Tugger sighed,frustrated. He was trying to solve the riddle that was named Quaxo. The tom was the living definition of "complexity". Not like Victoria, not even Demeter. He was so much more deep, a result of his magic, his past, and his personality mixed into that tiny black body.
For example, the way he acted.
He always was very shy around cats and people he didn't know, but when one got to know him, he was quite the contrary, liking to play pranks on people, and that sort of stuff. Not that Tugger was complaining. It was interesting to see Quaxo drunk all around Bombalurina's den. Hilarious, actually. At least, until he'd fried his tail the day after for getting him drunk. Oh well, at least it had been worth it.
Or that whole Quaxo/Mistoffelees thing.
The tom had once tried to explain it to him, but he had only caught something like "my powers block when cats call me Quaxo, although I don't like that name."
He just had too many layers to him, those two above only being the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. He knew the tux could pull off quite the deranged, psycothic persona when he was provoked, and he'd rather face Macavity than him when he was like that. But he had also seen him as regular, generic Quaxo, the small black tom that wouldn't even sing in public. He said he didn't know how to. But Tugger had heard him, and he actually had quite a pretty voice. Okay, he actually had an amazing voice. And he sometimes, on full moons, spotted his familiar small form sitting all the way up on the tip of the highest branch of the oak just outside the junkyard, and he would hear him chanting slowly. During those times, his voice had an eerie quality, not quite real, not quite normal, as if he was talking with another's voice through him.
The maine coon sighed again as he watched the young tom reading in the corner of one of the many empty dens, waiting for the storm to pass. His tail was tapping a soft beat on the ground as he hummed.
Sometimes, he could not understand completely what was going on behind those mismatched eyes, but he certainly wouldn't change it for anything else.
Funny, how this simple - and oh-so-complicated at a time - black cat could confuse and reassure him so much at the same time.
-Tugger? – Mistoffelees asked, lifting his amber and cobalt gaze from his book to his green-eyed partner in the downpour refuge.
-yeah?- he said, snapping out of his reverie.
- don't stare at me, please.- and with that, he dissapeared once again inside that mystery that always surrounded him.
Sometimes, he really didn't understand him. But, oh well, he guessed….