Felix stood a few feet away from Virgil St. Lilith, the alleged suicidal human he had just saved. His heart was still racing from the adrenaline of his dramatic divine form transformation. The rooftop wind swept past his now ordinary form sans even ears or tail as he glared at the cause of all this unnecessary drama. 

Felix’s otherworldly attributes had disappeared along with the oppressive aura that came with being an A-Rank Regal One in their divine form, leaving behind a slender young man who still felt far too new to his status as a "Regal One." But any delight at finally poofing away his cat ears and tails was dampened by the only other person beside him on the roof.

(Though not the relief about his clothes remaining intact after the ordeal just now. Something to ponder over later.)

Before him stood Virgil, who was busy brushing imaginary dust from his khaki trench coat and the long-sleeved, oversized sweater in sage green thrown haphazardly underneath. Those whiskey-colored eyes gleamed with unrepentant amusement. 

The man wasn’t shaking with fear or gratitude. No tears streaked his cheeks, no trembling apologies for endangering himself. Instead, he grinned like a Cheshire cat, utterly unbothered by the fact that he had almost plummeted to his death minutes earlier.

Felix inhaled sharply, gearing himself up for a well-deserved rant. “Are you out of your mind?”

Virgil tilted his head innocently, the overly affected manner of it so fake it bordered on laziness. “Define ‘out of my mind.’ Context matters, you know.”

“Context?!” Felix’s voice rose a little higher than he intended. “You jumped off a roof! Of a 22-floor building!”

Virgil wagged a finger, like a teacher correcting a student. “I was pushed off.”

“What?” Felix paused, his momentum halted just like that. He was too taken aback to do more than ask automatically. “Who pushed you?”

Virgil’s lips twitched into a violence inducing smirk. “Gravity.”

“...”

The sheer absurdity—audacity—of the statement made Felix stare at him in stunned silence for several beats. He raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, his booted feet beginning to pace back and forth in annoyance, the heavy thumps they made loud enough to be called stomping. “This isn’t funny, Mr. St. Lilith.”

“Oh, so polite! But just call me Virgil. Mr. St. Lilith is a screaming old man with anger issues,” Virgil dismissed airily, before replying to his reproach, “Anyway, I think it’s hilarious. Did you see the look on your face when you caught me? Absolutely adorable. Ten out of ten. Would jump again.”

Felix snapped his head up, glaring. “Would jump—what is wrong with you?!”

In fact, there were so many things wrong with what the man had just said he could only ignore them for now. Like that totally inaccurate and patronizing “adorable”. Who was he to call a grown man like himself adorable?!

Felix would’ve kicked up a snit about this but at the moment he was too busy focusing on the more pressingly inappropriate part of the man's words.

Virgil shrugged, utterly unfazed by Felix’s outburst. Maybe he was even used to inspiring that kind of reaction. “Boredom, mostly. And curiosity. You know, you can learn a lot about a person by how they react to a high-stakes situation.”

Felix stared at him, trying to decipher whether this was a deeply disturbed individual or just an eccentric one. Either way, he was tempted to throttle him. “You staged this whole thing… as some kind of test?”

“Not just any test,” Virgil chirped, leaning forward conspiratorially, those amber toned eyes shining. “The ultimate test.” With both hands he flashed two cheeky thumbs up. “What kind of owner would I be saddled with if I didn’t at least check your reflexes? And for the record, you passed with flying colors.”

Felix grinded his teeth. “You mean to tell me you risked your life just to see if I could catch you?”

“Exactly!”

“Do you have any idea how stupid that is?” Felix hissed, his voice sounding incredibly like an angry, spitting cat over having its tail stepped on.

Virgil didn’t flinch. If anything, his grin widened maniacally. “I prefer to think of it as bold. Stupid would’ve been not calculating the wind speed, trajectory, and your proximity to the building. I mean, I didn’t even scream on the way down—had to keep my test conditions controlled.”

Felix felt a vein throb in his temple. He took a moment to do some slow, meditative breathing exercises, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as if they were mimicking being wrapped around a very inviting neck. “Controlled? You were plummeting to your death, genius.”

“And you caught me,” Virgil pointed out, his tone still infuriatingly chirpy, his own hands shoved into the pockets of his trench coat and nearly skipping in place. “Which means I was right to trust you.”

Felix opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, his bewilderment rendering him temporarily speechless. He resumed pacing again, boots stomping audibly on the poor rooftop floor, arms pumping like they would very much like to swing a punch at a certain grinning fool. “This can’t be real,” he muttered to himself. “This cannot be my life now.”

Virgil watched him with unabashed interest, rocking slightly on the heels of his scuffed wingtip shoes. “You’re taking this better than I expected. I mean, I thought you’d be angrier. Or maybe cry a little. But you’re holding it together pretty well, all things considered.”

Felix stopped mid-step and slowly turned back to face him, those scarlet eyes narrowing menacingly. “You thought I’d cry?”

“Well, not everyone can handle me,” Virgil said, sounding vaguely proud about it. “It’s a lot of responsibility, you know. But you’re lucky you got me as your devoted—” he paused, batting his surprisingly long lashes coyly, “—pet.”

“Devoted?” Felix rolled his eyes and repeated incredulously. “You don’t strike me as the ‘devoted’ type.”

Virgil feigned an offended gasp. “How rude. I’m incredibly devoted. Just ask anyone who deserves it.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, his patience stretched to its breaking point. “You are—”

“Brilliant? Handsome? Irreplaceable?” Virgil offered helpfully.

“—the most infuriating person I’ve ever met,” Felix finished, throwing up his hands in exasperated defeat.

Virgil grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “I get that a lot.”

Felix dragged a hand through his pale silvery hair blessedly devoid of furry ears, mentally counting to ten. Stay calm, Felix. Stay calm. You’re the owner. You have to set an example. What did one do when faced with an unruly pet?

Finally, he dropped his hand and took a step closer to Virgil, glaring up at him. The effect was unfortunately less authoritative than he hoped but the man had a lanky frame, thin but tall. Taller than Felix. Just another thing that had Felix feeling uncharitable towards him. “Listen, Virgil. If you’re going to be my…my ‘pet,’ there will be rules.”

“Rules?” Virgil’s brows lifted, and he tilted his head again like an intrigued bird. “What kind of rules?”

“For starters,” Felix ground out testily, “no more jumping off buildings.”

“Hmm.” Virgil tapped his chin thoughtfully. “What about bridges?”

“...” Felix gave him an unfriendly look out of the corner of his eyes.

“...Okay, fine. No jumping off buildings or bridges. What about cliffs? Cliffs have a certain dramatic flair, don’t you think?”

Felix resisted the urge to scream. “No jumping off anything. Ever.”

"But it's so much fun! It's the most thrilling feeling, falling but knowing that the skeletal hands of death will not yet have you in their grasp!" Virgil exclaimed euphorically, wrapping his own arms around himself and twirling on the spot, his khaki trench coat flaring out around his legs that were clad in brown corduroy. 

“You wouldn't be so cruel as to deprive me of this bit of fun, would you?” 

Virgil peeked open one eye just in time to catch the small petal pink lips twitch in reluctant amusement at his antics.

Composing himself, Felix snapped with more ire about being undermined than the situation itself. “I’m not here to be ‘fun’. I’m here to keep you alive, which you seem determined to make as difficult as possible.”

Straightening, Virgil gave him a long, considering look. His grin softened into something less maniacal. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

Felix blinked at the sudden shift in tone. “Of course I’m serious. Why wouldn’t I be?”

For a moment, Virgil didn’t respond. He studied Felix with an intensity that made the boy shift uncomfortably under his gaze. Then, to Felix’s surprise, Virgil smiled—not his usual slap provoking smirk, but a softer, almost wistful expression.

“Guess you’ll do for now,” Virgil murmured quietly to himself.

Felix frowned, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before Virgil could answer, the distant hum of propellers broke the moment. Felix turned, the frown still on his face. It only deepened further as he spotted an approaching behemoth that blocked out the sun and cast the surrounding area in its narwhal (?) shaped shadow. 

Soon the shimmering craft stopped above the rooftop they were standing on. Its “mouth” opened and a brightly conspicuous figure could be seen posturing at the entrance.

Virgil’s grin returned in full enigmatic force. “Looks like the circus is in town.”

Felix sighed, overcome by the urge to turn into his cat form and hide under a bed.

And the day had only just begun.