Are you blind when you're born?
Can you see in the dark?
Dare you look at a king?
Would you sit on his throne?
Can you say of your bite, that it's worse than your bark?
Are you cock of the walk-
when you're walking alone?

Because Jellicles are and Jellicles do
Jellicles do and Jellicles would
Jellicles would and Jellicles can
Jellicles can and Jellicles do.

Things had been difficult for too long.

Death and sadness, injuries and illness, it had plagued the Jellicles more in the past week than the rest of their lives. Loved ones had come to pass, love itself had been unrequited. For every cat that found happiness in this dark time, there was another that could only consider sadness.

For this reason, there needed to be something that would bring happiness. A celebration of the lives that needed to be celebrated, of those that had their whole lives to look forward to, lives that could not be taken away now. And the only way a Jellicle could experience true happiness, of course, was at the Jellicle Ball.

There's a man over there with a look of surprise
as much as to say "Well now, how about that."
Do I actually see with my own very eyes
A man who's not heard of a Jellicle Cat?

What's a Jellicle Cat?
What's a Jellicle Cat?
What's a Jellicle Cat?

Finally. More than anything, Munkustrap felt relief. It was over. Macavity was gone, with no way of coming back. The things he had done to stop him over the past few years... they did not bear thinking about. Now the ginger beast was gone, and Munkustrap could spend his next few years in peace. He could settle down with Demeter, finally safe in the knowledge that she would not be taken from him. She was safe now. Finally.

Victoria performed her ballet with such mesmerising skill and grace that Mistoffelees could have been forgiven for forgetting about his problems in that moment. He watched each limb of her wonderful body move in perfect unison with the next, a symphonic dance that weaved a thousand words through its movement. She had told him earlier that day, this dance was for him. This was for him to remember it is not all bad, that things would be fine again.

But would they be? Could they be? For a few short seconds he remembered his pain. As Victoria finished her dance, he briefly forgot to move, instead the thoughts of Tantomile plagued his brain. He loved her. He wanted to hold her. He wanted her. He wanted to kiss her. It was a mixture of love and lust that was destined to go unrequited.

He was not able to snap out of it. After a few moments of silence, it was Plato that darted forward, ran his paws across Victoria and sang:

Jellicle Cats come out tonight! Jellicle Cats come one, come all!
The Jellicle Moon is shining bright, Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball!
Jellicle Cats come out tonight...
Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball...

Mistoffelees cradled his head in his paws as he lay in the pipe.

"I have someone in mind." Munkustrap spoke his words, rather than singing them. The lights that sparkled throughout the Junkyard glistened in the eyes of the kittens that looked up to him, smiles of excitement and wishfulness. The protector allowed himself a smile as well, for as he gazed upon these kittens, he saw a future in this tribe. He saw a tribe without fear, without Macavity. And that made him happy.

"Pouncival." Munkustrap spoke as he turned to look at the tom.

Pouncival had been sat a little further back than everyone else, with Tantomile and Coricopat either side of him. They had danced during the opening number, though with their collective injuries they had been limited to quite simple movements. Nonetheless, when Munkustrap called out his name, Pouncival was able to get to his feet.

Munkustrap walked through the crowd to approach Pouncival, and reached out to take his paw. After a moment's hesitation he took it, and mere seconds later he and Tantomile were moving to be centre-stage. Munkustrap smirked. "Pouncival... is there anyone that you had in mind?"

Pouncival's eyes widened as he realised what Munkustrap was suggesting. He was not suggesting that Pouncival himself was a good candidate... instead, he was suggesting that Pouncival should sing Jennyanydots' song in her absence. That he should sing The Old Gumbie Cat. That he should sing about the mother that Macavity took away from him. His mother.

Pouncival shook his head as he blushed furiously. "I can't sing." He said quietly, looking down at the ground.

"I'm sure we'll all forgive you a few off-notes..." Munkustrap said with a smile as he urged the tribe to look at Pouncival, to offer him their support...

...but Pouncival could not do it. The pressure of everyone looking at him was just too great, and he sat down amongst a feeling of deep shame.

Munkustrap, to his credit, recognised this immediately and patted the tom lightly on the head as Tantomile wrapped her arms around him. Munkustrap simply looked up at the sky as he spoke: "May we all, for just this moment, remember the Old Gumbie Cat."

And so, they remembered her. A murmur began to take over the tribe as cats spoke about her, sharing stories in a moment of reverence. For all but one, it was a moment of happiness – for, still lying in that pipe, Mistoffelees was decidedly unhappy.

In the hubbub of conversation, Mistoffelees failed to notice a cat lying down just in front of the pipe, though he was quickly alerted when the cat spoke. "Cheer up." Coricopat said with half a smile, his head rested upon his paws as he faced away from the tribe, quite decidedly looking at the black-and-white tom.

"Why is everyone so determined that I'm not allowed to be sad today?" Mistoffelees opened his eyes to look at Coricopat directly. "I told you why I hate myself. Everyone talking about Pouncival's mother is hardly helping."

Coricopat raised an eyebrow. "And why might that be?"

"Because everyone is actually talking about him. They're remembering Jennyanydots, sure, but they're thinking about him. They're thinking that this is the first time he's been outside in about two years, the first time he's looked happy, the first time she's looked happy... anyone can see how happy Tantomile is right now. How do you think that makes me feel?"

"You might want to consider that you are sounding awfully selfish." Coricopat spoke with a slightly lower tone, urging Mistoffelees to keep his voice down as well.

"Selfish." Mistoffelees took the cue to lower his voice – he had no intention of anyone other than Coricopat hearing what he had to say. "That's a joke, right? You think you're funny."

Coricopat rolled his eyes. "I am under no such illusions. In fact, if there is one thing I am quite certain of, it is that I am completely incapable of being 'funny'."

Mistoffelees made a frustrated noise. "Why are you even bothering me-"

"I have nobody to dance with and Tantomile said you might like me."

"...what?"

Coricopat kept his gaze firmly on Mistoffelees, his expression and demeanor remarkably calm considering what he was saying. "Tantomile is still unable to dance after Macavity's attack, and even if she were in peak condition, she is bound to sit beside Pouncival the entire evening. So, with that in mind, either I too feel sorry for myself, or you and I dance together during the Ball."

Mistoffelees had lost his sombre expression. It was now a kind of confusion, wide-eyed and furrowed brow. "What was the other thing you said?"

"What? Oh." Coricopat glanced away. "Tantomile said that you might like me. I appreciate it is not particularly relevant, but I thought if I said it out loud you might confirm or deny it. Not that it bothers me either way. But I would like some clarification."

Mistoffelees opened his mouth to speak, but the chatter was calming down. Before he could respond to Coricopat's request, the other tom had hopped to his feet and darted into the crowd, seemingly to find his sister. Mistoffelees stared at the space where Coricopat had been and found himself wondering exactly what had just happened. Had he just been propositioned? He was not sure. But for a brief moment, he felt considerably better about himself.

He felt wanted.

As the chatter almost died completely, Mistoffelees reflected on Jennyanydots' passing. He recalled her looking after him as a kitten, teaching him just as she had all the other young cats in the tribe. She was a good cat, he reconciled, and he missed her. He missed Skimbleshanks as well. He missed Etcetera, even though she had only been gone for less than a week. The Junkyard was quieter without her. Tugger was sadder. Jemima was still devastated. Mistoffelees heaved a heavy sigh and rested his head on his paws, shutting his eyes. He wanted this Ball to be over already.

Much as everyone else, Mistoffelees certainly did not expect the klaxon that rocketed throughout the Junkyard. Most every cat sharply covered their ears at the dreadful sound, though Munkustrap was upright and alert, looking around desperately to see what could have possibly caused that horrendous noise... and he was greatly unsurprised to see it was Tugger.

The Rum Tum Tugger jumped on top of the tyre. With every cat in the tribe seemingly transfixed upon him, he gave a smirk before yelling a loud 'meow!' and squeezing the airhorn again to trigger another loud klaxon sound. He raised his paws to the air as if conducting an orchestra, and within moments half of the tribe had begun to sing his song:

The Rum Tum Tugger is a curious cat!

Tugger looked cockier than ever. He looked around at the familiar faces and rubbed his paws together, before singing his famous lines.

If you offer me pheasant I'd rather have grouse
If you put me in a house I would much prefer a flat
If you put me in a flat then I'd rather have a house
If you set me on a mouse then I only want a rat
If you set me on a rat then I'd rather chase a mou-

The moment those last two words left his mouth, they were followed by a yelp. Tugger dropped to be sitting and his paws clasped to his chest, pressing on the injury he had taken before. He glanced to the pipe as the singing stopped and gleeful expressions turned sour. Tugger grimaced and shook his head. "It hurts too much..." He managed to say quietly. Bombalurina was quick to his side, as were a few others, but Tugger's discomfort appeared to be all too great to continue.

"It's okay, hon." Bombalurina said quietly as she sat beside him, placing her arm gingerly around his back. Munkustrap made it to the front of the tribe as well, showing his support for his brother by gently patting him on the head. Tugger had sustained those injuries fighting Macavity, attempting to save Etcetera's life. Exactly which hurt the most – his injuries or his pride – was unclear. But in this moment, the song appeared to be over.

It was more or less the only thing that could have convinced Mistoffelees to dart from his hiding place in the pipe. He pushed through the crowd and ran across to his best friend. "Tugger..." He said quietly, offering his sympathy as he took Tugger's paw. "It's okay. You don't have to keep singing... you did well." He offered an empathetic smile, but that only turned sour when he saw the sudden wide grin that appeared on Tugger's face.

Mistoffelees rolled his eyes as Tugger jumped to his feet, which drew cheers from the crowd. The sudden realisation that Tugger had faked his injury simply to draw Mistoffelees out of hiding could only really be met with one phrase, which Mistoffelees begrudgingly sang. With his arms folded and a cursory glance at Munkustrap, Mistoffelees remarked:

The Rum Tum Tugger is a terrible bore.

Suddenly Tugger burst into life, his body full of movement that belied his injuries. The chorus of kittens that surrounded him sung in deep appreciation at this moment of happiness. Bombalurina shot Tugger a look that told him just how much he would pay for that later, though by now Munkustrap had come to expect this kind of behaviour from his brother and he hardly batted an eyelid.

But as the fervor of the crowd (matched with the remarkable bright lights of warm colours) created such a happy atmosphere, when the song reached its conclusion one could almost be forgiven for forgetting that there was an absentee.

As Tugger sung his final high note, it dawned on him that without Etcetera, there was no-one to interrupt him. For a moment, he considered the possibility that he may have to hold the note forever, which felt slightly longer than he usually did... but it turned out that Etcetera's previous squeal of joy was actually rather quiet when compared to the high-pitched 'squee' noise that erupted from Plato's lips to interrupt Tugger.

Everyone stopped and turned around. Plato immediately covered his face with his paws and considered how lovely it would be if the floor consumed him then and there, a move which only confirmed to everyone that he had been the source of the noise. Tugger turned and strode towards him, leaving the circle of kittens to place his paws directly on Plato's shoulders and lay a large smooch of a kiss on his lips.

Plato fainted.

About it!

A few pauses and murmurs were broken by a deliberate shattering of glass and loud laughter. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer leapt up to sing their song about petty burglary.

With the calico-furred twins firmly in the middle of their song, the centre of the Junkyard was left completely clear for them, which meant the Jellicles were gathered in a large circle to watch these antics. As all of this was underway, Coricopat took it upon himself to find a space beside Tantomile and give her paw a small squeeze. "Hi." He whispered, not wanting to interrupt the song.

"Hello." She whispered back, squeezing his paw in kind. "It's nice, isn't it?"

Coricopat did not respond. 'Nice' seemed to be completely the wrong term. As he gazed out at Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, he did not see another pair of twins singing about theft. Their song was 'nice', yet it played against a backdrop of terrible suffering. He could see past the on-watching Jellicles, past the hundreds of tiny lights that glimmered in the moonlight, past the large tyre that provided a centre-piece.

Past all of this was destruction. The infirmary that had been burned to the ground by Macavity's wrath, the largely destroyed dens of Alonzo, Plato and Cassandra, who had merely been caught in the cross-fire. He looked down at the ground on which Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer danced – every now and again they would dance past the spot on which Etcetera... passed away.

Coricopat had always been cold, he had never had difficulty thinking about death. But the way Etcetera died; it haunted him. He recalled her body, covered in hundreds of tiny cuts, the way she clung on just long enough to say 'goodbye'. He recalled his efforts to save her and how pointless they had been. He recalled death, suffering and agony. Coricopat wondered whether he would ever get over that day.

But he was not about to ruin Tantomile's night by talking about such things. After all, the wonderment of the kittens as they watched this performance proved something – the strength of this tribe. The togetherness, the camaraderie. As bad as things might have been, this was a night for making things better, for starting again. Another day was going to dawn, and it would be a day without Macavity. Coricopat could take solace in that.

"This was easier when I could read minds." Tantomile joked as she nudged Coricopat in the side, referring both to the luminous pink collar that Macavity had forced her to wear around her neck and the fact that Coricopat had failed to give her a reply. "Anyway, I saw you talking to Sparkles-"

"That is not going to be his nickname."

"You and him would be the cutest thing ever, though." Pouncival interrupted, offering Coricopat a thumbs-up. Tugger's song had put him in good spirits. "Cori and Mistoffelees... Coriffelees? Mistopat? You guys need a relationship nickname..."

Coricopat rolled his eyes. "Here I am, trying to have a moment to reflect upon this grand occasion, and yet I find myself being given a... a what?"

Tantomile laughed quietly. "A relationship nickname! It's this thing Pounce told me about where you put two names together and you get a new name for both of you!"

Pouncival grinned. "So we're Tantopounce! Cool, right? Anyway, you're Coristo now."

"Oh my god that's so cute." Victoria sidled closer to Coricopat, wrapping her arm around his. "Can I play?" She whispered to him, not letting him answer before offering a few suggestions of her own. "How about Quaxopat? No, I can do better. Sparklepat? Coricosparkles?"

Tantomile and Pouncival immediately started laughing at 'Sparklepat', which caused Victoria to grin widely, however Coricopat did not share the same enthusiasm. He pulled away from both queens so that he could jam both of his palms into his forehead. "You are all insane." He said with a resigned sigh. "I speak to one tom and suddenly I am in a relationship-"

"Ahem."

All four cats immediately turned around to see Munkustrap standing with his arms folded. "Two things. One, be quiet, be respectful and be seated while other cats are singing." He was using his stern voice, and they all listened. Within moments the group had fallen to the floor, sitting as per Munkustrap's instructions. "And two... the relationship name is clearly Coricostoffelees. I would ship it." A few of the cats around them laughed, including Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. After all, their song had ended.

Munkustrap glanced over at Mistoffelees, who bowed his head.

Old Deuteronomy?

Tantomile and Coricopat stood up.

I believe it is Old Deuteronomy.

As the chorus began, a thought rang through Munkustrap's mind. If someone was looking for evidence that things were changing, that was surely it – he had made a joke. Perhaps the significance was lost on these particular cats, but if Demeter or Tugger had been nearby, they would have jumped for joy. Munkustrap's entire demeanor was shifting into something different, his serious exterior slowly molding into something light-hearted. He did not need to be afraid anymore.

Old Deuteronomy's lived a long time.
He's a cat who has lived many lives in succession.

It should also be noted that as he walked past Pouncival, Munkustrap gave the tom a high-five. This did not go unnoticed, as a few of the other kittens quickly approached Pouncival to congratulate him on such an achievement.

He was famous in proverb and famous in rhyme,
A long while before Queen Victoria's accession.

As Munkustrap sang, Old Deuteronomy stood on top of the tyre. Despite his age, his eyesight was still exemplary – which allowed him to oversee the entire tribe at once. He had looked over most of these cats for their entire lives, he knew them like the back of his paw. All of this was to say that he could read those inner thoughts.

Tugger stood as well.

Old Deuteronomy's buried nine wives,
And more I am tempted to say, '99'.

Old Deuteronomy knew the thoughts that rocketed through Coricopat's mind when he looked wistfully into the distance. He knew how Mistoffelees felt isolated, he could see that Victoria was trying to make some new friends. When he observed the exchange with Munkustrap, with the high-five in particular, Deuteronomy instinctively knew what the Protector was trying to do.

And his numerous progeny prospers and thrives.
And the village is proud of him in his decline.

He was trying to ingratiate Pouncival back into the tribe.

Munkustrap stood beside Tugger.

At the sight of that placid and bland physionomy,
As he sits in the sun on the vicarage wall,
The oldest inhabitant croaks...

For Deuteronomy, this was most obvious. Munkustrap had deliberately made Pouncival the centre-of-attention earlier by asking him to sing The Old Gumbie Cat. When Pouncival had been unable, Munkustrap had turned it into a positive. By joining their game now, he was further identifying that Pouncival was no longer ill, no longer a threat, no longer a cat to be afraid of. And of course, by high-fiving him... well, Deuteronomy was actually not completely sure of the significance of that. But the other kittens seemed impressed.

Tugger and Munkustrap looked at each other. Tugger's cocky expression and demeanor belied his injuries, which he appeared determined to fight through. Munkustrap was unscathed, and at the sight of his brother wrapped an arm around his side. Tugger did not pull away, instead lazily laying his arm across Munkustrap's shoulders. Facing the tribe, they sang:

Well of all things, can it be really?
Yes no ho hi oh my eye!
My mind may be wandering but I confess,
I believe it is Old Deuteronomy.

As the song continued, more and more cats joined in the refrain. Their voices conjoined like an angelic chorus, singing up to the heavens about this cat that they all adored. Old Deuteronomy could be forgiven for taking his time as he watched and listened, hearing the voices that demanded his presence. Within a few steps he was into the clearing, and after a few steps more he was being mobbed. The glorious singing continued, with occasional voices dropping off as arms wrapped around him and heads were buried in his fur. The love and admiration was incredible.

Munkustrap stepped forward so that he might bow to Deuteronomy, but the elderly cat stopped his son in his tracks, instead making a small bow himself. Munkustrap chuckled and stepped forward to hug his father, a hug which Tugger almost immediately joined too.

As the embrace broke and the singing reached its close, Munkustrap stood tall to speak – but once again he found his father's paw on his shoulder, urging him to wait.

It was Old Deuteronomy's time to speak.

"We shall celebrate the end of this fear." Deuteronomy captivated the entire tribe's attention with a soothing authority, a voice which urged respect yet caused happiness. Not a single cat there looked away when Deuteronomy spoke. "To celebrate the end of this suffering... to celebrate the end of these dark times. But above all else, and this is the most important, we shall celebrate the beginning of a new time, where the lives of those who have left us shall be remembered with fondness for their wondrous moments, not with sadness for the way they left us."

Deuteronomy bowed his head to Munkustrap, who turned to address the tribe.

Jellicle Cats meet once a year
On the night we make the Jellicle choice
And now that the Jellicle leader is here
Jellicle Cats can all rejoice!

As Munkustrap began to sing about Pekes and Pollicles, a thought traced through his mind. He glanced across the Junkyard, singing to a pair of quite noticeable absentees. He wondered how his mate, Demeter, was coping with her responsibilities. For the reason she was not there with him, dancing in this excitable excitement, was the same reason that Coricopat felt sadness, the same reason that Tugger felt painfully guilty.

Across the Junkyard, sitting far up high and out of sight on a mountain of junk were two queens. From their vantage point they could see the clearing quite clearly, they could even hear some of the singing when the voices joined together as they did for Old Deuteronomy. For sat up there, far from the prying eyes, were Demeter and Jemima.

Jemima had her eyes shut – not sleeping, just not looking. Her arms were wrapped rather tightly around Demeter, a set of bandages covering the wounds that she suffered at the paws of Macavity. But nothing could close the emotional wound that hammered in her skull, the agony that completely refused to abate even in the embrace of her sister.

For those that needed a reminder, Macavity had murdered Jemima's girlfriend, Etcetera. She lived long enough to admit her love to Jemima, mere moments before the loss of blood got too great. Jemima could hold onto that thought, that feeling. It made things slightly easier, that she at least got to say 'goodbye'. Yet right now, things were too recent. Too real. Too short, too sudden and far, far too difficult for her to deal with.

Hence she struggled. Jemima no longer wanted to sing, and Demeter could only offer a loving embrace to help her through this impossibly difficult time, along with small words of hope. Reminders that their love was real, that they were able to admit their feelings to one another. The reminder that the tom that did this, Macavity, was gone forever. He would never come back.

Demeter sighed as she watched her mate sing, silently wishing that she could hear his beautiful voice from where she sat. She made a mental note to ask him to sing it for her some other day, but not tonight. It was distressing to see her sister so distraught.

"Hey, Pounce, you in on this?"

Pouncival blinked and looked up. He had been transfixed by Munkustrap's singing, not really thinking about where he was. Having been snapped back into the moment, he saw Plato holding a shoebox.

"We're doing Little Tom Pollicle in, like, half a minute. Are you in or what?"

Pouncival immediately looked to Tantomile, who smiled. "I'll keep close enough to you." She said simply, giving him a little push towards Plato. Pouncival grinned and got to his feet, taking the shoebox from Plato and placing it on his head.

And together they started to grumble and wheeze
In their huffery-snuffery heathen Chinese
But a terrible din is what Pollicles like,
For your Pollicle dog is a dour Yorkshire tyke.

Pouncival did not want to sing on his own earlier. He did not believe he was capable of it, he had nowhere near the self-confidence... yet this was easier. This was doable. He could sing with the other toms, and indeed after being asked specifically, how could he not? Having lined up with Mungojerrie, Plato, Alonzo and Admetus, the five toms began to sing:

There are dogs out of every nation:
the Irish, the Welsh and the Dane,

The marching was silly. All five toms immediately fell into a kind of ridiculous, hunched march that drew laughter from the other kittens. Mungojerrie played up to it immediately, pulling faces as he fell out of sync with the others.

The Russian, the Dutch, the Dalmatian,
and even from China and Spain!

Pouncival started laughing. There was a freedom to this that he found exhilarating, but the most ridiculous thing was that he was even doing it at all. He was prancing around, singing. The other cats were laughing with him, they were laughing at his performance, they were enjoying his nonsense. He was mimicking Mungojerrie's goofy expressions and the other cats were liking it.

The Poodle, the Pom, the Alsatian,
and the Mastiff who walks on a chain-

Munkustrap stood in front of Pouncival and placed out his paw, stopping the tom in his tracks. All the cats behind bounced into Pouncival, stopping too. It was how things once were, a perfect recreation of their performance five years earlier, in the Ball that saw Grizabella taken to Heaviside. Pouncival could not stop laughing as Munkustrap sang.

And to those that are frisky and frollical,
Let my meaning be perfectly plain.

Tantomile was beaming from ear-to-ear. She was split up from Coricopat, sitting on opposite ends of the clearing, yet right at the front of the queens. Of course, she wanted to keep close enough to Pouncival that he would be alright, but by this point she knew roughly how much space to give him that it would not cause any problems. She could be sat a few yards further away before the magic stopped affecting him; not that she would ever risk that.

For her, seeing Pouncival like this stirred up an incredible feeling – her mate was no longer suffering. He was mentally better, physically better, and seeing him like this he was clearly emotionally better too. He was proving that he was able to deal with other cats again, that he had regained the social spark that made him so popular years ago. And the rest of the tribe were being so incredible, so welcoming and so forgiving. They seemed to want the 'old' Pouncival back as much as she did, and were encouraging it. They were looking past his scars and marks of self-harm, to see the clear happiness.

Tantomile would have started crying had she not been in public.

That my name it is Little Tom Pollicle,
And you'd better not do it again!

Or, at least, that was what Pouncival, Plato, Admetus and Mungojerrie sang. Alonzo sang 'my name it is simply symbolical', which earned him a clip round the ear from Munkustrap for being a know-it-all.

The rest of the song continued with little else of note, barring the remarkable moment when Tugger joined Mistoffelees for the Scottish dancing in Skimbleshanks' absence. Munkustrap was impressed.

On the opposite side of the clearing to Tantomile, Coricopat was sitting on his own. He was amongst the other toms, sure, but he was ultimately sat a little to the side, not engaging the same as the others. Not that there was anything unusual about this – it was just that without Tantomile by his side being equally distant, Coricopat rather stood out.

Yet he was about to stand out just a little bit more.

Having finished dancing his part of the song, Mistoffelees stepped past the other toms to sit just beside Coricopat. He heaved a sigh as the mystic tom seemed to not even notice him. "Thanks for running away earlier." He said quietly, a dose of sarcasm evident in his voice.

"I was busy." Coricopat retorted. "The conversation was dying down, I had to be sure that my sister was coping."

Mistoffelees frowned. "Why are you being so cold to me?" He turned to look at Coricopat. Still keeping his voice low so as not to distract from Munkustrap's singing, Mistoffelees glared at Coricopat. "I'm trying my best here and you're being so mean..."

Coricopat turned to face Mistoffelees as well. "I am sorry that you feel that way."

"...is that it?" Mistoffelees asked simply.

"...I do not know what else there is to say."

"How about you say something about what you said to me earlier?"

Coricopat sighed. "It was not my intention to upset you, Mistoffelees. My sister and her mate seem so intent on us becoming romantically intertwined that they have already given us a 'relationship nickname'."

Mistoffelees glanced across the clearing. For a moment he did not reply, before letting a soft laugh pour from his lips. "That's hilarious." He said, shaking his head slightly. "I'm guessing it was 'Mistoffericopat', right?"

Coricopat covered his face with his paws. "It was Coricosparkles, I think."

Mistoffelees stopped laughing, instead folding his arms angrily. "God-damn that Rum Tum Tugger for starting that, that is not my name."

Coricopat's cold exterior warmed at Mistoffelees' response. "So it is his fault, then." He dropped his paws from his face, to rest lightly in his lap. "I was similarly frustrated at the suggestion. Your actual name is far too beautiful for it to be reduced down to such frivolous nicknames."

Mistoffelees lifted his head slightly, before cocking it to the side. "Beautiful..?"

Coricopat took a moment to respond. "...yes. Well. I mean, that is to say, your name is incredible. That was all I said."

"...okay. I accept." Mistoffelees nodded his head and offered his paw to Coricopat.

Coricopat looked at the outstretched paw curiously, before looking back at the tom opposite. "You accept? I do not follow..."

"You wanted a partner."

"I... what? I wanted... but, I did not..." Coricopat was suddenly rather flustered. "I- earlier, all I wanted to know was if you were attracted to me, that was all! Tantomile said you were and I just wanted clarification-"

"Cori." Mistoffelees said firmly, looking up at the other tom. "Allow me to clarify – you wanted a dance partner."

"...ah. Yes. I did say that." Coricopat suddenly felt rather foolish and took Mistoffelees' outstretched paw. "I would rather like someone to dance with during the Ball. If that is not too much of a bother."

Mistoffelees smiled and held back a laugh. "You know what, Cori? I feel like we are going to dance so good the whole tribe will be in awe."

All Hail and all Bow to the Great Rumpus Cat!

As the song reached its end, with Alonzo dressed as the Great Rumpus Cat, there was a great cheer. Pouncival quickly returned to Tantomile's side, who gave him a brief hug and a small nuzzle for being so brave. Old Deuteronomy watched on, observing the tribe. It was his time to sing.

"First..." He began, drawing a deep breath as the tribe looked on. "Allow me to ask you all a question. In this terrible hour of pouring rain, I ask you this – we sing these songs to suggest those that might be reborn, yet who among us is most ready to leave; to come back to a different Jellicle life?"

Old Deuteronomy drew another breath. "Who among us has suffered such pain and heartache, such unbearable trauma, that the only thing to do... the only right thing to do... is to gift them with a new Jellicle life..? Is there such a cat among us?"

"Never before..." He continued, the tribe transfixed by his every word, "Never before has this next verse seemed so pertinent. This time, I shall not be interrupted..." He sang:

Jellicle Cats and dogs all must
Pollicle Dogs and cats all must
Like undertakers, come to dust...

...Here a little dog I pause
Heaving up my prior paws
Pause... and sleep endlessly.