Entering the pub, Mistoffelees glanced around. He was followed by Pounce and Tumble, and the place looked disreputable enough for his taste. Tumble eyed their surroundings warily, "Are you two certain this is a good idea?"

"Certainly," Pounce shrugged, "It's one place Plato would never dream of checking."

"God knows I need somewhere where he wouldn't," Mistoffelees muttered.

"What's happened, Misto?" Tumble asked quietly as they located an out- of-the-way table.

"The announcement shall be tomorrow, I think," he said, getting the drinks. "He has been engaged to my cousin, Victoria Jones."

Pouncival gaped at his friend as he took his drink, "He's what?"

"Your uncle agreed to this?" Tumble's eyes widened.

"My uncle not only agreed to this, he encouraged it," he muttered, looking at the table. "That's why I was out of the house that morning. We'd fought."

"Wait, what morning?" Pounce looked from one to the other.

Tumble ignored him, "Good heavens. I'm so sorry to hear that."

Mistoffelees also ignored Pounce. "So, my cousin is engaged to your cousin. This calls for a drink. Probably several." Raising his glass he downed part of it.

"Here, here," Tumble raised his glass, but only sipped at it.

Sighing, Mistoffelees glanced around the bar. Random patrons strolled by. "How goes with you two?" he asked finally, the drink disappearing fairly rapidly.

Pounce shrugged, "The same as ever."

"Except he's now dragging me along on his hair-brained trips," Tumble murmured, sipping at his drink again.

"Oh?" Mistoffelees asked. "I missed this."

"Tumble's just cranky that I wanted to congratulate the actors and actresses on a job well done after the play we went to."

Said patched tom shot Pouncival a long look, but kept his mouth shut.

"Right," Mistoffelees drawled.

Pounce shrugged, "Really, he is."

"Mostly," Tumble conceded.

"Well, what's the other bit then?" Mistoffelees asked.

Pounce shot Tumble a look, but the other tom shrugged, "He was using me as a front."

"For?" Mistoffelees asked. "This is worse than prying teeth out, or herding frogs."

"He needed to be able to honestly tell his father he'd been at the theater with me all evening. You know how poorly he can lie sometimes. He's apparently-"

"Tumble!" Pounce cut him off, growling softly.

"No, no," Mistoffelees motioned for Pounce to shush. "I want to hear all this."

Pouncival growled again but Tumble finished, "Apparently he's seeing the young ingénue there. She's quite pretty and rather sweet from what I could tell."

"Why Pounce!" Mistoffelees exclaimed. "Those weren't the hidden depths we talked about before, were they?"

Pouncival looked from one to the other and muttered into his drink, "I hate you both."

"Which didn't answer my question," he replied and looked at his glass. "I need another drink."

"Yes," Pounce finally responded, "Next round's on me."

"I'll go get it," Mistoffelees said, rising again and heading for the bar.

Tumble watched him go, shaking his head, "Well, I'm surprised he didn't know before I did."

"It hadn't come up," Pounce answered.

Meandering across to the bar, Mistoffelees just about froze when he saw a familiar ginger tabby. He meant to turn the other way abruptly, but said ginger tabby was already talking. "Ah, the heir of Baron Jones. A lovely evening to you."

"Mr. Hollister," he replied through gritted teeth at the form of address the other had choosen. "A good evening to you."

"It's too bad Cor isn't here," Macavity continued. He was fishing for a reaction and Cor would kill him but he was just too curious.

"Cor? Oh, you mean Mr. Zimmerman. Yes, it is too bad," Mistoffelees replied blandly. Getting any reaction out of him was harder work than Macavity had been expecting.

Jerrie entered the crowded pub and scanned it for a sign of the ginger tabby. Spotting him, he tapped Teazer on the shoulder and wove through the bar in that direction, finally reaching Macavity's side, freezing as he finally got a look at the cat who the tabby was talking to.

Teazer had been following him and nearly walked into his back when he stopped. She gaped at the black tom who glanced behind Macavity's shoulder to see the two standing there. Turning, Macavity wanted to see what he was looking at.

"Oh, these are two of my associates," Macavity started.

"Yes," Mistoffelees cut him off. "We met last night." Macavity's eyes widened. "They showed up unannounced at my uncle's estate. I believe everything worked out however."

"What?" Macavity demanded, voice dropping, head swiveling back to stare at the two.

Jerrie swallowed hard, his gaze darting from the small black tom to Macavity, he offered a shaky grin, "Yeah, 'bout that. We were actually jus' comin' t' talk t' y' 'bout that."

"Really?" Macavity demanded, voice still low. Teazer nodded quickly.

Mistoffelees' brows just rose higher and higher as Macavity realized how very obvious it was that they were working for him. Well, hell.

"Wouldn' dream a doin' otherwise," the torbie tom supplied. "So, we'll...wait t' talk t' y' later then? We'll be outside."

"If you like," Macavity growled.

"Well, y' look a bit busy right now. Talk t' y' in a little bit." Jerrie turned, catching Teazer by the elbow and retreating, not stopping until they were out of the pub. "My vote's on findin' a hotel under assumed names f' t'night."

"We never told him we were staying outside the pub," Teazer nodded. "He'll be calmer tomorrow I would hope."

"A'right. Hotel it is."

Nodding, Teazer led the way out.

That left Mistoffelees and Macavity staring at each other. "Well," Mistoffelees managed as another cat suddenly appeared. He blinked as the larger tom slung an arm around Macavity's shoulders.

"Mac! What a surprise. Mixing with the working classes?" Tugger asked. Macavity scowled at him.

"Bugger off."

Tumble looked up, happening to glance toward the bar. He paled and rose, "I've just remembered that I need to be heading home."

"We just got here," Pounce blinked in confusion.

Tugger was about to say something when he looked across the bar and saw Tumble. "Well, enjoy that," he said abruptly to Mac and walked off. Which left Mistoffelees and Macavity blinking at each other again.

"I'm going to order drinks," Mistoffelees told him, not wanting to know who would show up next. "Good evening to you."

"Good night," Macavity replied with the same false sincerity.

Tumble glanced toward the bar again and his eyes widened as he realized the maned tom was heading their way, "No, I really do need to be going. I promised my father I'd look into some things early tomorrow, and I need sleep."

"One more drink won't hurt, you've hardly even finished your first one," his friend argued.

Tugger slid up. "Good evening, Tumble," he greeted.

The young nobleman stiffened, "Good evening, Mr. Hollister."

"And how does this evening find you?" Tugger drawled smoothly.

"Busy. I was just leaving actually."

"Surely not this early in the night! You haven't even finished one drink," Tugger protested, having looked at the glass.

"I remembered another commitment I have," the young nobleman tried.

Tugger hooked his paws in his belt, and considered the other tom. "Really now?"

Tumble glanced around for a route of escape, "R-really."

"Or are you just runnin' out to avoid someone?"

"Now why would I h-have any reason to do th-that?" Tumble glanced around, knowing Pounce wasn't going to be much help, but rather hoping Mistoffelees would be.

"Not sure," Tugger replied. "But I'm curious to find out. Stay a little while."

Tumble's ears flickered back, "I really can't."

"What's this pressing matter?" Tugger asked.

"I don't see that it's really your business."

Mistoffelees slid back into his chair with the drinks, considering Tumble and Tugger with a raised brow. "You two know each other?" he asked.

"We've met," Tumble replied quietly, glancing toward the door again.

"Oh. Are you going to introduce any of us?" Mistoffelees asked.

Tugger thrust out a paw. "Tugger Hollister."

"A Hollister," Mistoffelees said through gritted teeth. "Ah."

Tumble smiled thinly, "Tugger Hollister, meet Mistoffelees Quaxo. You've already met Pouncival, I believe?"

"Yes, vaguely," Tugger answered, looking Misto over. The black tom shifted, reminded of Macavity's look. Tugger turned to Pounce and inclined his head. "Good to see you again."

Pounce lifted his glass in a half-salute, "You too." Tumble still stood, trying to decide whether he was staying or leaving.

Tugger turned to offer him a smile. The patched tom eyed him but finally sat down again, turning his attention to his drink. Mistoffelees glanced over at him, offering him a second drink as well, shoving another over to Pounce before working on his own.

Tugger considered the three of them before turning a chair and straddling it as he sat down. "You seem the cheery group."

"You're the one who chose to sit here," Mistoffelees replied. "What do you do anyway?"

"Run a socialist newspaper," Tugger replied cheerfully.

Mistoffelees choked slightly on his swallow. "That, doesn't even surprise me," he murmured.

Pounce shook his head at the answer, thanking Misto for the second drink. Tumble sighed, picking up his second glass, considering Tugger, "How is that press going for you?"

"As well as always," Tugger replied, a bit brightly.

"Which implies it could be far from considered well, if it always ran terribly," Mistoffelees said.

Pounce chuckled, hiding his smile behind his glass.

"May I ask who your intended audience is with the paper?" Tumble asked quietly.

The larger tom gave Mistoffelees a dark look, but the smaller just continued to sip his drink calmly. "Well," Tugger said. "Whoever would read it. I mean, I know we're in England, not France, but, the workers and the poor have a right to a voice." He'd toned down his original response, aware he was sitting by three Lords' heirs.

Tumble considered, "So let me see if I hear you right. The intended audience for your printed paper is the class which has very few people capable of reading?"

He nodded. "Mhm. We include lots of drawings. Besides, education is getting better. We tried holding classes for a while but that... did not go so well."

Tumble's brow arched, but he shrugged and turned back to his drink, "I see."

"And what do you three fine gentlemen do with your time?" Tugger asked, looking between them. Mistoffelees didn't reply, though he considered hitting his head against the table.

Pounce eyed him, "Is that really your business?"

"You asked about mine, it's only fair play isn't it?" he replied. "I mean, I figure you're all nobility of some kind, but the question is... what do you actually do with your days?"

"Isn't that just the question," Mistoffelees muttered.

"Well, Tumble here's looking into what it would take to be elected to the House of Commons. While I'm looking into how to work my way up to become a diplomat," Pounce answered, ignoring the sharp pain in his shin as Tumble kicked him.

Tugger tilted his head and considered them. "Huh," he said, sounding remarkably surprised.

"Wh-what?" Tumble glanced at him.

"Nuthin'," he tried. "Just surprised is all."

"You don't seem to have much faith in the upper classes," Mistoffelees remarked. "Aren't you related to a lawyer?"

"Oh, you know Mac then. Other brother's a cop," Tugger replied cheerfully.

"Yes," Mistoffelees said. "I know Mac." His voice fully expressed how unimpressed with the ginger tabby he was.

Tumble glanced between them again, having finished his second drink, "I-I should head h-home."

"Do you need a ride? Or, alternatively, share a cab?" Mistoffelees asked. "If I drink much more I'll be useless tomorrow."

"I-I..." He considered and then finally nodded, "I was thinking of just taking a cab. Are y-you coming, Pounce?"

The other patched tom shrugged, "I'll make my own way, thank you though."

Mistoffelees gave him something that might have once been a sloppy salute. "Good night then, Pounce. Nice to meet you... Mr. Hollister." He only hoped to never see him again.

"Night, Misto. Tumble," Pouncival inclined his head to them.

Tumble touched the brim of his hat, "Good night, Pounce." He glanced briefly at Tugger, "A-and you, sir."

"Night, Tumble," Tugger replied cheerfully. Mistoffelees gave him a shocked look. Tubmle's ears flicked back and he retreated quickly.

Mistoffelees followed at a slightly slower pace, blinking. "That was, well, different," he told the patched tom.

Tumble nodded briskly, stepping out of the pub and looking around for a cab.

Mistoffelees shook his head again, following the other. "He calls you Tumble?"

"Yes," the brown and white tom finally managed to hail a cab, motioning for Misto to precede him into it.

Mistoffelees got in, but wasn't quite ready to let the subject drop yet. "Is there any more I'm getting than that?"

"I-I didn't t-tell him he could, if that's w-what you're asking."

"It was, and does he do it just to be aggravating then?"

"I-I guess so? I've only met him t-twice."

"Huh," Mistoffelees leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe it's a family trait."

Tumble glanced at him, "Y-you mentioned his b-brother?"

Mistoffelees nodded. "Yes. Macavity Hollister, partner of my uncle's lawyer."

"Oh? Is-is he as insufferable a-as his brother?"

"Possibly worse. I've had more experience with the one I'm assuming is the elder. What else has that one done to you?"

"N-nothing? Just talked."

"He seems to have made quite the impression," Mistoffelees observed.

The patched tom looked at him again, feeling a faint blush rising and grateful for the darkness in the cab, "Oh? W-what do you mean?"

Mistoffelees blinked at the blush. "I'm curious to know what you think I meant before I tell you what I did."

"I don't know. He's brash and rather i-insulting."

"Just like his brother then," Mistoffelees said and shrugged. "He just seems to set your stammer off much more noticeably than most people, especially for having met him but twice."

"O-oh," Tumble shrugged, "I don't know. I-I don't do well with n-new cats, you know that."

"No," Mistoffelees agreed. "You really don't. He just seems different is all. But, I suppose, if he's anything like his brother I can hardly blame you."

Tumble shrugged, "H-how have you been?"

Mistoffelees shrugged. "Your cousin is engaged to mine. Other than that, life goes on as usual."

"Well, life's proceeding I suppose. I-I have another dinner tomorrow that my parents h-have organized."

"Who with?" Mistoffelees asked, only vaguely interested but polite.

"The Smiths. And th-the Jacobsens two nights after that."

Mistoffelees let out a low whistle. "Good luck with that set."

Tumble offered a wry smile, "Thank you."

A little hesitantly, Mistoffelees returned the smile. "Anytime."

The cab pulled up in front of Jones' townhouse, "Here we go."

"Thanks," Mistoffelees said, mostly steady when he stood up. He knew better than to drink that quickly, he really did. "Good luck with your dinners, and have a good evening."

"Thank you. I'll see you later. Good evening, Mistoffelees."

Slipping out, Mistoffelees made his way back into the town house. Tumble continued home, slipping inside and hurrying up to his room to sleep, and hopefully forget about the leopard-patterned tom.

This scene was affectionately written in all notes as "the Clusterf- in the pub." It was conceived in a pub in Ireland which seemed fitting at the time.

Hope everyone enjoyed reading it and remember, reviews are greeted with squees and cuddled and deeply loved!