the day djinn and people have two things in common and that's that they want to be taken care of, like babies. They need it, usually from each other, and more the older and weaker they get. It's how they get it that makes all the difference between power and being a limped dick communist."

Gavin blames the fatigue for how he slumps hopelessly into Cherry's grasp. Jessie, searching for something new to poke at, finds the DIY rune cuffs on the counter. She puts the petal down to pick one up, like it doesn't even matter. Effortlessly, she curls them closed, then open again but stops there when the metal begins to tear under the strain.

"We'd like to make a deal, actually. With both of you."

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

Gavin's stress-acupuncture only has Cherry tensing further and further as the hyena moves around the space like she owns it, grubby hands touching up whatever she wants on the course of her nonsense rant. She doesn't simply ignore his threat; she mocks it with the way she speaks. Cherry really should fucking call SOS. He really really should.

"They deserved it?" he spits out in disgust, half-afraid still and now half-angry. You have to be sick in the head to make that statement - no one deserves the kind of fate that befell those poachers, no one.

No matter how despicable a person might be.

"Did I stutter?" he reasserts, trying to make himself sound as firm as the situation will allow.

And trying to not let the glass petal draw his attention too evidently. It's difficult to accomplish - the object is a bright glimmer of interest in his peripheral vision, actual proof of what Gavin has been claiming. However Cherry stopped making deals with the likes of this djinn or Sterling years ago, and he's not going to slip back into that bad habit again.

When he lightly shakes the limp scarf that Gavin has become, he is looking to get backed up, "Leave."

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

"Make me," Jessie dares. She tosses the cuffs and another coincidentally timed lip lick makes her look absolutely deranged.
"No, no. I play too much."

Being jostled back into this terrible moment rattles a squeak out of Gavin. "How do we know we can trust you?"
Which is apparently a disappointing answer to Cherry who was actually looking for support for his suicide plan or whatever.

"Does it matter? What options you got left? Sterling understands why you ran away and he wants you back - probably to be used over and over again, but let's be honest there are worse vessels. In return he sets you up on a mountain somewhere, kept secret and safe, where he'll make it a priority no one ever bothers you again except him. Sounds fucking lonely to me, but different strokes, right?"

A brief moment of skepticism replaces the terror on his face. He squints at her.
"More likely he builds up a bunch of crystals and has me killed."

The hyena's face goes flat. For one eery moment it's a dog's head on a human man's body.
"You watch a lot of movies. Kill his golden goose? Never. And you, big red, anything SOS does Sterling does better. Lemme just see what we're working with - oh wow."

It catches her off guard just stepping that little bit into Cherry's space. Jessie's dark eyes dilate. Her fur pricks.
"Oh wow."

"Jessie," Gavin warns.

Something sparks in her eyes, seen and then gone in a puff. Her teeth disappear behind a relaxed smile. Her hands tighten and release, finding a job in adjusting her belt. With a soft sound she hikes up her pants a little.
"Lost my train of thought..."

She looks at Cherry. Her mouth is dry.
Scratching at the thicker fur beneath an ear she finds what she wants to say, "You've done business with Sterling, haven't you? Where's all this hostility coming from? Didn't he treat you..." She gives him another leer, swallowing. "Nice?"

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

Gavin starting what sounds suspiciously like a negotiation with their home invader earns him a narrowed glance of pure, unconcealed judgement from Cherry. He doesn't care about how the djinn's cat ear twitches in irritation being whispered directly into, "I can't believe you right now. Hero my ass."

Not that he ever actually believed in the whole hero talk - not really - but this sure is the worst moment for Gray to lose his typical rebellious backbone. What happened to talking back like there's no tomorrow? What happened to rattling the bars of his cage any chance there is? Apparently the only downside to being imprisoned at a woodland retreat is getting killed.

Is it hypocritical of Cherry to be thinking all this when the hyena's step forward makes him immediately back up? Yeah. Definitely yeah. But he isn't thinking about appearances when the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as she gets closer, still leering, somehow even worse than before. The depraved look in her eye makes him feel like hamburger meat.

Meat thrown right into the sizzling oil of a pan. His denial is instinctual, "Dunno what you're talking about."

She knows him.

How the hell does she know him? When Gavin first mentioned Sterling there was the worry that perhaps he remembers, but his lackey? With some difficulty Cherry gives her unnerving face another look over, racking his memories only to come up with no matches for it, or her name. Jessie... It's been years now, about a decade. Different time, different name even, and it wasn't like his teenage self was sent to deal with the then arms trader all alone. If anything he was sent as a precaution owning some... reputation - security detail, not even serving as the main face of negotiations. It's disturbing to think Jessie recognizes him.

The sole reason Cherry doesn't fidget with his earrings is because he's still holding onto Gavin.

"I've not done business with Sterling," it's not a lie if he omits the 'alone' part, right? "And definitely not of the djinn hire variety, if that's what you mean by him doing SOS one better."

He frowns before a scoff can slip out. It's infuriating to hear her say this kind of nonsense. The magus feels some kind of obligation to argue back, but the cat's presence is a constant weight reminding him his main priority all of a sudden is getting Jessie to shut up, before she says something he'd much rather she didn't, "You must be mistaking me for someone else. Now, are you done selling your deal? Because the least you can do is give us time to consider it."

Please just fucking leave already.

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

With a final rakish glance, the hyena shakes the built up magic tension via a rattle of her head. It makes the piercings in her ear chime and rattle. If there's anything he can relate to it's that; Cherry is overwhelming. His potential as a vessel isn't matched by many.

I'd remember you anywhere, her eyes seem to say.
But with a purposeful lick across damp lips, she lets the matter lie.

"You're right. About the deal at least," she agrees with a begrudging huff. Again, she obliviously tortures them by digging for something and coming back with only a phone. It's covered in one of those faux furry cases, an atrocious pink one gone a bit greyish with wear and tear. A keychain of Kirby with 'x's over the cartoon eyes hangs off a corner.

"I'll get your number. To keep a hold of you."

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

A woman taking the initiative asking for your phone number is one of the biggest compliments one can receive on the modern dating scene. It always gives Cherry a huge ego boost when it happens, whether he means to follow through on it or not. This might be the first time it makes him feel threatened instead. Clutched in Jessie's oversized mitts, somehow a fuzzy pink phone seem foreboding.

Idly he wonders if this is how chicks feel when a guy refuses to take no for an answer.

Swallowing down his newly-found perspective for the female experience, he answers, "You can have Gavin's."

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

"Mine's dead," Gavin helpfully supplies. Hero my ass, Cherry had said.
"It actually is."

Jessie tilts her head back, letting the bulk of her shoulders fall into gentle slopes of passive aggressiveness. She pinches little Kirby between her fingers.
"Then I'll be back in two days for both of your answers. Take the time to think."

She massages the lasting soreness from an ear before slipping her head back into the confining helmet. The hyena doesn't become just a roided out biker as soon as her furry head is encapsulated. It seems completely obvious what she is, in a way Gavin can't comprehend she could be seen as anything else.
People must scream when they see her.

"I'll show myself out." She stomps passed them, Cherry eagerly stepping out of her way. The djinn-shake looks a little cumbersome with the helmet, and a whole lot less recognizable as what it is. It looks more like she rocks her head in disbelief. If she'd mocked them under her breath it would've fit perfectly. The door shuts, as much as it's able to, and as casually as she arrived to drive a metaphorical axe head into Gavin's life, she's gone.

Gray sloughs out of Cherry's hands, aware he's shamefully wearing the Mohawk of fear most cats get from seeing a plastic bag. You think you're bone tired and then you have a Cujo help herself to where you sleep.
He transforms, wearily pushing himself up onto two legs so he can take his pack from Cherry, and his phone from his pack.
He can't be sure of the time difference, but maybe he'll be able to catch her before she goes to bed. Or before she has dinner. (Again, he's not sure).

He sets the plugged phone down so he can shake out tension. All he feels are the stupid matts hitting him in the shoulders. He gets a hold of one and starts worrying at it with claws, like if he can do this one thing everything might be okay.

Hero my ass. That's what he'd said.

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

The suffocating heaviness of Jessie's presence doesn't quite leave with her. Cherry stands there staring long after, unmoving as Gavin slinks out of his arms. A beat passes, then two, then finally with his hands free he runs fingers through strands of red so vigorously like he's going to rip them out. Or set them on fire from the friction.

"Bon. Très bon. Merveilleux, even! Love having to skip town 'cause of some psycho djinn bitch."

'Psycho djinn bitch' doesn't even begin to cover half his feelings towards the hyena, yet any time Cherry attempts to say more he finds himself lacking the necessary creativity to describe the ick Jessie has left him with. So, uselessly, he scratches the itch on his tongue calling her a bitch couple more times, pacing around the living room burning a hole in the sole of his boots.

Before he sharply turns towards Gavin, "Thanks for the backup by the way, partner!"

Were he less pissed (and scared), he might catch the southern twang sneaking its way into his speech unbidden. As things stand, the magus merely cringes then trudges on, "You're the reason she broke in, now you're the reason she's gonna be returning. So much for your stupid threats. Seems we're going nowhere together anyway!"

"I'm going to pack," he throws out, heading for the bedroom - what feels like the last safe haven in what is supposed to be his home. If only Jessie and Gavin hadn't forced themselves in there as well, "Don't come in!"

The door rattles as it's slammed shut.

The lights don't come on. In the solitary darkness, Cherry buries his face in his hands. A yell of aggravation comes straight from his diaphragm, ripped out of his throat only to get muffled in the soft flesh of awaiting palms. He would have screamed into a pillow if he had had the patience to move two steps and grab one. It's a long scream, emptying his lungs and then some. Though it does little to empty the fear-ridden energy setting his nerves on edge. In one word, the magus packs neurotically. Throwing open drawers and his closet, he starts tossing things inside a duffel bag, caring less about what he's grabbing and more that he's grabbing anything at all. The essentials make it inside, mostly, or at least close enough to the bag he'll put them away later. He only slows down once he gets to the CDs.

It's just his luck the one he picks out at random happens to be Sade. Promise, the text on it reads and the way Sade's grainy photo gazes out from the album cover, conspiratorial eyes bathe in blue, he can already hear the sound of The Sweetest Taboo. Did Jessie pick this one out too when she was riffling through his collection? If he looked close enough, would he be able to spot new claw marks on the old, well-loved case? The thought makes him shudder.

She knows him...

Cherry nearly yeets the CD across the room when he hears sudden tapping.

His mind conjures up images of Jessie, coming back after changing her mind, already having disposed off or captured Gavin, and now knocking on the bedroom door because, as has been established, she's a psycho djinn bitch that likes playing with her food like the most murderous toddler in existence. It's only after the tapping comes again, much more insistent, that the magus at last realizes it's coming from the balcony door. Though what he sees beyond its glass isn't much better than a leering hyena.

How many crows have bright red eyes?

Better yet, how many crows carry around an antique nail file as if it's a satchel, like some sort of fairy tale creature.

He stares at her in paralyzed panic. She stares at him in as much distaste as a bird face will allow. He stares, she stares, and when she's had enough of this useless stalemate she goes, "Caw!"

It sounds exactly like a very commanding 'Come!' And so the magus does, Sade clutched in his grasp. For "protection". The cool night air as he steps outside would honestly be quite soothing, if only he weren't meeting her. It's been close to a year since Cherry last saw Samuel and Crow in person, and of-fucking-course she'd choose today of all 365 days at her disposal to make a surprise visit.

Eyebrows going from shocked to furrowed, he whisper-shouts, "Why are you here?"

When she scoffs it's a horrible mix of a person's scoff and some guttural, raspy bird noise. Where someone like Gavin chipmunks in his disguise, Crow's voice box is much more adaptable - actual crows can mimic human speech spot on. She simply refuses to, "I wouldn't be here if you'd pick up the phone."

The loading wheel inside Cherry's head takes an embarrassingly long time to register her words. It's even more embarrassing when they finally do register. Fuck... The fucking text. He never got a reply and he never checked for one either because he was too busy getting knocked out, gallivanting around with a wannabe vigilante, and "negotiating" with a crazy chick single-handedly bumping up the measly 5% that women account for of all sexual offenses. Somehow the text he himself sent slipped his mind completely. Until now. In lieu of checking his phone for the myriad of missed calls, the magus cringes. Then looks around in confusion, looking for something. Or someone.

"Sam sent me ahead," Crow clarifies, intonation making it painfully clear she doesn't want to be here in the first place. And certainly didn't want to leave Samuel behind.

"He can't stay here," not in an apartment with a broken front door that's on the radar of a dangerous, renegade djinn.

"Caw!" Cherry's pretty sure that's meant to be a laugh this time. A very mocking one, "Like I'd let him. No, I intend to be done with you by the time Sam arrives so we can go home immediately. Whether he complains or not... So, spit it out already. What is this whole "I might be onto something" nonsense?"

He swallows down the inferred judgement of his home - and of himself - as well as Crow's reluctance to so much as let Samuel near. It's nothing new from her. He holds onto Sade just a smidge tighter as he speaks, "Pretty sure I texted you that part as well. Got a new partner. The magic we have, it's interesting. Hemomancy. It hasn't even been a week yet, I don't know the limitations fully, but there's potential. Overwhelmingly so. I can control my blood and with more practice I could maybe control that of others. I mean - the number of applications - they could be so versatile!"

Crow doesn't utter a peep during the explanation, coldly listening perched atop one of the balcony chairs. Yet Cherry can see the unmistakable spark of curiosity concealed beneath her apathy, matching the magus' own interest. She always gets like this when the topic of magic is brought up. Then the curiosity sparks into something else entirely at his next words.

"I think it could even heal people."

The crow's feathers poof up. Only slightly, just for a second, before she has them back under control, though all of a sudden there's palpable eagerness in her voice, "Then I expect you're developing it?"

"I- yes, I am doing the best I can."

"Best you can is not good enough if it doesn't work."

"It's been less than a week. You are the one that likes to say magic is not a miracle, it takes time and effort. I'll remind you, you kept beating that into my head. Literally."

"Except we don't have the luxury of time."

Her words are a horrible reminder, as if her presence is not enough. Cherry raises one of his hands from the CD to mess with his earrings, pressing into their hard texture, "Well, it's not that easy when instead of actually training your partner acts like a hormonal teenager surging his magic just to be a petty boodoo. He is the epitome of tête de cabri."

"Meaning he doesn't let you get away with whatever?"

The magus' eyes widen. Crow can't exactly smile in her disguise, beak and all, but the way her horrid little red eyes twinkle tell Cherry everything he needs to know - not only is she amused, she is very much approving. Of Gavin. Which reveals something altogether worse.

"... How long have you been watching?"

"Long enough, kid."

Bon... Bon. Bon. Très bon. He hates bird djinn. Out of all the different kinds, they are the worst - small, maneuverable, eavesdropping little fuckers that can basically fit into any environment. Are there any better covert agents among the djinn? Some might argue a rat would make a superb spy, except a rat loses some points against the ability to fly. Either way, he hates bird djinn. This one specifically.

"... Would you rather I force him, then? Cage him, threaten him? ... Do you want me to brand him? There are easy methods, we both know this. I am trying my best to be civilized."

"Civilized?"

There's a shift in the air. An unpleasant one that makes both magus and djinn glower with the tension palpable between them. It's far from the first time they've been at each other's throat, and it definitely won't be the last. Yet it might just be the first time in a long long while Cherry has allowed himself to say something so brazen, to her. Perhaps distance has made him grow a smidge bolder, something she seems intent to rectify, "So that is your excuse... Did I teach you nothing, boy?"

'Kid' is for when she doesn't care. 'Boy' is for when she's fucking mad.

Cherry does his best to maintain his position, yet that becomes increasingly difficult when Crow hops onto the balcony table. Then flies up. Struggle as he might, he can't help but flinch when she lands on his head, "What are you? A second-rate hedge mage or a magus?"

"I-" his mouth clacks shut when talons dig into his scalp.

"You allowed yourself to be caught off-guard. You allowed a surge to go through when you could have shut it off. A failure like that is not only an insult to you, it's an insult to me and all the time I wasted on you. You're already so filled with arcana... I'm going to kill you. If you don't shut me off, you will die."

For a form so small, the weight of her magic is overwhelming. Erratic. Violent. How long has it been since she's drained any of it? She hasn't even released it yet and Cherry can taste it; it bring back memories - long day and nights spent training him to the bone until his tongue was numb with power. He catches one last errant glimpse of Sade - still smiling conspiratorially on the CD cover - before shutting his eyes as tightly as he can. Magic is a two-way street, Magic is a two-way street, he repeats in his head over and over again, as if believing it will turn theory to fact.

This is how he dies.

...

He waits what feels like an eternity for the killing blow to land. Part of him is suspicious she's merely waiting, in the ultimate act of cruelty, for him to relax even a fraction, but... nothing ever happens. Cautiously he crack open one eye, and of course that's when the crows strikes - the way she harshly pecks him earns her an audible and very indignant, "Ow!"

The djinn flies off, perching on the balcony railing, "As much as I hate to say it, if anyone has a chance of doing this, it's you, kid. SOS sure as hell ain't going to come through... But there's little time left. And you made a promise. Make sure you keep it, in whatever way you can"

The gravity in her voice gives Cherry pause in the middle of nursing his newly-hurt head. He meets Crow's eyes once more, the seriousness in them matched with his own, and when he nods he does so with solemnity. She doesn't reply. She says no goodbye as she takes off for good.

Cherry's fear is far from gone. It's likely going to linger for quite a lot longer, yet when he reenters the bedroom and strides past the mess that is his escape duffel bag he does so with newfound determination. Less than 15 minutes after the magus left the living room in a huff, this is the energy he reenters it with, bee-lining it for the cat combs Jen left. And when he duel-wields a pair of them, he holds them more like knives instead of the peace offering they're meant to be.

"Gavin, can you make two more pairs of those quick-and-dirty rune cuffs? I think we'll need them."

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

"Oohh," Gavin laughs and wheezes through clenched teeth at the enduring audacity of this man. Unfortunately, the magus hides himself in his comfy bedroom before the djinn can come up with anything more clever to hurl than 'stupid face'.

In some instances heroes can't exist. Does he believe that or is he horrifically ashamed being noosed and threaded into a life he hates? Standing up against Jessie would be... an experience, to put it lightly. And she's not the only power on Sterling's roster.

The phone boots up like an old man, blinking wearily to life on a 2% charge.
If life wasn't precarious enough, home has nine texts and three missed calls. The usual doomsday scenarios make their rounds in his head while he waits to be picked up. Did the house burn down? Did Dad get hurt?

And then, an optimistic crumb in the hot soup of despair: Is Mom mom again?

"Gavin?" Aggie says, sounding hurried and breathless, but not in a I'm-hunting-djinn sorta way. There's an endless blurbing of human chatter hidden in the ambiance of the call. So much more than there'd ever be in McCall, even during a sports game.

"Hi," he says, worrying at his fur.

"Hi," she parrots.

Pacing he says, "How are you?"

"Good, how are you?"

"Good," Gavin answers. So, things are okay?

The charger catches him like a leash and restricts his pacing to a two foot radius. If he were truly a wild thing he would've heard his partner talking in the other room. A cat would've known a bird's caw like a mouse knows cheese. A human couldn't have heard, but maybe they'd be crafty enough to be curious.
He is neither. Or both, and has no excuse. It's not like Aggie consumes his existence.

In fact, his phone vibrates in his hand with a notification. Pulling it away to squint at the screen, he never had a chance of noticing anything beyond his two foot radius.
An emailed receipt from SOS confirming the withdrawal of $450.99.

"Where are you right now?" He turns to face the wall, eyes roving over the DVDs Jessie molested. Nothing's real anymore.

"The airport," Aggie supplies, and ah, that's why she sounds like that.
"I'm coming to see you."

"I'm in San Fran," he puts it plainly. "It's the giant city with the pretty bridge and it's full of people. Like, thousands."

"I know," she says, almost with real ache.

"Do they even have an airport near McCall?"
"Not really. But I'm coming."

Amused in a nasty way he says, "And then what? I can't go home."

Unexpectedly, a pang of hurt gets him where it stings the most. He can't go home, even when he never planned on going back the reality that he definitely can't doesn't sit right suddenly.
He's never going home. Huh.

With bitter sincerity she says, "Doesn't matter. You need me and I'm gonna be there."

Okay, so that also touches him, in a softer, ten times more devastating way. But also, "Whaddya mean?"

And with a few false starts, less to do with the subject and far more likely due to navigating an airport, Aggie reiterates everything Gavin told her in a low arcane haze.
And, wow, he's a blabber most of the time, but he spilled the beans. No, he straight blew up the bean factory, spilling every collection of legume in the country.

"Did you tell dad?" He asks.
"Yeah."
"Is he coming?"
"He wanted to, but money's tight so..."

Explains why he's missing a plane ticket's worth of money. Why Aggie, with social anxiety and complete ignorance on traveling is coming instead of a veteran monster slayer makes less sense. From a logical standpoint. From a garbage dad standpoint it checks out.
"Did you set up an Uber to get you when you land?"

"What's an Uber?"

After an obligatory facepalm, a lot of talking and planning and explaining what an Uber is, he is still talking to his sister. It isn't like it used to be. It isn't even what it has been. All they ever had was the old days between them. The 'remember-when's.
It isn't a long phone call, but for the first time in years it takes place in the present.

When they say goodbye it's almost without guilt.

Such is the pleasantness of this surprise it dulls the horror of Cherry barging through the room to arm himself with the mean looking fanged combs.
"...I think so. As long as you don't mind your terrace being mauled."

But if this man thinks he's going to be a jerk the entire time and make up for it with a groom he doesn't deserve he has another thing coming.

---

An absurdly shocking amount of magi don't know how to brush fur. Which, considering Cherry's elaborate hair, is ridiculous.
Gray isn't dramatic for getting a perverse power dynamic vibe out of it either. Gavin's sat between the magus' legs, on the floor while Cherry sits on the couch. This specific ritual is always weird, always forced. But it's not as bad with the expectation of sharing arcane gone. It does feel pandering without it though, like Cherry's doing it to get his djinn to shut up.
At least Gavin has something to do with his hands and Cherry has something to do with his mouth.

"Just so we're clear, you want person sized cuffs?" He says, circling his own wrist and then picking up the mangled cuffs from earlier to compare. What has Jessie thought seeing human measured cuffs in this apartment? Had she been impressed, or just confused?

"Who for?"

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

"Yeah, one person sized. And one djinn-sized."

Cherry glides a cat comb down Gavin's nape, sectioning off yet another portion of fur. That's the first thing he did after begrudgingly realizing a simple brush would not be possible, considering the sorry state of the djinn's mane. He had hopes this would be a fast deal, just some bullshit gesture to pacify Gavin, but... Merde, how could Gray allow it to get like this? Cherry frowns as he reaches for another one of the brushes - with a wide-head and a bunch of short, tightly-packed bristles; he has no idea what it's called.

"We need to kidnap Sterling," he announced. Then quickly correct, "Capture."

That feels more ethically acceptable, right?

"I know you want to find another magus to produce the crystal flowers or whatever, but that could take months, years even. The other option, of developing our magic into doing that, well... we don't know if it's possible in the first place. And it could take a long-ass time too," which we don't have the luxury of. The brush makes a crunchy sound passing through hair, creating a smooth backdrop as Cherry brings his points home, "Fastest and easiest solution? Secure the tried-and-true source - Sterling. I mean, don't you want to put a djinn broker behind bars? Plus, I bet the research division would be very interested in seeing this arcane battery you two can create. SOS might drop any charges against your vigilantism, give you a clean slate; might recognize you as a proper hero. Hell, they might even set you up on a mountain somewhere if you wanted."

The brush snags on a knot, pulling down sharply.

Cherry hears Gavin hiss at the sudden pain. Planting his free palm on the djinn's head, he attempts to pull again only to get the same result and come to a horrible, terrifying discovery. Retreating both his hands back, he observes as the brush hangs suspended behind Gray's ear all on its own, helplessly fused into a large tangle like some poor creature restrained by a hairy Kraken.

"Jesus Christ, Gray! How did it get so bad?!" the magus slaps his thighs in bewilderment, "And don't dare blame it on me because I've had you for less than 3 days."

Grumbling, the man takes a moment to glare at the rat's nest like it's offended him personally. Or like it's a challenge, "... I'm giving this one last try and then I'm shaving it off."

His tone brokers no argument.

Even as he goes to get the dry hair-conditioner. His dry hair-conditioner. When Cherry repositions himself behind Gavin again, the retrieval of the brush is only the first step of a lengthy process - spraying conditioner, then de-tangling fur bit by bit with his fingers. Slowly and meticulously, as the djinn's cat ear keeps trying to bat his hand away on instinct.

"When Jessie comes back in two days, we're not going to agree on the spot," Cherry continues, leaning forward when he feels the need to see what his hands are doing better, "We're going to say we want to meet Sterling face-to-face to finalize a deal, set specific terms. That's gonna be your chance to use the cuffs."

"Except it feels like getting to him will involve getting through his attack dog first. So... I take her out. Just need a window of time to put the other cuffs on her. And, well, getting close doesn't sound like too big of a hurdle - she sure seems "interested"," somehow the magus manages to say that last bit with both an equal measure of ego and fear. The sentence ends determined discomfort.

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

One person sized and one djinn sized.
For centuries a person and a djinn have been an iconic pair, but Cherry's request has an accidental mrrp? beep out of him.

It quickly becomes a burp of shock and nausea. A sensation poorly accompanied by the skull ache of having his fur torn out repeatedly by a genius using a slicker brush instead of a dematter.
How is he this bad? Should Gavin tell him just to stop? There are moments where the needles of the brush actually reach far enough to itch him right where he needs it and the harshness becomes tantalizingly, eye rolling enjoyment.
Moving his head to keep it there must be taken as a silent request to comb somewhere else because it infuriatingly never lasts. It only happens enough for Gavin to gage this whole thing still worth it.

"Our last arcane transfusion must've boiled your brain because that is the stupidest plan we've had yet."

The brush snags hard. Gavin's head snaps back to lie on the couch so he can wince up at Cherry's face. Not for the first time, a brush is stuck in his fur. And not for the last time, a threat to shave him is made. The djinn clenches his hands shut, poking himself with anxious claws.
If Sterling takes him back he'll never have to deal with this again. No, Gavin wouldn't be a hairless cat, he'd be decadently seen to, pampered and preened by the passionless, sterile hands of hired professionals. Or at least that was the arrangement before Gray stole from him.

And Cherry? A lavish position as a lackey, which isn't a big promotion from SOS lackey all things considered. It's no wonder Cherry is whipping out this idea when the temptation is so meh.
The magus flourishes the idea with suggesting using Jessie's psychopathic interests as bait, like that in anyway increase Gavin's optimism.

"Okay, I see. Interesting plan," he begins in a scholarly way, which isn't easy. Cherry has stepped up his game from yanking and is instead tearing balls of fur apart. It's agony, and if they were sharing magic Gavin would be locked up tighter than Fort Knox. He keeps telling himself it's better than having bald patches shaved into his pelt.
"Have you considered that we'll die?"

"Sterling has bought djinn loyalty with the most rare thing in the world, something they can't resist," he intones, waving his hand dramatically through the air to really sell the gravity of the situation.
"A sorta nice guy who appreciates them, or at least let's them stay in his house. The human men he lends djinn out to probably won't be the big issue, even though Sterling has them hooked on magic. No, it's the hissy fits of the dozen djinn he has in the basement eating cotton candy that'll be the scary bit and he..." Gavin sighs.

"He mostly has girl djinn. Maybe I could fight one, I dunno. I haven't hunted- or fought djinn in...a long time."

 

[dreaming enthusiast]

Have you considered that we'll die?

Cherry grimaces, spraying some more conditioner then continuing working away at the stubborn matting, solid fur actually starting to look like separate strands slowly but surely. Yeah, of course he considered that. He is still considering it, in vivid, gory detail - like watching Saw 3D on the big screen.

Doesn't mean he's happy Gavin brought it up. Or that Gavin doesn't have a point... He tsks.

"Criticize all you want. Do you have a better plan? Because it doesn't sound like it."

"I mean, what if-" the magus gnaws on his lip. Horribly, he doesn't even have to think long before arriving at the worst possible destination - bright red eyes and black feathers. Oh... this is stupid. It's really really stupid and, boy, would she be unhappy about it... "What if I could guarantee us a get-away? Of the aerial variety?"

As if he needs to illustrate to bring his point across, Cherry extends an arm above Gavin's head, moving it around like it's a bird. A plane. Superman...

"We'd have to get ourselves and Sterling somewhere outside, preferably somewhere high, and then you'd have to turn into a cat as soon as I give the signal. You know, some kind of code word. Like... fonchock," Cherry grins to himself.

The self-satisfied expression remains on his face even as, beneath his self-assured voice - somewhere deep at his core - he fully realizes none of this really make the plan any less suicidal. They should absolutely not do this. But what other choice is there? Not only does he not have the luxury of time. It also feels like they don't have the luxury of simply saying 'no' to Jessie...

"Hopefully we can be covert and fast about it, but... I'm going to need blood bags in any case. For distraught djinn girlfriends getting in the way. With whom apparently you can help," Cherry leans even further forward, to crane his neck besides Gavin's head and see the guy's face, "Hunt's a choice word there, Gray. When have you hunted djinn?"