Several nights later, Macavity strolled into a seedy pub on the wrong side of the Thames, feeling confident enough to take on the whole place if anyone questioned him being there. Not that anyone was willing to do such a thing, and the other patrons let him pass without so much of a hint of a bar brawl being on any of their minds. Sliding in his usual table, Macavity ordered a drink before waiting for his usual notorious couple of cats to show up.
Mungojerrie Wheeler slipped into the pub, holding the door for his companion as he scanned the place for the ginger tabby. His hackles rose slightly at the looks a couple of the patrons were sending toward his partner, but he started toward their boss's usual table, keeping a wary eye on the cats around them. Rumpleteazer, his third or fourth cousin on her father's side, followed him not quite rolling her eyes. His insistence of not believing her capable of taking care of the tom's eying her was somewhat sweet, while probably a good deal unnecessary as well. If she couldn't slip away from them, and god only knew how fast she could move, that's what hat pins were for.
They reached Macavity's table, and he nodded to the pair of them. "Just on time," he greeted.
"Wouldn' do t' be late," the torbie tom answered as he pulled out a chair and turned it around to straddle it, resting his crossed arms on the back of it.
Teazer eyed his position, having seen it far too many times to take much note of it—though Macavity was looking a little peeved at it—before gracefully lifting her skirts and settling down into the other chair. "It would be disrespectful after all." Her speech habits were clearer than her cousin's, having been forced by an overbearing father to attend a queen's school for several years before he luckily for the rest of his family fell ill and died. It meant she was usually the one to deal with the contacts, but with Macavity he knew them well enough any front was meaningless.
"You'd never be disrespectful," Macavity grinned at her, well aware the reaction it would get off the male torbie. "I have such high faith in you after all. Now, shall we continue the pleasantries or get down to business?"
Jerrie's ears flicked back at that, his hackles rising again. He knew he shouldn't react in that sort of way, since Teazer didn't show interest of that sort in Macavity, but his instinct was always a show of such. Somehow he kept his tone mostly civil, "Business is what we're 'ere for after all."
"Then business it shall be," Macavity said, not quite kissing Teazer's paw but looking like he was considering such a motion. "I have a job for you, of course or I would not have called you here. I want you to get to Baron Jones' country estate, since the family is all in town and there's at best a skeletal staff of servants."
Teazer's ears flattened, and she shot a half panicked look at her partner. Mungo's ears went completely flat at that, "Y' want us t' get into Jones' estate? Why not ask us t' just waltz up t' th' 'angman while y' at it?"
"No one's going to know you were there," Macavity replied smoothly. "I hardly expect you to be hanged off this. I have a list of what you're supposed to look for, and any servants and their whereabouts at the house. Most of them live far away from the dining areas where these items will be kept and breaking in should hardly be an issue for cats of your skills."
"Breaking is ain't ever the issue," Teazer said, voice sharp. "It's the insanity of the request that is."
"What she said. This is Jones. It don't matter what sort of information y've got. He'll know 'e was robbed an' it won't be pretty when he figures that out. Even beyond us managin' t' get in an' away how're y' even supposed t' fence something that belongs t' the likes of him?" Jerrie shook his head, "Y're out of y' mind."
"So I've been told many times. Are you refusing the job then?" he asked, tone suddenly dropping into dangerous territory. Teazer for a moment couldn't decide which one scared her more—the Honorable Baron Jones or Macavity Hollister who was giving the pair of them a dark look.
Jerrie hesitated for a long moment, weighing the pros and cons of doing a job against a cat they could possibly escape from if they kept their ears to the ground or refusing the glowering tabby immediately across from them, "We ain't said that. But y' can't expect us t' jump at this job either. Give us a bit t' talk about it an' we'll let y' know?"
"By tonight, I would hope," Macavity said, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.
"Sure thing, boss," Teazer said, pulling on Jerrie's arm and dragging him over to the bar, where she knew the bartender had no inclination of listening in on their conversation. "The hell we doing?"
"Well, th' way I see it we got two options," he replied, glancing toward Macavity and keeping his voice low. "Either we do th' job an' make sure we're listenin' for the slightest hint a Jones lookin' for the cats as did it. Or we go an' tell Macavity 'ere an' now that we ain't doin' it. Even if we do get outta this pub, it'll be difficult to avoid 'im, if we pull off this job though we'll 'ave the funds t' avoid Jones."
"Funds to what, flee to the Americas?" she asked, leaning hard against the wood of the bar.
"Well, y' got another suggestion if Jones does figure out what 'appened an' goes lookin' for the cats as did it?" Jerrie ran a paw through his headfur, knocking his hat off and turning to pick it up, dusting it off against the knee of his trousers.
She smiled fondly at that motion, reaching over to pluck the hat from his paws before settling it back on his head. "You gotta pay more attention to what you're wearing, Jer. Alright, but what the hell we'd do in America?" She had this image of them with no contacts and thus no jobs, Jer playing his fiddle on the street corner for change before they had to pawn it, and her stuck doing the washing for some old rich lady. Some days Teazer loathed her imagination. "We can't say no to Maca's face, we know that, and we don't have the funds to run from him. That mean we're doing it?"
The tom offered her a flickering smile as she adjusted his hat, "Thanks. We ain't got another choice about th' job though. We've th' Thames at our front an' th' hounds at our back. We're gonna 'ave t' do it. Who knows, mebbe we'll be able t' get away with this without it actually bein' noticed for a good long while?" He offered her a hopeful glance.
"And then the sun will rise on the wrong side of the world and a chicken will give birth to a hound," she said, shaking her head. "I'm all for hope here though, who are we kidding? Alright, should we go tell him we're doing it then?"
Jerrie sighed before nodding, "Yeah, we'd better." He lead the way back to the table, taking his seat again quietly.
"So, any decisions?" Macavity drawled, arms still crossed over his chest.
Teazer nodded. "Yeah. You put us right in a rock and hard place, you know that? Of course you know that. Yeah, we'll do the job. You said you had the details for us?"
He nodded, handing her a folded sheet of paper, well aware of the two she was the one that was able to read and thus understand said instructions. "Here. Dates are on it, as well as the next meeting time and place. Try not to get picked up be the police." Nodding to the pair of them he put his hat back on and rose, paying the bartender on the way out.
Jerrie watched him go before sighing again and resting his chin on his crossed arms. He nodded slightly to the instructions, "We lookin' at that now or later?"
"Now," she replied, having opened the paper and slowly made her way through the main points. "Better now than later. Besides, in some ways better to get this whole mess over with as fast as possible."
"What sortta things are we goin' after an' when's our best chance? An' did 'e at least give us an' idea of th' rooms this time?"
"It's a pretty rough sketch," she replied, handing that sheet of paper to him. "Middle of the night it looks like. Or rather, between the middle of the night and dawn. Window will be the best bet for sure."
Jerrie considered the sketch, committing it to memory. He nodded slightly, "'E jus' wanted stuff from th' dinin' area? If so, our best bet's this window 'ere." He tapped a claw on the mark indicating the window nearest where most houses kept their silver.
She nodded. "Looks like. A few days to prepare but we really gotta do this as soon as possible. 'Sides, the quicker we get those funds to flee the better I'll feel."
"We'll get it. This is a good day's trip out ain't it?" the torbie tom tried to remember where he recalled hearing that Lord Jones kept his estate.
She nodded. "Half day. He likes sticking close it seems to his seat of power in London. If we ride horses it should take even a little less. Honestly I'd rather not deal with any sort of carriage anyway."
"Carriage'll jus' get in th' way," he agreed. "We'll head out in two days, 'bout noon. That'll give us time t' get there an' be settled for a day. Travel as siblin's. No one'll think a us right off in that case 'round 'ere."
v.v.v.v
Victoria made her way quietly down the stairs to join the family for breakfast. She was considering begging a headache, but since she grew ill or faint so rarely she didn't think she could get away with it. The white queen desperately did not wish to face her father after his news to her the night before. Hesitating to gather her wits and will about her, she finally pushed open the door to the dining room, her skirts rustling softly as she moved over to the table, already set for the morning meal.
Her older cousin entered a few moments later, not looking pleased to be awake for the morning though he was dressed impeccably with no plans for the day. Sitting down at his place, he glanced over at her. "Good morning, Cousin. How does this day treat you?"
She offered him a slight smile, "Good morning, Cousin. It finds me quite well this morning. And you?"
He inclined his head. "As well as can be expected for a day in which I have no plans."
"There are certainly worse days than to have one all to yourself, or at least without any pre-arranged plans for it," his cousin remarked quietly.
He nodded. "There are. It doesn't mean it's a terribly pleasing situation but there certainly are."
Victoria spared a brief glance for the mantle clock, surprised that her aunt wasn't there yet. Serafine was usually at the breakfast table not long after the younger queen, "Do you have any idea what you might do with your day with no plans?"
He shook his head as Jones entered, sitting at the table without greeting either of them. Victoria glanced toward her father, but remained silent as one of the servants entered with a note from Sera begging a headache and apologizing for being unable to join them that morning.
Jones arched his brow and then didn't make any other comment, looking up at them and back to his food as the servant's brought it out.
Mistoffelees glanced at his cousin, unsure what to say with his uncle in the room. Victoria waited for several minutes before finally speaking, "Father?"
"Yes?" he asked, turning toward her.
"I was hoping to go shopping today, but as Aunt Sera seems unable to go I was wondering if I might ask my cousin to act as my escort?" She glanced at Misto so that the question was directed at him as well.
He blinked in surprise but nodded his head slightly to show he wouldn't mind. Jones meanwhile arched his brows, glancing over at Mistoffelees in some shock before he shrugged. "You may do as you like, so long as he would do such a thing."
Mistoffelees' ear flickered at the implied insult but he nodded. "I would certainly not mind being your escort," he told Victoria.
"Thank you, Father." She met her cousin's eyes, "Thank you, Cousin."
"Of course," Mistoffelees murmured and Jones just grunted before going back to his food. For a while they ate in silence before Jones looked up again.
"Mistoffelees," he said in his low voice. "Have you given any more thought to what you shall do now that you're home?"
The smaller tom swallowed. "I am still looking at options." Jones looked less than pleased by that.
Victoria glanced between the two toms, but remained silent recalling her own conversation with her father as regarded her future the night before.
"I have done everything possible to imply what I would prefer, have I not?" Jones asked.
Biting the inside of his lip, Mistoffelees nodded. "Yes, Sir. But it would be a while before I could even hope to run for Parliament and in the meantime I would like to look at other options." Like running away.
Jones made a sound in the back of his throat and nodded, returning to his food again. The rest of the meal passed in a tense silence.
Victoria finished her meal, quietly excusing herself to get ready for a day in town. She paused outside her aunt's door, having a feeling that the older queen wasn't actually suffering from a headache, but decided she would speak with her later and continued up to her own room.
Mistoffelees slipped off himself as quickly as he could, leaving his uncle to finish his much larger breakfast, getting what he needed and waiting for Victoria in the foyer of the townhouse.
The white queen descended the stairs a short time later, her blue skirts just brushing the floor as she made her way over to her cousin, "Shall we?"
He offered her his arm with a faint smile. "Whenever you like."
She took the arm, returning the smile, "Then I think we shall."
"Do you want the carriage or shall we walk?" he asked, picking up an umbrella on his way to the door. "It's a beautiful day after all."
"I think a walk might do us good. And as you say, it's a lovely day," her tone was subdued.
He frowned slightly at her, and walked out with the umbrella despite the sun. "Where were you planning on going?" he asked.
"I need to stop by the hatmaker's, and I need to place a couple of orders with the dressmaker," she almost hesitated over the idea of the dressmaker.
He nodded. "Alright. I'm sure I can find something to entertain myself with while you're doing that."
"Thank you, Mistoffelees."
"Well, as I said, I had nothing to do. It gets me out and gives me something to do, so it seems as much a favor for me as it is for you," he replied with a smile that was looking less strained the further they were from the town house.
She offered him another faint smile, "Nevertheless, I do appreciate it."
He smiled. "You're welcome then. It's a surprisingly nice day to be out and about."
"It really is. And it's good company to be in as well. I should probably stop by the glove-maker's as well," she mused.
"I probably could do with a new pair of gloves," he said. "So, quite the shopping trip planned for today didn't you?"
"I suppose so. It wasn't supposed to be this extensive, but I need to place a couple of orders."
"Well, no worries for my time," he said. "If it takes long enough we could even add lunch out."
"It likely will. I'll need to speak to Aunt Sera when we return home about fabrics, but I do expect to be out for at least most of the morning."
He arched a brow and then nodded. "You seem to get along with her well," he said, voice a bit neutral.
Victoria nodded slightly, "She's kind. And I don't remember my own mother, so I suppose one might say that she's filled that role for me."
He paused and nodded, a little unsure what to make of his mother filling the role of mother for someone else when they were so distant. "I'm glad then," he managed not sure he believed it.
His cousin glanced at him, "She's proud of you, you know?"
He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Excuse me?"
"Aunt Sera. She's proud of you, and cares about you a lot. Growing up I heard about you far more than I ever saw you."
He looked a little more than shocked by that. "Oh. I, oh. I'm glad?" he offered quietly. "I suppose I never came home much did I?"
"You didn't have much opportunity to I suppose," she replied quietly.
"I," he hesitated. "There were a few I didn't take, due to being offered different opportunities to see places." Most he just decided to stay at the school rather than come home, even though he could have. He'd never thought to feel guilty about that.
She nodded, "It sounds like it would have been a good choice to travel."
He smiled faintly. "Yes, travel is amazing when one has the chance."
"What was your favorite place to go?" She glanced at him.
"Well, there a lot of beautiful places," he said, aware most of his answers would consist of "ruins." "Ireland is beautiful as are parts of France and Spain. Italy is considered one of the best destinations of course, but I think I preferred Scotland and Germany the most."
Victoria smiled wistfully, "It sounds like it would have been a delight to travel around Europe and the Isles."
"It was," he said softly, wishing he could say he would take her. "Perhaps your husband will also like to travel?"
"I-I don't know." She looked away, "From what I've heard of him he's looking to ground himself in politics here."
Mistoffelees just about stopped as that sentence penetrated his mind. "Wait, you are engaged already?" he asked, shocked.
The white queen nodded very slightly, "Father told me last night."
"That, I, oh," he managed, mind still floundering. "Who is he?"
"Plato Philipson," her voice was barely audible.
Mistoffelees froze again, his entire spine tensing and his ears going all but flat. "Plato Philipson?" he asked, as if he was hoping that he'd heard wrong.
She nodded, keeping her gaze focused on the sidewalk, "He...is of good family and has m-much promise."
"He..." Mistoffelees floundered again. "He is of good family," he managed, trying to bite back everything he wanted to say about the tom that called himself Mistoffelees' friend.
"Do you know him?"
"He was a classmate of mine," Mistoffelees replied, finally getting his voice to actually do what he asked it to. "He is a cousin of a good friend of mine, Tumblebrutus. I would see him very often. We traveled together sometimes."
"What...what do you think of him?" Her question was timid.
"He," Mistoffelees paused, swallowing, trying to figure out what he could actually say. "He is very intelligent," he said. "Well, he can usually be. He's rich, and will give you a very comfortable life."
She sighed, "That doesn't really tell me much."
His paws twisted around his umbrella. "Well, we see each other a lot. It doesn't mean we are particularly close." Which was a flat out lie, but he couldn't bring himself to tell Victoria much about Plato.
His cousin nodded very slightly as they finally reached the hatmaker's, "I suppose I will find out in time..."
He nodded. "In time," he said, voice faint and perhaps just a little frightened as well. She offered him a faint smile before stepping into the shop.
He followed her, tucking the umbrella under his arm. As she talked to the shop keeper at the counter, he looked over the gentlemen's hats on display.
Victoria moved quietly over to his side after several minutes, her gaze moving to the display, "Some of those are quite dashing."
He'd picked one up and was considering it. Glancing over at her, he smiled faintly. "You think so? Which ones?"
"The one you're holding for one," she reached over and picked up another one, carefully, "This one for another."
Smiling faintly, he considered the other hat. "I think that one is certainly a few degrees too dashing for me. Pounce, perhaps, but not me."
She smiled slightly, considering it, "Perhaps, but I think you might well find it suits you. Though the one in your paws might suit you better."
He glanced down and turned it over again. "Really? I'm sure my uncle would throw me out if he saw it."
"It's the height of current fashion," she replied.
Turning it over again, he smiled. "Well, if advised by a lady, how could one refuse?"
A soft blush colored her cheeks, "Besides, as the height of fashion, Father can hardly throw you out for wearing it. Even if he doesn't approve of it."
"I've never been very good at getting his approval," Mistoffelees said and blanched. "I mean, that is," he really hadn't meant to say that aloud.
"I don't know that anyone is," Victoria responded quietly.
Mistoffelees blinked at her and smiled faintly. "We try our hardest, hm?"
"There isn't much more than that which we can do, after all." She offered him a faint smile, "He does sometimes have moments where he isn't as inclined to be disapproving of the world in general."
"If you find one of those moments," Mistoffelees said. "Do tell me so I can take advantage would you?"
"I shall try to do so. They haven't been as frequent in recent years."
"Anything happen or is he just becoming more disapproving in his old age?"
"I'm not really certain," she murmured, "I wish I knew."
He sighed and nodded. "We get by as best we can then. Are you finished here?"
She nodded very slightly, "Yes, I am."
"Let me see about purchasing this and then shall we move on?"
"I think that sounds like an excellent idea. The glove-makers is the nearest shop from here."
He nodded, going up to the counter to purchase the hat before putting the box under the same arm with the umbrella and following her out of the shop and down the street.
v.v.v.v.
Victoria stepped into the small restaurant, glancing at her cousin as a waiter showed them to a table. The trip to the dressmaker's had been informative, she had a prediction for how long the dress would take and she would speak with her aunt about fabrics for it that night. Looking around the restaurant she reminded herself to relax, to not think too much about the engagement and instead to enjoy the afternoon with her cousin.
He offered her a smile as they sat down. "Have you enjoyed the afternoon?" he asked softly, feeling despite his smile that she was pre-occupied and he was trying not to think about Plato either.
She returned the smile, "I have. Thank you for agreeing to act as my escort."
"If you have need of my services again, you may ask for them," he said. "I've enjoyed it as well." He turned to glance down at the menu just as the door suddenly slammed open.
Macavity stalked in, the door slamming shut as quickly as it had opened. He scanned the place, settling on the small table toward the back, one of the few open which was next to a table occupied by a black tom and white queen. He stormed over before the waiter could either escort him or deny him the table.
Victoria looked up in alarm at that, her gaze following the ginger tabby as he made his way over to the table next to theirs.
Coricopat entered seconds later, the door opening and closing much more quietly to allow him passage. He glanced around the restaurant murmuring an apology to the waiter as he stepped past him and made his way over to where his partner was seated. He slid into the chair across from him, frowning, "Mac..."
Macavity managed not to growl in response, flipping open the menu he'd picked up on his way over and putting it up over his face to block out Coricopat.
On the table next to them, Mistoffelees blinked and blinked again, recognizing Coricopat but shocked to silence for the moment at the other's companion.
Cori's ears lay back slightly, murmuring, "Macavity. You're being unreasonable and we both know it." He registered motion out of the corner of his eye and turned to apologize to the cats at the next table, freezing when he saw Mistoffelees. After another moment of hesitation he finally spoke, glancing from one young cat to the other, "Mr. Quaxo, I do crave your pardon if we've disturbed you."
Macavity had moved the menu down to reply, and his eyes snapped over at the mention of the black tom's name, suddenly placing him and considering him with a long stare.
Mistoffelees was unsure what to do with the lawyer and less sure what to do with the ginger tabby looking like he wanted to dissect Mistoffelees and see what his insides looked like. "It's no bother, Mr. Zimmerman," he replied finally. "I am surprised to see you, but not badly so. How does today find you?" he asked, awkwardly.
Cori caught the look from Mac and kicked him under the table, offering Mistoffelees a cordial smile, "Today finds me quite well. And yourself?"
Victoria glanced between the three toms, but remained quiet simply watching.
"Well enough," Mistoffelees said and glanced over at his cousin. "Oh, Mr. Zimmerman, my cousin, Victoria Jones. Victoria, this is Mr. Zimmerman, and, um, his companion?" he offered, as Macavity ignored the kick and continued staring at Mistoffelees before finally turning his gaze to the white queen.
Victoria offered Coricopat a slight smile, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Zimmerman."
"The pleasure is mine, Miss Jones. If I might introduce my partner, Macavity Hollister. Macavity, this is Mr. Quaxo and Miss Jones," his tone held a hint of what his friend might well recognize as his "behave" tone.
Macavity's eyes flickered over to Coricopat and reached across the space between the two tables to lift Victoria's paw, kissing the back of it. "A pleasure to meet you," he murmured, nodding to Mistoffelees who looked less than pleased.
Victoria looked taken aback, a blush tinting her cheeks, "The pleasure is mine, sir."
Coricopat's ears lay back and he kicked Macavity again, really hoping to leave a bruise. Not even looking like he felt the kick, Macavity grinned at the blush, glancing back over at her cousin before back to her. "I'm glad to hear that," he murmured, voice smooth. It was one of the few times it became obvious he was related to Tugger. "How does today find a maiden as fair as you."
Mistoffelees opened his mouth and closed it, unsure whether he should say something or not. His eyes flickered over to the mottled tom that sat beside him at the other table.
"I-I...Quite well, sir, thank you. And you?" She managed to remember her manners, but was completely thrown off-kilter by the tabby.
Cori glanced at Mistoffelees, biting the inside of his lip as he tried to figure out the most graceful way to drag his partner out of there by his ear.
Arching his brow, Mistoffelees considered before leaning over slightly and murmuring quietly. "Is he always like that?"
Macavity didn't even hear the question, focused on the white queen for the moment. "Today finds me getting quite a bit better by the moment. The clouds of earlier events are flying away over the horizon, chased by a clear wind."
The mottled tom looked toward his partner and shook his head slightly, "Not always, but it depends on what you mean by 'that'."
Victoria dropped her gaze, her cheeks coloring again, "That's rather poetic, sir."
Macavity grinned and Mistoffelees frowned severely at him. "I can be quite the poet on occasion. But usually I need a muse to raise me to such heights."
"That," Mistoffelees replied. "What he's saying right now."
"No," Cori shook his head again, "I haven't heard him like that in a while."
The blush on Victoria's cheeks deepened, "You seem to find inspiration rather easily, sir."
"I'm not sure if I find that reassuring or not," Mistoffelees said glancing at Coricopat out of the corner of his eyes. "Well, at any rate, how does today find yourself?"
Macavity's grin became possible more suave. "Well, I have a very distinguished muse."
"Quite well, thank you. How have you been of late, Mr. Quaxo?" Coricopat replied, trying to ignore his partner.
Victoria kept her gaze averted, though a faint smile tugged at her lips, "You speak rashly, sir."
"Perhaps so," Macavity agreed. "But I find honestly can sometimes be both the best path and the most dangerous. Which would you consider it?"
Mistoffelees tuned out Macavity for a moment, offering Coricopat a smile. "Today finds me mostly well. Of late not much of note has been happening." He paused. "Have you spoken to my uncle recently?"
"Honesty is a very dangerous thing, Mr. Hollister. There is much that can go wrong with it," the young queen responded.
"No, we haven't heard from your uncle in some time," the lawyer answered. "Not since my last meeting with him at least."
"But is it not better to be truthful, and let the world ring true?" he asked. "Are we not commanded by god himself to tell no lies?"
Mistoffelees bit the inside of his lip. "Oh." He'd wondered if the lawyers at least had heard of the engagement. If they hadn't then it could not be official yet. He might still talk to his uncle.
"God may approve of honesty, but society does not. God will forgive a misstep, but the cats around us likely wouldn't," Vitoria rejoined.
"Why do you ask?" Cori studied the younger tom.
"Oh," Mistoffelees glanced away in time to hear Victoria's last comment. His gaze went back to Coricopat for a moment. "I was just curious. I hear so little after all," he said and turned back to Victoria and Macavity.
Macavity was still grinning. "Society may disapprove of honesty, but the best of men don't care what society thinks of them. Those who are remembered are the ones who swim against the current."
"The martyrs swim against the current," Mistoffelees added, giving Macavity a long look. "If you're proposing to be one of them, I wish you luck. Honesty," he spared another look at Coricopat. "Is shocking in our society. You might want to be careful with it."
Coricopat glanced between the other three again and checked his watch, rising, "Macavity, it's time we were back at work."
"No it's not," Macavity said, motioning for his partner to sit back down. He didn't take his eyes off Mistoffelees where they had snapped when he spoke. "So, you believe one must be careful to be honest."
Mistoffelees glanced between Coricopat and Macavity before nodding. "Honesty is dangerous in our society. You might want to be careful who you are honest around."
"Are you someone it's dangerous to be honest around?" Macavity asked. "You seem to not mind it from certain corners."
Mistoffelees' ears laid flat and he looked back at Coricopat. "I am but one cat," he replied. "We are in a public place after all, and they tend to have ears."
Coricopat didn't sit down, "If we're to be back in the office on time we need to be leaving, Mac."
Victoria looked from one tom to the next, knowing there was some part of this conversation that she was missing entirely.
"We'll be fine," Macavity replied, still not looking at his partner. "After all, we came here to eat. So then, Mr. Quaxo-"
"I am not sure I have given you permission to address me as such," Mistoffelees snapped, his spine up around the other.
Macavity arched a brow. "Would you prefer I call you sir?"
Mistoffelees' ears went flat again. "No."
"Then how is one supposed to address you?" Macavity asked, crossing his paws under his chin. "Surely you would not be so informal as to use your Christian name? If you're not sir, and you're not Mr. Quaxo, then who are you?"
"Macavity," Coricopat managed from between gritted teeth. "We should be going before you make more of a fool of yourself."
"I may make a fool of myself, but he hasn't answered the question yet," Macavity said.
Mistoffelees' ears swiveled around. "I do not have to answer you."
"It's a simple question," Macavity protested. "After all, I'm to know my place, am I not?"
"Macavity Hollister, leave it alone. Come on." Cori growled lowly.
"But," Macavity protested. "Since we are the sir's law firm," Mistoffelees' ears went back. "I feel it is important to know how to address someone I may be working with."
"If you ever have to work for me," Mistoffelees said, emphasizing the 'for.' "Then we may discuss it then. Until such a time perhaps it is better you not address me at all."
"Isn't that a little harsh?" Macavity asked.
"Perhaps," Mistoffelees said.
"Alright, now that that has been decided, Macavity we need to be leaving," Coricopat said quickly.
Victoria glanced toward her cousin, but remained silent.
"If you insist," Macavity said finally, taking his eyes off Mistoffelees. He tipped his hat to the glowering black tom and kissed Victoria's paw again.
Victoria blushed again as Coricopat tipped his hat to them, murmuring a quiet good bye and an even quieter apology before heading for the door. Mistoffelees murmured an accepted apology and watched as Coricopat left.
Coricopat waited for Macavity just outside the door, offering his partner a scowl before starting back toward the law office.
"What?" Macavity asked. "He's an interesting figure."
Cori eyed his friend for a moment, "I have a sudden urge to hit you until you bleed, Macavity."
Macavity blinked at him a moment and burst out laughing. "Oh, come now Cor. Whatever for?"
"What for? Let's start with your flirtation with the Baron Jones' daughter and end with the fact that you were a complete ass."
"I was curious. Besides, he seemed interested in honest opinions, though he didn't much like them. I was hardly an ass. Besides, it was just flirting."
"Just flirting? Her father's our client!"
"She didn't seem to mind," Macavity replied.
"Macavity, have you not a shred of decency?" Cori asked as he entered the office, shrugging out of his coat and hanging both it and his hat up.
"No more than you do," Macavity said, voice smooth.
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh come on, Cor, how long have I known you?" Macavity asked, sitting down. "You are only honest around one type of person. And falling in love with your client's nephew is far worse than flirting with his daughter."
Coricopat paled, "I am not falling in love with him."
"Then what are you doing?" Macavity asked.
"What do you mean? Nothing." The mottled tom settled at his desk.
"Don't try that on me," Macavity said, shaking his head. "I know you too well, remember? Besides, you're acting exactly like you did ten years ago. Oh, and by the way, the next time you saw the kit, did you remember that whole tried and true bit or did that go flying out the damn window?"
"T-ten years ago?" The mottled tom's ears lay back at that, "That's not happening again, Mac. And which time?"
"The last time you saw him," Macavity said. "How did that go?"
"He returned my umbrella. Nothing more," That might have passed for the truth with anycat else, but there was just a little bit of a tremor in Coricopat's voice.
"Right," Macavity stated, clearly not believing it. "And you're not doing the same thing you did ten years ago then?"
"I wouldn't repeat that for anything, Mac."
"Then what the hell do you think you're doing?" Macavity demanded again.
Coricopat's ears flattened, "I don't know. I-I'm not in love with him, I can't be."
"Can't be? That's gonna do you a lot of good," Macavity said, shaking his head. "Come on, Cor. You're you. You get in deep, and you get in fast."
Cori drew a shaky breath at that, "This can't be happening. It isn't happening."
"Denying that is going to help?" Macavity asked. "Until what, something goes wrong?"
"How could something possibly go wrong that hasn't already?" His partner looked up at him, his grey eyes holding an expression that seemed to be nearing panic.
"You let it slip around him?" Macavity asked. "Remember that pesky habit of bein' honest you have?"
Cori ran shaky hands through his headfur, "I can't do this."
Macavity arched a brow, and now that he'd gotten Cori to admit what was going on, backed off, his voice softening. "Then what are you goin' to do?"
"I-I, God, I don't know. I can't continue to work with Jones' estate."
Macavity blinked and nodded. "Which hardly answers the question of what to do."
"I...I'll take the Smith case? I can talk to Bailey and then introduce you to Jones in three days time?"
The ginger tabby didn't look thrilled by that, but he nodded. "Alright. You get Smith then."
Cori breathed a soft sigh, "Thank you, Mac."
Another nod greeted that. "I prefer that than you doing somethin' stupid." His accent had slipped during the conversation, as it sometimes did when he was distressed or focused.
"I don't even know how it happened..."
Macavity shrugged. "Does anyone ever know? I don't see the appeal but hey, I don't think he much liked me."
"This wasn't supposed to happen again," the other tom murmured.
Macavity considered him and sighed softly. "No, it wasn't."
"Where did I go wrong? I've done everything I can to avoid this happening again. Or I thought I did."
"I don't know, when did you start babbling around him?"
"First or second encounter. I think the second," the mottled tom buried his head in his paws.
Macavity blinked. "That was rather abrupt. What did he do to warrant that?"
"I-I...I don't recall."
"Didn't you manage to keep insulting him?" Mac asked, quietly.
"S-something like that."
"Well, on the other hand, it's unlikely he returns any such feelings?" Macavity offered.
Cori swallowed hard, "I hope so."
"So, at least you're not in danger from doing anything stupid," Macavity pointed out.
"That's true. Well, either way...we need to get some work done."
Macavity nodded, already turning to his own files.
v.v.v.v.
Victoria watched the two solicitors leave before she turned to her cousin, still feeling a bit disoriented by the entire exchange, "Mistoffelees?"
The black tom finally pulled his gaze away from the door. "Yes?"
"What was that?"
"I am not entirely sure," he managed.
"H-he was rather...forward."
"I have never met him before," Mistoffelees managed. "Though I have worked with his partner in the past, Mr. Zimmerman. I really do not know." He suspected Zimmerman of talking to the other cat of past conversations and was deeply uncomfortable with the thought.
"And what of Mr. Zimmerman? He...seemed almost as uncomfortable with the situation as you did, cousin."
"What situation? His partner running his mouth off?"
"Yes, I suppose that one."
"I am not sure. I mean, I hardly know him that well. He's an interesting character, especially for a lawyer," Mistoffelees replied, looking away from his cousin.
"Oh? How so?" she inquired.
"He's honest, despite what that conversation implied," Mistoffelees answered. "He never seems to know when to stop talking."
Victoria's brows rose at that, "That is interesting, I never would have guessed that."
Mistoffelees frowned slightly. "As far as I can tell he's fairly successful with rich clients, including our uncle. Which seems to mean he only is like that around certain people. I really don't understand him."
"Well, that is intriguing."
"Oh?" Mistoffelees asked, suddenly curious what another would think of the mottled tom.
"Well, I haven't spoken with him myself so I can hardly speak definitively, but he seemed a cat rather aware of society's standards and so to think of him, even selectively, saying what he thinks is an interesting idea."
Mistoffelees rested his chin in his paw. "I wonder what his criteria is, and how I meet it," he mused as a waiter finally hesitantly approached their corner.
Her gaze swept over her cousin, arching an eyebrow at that, but placed her order with the waiter quietly. He ordered as well, expression still a bit distant, considering.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
"Just the same as before," he said, shrugging. "I'm just curious why me. I'm sure he'd never talked that way to anyone else he works for, since he's still in work."
She shrugged very slightly, "You're far more approachable than many in our set."
"I'm not sure that's a good trait in our set," he said, smiling wryly.
"There are worse things," she offered him a faint smile.
"Of course there are," he said, looking down.
"Is everything alright, Cousin?"
"I'm sorry," he said automatically. "That conversation put me on edge."
"It was rather...abrupt," she replied.
"That might be the kindest thing to say of it," he said, shaking his head slightly.
"It was an interesting conversation, I have to admit."
"Did you like Mr. Hollister?" Mistoffelees asked.
"I found him to be very forward, but very flattering as well. I'm not entirely certain what I think of that," Victoria answered quietly.
Mistoffelees nodded. "Probably best not to," he murmured.
"To think of it? Probably."
Glancing away again, Mistoffelees fell silent, still turning things over in his mind.
Welcome Jerrie and Teazer to the scene, and one of the worst lunches to be caught in. Macavity, how /did/ you survive the Victorian Era again...?
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