A cat could get very nearly anywhere; a cat in a human glamour, not so much. Théo could still remember settling into glamoured life, all gangling and graceless, so much bizarre body to arrange. Nearly so helpless as the runt kitten he’d been. He’d had centuries to work on it since then, to regain at least some degree of the feline elegance he was used to. Really, the whole charade was a necessary evil. But - well, he had to admit, it had its perks. Hands, proper hands, those were wondrous things. A little... disarmed, perhaps, from what he was used to. Better for opening his own wine. And turning pages. Even with that scrap of magic on his side, though, making thorough sense of letters had taken time and work. Beauty had made it easier. His first and only teacher in the subject, she’d been patient, considerate. Kind. Awfully kind.
Now, years of lessons later, Puss was still stuck in Fabletown - but with a good book, he could slip away to just about anyplace he could imagine. Metaphorically, but. It would have to do. Stepping up to the untended library desk, Théo stacked a few new picks, a couple returns, and... a lovely, delicate glass bird, plumed in rich violets and flecked with gold. A present, perched next to the ledger. Satisfied, he rang the bell; that bright little jangle had hardly faded when Beauty strode into view, his very favorite librarian. (The only one in town, perhaps, but still. Even in the Homelands, he’d met more brooms than welcomes around these sorts of places.) Théo simply beamed. “Bonjour, mademoiselle,” he offered a smiling, sweeping bow, charms ever at the ready. “And how has the new year been treating you? So far. As lovely as you look, I can only hope.”
