The first few weeks of Edwin's departure had been difficult; it wasn't like they had any particular culmination of their relationship, nor any promise of a future opportunity, so the Cat King had to settle with the idea that his little tryst with Edwin Payne might very well be dead in the ground. He thought it would get easier, and for a time it felt like it had, but then the Cat saw a certain shade of green in the water surrounding the docklands of his warehouse and the whole thing came crashing back with the staggering memory of Edwin's eyes. He missed him. Missed his derision, his seriousness, the rigidity with which he held himself... The way he'd gasp in surprise at a stray hand to his lapel, a dirty joke. That small smile on their last meeting. The tease of kiss against his jaw.

Frustrated with himself and his hopeless attraction, the Cat decided to do what any well-adjusted cat with an unbridled amount of power would do in his situation. He stalked Edwin. Just with cats, nothing too crazy! To check up on him, more than anything! He'd hoped to find something in watching him that at least soothed the ache. He hadn't expected to find Edwin.... pining? No, that wasn't the right word. But Edwin definitely looks like he's missing something, like a certain change in his life has changed a little too much to be comfortable, and he's still trying to find how he fits into it all.

The Cat King is well aware that his arrival could make everything worse for Edwin... but there's also the chance that it could improve things for the both of them, and even that small chance makes this all seem worth it.

So, when Edwin arrives, the Cat King greets him with an honest smile. He'd been sprawled across the chair with his legs over the corner of the table, looking the epitome of the King he is in a dark, short-hair fur coat embellished with shining metal fastenings. When he stands, he reveals a silk shirt with a low neckline, and neatly pressed black slacks. He looks like he's dressed up for a date. Or a funeral.

"Aw, I missed you too." He says as he comes close, reaching out a hand to smooth down Edwin's lapel, appraising him by way of greeting, unable to disguise the little flicker of happiness in those amber eyes of his at seeing Edwin face to face again. "I thought I'd take a little holiday, I hear London is nice this time of year. Plenty of nice things to look at."

He grins, sure that even Edwin's inability to understand innuendo will parse the deeper meaning in what he says.

He makes an amused face at Edwin's assessment of London because, well, he's definitely not wrong about that. In the week or two he's been following Edwin he's seen more rain and wind than he feels is possible for a land locked city. Definitely enough for one lifetime, and this coming from an almost immortal cat who lives in a coastal town. He has a flirtatious comment lined up about how London can't be all bad because Edwin is there, or something equally schmoozy, but his plotting is cut short by the reminder of his ill-fated bracelet.

"Poach? I'm here for pleasure, not business." He presses his fingers in to the fabric of Edwin's coat, just a little, the way a cat might test their claws against the arm of a couch before staking their claim to it. "Though, if you decide to set up a Detective Agency in Port Townsend, I hope I'd be the first to know."

He's trying his best not to burn with jealousy at the idea of any other Cat King taking a liking to Edwin enough to bind him here, but he won't mention it. Not yet, at least. It's relatively unlikely, anyway. That the London King would take notice, not that he wouldn't take a liking to Edwin, because, well, look at him. Like catnip in ghost form.

"Anyway. I'm not here to talk about that," the Cat announces, turning away from Edwin now, relinquishing that soft press of contact before he gets too used to it, and before Edwin decides he's had enough. He comes to a stop at the desk again, knocking a glass jar of something black and oozy out gently out of the way with his hip so he can perch on the flat edge. He slides his eyes through the room, finally glancing back at the door Edwin just materialised through. "Where are the rest of your Scooby gang? Given them the day off?"

He raises his hands, surrendering to Edwin's fussing without any complaint. The fact that Edwin is concerned for him goes entirely over his head - assuming instead that Edwin is more worried about his little trinket (presumably the payment from a recent case?) than anything else. He's half tempted to throw in a barb about making sure Charles tidies up after himself, but that kind of teasing just isn't fun when Charles isn't in earshot.. and it only pisses Edwin off, which is definitely not the plan for this afternoon's excursion.

The cat tilts his head ever so slightly, looking visibly pleased to hear Edwin's companions are not to be expected back any time soon. He drums his nails on the desk just once, as if he's having to think about something, when really his mind has been made up about his plan for weeks at this point. But there's a difference between making a plan and actually going through with it. More often than not he avoids making plans entirely - acting instead on impulse and sheer hedonistic drive - but this is different. This is Edwin. And Edwin just so happens to have the ability to make his heart feel a little too big for his chest in a way that noone has for a great many years, coupled with the power to deny his advances (again) and bring his world crashing down (again). This deserves a little forethought, a little care.

Ultimately, the sight of Edwin looking away is enough for the Cat to want to bodily drag his attention back, which in turn gives him the perfect opportunity for his in. He doesn't quite pick up on the tension in Edwin, the pain in him as he thinks of a friend lost much too soon, but he remembers the way Edwin has navigated his own solitude walking alone through the streets of London, and the confession he'd made in their goodbye in Port Townsend rings loud in his ears; that he, like the Cat King, is lonely.

"So you've got an open evening. Great." The Cat sweeps a hand to one side, purple flames flashing in the relative low light of the office and illuminating his face for the brief moment they engulf his hand. When they leave, a sprig of three budding red orchids lay in his hand. "I've been thinking about you. Incessantly. What you said, the way I acted. I feel like I came on a little strong," A little. "I was encouraging you to meet my expectations, but I never thought about yours. Embarrassing. Total red flag behaviour. So. Let's call this a do-over."

Hs holds the flowers out to Edwin.

"Wanna go on a date with me?"

In his planning of this very leap, he'd considered all possible options. Well, he'd been reluctant to visit all of them, but a few of his subjects who had been unlucky enough to catch him in a mood to crowdsource back up plans had been all too ready to draw his attention to the possibility that his charm alone might not be enough to capture this particularly flighty ghosts attention, shared loneliness or not. In doing so, the idea that even a dialling back of his intentions might still be seen as an overstep had been a common trend, and one that the Cat had struggled to find a clear solution to because of various boundaries — the most prevalent of which being his own pride. He can take a beating, he can take a verbal dressing down, but he is not accustomed to being told no, despite being told as much in all but the actual word by Edwin multiple times at this point.

Another Cat with more self-respect might have given up by now, but this Cat remembers the kiss Edwin had pressed to his cheek like it had happened an hour ago, and he knows the look in Edwin's eyes as he stares back at him. It's not fear, not exactly, but it's a trepidation to jump, the face of one not knowing where to put his feet if he were to jump, concern that he might not land on all fours in the end of all this. Edwin likes a position of power, likes to be the most knowledgeable person in a room, likes control... and this tears all his familiarity away, leaves him vulnerable and unsure without a fixed point of contact to reach back for. It's no wonder he can't understand what the Cat sees in him.

"Just because you 'don't do this', doesn't mean you can't."

The Cat knows he has to be careful here, so even though Edwin's reaction hadn't been the one he'd romantically fantasized about — falling upon him with a flushed face and lowered eyelashes, taking the flower, pressing it to his chest, kissing him — he keeps his shoulders flat and his arm with the flower outstretched. If he's honest with himself, this is a more predictable reaction from Edwin than any lovesick reunion might have been, and he finds a little comfort in that knowledge as he lets it settle on him.

"A date doesn't have to be dinner. A date doesn't even have to end in anything. It's supposed to be an opportunity to get to know one another, and I know plenty about you, but you have no real idea who I am, or what I want out of this. So, give me an opportunity to show you."

He shakes the flower a little, like tempting a kitten with a shining fish, and then smiles in a way he hopes comes across as charming.

"I promise, no funny business."