"You better have a good explanation for this."

Sammy hadn't moved from his spot by the exit door. He was still planted on his seat with a guitar case in one hand and a violin case in the other, trying to process the living, breathing cartoon currently cowering behind his old employer.

Said employer sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I was hoping to avoid a big hullabaloo when you met each other." He sounded more inconvenienced than awkward, like they were blowing something normal out of proportion. Sammy was having none of that.

"Jesus Christ Joey, what'd you think was gonna happen? That'd I'd kick my heels and sing a merry tune and that, that thing would dance along like it's the goddamn Sound of Music?"

The cartoon peeked around and blinked slowly at Sammy. "Music?"

"No, I was going to explain the situation and then introduce you! This isn't how it was supposed to go."

"How it was supposed to – you're crazy if you think I'm coming within a mile of that thing!"

Boris scooted out a little, eyes on the boxed instruments. The men ignored him.

"Listen Sammy, he's harmless. It's Boris the Wolf, remember him? He couldn't hurt a fly if it insulted his mother."

"Don't give me any of that! It's huge! And just because it was friendly in 'Toon World' or wherever, doesn't mean shit here. It's a wolf, for Christ's sake!"

"If you'd just give me a chance to explain, you'd understand! I swear this is why nobody liked working with you, Sammy. Couldn't handle change."

"Can't handle, can't handle-! Why you pompous, overbearing son of a –" he froze, suddenly aware of what had moved from behind Joey to right beside him, silent as a snake. Sammy turned his head slowly just in time to see the cartoon reach for the latch of his violin case. He screamed again and it scrambled backwards.

"Now the bastard is trying to get at my instruments! Call it off, Joey! Get away, get away!"

Boris cried out in alarm as a hand came flying out with intent to hit. He ducked and hid his head under his arms, drawing his knees up in front of him for extra protection.

"Please don't hurt me! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I just wanted ta see the music is all!"

Sammy paused in mid-swing. His gaze ran over the rather pathetic-looking creature turned in on itself, bawling its eyes out and looking like a big mutant kicked puppy. Sammy looked down at his violin, then his guitar, then back up to the wolf. Finally he looked up to Joey, who had yet to move and was observing the altercation silently.

"Joey, are you telling me you brought me here to teach this, uh, this cartoon how to play music?"

"That's right."

Drumming fingers lightly on the instrument case, Sammy considered the bizarre situation before him. And he came to a decision.

"Okay Joey, I'll bite. Tell me what's going on here, why there's a living drawing, and what you need me for. I promise I won't leave 'til you're done talking."

His former employer beamed.

"Well for starters, I think a proper introduction is in order. Sammy, this is Boris the Wolf, dimwitted, clarinet-playing, best friend of the little devil darling. Boris, this is Sammy Lawrence, musical prodigy who wrote every song, tune and ditty for our studio."

Boris slowly uncurled and blinked at Sammy, who grimaced but held out a shaking hand. The toon let out a tentative glove of his own, and they shook hands – although both parties flinched when they touched. Joey's gleeful voice took Boris' attention again.

"Boris, buddy, how about you go listen to the radio a minute. Sammy and I have a lot to talk about."

Ears bouncing along with the nod, the wolf stood up and walked towards the nearest doorway. He looked back once before jerking forward again and running off. Sammy let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"We all knew you were crazy Joey, but…damn. How'd you do it? The ink machine?" He stood back up and stretched – that fall had taken a toll on his back. Joey gave a half-shrug.

"For the most part, yeah. Got some, some, outside help too."

"Yeah? What idiot let you drag them into this? Henry? Mel?" Sammy found himself disbelieving anyone had actually stayed with the man.

"Oh no, no, they all left years ago. No, my help was more…unconventional."

"Unconventional."

"Yeah."

Joey was avoiding his eyes and Sammy felt the slightest tinge of unease. As someone whose office and expertise was below the ground floor, he hadn't worked directly with Joey often, but he had heard stories from those that did. Animators who were asked to 'contribute' something personal to 'appease the gods'. He had thought they were exaggerating back then, hadn't believed such stupid rumors.

He was starting to believe them now.

Swallowing the sudden irrational thoughts down, Sammy crossed his arms and looked down at the nervous animator. He'd always been grateful for his natural height.

"Okay, so it was unconventional. That still doesn't explain why it's here. Why'd you do it? Was this why you went psycho?"

Joey squinted his eyes and gave Sammy a look that said he was contemplating something. He stayed like that for a moment before tilting his head.

"Think about it, Sammy. This could revolutionize the entertainment industry. Instead of slaving away drawing frames upon frames, worrying about keeping characters on model and in sync and as themselves, relying on the schedules and recordings of voice actors before production can even start, we have the real deal! Living, breathing, functional cartoons that can sing and dance and act and tell jokes! It's unheard of!"

"That's fine and dandy, pal, but I'm not a doodler. How exactly does this apply to me?"

"Okay, okay, then think of the musical aspect. No more stress about getting a clear recording with a balanced band. No more fuzzy, corrupted records that bastardize the beautiful original. And, working with the cartoons personally instead of going through every department for changes and errors. Just you, a band if need be, a production director, and the toon. No one else."

This was tempting. Oh how tempting it was. Joey was getting more and more animated with every pitch and Sammy was finding himself drawn into it again the same way he had back at the beginning. And the animator wasn't done yet.

"And just think of the revenue, Sammy! Fewer employees, fewer production costs, a star with no concept or use for money; Think of what a hit it would be with the public – why it could put Walt himself out on the streets in no time! And if it's your music being played, your music shared live, it's bound to be noticed more than in a silly animated show for children! Your talent would be recognized, and loved, and desired!"

At this point Joey was reaching for Sammy's shoulders as if to shake them, and the man drew back in irritation.

"Alright, I get it, I get it! Just keep your hands off me," Sammy grumbled as he shifted his weight. Joey dropped his arms but was undeterred. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. The musician chewed on his upper lip.

"I'm not going to lie, that sounds like the real American dream right there." He lifted a finger to stop the other man from speaking again. "But, I still have my reservations. And some concerns. Have you told anyone else about this?"

Joey shook his head, "no, just you Sammy. You're the only one I need right now."

"Okay," Sammy sighed, "we'll have to work out a contract or something eventually, figure out how we're going to do this. I'm not getting screwed over again. Fool me once, Joey Drew, got that?"

"Absolutely. Whatever you want."

"Good. Now that that's settled, why am I here? Why contact me first?"

"Because, dear friend," Joey smiled, "you're going to teach our cartoons."

Boris sat in the desk chair, twiddling his thumbs and listening to the radio play its pre-recorded song for the fifth time now. He was really worried. This new person – Mr. Lawrence, was it? – was rather scary. He had come in, staring and screaming and swinging, and seemed to be just a not very nice person. Of course, he only had Mr. Drew to compare as far as humans went, and Mr. Drew tended to stare and scream and swing too, just not at Boris.

When he was told to leave the room, the cartoon had considered eavesdropping for exactly one moment. But angering Mr. Drew was never fun, and he didn't know if Mr. Lawrence would get even scarier if he was mad too. So he hung back here, trying to stop the butterflies in his belly with a song he had already memorized long ago. For good measure the wolf had closed the office door after him, to show that he was loyal and could be trusted.

But those cases…

It had seemed like they had music in them. Boris didn't know if that meant another radio or the stuff that made the music or even just the paper with music on it, but he wanted so badly to know. Seeing those cases had made something move inside, like when he heated bacon soup and gulped it down all at once. It was a warm, joyful feeling, and he wanted to know what it was and why it was there.

He wanted to feel it again.

"Boris! You can come back out now!"

Mr. Drew's voice sounded over the radio and the cartoon wasted no time. He jumped up, ran to the door, ran back to the desk and turned off the radio, then pushed in the chair like Mr. Drew always said to, and ran back to open the door and run into the hallway. When he got back to the main room, he stopped short at the sight of Mr. Lawrence holding a small, strangely-shaped wooden device in his hands. The wolf watched in awe as the musician placed the thing under his chin and started plucking the strings that went all the way up.

Music echoed through the room and Boris just about melted onto the floor, he was so amazed by that sound. Mr. Lawrence saw his reaction and snorted in amusement.

"Thing's not even tuned, idiot. You haven't heard anything yet."

Boris didn't know what he meant by that, but he nodded his agreement anyway and watched the man press a long stick against the strings. He brought the stick down and a sound warbled out. It was beautiful.

Mr. Lawrence didn't seem to think so however, because he made a face and started turning the knobs at the top of the device. He noticed Boris watching him and began to talk.

"If you're wondering where your master is, he went out to my car to grab the rest of my instruments. I figured it would be the beginning of his apology to me, you know? Besides, he called me so the least he could do is move his sorry ass and do the heavy lifting for once."

"Absolutely, Mr. Lawrence." Boris didn't quite understand all of that either, but he wanted to hear that beautiful sound again.

"Heh, 'Mr. Lawrence', huh? Alright, sure, that works. Of course you'd have more respect for me than anyone else ever has." He moved the stick again and started to smile when the wolf closed his goofy eyes with a contented sigh.'

"You like that, do you? Of course you do, anyone with sense likes a violin. Not the easiest instrument to start with, but my guitar broke two strings last week and Joey's getting the rest, so this'll have to do."

"Violin?"

"Yeah, that's what this is called." Mr. Lawrence held up the stick and Boris noticed there was string attached to that too. "This is the bow, which is used to play the violin. What I was just doing was tuning it – making sure it's ready to play and doesn't hit a sour note anywhere. You understand?"

Boris did understand. In fact he recognized it. Maybe not the violin part so much, but the tuning and the playing right? He knew he had heard this before, had learned it. It was like how he knew what different words meant and how to sleep. And yet this was still different.

This felt like something he had been made to do.

Mr. Lawrence seemed to realize this too, because his eyes got all narrow and he studied Boris very closely. He was chewing on his lip too.

"Would you like to hold it?"

"Yes! I – I mean yes please, Mr. Lawrence. That would be nice."

"Then get your ugly hide over here before I change my mind."

The wolf wasted no time and scrambled to his feet and across the room. He slowed and stopped when Mr. Lawrence flinched back a little. "Gosh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare ya."

"No, no, I just," the man eyed Boris up and down, "this is just something I have to get used to, I suppose. Just don't move that fast and we won't have a problem."

"Alright Mr. Lawrence, I can do that."

"Good. Now here's how you hold it – be careful now! Those giant hands better not break something. Left hand here on the neck, right here. Keep a loose hold or you could really mess up the strings. Chin-rest goes under your chin, right at the crook of your neck and shoulder – like that, yes. No, you can't have the bow yet, I want to make sure you're not going to drop the violin first."

Boris held the instrument exactly as told, and as Mr. Lawrence slowly let go, the cartoon felt that warm feeling bubble back up. He wasn't playing music, but this instrument, this violin, it could make music! It could make beautiful, beautiful music, and he had the privilege of holding it!

Sammy Lawrence watched the utter joy in the toon's face and couldn't help his excitement at the sight along with the reminder of Joey's words. This is history in the making. You're going down in history.

"Alright, Boris, that's good. Now give it back to me, easy now, just like that. Nice. Always treat every instrument like a newborn baby, got that? Always."

"Absolutely, Mr. Lawrence! I don't know how else I could treat it." Boris was one hundred percent sincere. Instruments were incredible.

"Damn right pal! Now," Sammy's eyes gleamed and a corner of his mouth turned up, "how would you like to hear real music?"

Boris practically jumped for joy. He dropped on the floor right there and leaned forward with his hands on the ground. Sammy's mouth tilted into a full smirk. He checked a few more notes, made a few adjustments, paused, dropped his shoulders just a little, and played.

A/N: A day later than I was hoping, sorry. Life got in the way plus the chapter 3 trailer got released which meant rethinking some plans for this story. Next update should be on time, I promise!

Let me know if there's anything you like/dislike, or stuff I can improve on. Thanks for reading!