TAKE IT EASY • TC ✔️

5: Negotiations

Timothée found, over the next few days, that time goes by quickly when you have something to fill it with. By the time Wednesday evening rolled around, he had deep cleaned his apartment from cellar to dome - mopping, dusting, spritzing, soaking, arranging things and rearranging them when he realised he liked them much better as they were before. Never throwing anything out - that was his one weakness. Apart from bits of scrap paper and the like, everything stayed within the apartment.

Timmy was a hoarder - not that he actually had much to hoard, but that was what made it sentimental. Each thing he kept in his flat served a purpose, had a reason behind it; books he'd thumbed through relentlessly, their corners dog eared and spines faded by the sun; various props he'd smuggled out under the noses of the props departments on various different film sets; backstage selfies from LaGuardia productions (or more appropriately the talent shows - he could never get into the musicals).

It was in this vein of hoarding mementos that Timmy had nabbed the dressing gown from a hotel room in Crema. It was a slightly tatty from use and despite numerous washes, it remained ridiculously soft. More importantly, it reminded him of that one blissful summer - buzzing crickets in the early morning; stepping on sun-warmed patios ; whole-day shoots spent lolling in long grass; peach juice dripping down to his elbows; the smell of nectar.

It was this dressing gown he wrapped around himself now, in the early hours of Wednesday. The constant activity of the past few days had done him good, there was no doubt about it, however it had also left him restless. Always something else to do, always one thing or another rattling around in his brain, and they carried him into the small hours as he lay wide awake in his bed feeling jittery.

He should do something. He should do something now.

He should sleep.

But he should do something. Right now.

---

"Oh, what is it?" Lucia groaned, fumbling around for her phone in the darkness. She switched on the torch, revealing Julius squatting on the floor next to her head. He was mewling softly, head perked up inquisitively. Lu shone her phone at the source of the noise, and Julius's eyes gleamed a vivid green. "What do you want, devil?" she muttered, feeling for the top of his head and patting it gently.

As far as Lu could make out, he had galloped to the door - she could see a small, stout shadow sitting in front of it.

"Jul, you can't go out now," she whispered loudly, rubbing her eyes. "Look, I'll open a window for you, yeah?" Lu compromised, dragging herself off the couch.

He entwined himself with her legs as she pulled back the curtains, setting the window ajar so he could slip out and do whatever he needed to do. Julius was having none of it. He jumped onto the windowsill and sat there resolutely, tail swishing as he looked at the street below. "Why won't you leave?" she moaned, looking down at him resentfully. He simpered up at her, and she relented, picking her up into her arms.

He was warm, at least, and Lu cradled him close. He cried out again, and her expression turned stony.

"For God's sake, what do you want?" she asked irritably, letting him down gently to the floor again. She didn't usually take this kind of tone with her cat, but she was tired, and grumpy, and it was early in the morning. Too early. Far too early to be up and about.

He scampered to the front door again. Lu closed her eyes briefly. She had several objections to leaving the apartment, not least because it was about three o'clock in the fucking morning and she had better things to be doing (i.e. sleeping).