A/N: Hehe...life got in the way of my update for this. Anyways, here it is! And hopefully, Bustob--pher is spelled correctly! Bustopher, pher, pher...like gopher... (chants rhythmically to herself) How many times have I looked at the name and still spelled it wrong?! (rant continues...) Oh, and by the by, just so we're clear, these pairings are more from what I've read from other people's Cats theatre experience and my own, in case anyone was confused! ((smile))

Chapter 4

Bustopher made his way to one of his favorite clubs on St. Jame's Street, the Stage and Screen. He had heard that the winkles and shrimp were particularly robust this time of year, and he wanted to be sure to take advantage of that. As he walked, a little vial around his neck swayed along with the movements of his - for lack of a better word - waddle.

When he walked around the corner, to the back of the club, where many of the local cats would gather to take advantage of the human's affinity for seafood, he was surprised to see there were quite a few cats more than usual.

Word must have gotten out about the winkles…

Any other day, Bustopher Jones would have been livid that he would be left with whatever measly pickings were left for him - especially considering how much business he drew up for the place by simply his reputation as a food aficionado - but given the circumstances of the day, he would gladly give up a meal for a chance to…well…

The thing was, while the place was crawling with cats, a good percent of them were queens. While he didn't often have trouble with queens, he had had a lull in recent weeks, and didn't mind another chance to get back in the game, with a little help on the side. Sure, it was bad form to steal from family, but he figured in the end Mistoffelees owed him. All those days kitten-sitting a magical kitten was not easy. And he had small badger-looking ears to prove it…

One of the queens who helped organize the alley to as close to a restaurant as a cat could get turned to see Bustopher Jones. She smiled dearly, putting her paws on her hips. "Mr. Jones," she said, a flirtatious smile on her face. "I don't think I've seen you around here in a while!"

Well, that was quick!

"My dear Exotica," he said, walking up to and putting an arm around her as he led her to his favorite sitting area. "Tell me, how have you been?"

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Bombalurina walked down the street, her tail twitching in some annoyance. She was in a bad mood for no particular reason.

Okay, maybe there was a reason.

All her time spent working for Macavity, and the tom didn't appreciate her in the least. Stealing for him, lying for him, sneaking around for him, and seducing toms into working for him, and the tom still acted like Bombalurina was expendable. It was enough to make any queen think about leaving him!

…Think being the operative word there. He was still an alluring cat, no matter what.

Bombalurina stepped up to the Stage and Screen, hoping the rumors about their famous winkles and shrimp wasn't a lie. Upon entering the alleyway, she walked mindlessly up to the water bowl the humans left out for the cats, and took a sip.

She grimaced for a second, as the odd taste filled her mouth. It must have been spiked with something…Scotch? So she took another sip just to make sure. And another for further confirmation. It was when she realized she was guzzling, that she decided it was best to stop tasting for verification's sake, and start asking.

She turned to a tom nearby. "Excuse me?" she asked. The tom turned, looking stunned such a beautiful queen would be talking to him. "Do you know if a cat named Skimbleshanks has been here?"

The tom just stared, drooling.

"Skim-ble-skanks," she asked again, slowly. "He sometimes wears a little vest. Sneaks drops of scotch in his tea when he thinks no one is looking." Still, he stared. "Because I think this-this…you're not paying attention to a word I'm saying, are you?" There wasn't so much an answer, as a garbled 'Buh-gyuh?' in response. Bombalurina scoffed. "Toms…"

That's when she heard a giggling behind her. The red queen turned to see a sleek Abyssinian.

"Skimbleshanks hasn't been here," she said with a graceful smile. "How do you know him?"

"How could I not?" Bombalurina shrugged. "My owner is the stationmaster. All that talk about this great little orange cat who always comes around the train, and I had to see what had him more infatuated with another cat than me!"

The queen nodded, keeping her graceful smile on her face. "Skimbleshanks seems to get along with everyone, doesn't he?" She reached out a paw in greeting. "I'm Cassandra."

"Bombalurina," said the red queen absentmindedly, not bothering to touch paws with the stranger. She wasn't used to talking with other queens. "I'm gunna drink some more scotch-water over here," she said, hoping to rid herself of a potential new acquaintance. And she thought it had worked, as she managed to down a little more before feeling a little sick to her stomach, and somewhat lightheaded. She reached out to steady herself, and found the friendly Abyssinian reached out a paw to help her.

"It seems Bustopher is at it again," Cassandra said, looking over to a group of queens surrounding a rather fat cat in a coat of fastidious black.

The red queen let out a sigh. Why did this queen insist on talking to her? Bombalurina was hoping to allow her hatred for Macavity to ferment some more. Though…something was a little odd. This tom didn't seem to be all that wonderful.

Then she noticed something around his neck. "That looks familiar," Bombalurina muttered to herself.

"Well, its pretty commonplace around here," Cassandra said, making her way over to the cat in question.

'No, not that, you twit,' Bombalurina would have liked to say. But she thought it best not to mix tainted water and harsh language with a cat she didn't even know. Anyway, while she still had her wits about her, she thought it best to not upset the queen. She looked dainty, that was for sure, but the Abyssinian had a sway in her step that led the red queen to believe she knew some form of karate.

It was probably just the scotch talking, though. Bombalurina could never hold her liquor. (No cat was really meant to…)

Bombalurina made her way over to the crowd of queens, picking up the story he was telling as she got closer. "…and then he turns around and tells my story as though it were his, and now he's known as the theatre cat!" The other queens smiled, some laughing. They were probably boozed up…

"Why is that funny?" she asked, perhaps a little too loudly, to a dark brown queen near her she had met before, named Exotica.

"It's Bustopher Jones," she said, as though that should answer all Bombalurina's questions. At the confused look on the red queen's face, the other explained. "Asparagus is known as the theatre cat, and Bustopher is known for—oh, you know, you would just have to know him to get it."

Bombalurina found herself laughing a little. It seemed to her Exotica didn't know, either.

"And who is this?" All the queens turned to look at Bombalurina, much to her shock. It was like something out of a scary movie. Slowly, the red queen looked up to see that Bustopher Jones had been addressing her.

"This is Bombalurina," Cassandra said, leading the queen forward with a wave of her paw. The other queens backed away, or went about their business. Bombalurina had the stray thought that the fat cat might just do away with her…

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Bombalurina," said the tom graciously, and the queen instantly was put at ease. Then her eyes went down to a vial around the tom's neck.

"I'm sorry," she said, "But that looks very familiar. Can I just…take a look at it?"

The tom looked down at his chest, and regarded the rose on his lapel. "Why, it's called a rose," the round cat said. "Humans grow them in their garden for aesthetic purposes. You've probably seen them in gardens and hardly given them a notice, but it turns out they have a big significance to humans."

"Oh, that's not what I--"

"You see," he went on, not used to being interrupted in the middle of a speech. "Humans give them to one another, and depending on the color, it can mean anything from friendship to love."

Cassandra smiled, her eyes twinkling at the thought. "And what does a red rose mean?"

"A red rose, my dear, means love." He took the rose off his lapel and handed it to Bombalurina.

"Fascinating," Bombalurina said tersely, snatching the rose in her paws. "Um, I was actually asking about the thing around your neck." She looked at the rose in her paws, before the words he had said set into her slightly slowed down mind. "Wait, love?"

"It's a token of affection," said the tom. Bombalurina looked at the rose. "It's a beautiful color, isn't it? Not unlike your fur color. You know, to humans, red means love and passion. Your human must cherish you as much as he would any delicate rose."

Bombalurina looked back up to him, wondering how she could ever be so shallow as to simply call him a fat cat, without getting to know him. "I think that's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me." She looked to the queens nearby. It suddenly made sense. "Do you mind if I sit here…"

"By all means, do," he offered. Bombalurina looked ready to fight for a seat.

All the while, Cassandra was leaning in close, looking at the thing around the neck of the fat cat. "What is that thing, anyway?"

Bustopher Jones took a look at all the queens surrounding him, before leaning very close to the queen and whispering in her ear. "Have you ever heard of a love potion?"

Cassandra let out a small laugh. "Those don't exist, Bustopher." With a sweep of his paw, he demonstrated to the Abyssinian his sudden popularity.

"It wasn't like this last week," he said, a knowing smile on his face.

Cassandra laughed uneasily, looking away. There were a lot of queens around him. She cleared her throat. "Where did you get it," she asked, hoping not to sound too desperate.

"Well," he said, watching Cassandra carefully, "That shouldn't matter. What matters now is, if you ask me politely, I will let you borrow it."

The queen's pale blue eyes went wide as Bustopher Jones took the vial from around his neck and handed it to Cassandra. "Oh, but you're using it, Bustopher!"

"I think I've used it up for now," he said, glancing at the queens mulling around him. "Go on, use it wisely, dear."

Cassandra broke into a wide smile, uncharacteristic of her to show any elation, and gladly took the vial, putting it around her neck. With a knowing smile to Bustopher Jones, she made her way out of the alleyway gracefully.

Bombalurina walked up to Bustopher Jones again, clutching the rose close to her. "There was something else I was going to ask you," she said, become somewhat lucid again. "But I can't remember what."

"Then it must not have been important, little rose. Now, have I told you all about the curry at the Siamese?"

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Cassandra stood at the junkyard entrance. It wasn't something she would normally do, entering a junkyard - not a purebred queen like her. But the cats had been so nice to her. And as though that weren't enough, there was a tom she was interested in, though she didn't know why. Something about him attracted her to him, but she never liked being straightforward in addressing toms. Well, at least not too straightforward. The frequent brushing up against a tom shouldn't have been too straightforward…right?

And she had given him these signs! A gentle caressing of the shoulder, or rubbing up against him as is a cat's way, and even taking to dancing in front of him during Jellicle Balls and gatherings – but the tom was oblivious.

But now. Now that she had a potion, she could certainly attract him, without all the unnecessary "subtleties". He would, hopefully, fall helplessly into her arms. And then she would have her way with him…or so she would like to dream.

Something about this should have been bad. She should have felt guilty about intoxicating him with a potion or magic. But the idea of finally getting what she wanted? Screw morality!

Taking a few deep breaths, she grasped the vial and walked valiantly into the junkyard. She made sure to steer clear of other toms if she saw them in the distance. The last thing she needed was Coricopat falling head over heels for her. She would not have liked to see that. But she kept her focus, using her general understanding of the layout of the junkyard, until…

He was right there, lying in his usual spot, near his den. Cassandra smiled gingerly and walked up to him in that deliberate way she does.

"Hello, Mistoffelees," she said.

The tom opened his eyes, then opened them wider in shock. "Cassandra!" he said, instantly standing up. "Hi! What are you doing here?"

"I was just passing by, and I thought I'd say hello," she said, swaying her tail back and forth slowly.

"You're not here to see anyone?" he asked, surprised.

"A queen can't walk in the junkyard at dusk, and greet old friends?"

Mistoffelees looked as though he were ready to run. Cassandra's smile began to fall as she realized the love potion wasn't working. Lowering her eyes to the ground, she gently shook the vial around her neck, hoping that whatever magic it had just needed to be stirred.

"Hey," Mistoffelees said, his tone changing. "Isn't that—Er, I mean…that's a pretty little collar you have on there, Cassandra."

The queen seemed a little puzzled, amazed at how quickly the potion took effect. "Oh, yes," she said. "I borrowed it from your Uncle. How does it look?"

Mistoffelees eyes seemed fixed on the vial, making Cassandra wonder exactly how it was supposed to work. Maybe that was just the way the potion did it's magic - attracting a cat's attention to it, before to the cat who was wearing it. That red queen seemed to have the same thing happen to her…

Slowly, a smile spread across Mistoffelees' face, and he seemed to be blushing under his fur. His ears fell back a bit, as he lowered his gaze. Cassandra tilted her head a bit, trying to fix his gaze to hers, and to her astonishment, the tom worked up the courage to look her in the eyes. "You-you-you know, your eyes," he began, though having much difficulty. "They're…I've always thought they were pretty."

Cassandra gave a bashful smile, feeling like a kitten again. "Thank you, Mistoffelees."

"You can call me Misto. Only if you want, that is! I mean, you don't have to call me Misto if you don't want to - I mean, Mistoffelees is fine. I like the way you say Mistoffelees. Not that it's any different coming from anyone else, it's just, when you say it, you know?" The tom laughed nervously. "I'm not making any sense, am I?"

The queen could just hug him for being so flustered. "It makes perfect sense. When someone you like says your name, it sounds so much better."

Mistoffelees seemed to stop breathing. Cassandra could concur. She hadn't meant to confess she liked him before he said he liked her. But she tried to keep her cool about it. "Mistoffelees? I was wondering if perhaps you wanted to take a walk with me tonight? It will be nice, under the moonlight, and I know this beautiful place where – Mistoffelees, you can breath now!!!"

The tom let out a shaky breath, nodding to the queen. She just laughed to herself and turned, leading the way. Mistoffelees was walking along side her, both rather rigid in their stance.

Cassandra could see Mistoffelees' paw twitch out of the side of her eye. She then saw him reach for her paw, but back away. She sighed inwardly. But then, he seemed to lay his eyes on the vial around her neck again, and after taking a deep breath, reached out his paw again. Cassandra tried not to smile as she waited for it. Then, the shy tom gently clasped her paw.

The Abyssinian smiled to him, as they walked paw in paw.