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He knew he was being unfair. Basil knew all of this was going to send the most terrible array of mixed signals he’d ever managed. He was the one who had drawn lines in the sand; he was the one who had told Lissing that all of this was impossible. So why then was he so willing to revisit it? Atticus was right. Perhaps he was wading into dangerous territory. Reeling at the thought of his brother, Basil felt everything about the moment begin to fracture. His anxieties began to creep in, poison leaking into the crevices of his momentary happiness. It was rather lucky that this was the precise moment that his guardian angel decided to intervene.
The door to the room, never quite latched Basil realized with horror, moved to glide open with a squeak. There was nobody there that he could see over Lissing’s shoulder but after a beat of terrifying silence, there was a soft mewling sound and four tiny paws landed right atop them. Duchess, in all her splendid glory, wrapped her tail elegantly around her paws, sitting on Basil’s hip as she was, and looked down upon the two gentlemen with bright, discerning blue eyes. Blinking his own grey hues at her, Basil leaned back onto the pillow and let out an anxious breath he hadn’t realized he’d started to hold, or when. He then pulled away from Lissing just enough not to upset the pretty feline or stab the red-head with his wand as he pulled it from his waistcoat and shut the door with a quick flick. The lock clicked into place shortly thereafter.
Basil lay back and let his arm splay out onto the bed as he looked up at the cat and just past her to the ceiling beyond with a half smile. Well that was a close one. Duchess for her part opted to hop into the slightly exposed portion of the bed between them then and sniffed very aggressively at Gus’ face. It was almost like she was examining him, determining if he be worthy. Basil breathed a small chuckle as he turned to tuck his wand away, making room. “Don’t be rude,” the brunette mumbled, tugging his little feline closer and wrapping an arm around her. “Gus, meet Duchess,” he said then, warmly. “She is my… cat.” The last word landed with a little less tact than he’d meant but frankly, all of this pet-owning was still rather new to him.