Mortimer pulls and tightens his scarf, the cold air trying to sneak past the cloth and send goosebumps across his skin. It had finally stopped raining, with just small amounts of small sprinkles every so often falling and tickling the mouses nose. Itching his nose, he blows out a cold breath before entering the smoke shop.
"Hey there, sir. The usual?" The clerk greeted, recognizing Mortimer.
"Ya know it."
The young cashier grabbed a box from behind him, ringing up what the price was from the item. He didn't place it in a bag, simply holding out the wooden box for Mortimer.
"Here's your cigars mister."
"Thanks son. Keep the change." Mortimer thanked, handing his payment over.
Mortimer exits, breathing out and fidgeting for his lighter. He had run out earlier, so he was already desperate for a smoke. He walked down the sidewalk to a spot he was used to stopping at to smoke. He lit up his lighter and inhaled.
"*Cough* *Cough*"
Mortimer caught himself coughing from the smoke. He knew he should probably quit, but it just seemed impossible at this point. Besides smoking, he took pretty good care of himself. He ate good, he exercised, he got enough sun, basically everything he knew to keep himself it top shape. He took pride in his appearance. Yes it was true that people around many places knew Mortimer had an ego. Mortimer didn't care. If he had it, why not flaunt it? He was born amazingly attractive and blessed, and he worked hard to preserve it, so why not be proud?
His coughing stopped and he took another long drag, blowing out the side of his mouth. It was just another calm night. Mortimer had gotten used to the quiet. Growing up in the city, he was so used to noise everywhere. Parties, gangs, cars, and angry toons broke any amount of possible silence around every inch of New York City. It wasn't a terrible city, but it was definitely loud. He remembered the first time he came here, to something simple like a small town. Even if there was a city near by, it was majorly smaller than the one he grew up in. He knew it would be a good place to set up another place for his families company. Run by himself this time, he could work mostly from home, only having to drive down every two weeks. Yes Mortimer was living a pretty good life. Despite all his wealth and handsome looks, there was one thing he couldn't seem to snag, and that was the heart of the little lady, Minnie Mouse.
Minnie Mouse was a beautiful mouse, grown up in this area. Raised on her father's farm, she was a hard-working and an amazingly talented women. Mortimer knew he had to make her his the moment he laid eyes on her. Unfortunately for him, she was already in love with another. Mickey Mouse, and no matter how many times he out did him, or outshined him, Minnies heart would only flutter for Mickey. Mortimer never understood it. He always thought he had a chance. That Minnie was just a tough prize to be won. He liked a bit of challenge in his life, it gave him a thrill. Mortimer never expected to hear of the day Minnie and Mickey decided to get married.
Mortimer sighed out. It had already been a few months since the two had tied the knot. So in love, always at each others sides, it seemed no matter how hard you pull them apart, they'll just come stuck back together even closer. Mortimer had learned that the hard way many times, but he was never known to quit when he really wanted something. Mortimer sometimes didn't know when to back down, or when to keep going, and it seemed he always went too much of the extreme in the wrong direction. Despite the fact he's fallen so much, Mortimer did have his strong suites. One thing is he is an excellent con man, and that wasn't just his ego talking. His record spoke for itself. Very rarely was this con artist caught, except sometimes when he's meddling with Mickey. Another thing about Mortimer was you could never lie to him. He knew all the social ticks toons had. Especially when he gets to know someone, he can pick them apart like they had been born with detailed blueprints that ended up right in his hands. Conniving deceitful, and ruthless, Mortimer was a hard businessman, like many in his family.
After being lost in thought, Mortimer didn't even realize most of his cigar had burned out. He rolled his eyes at himself before throwing the bud to the ground and stepping on it to put it out. Tucking his hands into his pockets, Mortimer started walking home. He was glad his usual smoke shop stayed open pretty late. He enjoyed night walks. It was nice walking around with just the street lights being the only source to guide him. He didn't like the crowds of people he had to walk through all the time in the city. It didn't stop him from getting where he needed to go, but sometimes he'd get road rage just by someone walking too slow in front of him.
He knew he wanted to get out of the city. Yes, he did have a love for it. Most people have a soft spot for the place they grow up in. He was the same, most of his family had been there. Generations in fact. Mortimer was thrilled when he found a calmer, but profitable place to move to and set up. Mortimer still remembers the happiness and pride he felt when he got his place here. He loved every part of his house and made it his own. Even if he wasn't fully supported, Mortimer held his head up high when he left his birthplace to set up on his own.
Though, Mortimer knew it was temporary. Eventually, he had to move back to the city to take over the main company that his father owned. A huge part of him was really comfortable here though. He didn't know how he would feel when he'd have to move back. Sure, he'd get his old childhood home, but he felt so much calmer here than in the city. Hell, the city was the main reason Mortimer started smoking to begin with, and the reason the bags under his eyes sometimes showed up more than other toons his age. No one here asked him though, he preferred it that way. The way he carried himself and the way he looked, made him out to be more older and mature than his actual age. He didn't need anyone priding him on what he does all day, what his habits are, and what he's stressing over. He wants everyone to know how successful he is, nothing else. He didn't need pity. Mortimer wants respect, admiration, and a huge part of him wanted love.
As much as he told himself he loves Minnie, he had a funny way of showing it. Maybe he never has experienced it. He probably mistakes his love for the 'love' a child has for a new toy. Sure, if the child remembers the old toy after a while of forgetting it, they still care about it, but is it truly the love they thought they had for it? Everyone has different maturity levels in things, and it seems Mortimers most immature point was feeling love. Had he even experienced something like that in the past? He couldn't even remember. Couldn't ever even pinpoint a time. He had his maids and servants, but they were paid to care for him, so why would he love them? Never really had a pet except the ones father kept that he'd see and pet. Sure, his father and him got along. Mortimer was the perfect son to take care of things for the future. Not that Mortimer did it for his father, it just so happened the future plan made for Mortimer at birth had been exactly the life he wanted to live.
Mortimer loves being in charge, and he does it surprisingly well. Every time he enters his building, his employees get quiet. He sometimes can't help but chuckle to himself. Sometimes he fires a random employee that he knows has been slacking, just so he can make an example out of them. He didn't care if the toon needed the job, or was just having an off day. Mortimer was in charge. He had earned it and worked hard for it. He made sure anyone under him knew that. It wasn't like he didn't know their job, he just knew it was beneath him. Growing up his father had a way of teaching Mortimer. Everyday after school, as long as he could remember and comprehend what he was being taught, Mortimer was put to work at his fathers company, starting from the very bottom. Now that Mortimer was at the top, and he was one of the best, he never wanted to go down to that level again. He had to admit though, his old man did teach him some good lessons with that. The knowledge did put him more ahead, and in retrospect, every good boss is the kind that has worked their way up. Bosses like that tend to be more respected. Though, Mortimer didn't care if he had respect out of information about him or fear, as long as the employee did exactly what he wanted and didn't show an ounce of attitude. He liked the employees that worked hard to impress, like a dog rolling over in hopes for a treat.
His neighborhood came into view, and with that, soon his own home. The door creaks open, Mortimer making a note to oil it into silence sometime later. Damn, it was cold in his house. He had been late so his fire had long since died out. He grumbled, walking over to his fireplace and starting to rip up some old newspaper. Once he successfully started his fire, he tried not to shiver and warm himself up. He knew it would be a while before his bedroom upstairs would warm up, and it made him debate if he should sleep on the couch downstairs again. Better to be warm down here, than shivering for no reason under blankets that take forever to warm him up upstairs. He makes up his mind, walking upstairs and grabbing some bedding, setting himself up on the couch. He didn't mind doing this. By the time it comes to morning, the upstairs should be warm and he won't be cold getting in and out of the shower. Changed into his pjs, Mortimer stretches out his back. He yawns when he finishes making his bed.
Mortimer flops on his couch, snuggling up in the fuzzy blankets and getting comfortable in the warmth of his fire. These were the moments he would miss. The silence and the calming warmth he got each night at home was something Mortimer relished. He suddenly hears his stomach growling, remembering he had forgotten to eat dinner. He was honestly tempted to just stay there and ignore his hunger, but he knew it would just wake him up later. With a moan, he gets up and turns the light on in his kitchen. One of the joys Mortimer did enjoy was cooking for himself. Being a single bachelor, you had to learn to do things for yourself. Could he had hired help? Sure, but Mortimer wanted to be on his own for a while. He wouldn't have minded a little lady, but something made him feel more confident by taking care of himself without servants or maids. Even his home was smaller than the one he grew up in, yet he loved it like it was the best castle in the world. Even with this simple joys, Mortimer had his days when he feels more lazy. Not wanting to really cook for himself that night, he pulls out a small thing of instant mac and cheese.
Once it's cooked up, he gets himself back and comfortable on the couch, snuggling in the blankets and eating his meal. He doesn't move to turn on the tv, just enjoying his food as he listens to the crackling fire. Simple, this was something Mortimer likes here. His schedule, his time, his decisions. It can't always be his way, but he knows what he can and can't do. At least he thinks he does. He sets the empty container down and yawns, finally laying down. The fire had enough wood for a while, so he knew it would burn throughout the night no problem. Once he was in a comfortable spot, he closed his eyes, falling asleep.
