"Hey there." Jem crooned as he blinked blearily in the bright morning sunlight. He opened up his window, allowing the orange tabby to jump inside. He purred, his tail flicking with contentment as Jem scratched behind the cat's ears.
The ginger cat pushed it's head into Jem's hand, closing its eyes and tucking its paws underneath it's furry belly. Chirping lively, the cat sounded as if he were trying to engage in a conversation. Tucking the blanket around in a circle, Jem made it a makeshift bed, plopping the cat into the center. Looking at the 'bed' in confusion, the cat circled twice before curling up inside.
Opening it's golden eyes in surprise, the cat stared as Will, who had his face buried in his arms on Jem's bed, stirred. Reaching a tentative paw out to Will, the golden tabby batted at Will's curling black hair. Jem laughed slightly, rubbing the forehead with his fingertips.
Lifting his head, Will looked sleepily at the cat. "James. Is that a cat?"
"You're awake." said Jem, still petting the ginger cat. "And yes, its a cat."
"Oh, its a cat." Will murmured, putting his head down again before snapping back up. His eyes were open with confusion, staring at the cat. "Its a CAT?"
"Well, it is surely not a duck."
Will stood up, his black hair ruffled and sticking up in all directions. Grabbing the cat from the bed, Will marched over to the window. The cat hissed, clawing at Will's hand, leaving small bloodied scratches.
"Damn cat!" Will spat, pushing the cat out of the window. Screeching with anger, the orange cat puffed up, leaping onto the ground. Shutting the window, Will locked it and drew the curtains together.
"What did the cat ever do to you?"
"I hate cats, not as much as ducks...but I still hate cats." Will said simply, sucking on a bite on his thumb. "Especially cats that might have demon pox."
"Demon pox? Is that your new obsession?"
"Obsession? I like to think of it as just an extra study for recreational purposes. Would you like me to teach you about demon pox?"
"No, thanks Will. I'm sure Jessam-"
"First there is a shield shaped rash on your back, which creates fissures and cracks in your skin. Then there are oozy, green, nasty sores, splitting headaches, black-misty eyes, chills, and your hair falls out. Then, when the final stage of demon pox has started, the affected person turns-"
Jem gagged, his all too vivid imagination not helping. He pushed Will's shoulder, not without affection. "I think I get the idea."
"I have to admit that I am sincerely disappointed. A brave Shadowhunter, scared of a bit of demon pox." Will joked, grinning slightly through his veil of hair. "But I am thoroughly crestfallen that you didn't listen to the whole book. The Woman in White is quite an enthralling tale, not to say my lovely reading voice didn't help bring it's true glory out."
"How did it end again?" Jem asked, his cheeks still flushed red with nausea.
"Ok, so Anne and Laura are related. Walter thinks Anne died before the trip after he goes to see her mother. Fosco is trying to flee from the country. However, he is killed in Paris by a secret agent. The Walter and Laura get married and they live happily ever after."
Looking at Will in utter puzzlement, Jem cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, so...Who is Anne?"
"You're useless when it comes to books, James." Will crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. He slipped off his waistcoat, tossing it carelessly across the room. Loosening his tie that hugged uncomfortably at his throat, he put his arms behind his head, lying serenely in Jem's armchair.
"You do know that if you get anymore grime on my stuff, you will be the one to clean it." Throwing his covers to his knees, Jem pushed himself up into a fully upright position. "The last time you decided to come in my room after a demon hunt, you tracked in all sorts of demon guts and entrails. And since we just so happen to not have a servant, I had to clean up after your mess."
"Dear me. How humiliating." Will faked a yawn, his mouth curled up in a small smile. "And, for anyone who it may concern, I haven't gone on a demon hunt today...or yesterday."
"But the Angel knows where you go at night." Jem pointed out, the edges of his mouth instinctively pulling up. "Though, I don't remember you ever leaving...though I did fall asleep during our rather boring torture session."
"Torture session? Books are not torture." Will scoffed. "According to Mark Twain, 'Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life'...And Mark Twain is a very good author."
"Well, Leo Tolstoy, another very good author, once said, 'Music is the shorthand of emotion." Jem quoted proudly, surprised that he had remembered such a quote. "You can't be mad at me for not liking books when you don't like music."
"I'm not mad at you for not liking books. I just automatically assume you are possessed by a book-hating demon." Flicking off a piece of fuzz from his shirt cuff, Will ignored Jem's displeasured expression. "And, as I told you before, I don't hate music. It is just...Not my kind of thing."
"Liar." Jem grinned, fiddling subconsciously with his fingers. "I've seen how you watch the pianists at the balls that the mundane's have up north in the enormous hall. You could be a good pianist too...if you tried." Taking Will's hand, Jem traced the scars on his knuckles. "You have long fingers, good for playing violin and piano."
Pulling out of Jem's grasp, Will shook his head. "Me? Piano? Ha, that would never happen. I'll leave that to the other Herondales. Anyway, are you feeling okay?"
"I'm feeling better than yesterday. Why?"
"We have to leave soon." Standing up from the armchair, Will grabbed his waistcoat and slipped it on. "We have a wedding to go to."
