Quaxo Mistoffelees' den looked very similar to Munkustrap's, except that it was much smaller and on two levels. The top floor was his living quarters, while the ground floor was set aside for his experiments; and judging by the dark marks on the ceiling, they tended to get quite explosive.
In actual fact, he had recently finished one such experiment, and was in the middle of trying to figure out what he'd done wrong, when he heard someone rap sharply on the door. The style of knock was one that was particularly curt, and so he didn't need to guess who the visitor was. "Come in!" He coughed, attempting to beat sulphurous fumes away from his face with his paws. "The door's open!"
As the smoke cleared, the black tuxedo Angora removed his protective goggles and beheld the cat, who was considerably larger in stature than himself, staggering in through the door, and rolled his eyes. "Hi Dad. How was training?"
"Yeah... good," panted the other, sounding chipper and not in any way bothered by the smoke. "Bast almighty, Quaxo! Have you been cooking again? It smells like a pair of Tugger's cowboy boots after a successful two day pub crawl!"
"No, just a minor hiccup," Quaxo replied as he hung up his apron, deciding to conclude his studies for today.
"Really?" The silver Maine coon squinted at him incredulously. "You ought to do something about that."
"I'm in the middle of some very important research," Quaxo answered primly, as he went to open a window, not taking kindly to the insult about his cooking. He wasn't a bad cook! Just a magician in progress! "And anyway, how would you know what my uncle's boots smell like?"
Munkustrap answered in a bored tone of voice, "Oh, I would regale you with tales of alcohol infused vomit and having to drag a stupified Maine Coon home on one's back, but I'm quite sure it wouldn't interest you." As he said that, he sat down heavily in a chair next to a table and began to select various beakers of brightly coloured liquids that happened to be set upon it, giving each one a tentative sniff.
Quaxo started to chuckle, "You sound like that's what you've just done- Hey! Don't touch those!"
Munkustrap ignored him and carried on. "Yeah, that's another story of how Sadist Cat Rumpus likes to use me for demonstrations. Today, he was teaching us nonces how to avoid grapples by repeatedly dumping me on my backside. I can show you what he did, if you like?"
Quaxo crossed his arms over his dapper looking jacket, which matched his black fur superbly and glittered with many sewn-on mother of pearl buttons. However, it rather contrasted with his annoyed frown. "No thanks. Please, put those down!"
"Oh! You're no fun!" The Maine Coon complained, finally leaving the beakers alone. "And you never let me near any of your decent drugs."
"They're not drugs!" Quaxo snapped. "Some of those liquids are highly toxic! And besides, where's Alonzo for that sort of thing?"
"Your older brother doesn't take kindly to being put on his arse either, apparently," Munkustrap stated, with an air of innocence that indicated he had done just that in their sparring session.
"I hope you weren't too harsh with him. I know what you're like when you get carried away."
"I couldn't help it! Little bastard got me right here!" Munkustrap pointed to a very small bruise on his chin. "Anyway, what convoluted excuse do you have for not being there?"
Quaxo gave a disdainful sniff. "I was busy not getting myself punched in the face. Plus, you know I prefer to practice my dancing. Fighting is just so... brutish."
Munkustrap snorted. "How would you know? I don't think I've ever seen you swing a punch."
"I have eyes and ears!" Quaxo retorted. "It just doesn't appeal to me, ok!"
His father mockingly held up his paws. "Fair enough, son, fair enough. If frilly tutus are more your thing, who am I to argue?"
Quaxo gave him a look. "If I am a tutu wearer, what does that make the tom who taught me how to dance?"
"I can categorically say I have never worn a tutu," Munkustrap replied loftily. "Therefore, I am not to blame for your limp-wristed ways."
"Huh! I've seen you in all sorts of girly outfits! What about those harem pants with all that jangly stuff on!"
"Why?" Munkustrap grinned. "Do you like them?"
"No!"
Munkustrap scoffed. "Yeah, you do! I'd be happy to lend them to you, except Alonzo's got them at the moment. Speaking of which," he suddenly remembered. "I really must ask for them back…"
Quaxo sighed in frustration. This digging about his personality was getting old. Very old! He knew he would never be the able fighter that his father was and wished him to be, but he had found his own niche. Why couldn't his father just accept that and be proud of him? "Damn it, Dad! Are you here to rip it out of me or some other reason?"
"Well, since you asked, I am actually here for a number of reasons and it is not just to mock you." Munkustrap's aqua and gold eyes glinted. "Although I can't deny that is part of the fun."
Quaxo scowled and blue energy crackled around his clenched paws. His dad could be such an asshole sometimes!
"Quaxo."
"What!"
Munkustrap's countenance suddenly changed. Although still vaguely amused, it was no longer mocking. "Oh, come now. Don't get yourself in a tiz."
"I'm not in a tiz!"
Munkustrap nodded in agreement. "You're absolutely right. 'Overly sensitive' would be more accurate."
Quaxo remained moodily silent.
"Look, you can go and have your angsty little sulk later, but right now, I still need some things from you."
As predicted, he was met with a sullen reply. "What things?"
"Well firstly, son…" and Munkustrap was now very serious, since this really was no laughing matter at all. "You need to learn how to take a joke."
"What do you mean, take a joke?!"
Munkustrap raised an eyebrow. "Do I need to explain what a joke is to a supposed genius?"
"I know what a joke is! They're meant to be funny and if what you just said about me was a joke, I'd have laughed!"
At that, Munkustrap chuckled mirthlessly. "Maybe that's the problem. You need to learn to laugh at yourself more."
"Grr!"
He continued before Quaxo could utter anything other than an angry growl, otherwise they would carry on going back and forth like this for another half an hour. "The second thing I need is a duplicate of Black Pill. Same bottle and everything, just without the active ingredient."
"Why should I do anything for you?" Quaxo huffed.
"Because l'm your father and until you have your second ball, you're not technically an adult, which means you do as I say."
Quaxo knew he was right, but that didn't stop him from calling him a few more choice names under his breath, before sourly mumbling, "The pills I can get started on. What do you need them for?"
"A couple of ruffians have been sniffing about. I thought I'd keep them busy by making them feel important."
"Care to elaborate?"
"I caught Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer spying on me. I suspect they saw me taking the pills."
"I see." Quaxo's mood lightened a little. He couldn't stay mad at his dad for long, especially when the opportunity to fleece him suddenly arose. "So, you want me to make you an exact copy of the medication, just slightly different in order to throw their boss off the scent?"
"Correct. If he is suffering as I am, then he'll be very interested in what I am taking to alleviate symptoms, and possibly interested in taking you as well."
Quaxo hid a shudder at that last comment. "Ok. Did you want me to add poison or laxative or anything?"
"Quaxo!" Munkustrap tutted. "You are cruel!"
Seeing his father's expression of mock disapproval, the young tom spread his paws and shrugged. "Just suggesting."
Meanwhile, Munkustrap fiddled with the fur on his chin as he considered the idea. "It is tempting, I must admit. However, he will most likely get the medication tested, so no to the poison. Laxatives shouldn't do him any harm, though. It might even clear a few things up, so to speak."
"Right! I'm on it." Glad that they were back on friendly terms again, Quaxo went to a set of apothecary drawers and started pulling out various herbs and other ingredients. "Oh, and by the way, I now prefer to have payment up front." Ok, so he hadn't forgiven him completely. "Can't have you taking liberties just because you're my father."
Munkustrap didn't look happy about that. "How much?"
"Hmmm. Let's call it eighteen to start with."
"Eighteen quid?" Munkustrap exclaimed. "It was fifteen last time!"
Misto sniffed haughtily. "Compensation for damaged feelings."
"I'll damage something else of yours, I'm telling you that for nothing!"
Munkustrap reached into the utility belt he was wearing and thrust a wad of cash at him, which his son graciously accepted with a: "Thank you so much, Mr. I'm-declaring-myself-destitute-when-actually-I'm-just-a-tight-fisted-old-git." And after counting it all, he rolled up the notes and stuffed them into a top hat on the table, looking very smug indeed.
"I'm not tight-fisted!" His father grumbled. "I just don't enjoy spending money. There's a difference. Next you'll be telling me you charge for information too."
A devious smile suddenly crept across Quaxo's face. "You know, that's not such a bad idea…"
"You're not having any more money!" Munkustrap fumed. "I'm meant to be taking a queen out to dinner later!"
Quaxo stopped grinning and stared at him. "I take it by the way you just said that, you don't mean Demeter?"
"What's it got to do with you! I came here for information, not for a discussion about my private affairs!"
"Sor-ry!" Quaxo muttered, wondering why he'd gotten so touchy all of a sudden. "What was it you wanted to know?"
"A pistol and shooter. Do you know what it is?"
Quaxo looked at him blankly. "Relating to…?"
"I have on good authority that Macavity is making use of a piece of equipment to gather information. Turns out he's figured it was me who took the Doctor."
Meanwhile, his son was scratching his ear, looking puzzled. "What's the thing called again?"
"A pistol and shooter."
Quaxo stared at him. Then burst into fits of laughter. "Who did you get this information from?"
Munkustrap's lips tightened, highly aware that the skilful little brat was making fun of him and wondered how much he'd still be laughing with a set of cauliflower ears. "Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. Why?"
"Alright." Quaxo continued to chuckle, as he began weighing ingredients on a set of brass scales. He honestly couldn't believe what he was hearing, and the annoyed look on his father's face made it even more hilarious.
"What's so funny?"
Finally the young tom got himself under control. "Dad, you're such a dunce! I thought you knew rhyming slang?"
"So did I. But I've never heard of a pistol and shooter."
"Think about it. Shooter rhymes with…?"
"I'll put a fist in your hooter if you keep this up?" Munkustrap's tail flicked angrily. He hated not knowing things, and could tell by the look on his son's face that he planned to take full advantage. And watching the youth fold his arms, he almost knew the statement that was coming next.
"Tell me who my mother was and I will."
Munkustrap kept his expression static, but made a mental note to find out who had been leaking sensitive information and to punish them severely. Perhaps they wouldn't talk so plainly with half their teeth missing! "I'm not playing this game, Quaxo. You have two mothers. Their names are Jennyanydots and Jellylorum..."
"They aren't mine and Vicky's biological mothers, either of them!"
Oh God! How much did he know? "Who told you?"
Quaxo carefully put down his equipment. With a wave of his paw, two cups of tea popped out of thin air and landed gently on the table, and the young tom then took a seat. "They did."
Munkustrap sighed and began rubbing the bridge of his nose. Damn those two hawks and their meddling! "They nursed you and cared for you. They loved and raised you alongside their own. Isn't that enough?"
"I'm not saying I'm not grateful for everything they've done…" Quaxo began, looking guilty.
"Yeah, sure sounds like it…" Munkustrap muttered under his breath, taking a slurp of tea. "When did you find this out?"
"A few days ago."
It all made sense now. Why they had been badgering him. "And what exactly did they tell you?"
"Nothing. They couldn't give me a name or even what she looked like. They just said she died when we were born and only you would be able to tell us who she really was."
Munkustrap gave an inward sigh of relief. That was something, at least.
"So, who was she?" Quaxo pressed. "Was she pretty? Did she love us...?"
"Quaxo-"
"Did you love her? Surely you must have loved her once?"
"Quaxo." Munkustrap held up a paw. "I promise I will answer all of those questions when the time is right…"
Quaxo practically whined, "Why not now?"
"Because you don't have the common sense nor the maturity to deal with the truth, THAT'S why! If you can't even handle a little light mockery, you aren't going to be able to handle this!" Munkustrap didn't mean for it to come out so harshly, but he had to get him to shut up somehow.
Unfortunately, the plan backfired, for Quaxo stared at him with questioning golden eyes, as though hoping to bore the truth out of his very skull. Munkustrap knew exactly what he was trying to do and immediately blanked his mind. "Nice try, son. You're not going to get to the truth that way."
"Arr! Why did you hate her so much?" Quaxo suddenly cried, clawing at his head fur.
"What?" Now it was Munkustrap's turn to look perplexed. Had he not been quick enough?
"You said she was a bitch and that she was better off dead than alive!"
When did I say that? Munkustrap thought hard, trying to remember when he might have spoken so precipitately. Surely he wouldn't have been so careless?
And as though reading his mind, Quaxo informed him, "I overheard you talking to Skimble at the Ball last year. I've got sharp ears you know!"
Meanwhile, Munkustrap was pensively chewing on a claw, something he did whenever he felt himself being backed into a corner and couldn't figure a way to get out of it. "Errr... don't actually remember saying those exact words…"
Quaxo couldn't believe that. "How could you not remember?"
"A lot of things happened last year! How am I supposed to remember that one conversation out of all the other conversations I had?"
"You were watching Vicky dance." The young tom scrutinized him very carefully, trying to gauge whether his father was being deliberately forgetful or not. After all, he learned from the best in terms of subterfuge and secrecy, of the likes that made artful thieves Mungojerry and Rumpleteazer look more akin to a couple of luminous yellow elephants, trying to remain inconspicuous at a panthers' only garden party. And his statement had clearly rung a few bells, since, upon those striped features, there slowly morphed a look of hazy recollection.
"Ah. I think I might remember the conversation you're referring to. A PRIVATE conversation I might add." He gave his son a pointed look, meeting his determined gold eyes with his stern turquoise ones.
"He was commenting on how 'bonny' she looked and made some joke about taking after her mother," Quaxo carried on, his eyes flashing triumphantly. "And you fervently denied it."
As one would expect, Munkustrap thought venomously, not forgetting how close his wiley half brother had come to figuring out the truth. "Because she isn't, personality wise, and that is me saying too much. Like I said, I will tell you when the time is right, but now is not that time. If anything, it is better that you do not know."
"You keep saying that! I think me and Vicky have a right to know!"
"What right?" Munkustrap hissed.
"The right to know where we came from!"
Damn youth! Why did they never listen to reason?! "There is no such thing, Quaxo! I didn't know who my mother was for the best part of my life and it didn't do me any harm. If anything, the trouble started when I found out!"
"Wait. Are you talking about Grandma Griz?" Quaxo suddenly remembered that funny old queen he'd gawked at at last year's Ball, and Munkustrap gave him an inquisitive look.
"Grandma Griz? Is that what you decided to call her?"
Quaxo shrugged. "I think she'd have liked to have been called that."
"Humph! She hardly deserves the sentiment," dismissed his father. "She didn't care to know you before the Ball. She didn't care about the kittens she abandoned or the ones who died because of it. But alas, all is forgiven now. For me anyway."
"Kittens who died?" Quaxo repeated, looking wide eyed. "You mean, there are more relatives I don't know about?"
Munk nodded slowly. "A brother and sister. I was originally one of five."
"What happened to them?"
The older tom rubbed his forehead and sighed heavily, not wanting to talk about it, but Quaxo's curiosity had been piqued and so he supposed he would have to now. "There was a flood. A burst water main, I believe. Kintano drowned. Pyrrahpavara grew sick and died not long after."
Quaxo looked shocked and saddened. "Dad. You never told me any of this before." No wonder Tugger still harboured bad feelings about his mother.
Munkustrap shook his head. "It's the past. Dwelling on it won't change it."
"Well, it clearly has an impact on uncle Tugger. And it's important to me."
"Because he's a pussy who stubbornly refuses to acknowledge that bearing grudges does nothing but harm oneself. If one cannot forgive, one will forever be stuck in the past, and no amount of drink or drugs will fix that."
"Learning to forgive, whatever the hurt, is the first step on the road to happiness," Quaxo quietly recounted. "That's what Grandpa said, isn't it?"
Munkustrap smiled slightly. "I'm glad you were paying attention. I had to find that one out for myself." He geared himself up for what he was about to say next. He could feel an oh-so rare change of heart coming on. "I understand you have to know about your mother," he stated. "And seeing as I'd rather you heard it from me, than from any gossip you might pick up, I will sit with you and Victoria and we'll discuss it as a family."
Quaxo instantly sat bolt upright. "Really? When?"
"At some point."
"That's too vague! I need a date and a time!" Quaxo jabbed a claw into the wood in line with what he was demanding, which only served to irritate his father more than he already was.
"This isn't something we can just discuss over lunch!"
"And I won't be palmed off! I'm not going to drop this, Dad! I will find out!"
Munkustrap suddenly pictured having to wipe that glorious smile off of his daughter's face... and felt sick. "And we shall both rue that day," he said grimly. "Now, are you going to tell me what a pistol and shooter is? Because, if not, I'll have my money back!"
Quaxo thought for a moment. "Ok," he said compromisingly. "But you have to promise to tell me and Vicky after the ball."
"Yes yes. Fine-!" Munk grumbled.
"The morning after. You'll meet us here to discuss it?"
"Sure. As long as you don't mind me bringing a queen along with me."
"Oh! For the love of Bast!" Quaxo almost face planted the table. "The evening after that then!"
"That would be more convenient. Now, for the last time, what in the goddamn blazes is a pistol and shooter?"
Quaxo cleared his throat, adjusted his bowtie and paused... for considerably longer than was necessary, and all for the purpose of being dramatic (plus another chance to get up his father's nose, seeing as he deserved it anyway), and announced with a flourish, "It's... a computer!"
Munkustrap blinked. "Sorry… what?"
"A computer!" Quaxo repeated. "Pistol and shooter rhymes with computer!"
"You've still lost me."
Quaxo rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, I forgot you're still stuck in the world of antiques."
"I'll have you know the typewriter serves me very well!"
"Yeah yeah! Once you step out of the Dark Ages-"
"I'll Dark Ages you in a minute…!"
"...you'll find that people are now starting to use this new technology. Come. I'll show you."
Quaxo got up and went over to his bookshelf, then pulled out one of the books. Except it wasn't a book. It was a lever. As soon as he touched it, the entire bookshelf began to move. With a dull creak, it shunted aside, to reveal a large gap in the wall. The gap led to a set of stairs, and at the bottom of the stairs, there was a door. He opened the door and led Munkustrap inside to a large, and fairly noisy, underground bunker. Covering almost every bit of wall space, were large, oblong boxes. Inside some of them, sounds could be heard of things intermittently turning and various switches clicking on and off, where others were open and neatly decorated with various coloured wires, making the whole room look not unlike something Munkustrap had seen in a popular science fiction franchise. Added to that, was the hum of many fans whirring and several dehumidifiers, which Munkustrap guessed were there to keep the place cool and the damp to a minimum.
"It used to be a store room of some sorts," Quaxo explained. "There was never anything down here, so I decided to make use of it."
Munkustrap turned to him. "You built all this yourself?"
The young tom answered straight faced, "Nah, my army of mice did it. Of course I built it myself! Wired every last one of those darned circuit boards by hand." He waved at the piles of transistors, ceramic resistors and capacitors scattered all over the desk in the middle of the room, upon which also sat a grey box and a keyboard.
Meanwhile, Munkustrap was still looking around, curiously touching one or two of the cabinets. "Where did you get all this stuff from?"
"Various auctions and catalogues," Quaxo replied innocently. "Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer were very good at supplying me with tools."
His father laughed. "So, THIS is where all my money's been going?"
"I get a lot from doing my shows as well!" Quaxo pointed out, and then directed his attention to the monitor. "That's an IBM 5160, which is the latest model on the market, but also the most dear. The business that owned it went bust. Unfortunate for them. Lucky for me."
"Must have taken you months," Munkustrap commented, unwilling to admit that he hadn't understood much of what his son had just said. "I don't think I'd have the patience."
"Yeah…" Quaxo shifted awkwardly. It had.
"I'm impressed. Just one question though."
"Yup?"
"What is it?"
Quaxo face palmed. "It's a computer! Bast Almighty!"
"What? The whole thing?"
"I've been trying to figure out a way to scale it down, but yes. The whole thing."
"A computer, you say?" All of sudden Munkustrap's brain buzzed with realisation of what he was looking at. After all, he did have a degree in mathematics! "You mean it… computes? Calculates things? Like the mind?"
Quaxo made a face. "Sort of. Only, it doesn't think for itself. It only does what I programme it to do."
"Can it calculate complicated mathematical equations?"
"You're thinking of a calculator. And yes, it can solve thousands of different equations all at once AND so much more. Can you draw a graph with a typewriter?"
Munkustrap smiled. "Now you have me intrigued."
Quaxo hid a swell of pride he suddenly felt inside his white chest. "Thanks. I call it Sandroid."
"Why?"
Quaxo shrugged. "Dunno. Just like it I guess." He was still reeling. Could it be that his dad was... proud of him?
"No, I mean, why are you naming a machine? It's not like it's got feelings."
In horror, Quaxo placed his paws over the monitor as though to cover its ears. "Of course it's got feelings! How could you say that!"
"Bollocks! I don't give my typewriter a name. Apart from a number of rude ones when it gets jammed. Next, you'll be telling me you've named your litter box."
Quaxo looked shifty, and Munkustrap stared at him as though he had grown a second head.
"Seriously?"
"Could we move on?" Quaxo squeaked.
Munkustrap desperately wanted to grill him further, but realised he was being pushed for time and so merely shook his head and bid his son to get on with it. "Ok. How does it work?"
"You mean, Tabitha?"
Apparently, Quaxo had now grown three heads judging by the look on his father's face. "What?"
"Err… nevermind. Seeing as you're here, perhaps you'd like to do the honours?"
"Honours?"
"Of turning it on."
Munkustrap looked dubious. "I don't like touching things like this. I tend to break them."
"It's perfectly simple," Quaxo insisted. "All you have to do is press this button right here." He pointed to the grey knob at the bottom of the monitor. "Go on. Don't be shy, you big technophobe! It won't attack you, I promise."
The Maine Coon held his finger up to the button, but was still hesitant. "What will happen if I turn it on?"
"Go ahead and find out."
Munkustrap pushed it. All at once there was a gentle whirring noise. Tape reels turned and relays clicked on and off inside their server cabinets as the screen flashed on with a jumble of random letters (at least, that's what it looked like to Munkustrap). And then the whole thing died.
"Oh no! What happened?" Cried Quaxo.
"Er… was it supposed to do that?"
Seemingly unable to hear him, Quaxo started frantically pressing various keys and then hurried over to the UPS cabinet and opened it up. "Oh no no no! I don't believe it! It was working fine yesterday!"
"What's up with it?"
"The gauges are at zero. The power supply has cut out, but…" Quaxo checked the electronics... "luckily, there doesn't appear to be any smoke..."
Munkustrap was pretty sure the malfunction had nothing to do with him, but just in case… "Right. Well… um... while you figure that out, I really have to be getting on…" he started edging towards the door.
"Before you do, could you just pass me that screwdriver?"
"Which one?"
"The pozidriv."
Munkustrap searched the desk and picked one up at random. "This one?"
"Nah, that's the Philips. The one next to it."
Munkustrap picked up a second one and passed it over to him.
"Thanks."
"Is it ok?"
The magician scratched his head. "Dunno… the batteries seem ok. Could be the control board or a bypass failure. I won't know until I take a proper look at it." He smiled apologetically. "Who have you got a date with, by the way?"
"Like I said, it's none of your business!" Munkustrap suddenly looked alarmed. "Speaking of which, what time is it?"
Quaxo briefly stopped what he was doing and gave his paw a swift shake. A brass pocket watch slipped out of his sleeve, springing open in his palm. "Ten to three," he said, clicking it shut and tucking it back inside.
"Ok, well, I really need to be on my way. Sorry I can't stay and help."
Quaxo shrugged. "That's ok." He probably wouldn't have been much help anyway, but he didn't mind spending time with his dad. When he was being nice to him, that is. "I've got all of the ingredients for the medication, so you can probably pick it up in two days time."
"I'll be around then." Taking a deep breath, Munkustrap absentmindedly straightened out his whiskers, feeling strangely nervous all of a sudden, and it didn't go unnoticed by his perceptive son.
"You could at least give me her name," he coaxed. "It is a she, right?"
"Of course it's a she! Jazzie is her name." As Munkustrap said that, he licked his paw and tried to make the fur on the top of his head lie flat, ignoring his son's pointedly raised eyebrows.
"The Doctor? You're onto her already?"
"You make it sound like she's a piece of meat I haven't tried yet!" Munkustrap scorned, finally deciding that the 'post workout look' would have to do.
"That's the truth, isn't it?"
"How dare you! Just because I happen to have a healthy love life, you accuse me of being a philanderer?"
"Not healthy though, IS it, Dad?" Quaxo folded his arms in disapproval and began tapping his foot. "When are you actually going to settle with one queen? I thought you and Demi-?"
He was interrupted by a bark of laughter. And was it his imagination, or did it sound slightly embittered? "Ha! You've been getting whimsical ideas off of that married couple you stay with. Not realising that he's been having it off with his line manager at work."
Munkustrap looked with satisfaction at his son's shocked mein. "You didn't know?"
Quaxo silently shook his head. He had often wondered why his human sometimes came home smelling of another, although he'd never thought to question it. "It-it just seems so... unlikely. They always act so happy around me... except, they did start sleeping in separate rooms a while back. I thought it was because the baby was loud and kept the man awake." And he looked so traumatised that Munkustrap reached out and placed a paw on his shoulder, just like his father did with him at certain times.
"I'm sorry to burst that little bubble of yours, Quaxo," he said, half-regrettably. How else to explain to the young lad that life in general was shit and that people tended to treat it as such. All of the things that he himself had had to learn the hard way. "I'm sure the reasons are many and complex, but as long as they're looking after you well?"
Quaxo nodded. "The lady feeds me and the little girl likes to cuddle me. Sometimes, she puts bows in my fur... but I take them straight out again," he quickly added.
"There you are then. No need to worry yourself about their petty affairs," Munkustrap sagely advised. "And besides…" He smiled. "You get on my back about not settling down, but I don't exactly see a queen hanging off of your arm. I daresay it must get lonely in this place with only your machines for company, especially now that Vicky's moved out. Speaking of which, expect her around later."
The black tom blinked dazedly. "Really? Why?"
"I'm not allowed to say. She wants it to be a surprise. Anyway… mustn't keep a lady waiting."
As Munkustrap headed for the door, Quaxo got on with fixing his computer. "Let me know how it goes," he called after him. "And you have a very cynical view on love, by the way!"
"So says Don Juan!"
"Yeah, well," Quaxo speculated. "Maybe this new queen will change things."
"Maybe. I won't know if I turn up late though, will I?" And with that, Munkustrap left the young tom to his tinkering.
