Most of the guests at Katie’s birthday party were her peers from pre-school and daycare and their parents, but Jay needed some friends of his own around to survive the day of screaming three and four year olds. Binx was a breath of fresh air when he got a chance to talk to him. “I’ve never been so glad I didn’t go into early childhood education,” he mused, sipping on a juice box with a distant look in his eyes like he was pretending it was something stronger. “It’s one thing when it’s your own kid, you know?” He glanced over and corrected, “Guess you don’t know…Still not looking to settle down?” Jay assumed nothing had changed on that front (and he would have to understand why, knowing Binx’s curse) so he almost didn’t bother asking—but he was always curious whether anyone would ever come along to change the old cat’s mind or make him act up. After all, happy little accidents could come from any one-off hook-up, as Jay well knew.

“You’re Binx, huh? I’ve heard a lot about you.” The greeting was cool, but not yet hostile. Ever since hearing how this guy her baby sister was talking to had suddenly dropped contact without notice or explanation (Marnie opposed the term “ghosting” as someone who personally knew some very faithful and dependable ghosts) Marnie’s protective big sister instincts had kicked in. They were in no way lessened when, later, Sophie had explained that she had finally discussed matters with him and found out why he had ditched her. It turned out the man had a bad personal experience with a few witches and decided to base his opinion of every witch he met thereafter on those few. Sophie had decided to give him another chance, but Marnie was on alert; she wouldn’t be so forgiving if he did anything again.

“I’m not supposed to threaten you,” she said, glancing around to ensure Soph was still in the bathroom while she ambushed her date, “but I’m not saying this as a witch—I’m saying this as a sister. Don’t hurt her.” That was as much of a warning as she planned to give, so she plastered on a polite smile after as if they were discussing something as innocuous as the weather.

It had been months since Jukes had done any proper hunting. This undercover work was stifling at the same as it was eye-opening. The longer he spent around Peter and the lost boys, the more conflicted he was about not only his mission but his entire worldview. Magic, and whether it was really as evil and unnatural as he’d been raised to believe…This was probably the best time for a magical creature to cross his path—any point in the past and he’d have killed the little beast without hesitation the moment he heard a “cat” speaking aloud to itself in English. Even now he tensed up, itching for a weapon he didn’t have on him. He didn’t want to talk to this thing. But now there was a little voice inside him that made him pause. What a stupid thing to grow this late in his life, a conscience..."The hell 're you?"

“Later, Slightly!”

“See ya!”

With his friend already halfway to the next street corner, he was about to carry on his way when another somewhat familiar voice spoke up. “Oh, it’s just a childhood nick—” His answer cut off short, however, as he stopped to stare at the apparent source of the question. Which was a cat. A talking cat. Who had spoken to him so casually that it felt like Slightly was supposed to respond in kind, otherwise he’d be rude. Did he know this cat? Was he being gaslighted into thinking that he knew this cat, that a cat speaking with a human voice was not an extraordinary event?

Well, he had seen enough magic not to be totally freaked out, but it was still disorienting. He couldn't let this throw him off his rhythm though! “Wha—uh…I mean, my orphanage name was Sylvester which was a mouthful, so the other boys called me Sly, and Slightly just kinda evolved from that, so…Um. What about yours? Cause your name is…pretty interesting too, right?” Just like running into an acquaintance whose name he’d forgotten: try to trick them into revealing it without letting them know he didn’t know.