A while later, Mistoffelees re-entered the house, the kitten safely in a new carrier, several bottles of food in a bag along with a couple medications and a bed. He even had a list of what he needed to pick up the next day to make the kitten feel really at home, though he seemed to have a good start. The kitten had been examined, declared healthy, and given the first dose of shots.

Jenny closed the door behind them, "Shall we go see about getting this little one settled in then?"

Mistoffelees nodded, heading up the stairs. "Little guy has had a long day after all," he agreed, elbowing open the door to the small apartment.

His landlady entered the apartment as well, "He seems to like you, which is promising."

"I hope so," Mistoffelees said, lifting the kitten and setting it on his shoulder, where the kitten happily curled up. "Huh, I didn't actually expect that to work."

Jenny laughed quietly, "Now just don't move too much."

"That could be a problem," Mistoffelees laughed, petting the kitten between his ears. "You'll need a name..."

"Well, what comes to mind when you see him?"

The kitten mewed when Mistoffelees pulled him off his shoulders and held the small creature out in front of him. "Well, he's a cat, so elegance. And he's in formal dress," he added, bringing the tuxedo kitten back to his chest. "So classy."

Jenny considered, looking around as she thought, "Perhaps after an author?"

"A classy author," Mistoffelees agreed. "So probably British." His eyes strayed over to the small stack of books near his bed that he'd been working on building back up.

She strolled over to the books, looking over the authors, "Well, you have quite a bit of Wilde here."

He tried not to react to that. "Yeah," he said softly. "I really do." He looked down at the kitten again, a soft smile on his face. "Oscar, then?"

"I think that is the perfect name for him, yes."

Mistoffelees grinned, settling on the couch and letting the kitten curl up on his lap. Jenny paused for a moment before sitting down next to him, "Are you doing alright, dear?"

"No," he replied, for once honest to the question. "Do you ever have those days where you really hate it when someone's right about you?"

She nodded, "From time to time. What was someone right about this time?"

"Coricopat, which is icing on the cake," he said, leaning his head against her shoulder. "Knew Jer wasn't my lover because I am... apparently too tactile to kick anyone out of my bed."

She wrapped an arm around him, "Oh, Mistoffelees... He, Coricopat I mean, from what I've met of him, seem the sort to speak without processing."

"It's not quite what you expect to find in an FBI file is all," he murmured, shifting himself and the kitten into the touch. "I didn't even realize he'd notice. We chased each other up and down New York but we didn't meet that often-it was sorta the point. If I'm that obvious how can I pull off cons or delicate operations? Besides, if he thought I had a lover he might think I wasn't going after Pounce anymore."

"Is it possible he's just focused on it? I don't know why he would be, but I wouldn't say that it's obvious that you're that tactile. Not with just a few encounters, anyhow."

"Why would he be focused on that?" Mistoffelees protested.

Jenny glanced at him and then offered a half shrug, "I don't know."

"You don't know or you just aren't mentioning it?" he mumbled, pressing a bit closer.

"Perhaps a bit of both."

Mistoffelees pressed his shoulder a bit harder against her. "You're not gonna tell me?"

"Not yet, dearie."

He made a dissatisfied noise, petting one of the kitten's ears. "I guess it just made me realize how much I missed touch."

Her hand moved up to comb over his hair in much the same motion, "It happens. You've been without it for rather a long time."

"I suppose," he said. "I just didn't want to hear it and I didn't want him saying it."

"Is there a reason beyond him being...him…that you didn't want him saying it?"

He tried not to sigh. "He put me in prison-he took that away from me. Not to mention Jerrie was saying stupid things about falling in love with him."

Jenny blinked at that, her hand stilling, "Is that a possibility?"

"What?" he blinked at her, tilting his head back.

"What Jerrie said. What made him bring it up?"

"Worst things that could possibly happen."

Jenny shook her head, "Dear me."

"Was that a dear me I agree, or dear me he's off his rocker?" Mistoffelees asked with a tiny smile.

"Dear me, I don't think it was especially a wise thing for him to say," Jenny sighed.

Mistoffelees smiled faintly, settling into the couch, kitten, and embrace. "He has a lot of those moments," he murmured.

w-w-w-w

The next morning, Mistoffelees woke up to find Oscar curled up underneath his chin. He spent a few moments petting the small kitten before rising and moving around the apartment, actually awake in time to be mostly ready when the knock came on his door. However, once he'd left the bed, so had Oscar, and the kitten was now perched quite protectively on Coricopat's windbreaker.

Coricopat rapped on the door, waiting for Mistoffelees to answer it. The meeting with the woman at the university had been set for about an hour from the time he was due to pick the other man up.

Mistoffelees paused, heading quickly for the door, not quite ready. "I can't decide whether your clock is ahead, if mine's behind, or if you just like catching me in a state of half dress every morning," Mistoffelees greeted him. "Come in, if you want your windbreaker. You're gonna have to fight for it."

"Fight for it?" He blinked in confusion as he entered the apartment.

Mistoffelees nodded, heading to the bathroom to finish shaving. That garnered an arched brow. Coricopat spotted his windbreaker and moved over, reaching out to pick it up.

He was greeted with hissing as Oscar swiped a paw out from the folds. He yelped slightly, startling back, "What did you wrap in here, a demon?"

Oscar poked his head out, ears back before walking in a circle over the top of the windbreaker and lying down in the middle of it.

"Oscar's not a demon," Mistoffelees protested. "He's a kitten. And I told you you were gonna have to fight for it."

"And now I can see he's a kitten. I all I got before was a hiss and claws." Coricopat hesitated, slowly reaching for the kitten this time, intending to stroke his ears, if he would allow him to.

The kitten glanced up at him, hissing softly again.

He scowled at the kitten, "That's my coat, not yours."

Oscar appeared to disagree, settling more and more into his space on the coat, leaving black and white hairs all over it. Leaving the bathroom, Mistoffelees arched a brow at him. "Are you scared of a kitten?"

"No. I just don't care to go to a meeting covered in claw marks." He considered again and finally gave in, risking his hand to scoop the kitten up, pulling it against his chest and holding it there with one hand as he swept up the coat with the other, draping it over his shoulder.

Mistoffelees laughed as Oscar looked very miffed, mewing and looking up at his abductor.

Coricopat shook his head at the kitten, "No, it's my coat."

The kitten mewed again and Mistoffelees held a hand out. "Are you a cat person then?"

The agent shrugged, handing the kitten over. "I'm not much of an animal person in general, but I don't really mind them."

Taking the kitten, Mistoffelees smiled as Oscar's posture changed, the kitten butting at the short man's chin.

"Are you set?" Coricopat shook out his coat, managing to brush some of the fur off of it.

"Yeah," Mistoffelees nodded, using his free hand to pick up a jacket. "I'll just leave Oscar with Jenny for now."

"Alright, I'll meet you in the car."

Mistoffelees smiled, slightly strained. "Okay," he said softly, waiting for Coricopat to leave before taking the kitten downstairs.

w-w-w-w

Maria Fiametta was waiting for them when they arrived, "You gentlemen are with the FBI?"

Coricopat nodded, "Yes, we were hoping you could help us out on this one. We're working on a stolen bible." He glanced at Mistoffelees, "You have the picture?"

Mistoffelees held it out with a charming grin. "Thank you, Agent...?" She arched a brow at him as she took the photograph.

"Mistoffelees Caffrey," he replied, smile not quite slipping but close. "And I'm not an agent, just a consultant." He preferred to say it himself than have Coricopat point it out.

"Interesting. There's a talented manuscript forger by that name," Marie remarked, offering him a bit of a smile.

"How talented?" Mistoffelees asked, smile bright and charming.

"Oh so you are him?" She offered him a brighter smile, "You're with the FBI?"

"You could call it a work release," he shrugged, breezing past the issue as much as he could.

"I have to ask, is it true that the Vinland map is yours?" she asked, eyes lit up.

"How could it be?" Mistoffelees asked, eyes widening innocently. "But if it is a forgery, it's quite a spectacular one."

Coricopat cut in before she could say anything, preferring not to tread in those waters, "How about we return to the problem at hand? A pre-Renaissance bible stolen from a church in Brooklyn."

Maria handed the photograph back, "It's beautiful, but it's not a bible."

"It's not?" Mistoffelees asked, looking the picture over again. "Huh, you're right."

"Too small to be a bible," she explained.

"A book of hours then," Coricopat offered.

"Most likely. In the Italian style," Maria agreed.

The agent glanced at Mistoffelees, explaining though he half figured the other knew, "A large prayer book. To show their devotion, monks and nuns had to recite the songs, hymns or chants and specific times all day long."

"Sunday school?" Mistoffelees asked with an arched brow.

"Lots of Sundays," Coricopat nodded.

Maria glanced between them, but shrugged, "This is a particularly nice example."

"Paul Ignazio thought so too," the FBI agent replied. "You wouldn't happen to know him?"

"No."

"Show off," Mistoffelees muttered under his breath to Cori before turning back to Maria. "We think Paul Ignazio's the one who stole the book."

"Well, I hope you catch him then," she replied, eyes wide.

"Can't, he's dead," Coricopat reverted to being as blunt as he felt, "Looks like a mob hit, but we're still hoping to figure out who took the book."

"Well, I'd love to know. It's quite beautiful," Maria said.

Withdrawing a business card and handing it to her, the agent nodded, "If you hear anything, or come across someone who's looking to buy or sell something like that-"

"I'll call you."

"It's been a pleasure," Mistoffelees said, offering his hand since they hadn't shaken on meeting.

She shook it, "If you're ever in the mood to discuss medieval manuscripts..."

"You'd be surprised how often I'm in the mood for just that," he replied.

Coricopat shook his head, "Good day, Miss Fiametta."

"Good day, gentlemen. I look forward to hearing from you."

Mistoffelees gave her one last grin before following Coricopat out.

When they left the university, Coricopat turned the car toward Mac's rather than back to Jenny's without really thinking about it. For a while Mistoffelees didn't comment before he finally looked over. "Where are we going?"

"What? Oh, Mac's. I need to talk to him, and it's possible we can see about asking for some leftovers from whatever they had last night."

"You're just taking me over to his house?" Mistoffelees asked with an arched brow.

Coricopat shrugged, "He'll protest, but he's mostly just bluster."

"Well that's good to know," Mistoffelees muttered, hunching his shoulders slightly. "So, what was that about left overs?"

"They always have leftovers, and since he wasn't working today there's probably still some in the fridge we can possibly see about mooching for lunch," the taller man replied.

"Huh," Mistoffelees said, looking out the window. The idea of leftovers in the fridge felt so very domestic.

They pulled up in front of Macavity and Griddlebone's house a few minutes later, Coricopat parking the car and getting out, "Well, here we are."

Mistoffelees got out of the car slowly, eyes trailing up the facade of the town house. "Wow," he said under his breath. "How... homely."

"They have a dog and everything," came the dry comment as Coricopat took the steps to the door, knocking sharply on it.

"Good god," Mistoffelees said under his breath, following him.

Moments later, the door opened and Macavity leaned out. "Uh, yeah? Cor? What's up?"

"Needed to hash out the latest possible lead in the missing book of hours case."

"Come on in then," Mac said, eyeing Mistoffelees as he followed Coricopat inside.

"How's your day been, Mac?" Coricopat asked, shrugging out of his coat.

"Slow," he replied with a shrug. "Cooked a cake earlier, stuff like that." Mistoffelees' eyes widened slightly but he quickly suppressed the expression, looking around the obvious middle class and homey house instead.

"How'd that turn out?" Coricopat asked.

Macavity rolled his eyes, gesturing them both to sit down. "Well, it's cooling now."

Coricopat settled onto the couch, "Well, that's good to know. We just came from meeting with a Professor Fiametta about the missing book."

"How'd that go?" Mac asked, echoing Coricopat without meaning to as he let the dog out the back door. He bustled around the kitchen for a moment before coming to lean on the doorframe.

"She's lying about Paul and she's two degrees away from our homeless guy, but I also have trouble buying the fact that an attractive history professor offed a mobster," his friend answered.

"Really?" Macavity asked as the front door opened.

Grids entered, apparently not noticing the three men, her attention entirely on the person on the other end of her phone conversation and her tone sharp, "No, you don't want me to see the missing inventory, because if I come down there, there's going to be a lot more missing than center pieces, you got that?...Good. I'll check back in two hours. I expect to hear better," she hung up.

Coricopat's brows rose, "Okay, maybe it's not a complete stretch."

Macavity grinned, moving forward to kiss his wife on the cheek, before glancing back at Coricopat. "I was wondering when you were gonna realize that."

Griddlebone offered Mac a half-hearted embrace, "Hello all, just having some troubles with my fender."

"No worries, Cor here was just trying to decide if a woman was capable of murder or not," her husband said with a smirk.

"Oh I think so," Grids answered firmly. "What's the problem?"

"Stolen bible, dead mobster," Mac said as something dinged in the kitchen. "Oh, want lunch then?"

"Food's a good idea," his wife nodded. "Are we feeding them as well?"

"Cor shows up at lunch time and it's like a neon sign saying "feed me.'" Macavity replied.

"Which he hasn't done in a while, as evidenced by how thin he's gotten," Griddlebone remarked.

Coricopat rolled his eyes, "I'm right here, Grids."

She smiled at him, "Well, as you've yet to introduce the person I don't know, I wasn't really aware of that. Since I assume you brought him."

"No, I just snuck in," Mistoffelees replied, charming without nearly the same level he'd turned on Maria earlier.

She offered him a smile at that, "Into the home of an FBI agent, are you sure that's wise?"

"He's feeding me, isn't he?" Mistoffelees replied, implying that he was charming enough to get the FBI to feed him rather than shoot him.

That earned a laugh as she extended her hand to him, "Griddlebone, call me Grids."

For a moment he hesitated before taking the hand, giving her a softer and more genuine smile. "Mistoffelees Caffrey," he said softly, as if he wished he could give any other name.

Her eyes lit at that, "Oh you're Mistoffelees. It's good to put a face with that name."

The right corner of his mouth curled up at that, giving her a crooked grin. "It's good to meet you too." When Macavity came out of the kitchen with a casserole, Mistoffelees turned to him. "You have a lovely wife."

"Yeah, I like her," Macavity replied with a smile.

"And evidently she likes him to put up with him this long," Coricopat remarked, rising from the couch.

Macavity rolled his eyes as Mistoffelees trailed toward the table. "Shut up and eat, Cor."

Grids moved over, "So you've got a missing bible and a dead mobster today?"

"Technically," Coricopat answered.

"Meaning?"

"It's a book of hours and the mobster's not our case," he replied after a moment.

"You're a magnet for trouble, I swear," Macavity sighed.

"Well, it's like we're dealing with a shell game," Mistoffelees said, considering the table before crumpling up the receipt from the pet store of the day before and picking up several empty cups.

Grids' brows rose, "Visual aids. Very nice. You guys should use them more often." Macavity shot her a look but didn't comment, watching the conman at work.

"Okay, beige mug is Paul, our dead mobster, and the glass is Steve, our homeless vet and the blue mug is Maria," Mistoffelees said, moving them around. "For some reason Paul," and he moved the cup, "Reads Maria's book and realizes the healing bible's worth a hell lot of cash." He put the receipt under Paul's mug and continued. "But it's also his uncle's pride and joy and he doesn't want to risk Barelli's wrath, so..."

"He has Steve steal the book of hours," Coricopat finished the thought. "Plausible deniability."

"But..." Grids frowned, "If that doesn't work then the homeless guy takes the fall. Well, he's certainly got an evil streak in him."

"Takes the bible from Steve, calls Maria to make the deal and something goes wrong," Mistoffelees said, nodding at Grid's comment.

Coricopat considered, "Deal goes down wrong, or he decides he wants both the cash and the book."

"Paul ends up dead, whatever happens, and the bible goes missing. Steve never even met Maria," he said, knocking over the cup that was Paul.

"And your girl walks away clean with a valuable book," Macavity said, lifting the cup that was Maria, and revealing one of their napkins rather than the receipt. "How did you do that?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets," Grids reminded her husband with a smile.

"Question is how we get Maria to reveal hers," Mistoffelees said, putting his chin on his hands and considering a moment.

"Well, if I stretch it I might be able to get a warrant to get into her place," Coricopat considered.

Grids shook her head, "If she's smart she won't have that bible anywhere close to her."

"Grids, such a devious side to you," Macavity drawled.

"But she's right, she won't keep the bible that close to her," Mistoffelees shook his head.

Grids kissed her husband's cheek, "Don't cross me."

Coricopat turned his attention to Mistoffelees, "I've got it. She knew who you were. Mistoffelees Caffrey, master forger."

"Alleged," Mistoffelees protested.

"Like hell. We so caught you on forgery," Macavity snorted.

"Of bonds, not medieval manuscripts," Coricopat reminded. "Either way, if she's got the book, it links her to the murder. She's going to want to get rid of it. We've got all the usual challenges locked down. But if she thinks you might be interested..."

Mistoffelees' brows rose and he smiled. "Convince her I'm pliable?"

"Exactly. We find some street contacts, float it out that you're back in business...it could work," the lead agent offered.

"There's no guarantee that'd reach her, and it would take way too long," Mistoffelees shook his head. "Gotta be more direct."

"Why don't you just ask her out?" Grids asked as she dished up casserole for the four of them, setting the plates down in front of each of them.

Macavity and Mistoffelees looked up at her. "What?"

"Well, it gets you an in, probably an invite back to her place. It would give you a chance to talk about the book, offer to buy it, whatever."

"Think she'll say yes?" Mistoffelees asked.

Grids didn't hesitate, nodding, "yes."

Her husband looked over at her and Mistoffelees gave her the crooked smile again. She glanced at her husband, "What?"

"I said nothing," he said, focusing instead on lunch.

She sent Coricopat a look that pretty clearly read Finish eating and leave, please. Moments later Coricopat and Mistoffelees were out the door.

w-w-w-w

A while later, Mistoffelees glanced over at Coricopat and down to his phone. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked, looking around the FBI offices.

Coricopat shrugged slightly, "We'll bug her place while you're out, and you can put one or more of us on speed dial should there be an issue at all."

"Alright," Mistoffelees said, running a hand over his hair before putting his fedora back on and dialing Maria's number.

She picked up on the third ring, "Hello?"

"Hello, Maria? It's Mistoffelees Caffrey?"

"Oh, Mistoffelees! Wonderful to hear from you."

"It's always nice to hear your voice," he replied. "How does this afternoon find you?"

"Passable, that's how. And yourself?"

"With no plans for this evening," he replied, glancing at Coricopat. Coricopat was studiously ignoring the conversation, his attention apparently focused on a file in his hands.

"Well, what a coincidence, it appears I have nothing tonight either..."

"Really? How do you feel about dinner then?" he asked, voice brighter then he was feeling.

Her smile could be heard in her voice, "Dinner sounds great."

He named a restaurant that tended to have a long wait, and was upscale enough he was probably going to have to go to Jerrie for extra cash to cover it. "Perfect, shall we meet there at say seven?"

"I look forward to it," he said, putting as much charm as he could fit into the words.

"Then I shall see you there. Have a good afternoon, Mistoffelees."

"You too," he said, snapping the phone shut and arching a brow at Coricopat.

The agent looked up, "So you have a date then."

"If you can call undercover work a date, yes, I have a date with a stunningly beautiful woman."

"Mm. Well, I suppose that's good then."

The shorter man arched a brow. "Really?" he drawled, voice dry.

"What do you mean 'really'?"

"You suppose that's good then," Mistoffelees teased. "You sound thrilled. Won't this get you closer to solving your case?"

Coricopat nodded once, "Probably."

"So, god, cheer up a little," Mistoffelees said, throwing his hands up and rolling his eyes.

"You're going in blind and I'm supposed to be cheery about this?" Coricopat demanded.

"So, you're concerned for me?" Mistoffelees asked, brows going up in surprise.

"Why so shocked by that idea?"

"Seems weird, is all," Mistoffelees replied with a small shrug. "For you to be concerned."

"Why would it be so strange?" Coricopat pressed, grey eyes sweeping over Mistoffelees' features

"Well," Mistoffelees frowned, shifting under that scrutiny. "You're you and I'm me. It's just a matter of sending your agents in to do their job and I hardly expected you to really care what happens considering... the whole work release thing."

Coricopat snapped the file shut, his expression changing and his initial reaction hidden behind a deep frown, "Well, then I'd better see to it that my agents are set for tonight then."

Mistoffelees blinked at the rapid change. "Okay, see, that's more what I would expect."

"What? Never mind." He straightened, heading for the door.

"I don't want to never mind," Mistoffelees muttered.

Coricopat turned, "What do you want me to say then?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "What you're actually thinking?"

"I'm thinking that it's rather suddenly not your business."

The shorter man blinked. "Being concerned about me is suddenly not my business or never minding isn't?"

"What I'm thinking isn't."

"But I'm curious now," Mistoffelees protested, taking a step toward him.

Coricopat's jaw tensed, "And so obviously I must satisfy that curiosity."

"Of course," Mistoffelees replied, before adding, trying to keep it light. "Or I'll give your windbreaker back to Oscar."

That garnered a scowl, "You wouldn't dare." The black haired man just shrugged, holding his hands up innocently. "Fine. Honest answer is I don't want you getting hurt."

That actually brought Mistoffelees up short. "Why not?" he blurted before shaking his head slightly. "I mean, I've done countless things much more dangerous than dinner with a potential murderess."

Coricopat sought through his possible answers, landing on one that wouldn't go well, but that might end the conversation, "You're an asset."

It almost worked. "You don't want to lose an asset," Mistoffelees murmured. "You don't care if they get banged up in the process. But, fine," he said, rising finally.

Years of training kept Coricopat from flinching at that, "Fine?"

"Doesn't much matter, does it? If you don't mind, I need to go pick out a suitable outfit for this evening."

The agent looked away, nodding, "Alright. Good afternoon."

"God, you're so repressed," Mistoffelees muttered, stomping from the office and unsure why he was so annoyed. Coricopat watched him go, frowning, but turned his attention to getting the team set for that night.


There's a pretty specific reason Mistoffelees likes Oscar Wilde as an author so much and it's not just because VS was taking an Oscar Wilde class while writing this. It will actually show up in the plot later.

Also, Mistoffelees' crooked smile is his real one. Cheers all!