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𝑽𝑰𝑲𝑻𝑶𝑹'𝑺 𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑽𝑬:
VIKTOR WASN'T SURE WHETHER TO BE SURPRISED when he entered the office, only to come walk in on Charles persuading a very uncertain Edwin to learn simple boxing strategies.
Charles was enthusiastically bouncing between both feet in circles around the Edwardian boy, his red polo a bright opposite to Edwin's plain blue vest and white shirt.
"When will I have to hit someone? I've been dead since 1916," Edwin commented, quite unconvinced.
Viktor slid his large coat off, draping it over the couch arm, rolling his black shirts sleeves up for more comfortability. He stifled a laugh as he glanced at the two boys expressions, but let a small smile sneak onto his face as he stood beside the desk, leaning his cane against it before thumbing through piles of paper.
"Okay. Right. What if it's another ghost who's running around murdering people with, like, a power drill?" Charles suggested, "You know, (he imitated a power drill in a way that Viktor couldn't describe if he tried ) right into their skulls, brains and blood everywhere, and your magic doesn't work, and you have to stop him to save a client?"
"Have you considered writing novels Charles?" Viktor joked, glancing up from the paperwork he was sorting for a moment, subtly smiling in satisfaction at the smile he received.
"In that extremely specific instance, either Viktor will send the mad driller through a mirror to another country with his cane, or you will hit him with your cricket bat," Edwin told him.
Charles exhaled in mock annoyance at his set thoughts, gently nudging the boy in the waist, getting a slight glare in return.
"Edwin, even though neither of us wouldn't be there in that situation — or any violent event on a case —, I have to agree with Charles on this. It would provide some comfort too know that you could defend yourself without magic," Viktor added in as he tapped the pile of paper on the desk, evening out the tops before setting it aside, facing the two ghosts properly.
"Thank you, Viktor," Charles exclaimed, before turning to Edwin, a hand on either shoulder, "Look, we've been your best mates for over 30 years — or around 70 in Vik's case —"
