Coricopat entered the office and hung up his coat and hat before going and knocking on the door to Bailey's office. The solicitor glanced up, eyebrows already up. "Come in," he called out. His employees almost never actually bothered to speak to him, and he curious to know why one was knocking.

The mottled tom slipped in, closing the door behind him, "Sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Zimmerman?"

"I...wanted to ask for your permission to trade cases with Macavity."

Bailey's brows inched higher. "Is there any particular reason?" he asked, shifting the papers on his desk.

"I've...had difficulty working with Baron Jones' heir. The Baron has had him do a good deal of business, and I fear that I cannot do as much good on that case any longer."

Bailey gave the other all his attention for a moment. "Issues with his nephew?"

Cori nodded very slightly, "Yes sir."

Bailey nodded. "Well, whatever you need to do. You are most welcome to switch cases with Macavity with his consent so long as the Baron does not mind. What specifically are these issues, if I may ask?"

"It's, well, rather difficult to pinpoint exactly, sir."

"Anything you can manage?" the other tom asked, curious but not going to push the issue.

"I have a rather dangerous tendency to speak my mind around him. I just don't think it's wise for me to continue to work with that household."

Bailey considered and nodded. "Yes, of course. As I said, you have my permission as long as the Baron gives his."

Coricopat offered him a bow, "Thank you, sir." Nodding, Bailey's attention was already off him.

The mottled tom exited the office, reminding Macavity that they were both going to meet with the Baron the next day.

Macavity entered the office when Coricopat came back out of Bailey's. "It's official," he greeted Cor with. "Quaxo makes no damn sense."

Coricopat arched an eyebrow, making sure Bailey's door was securely closed, "Oh?"

Macavity considered the door and sat down, before leaning across, saying as quietly as he could. "He apparently shows thieves the door and greets them in pubs the next night."

Cori just gaped at him, "You sent your thieves to steal from Jones?"

Macavity shrugged. "Which is not the point. Point being, young heir there was in the house and informed them they were going after the worst silver in the house."

"He really did?" Cori shook his head, "Goodness..."

"Followed by which way to exit. But the kicker was when he saw them last night. I managed to introduce them as my associates before he told me that they had, what were his words? Oh yes, shown up uninvited the night before but he believed it worked out to everyone's satisfaction."

That earned a long blink, "He is a strange one."

Macavity threw his paws up. "To say the least. I have no idea what to do with him."

"It could be worse."

"Oh?" Macavity asked, eyebrow arching.

"You could be in love with him."

"Point," the ginger tabby agreed.

"Remember I'm introducing you to Baron Jones tomorrow."

"Yes, I remember. And won't that go wonderfully at this point."

"It shall have to go as well as possible. Which means no more stealing from him," Coricopat replied.

Macavity raised his paws. "Alright. That job was hardly my idea anyway."

"Whose was it then?" Coricopat asked, sounding like he highly doubted that.

Macavity just shrugged. "Someone else. Come on Cor, the less you know, the better."

Cori sighed, "Fine. Just don't do it again."

Macavity nodded. "No worries. I don't think my agents would ever speak to me again if I asked that of them."

"Good. We do have legal work to deal with, I need to catch you up on the information regarding the Jones estate."

"Right, yes," Macavity nodded. He still looked a little stupefied by the entire situation.

v.v.v.v.

Macavity entered the Jones' townhouse, looking around in some awe.

Coricopat waited until the servant let them know that the Baron would see them before heading for the study, "Mac, behave."

Having just started down the stairs, Mistoffelees paused when he saw the pair of lawyers. "Mr. Zi-Mr. Hollister," he amended, voice showing his displeasure. "Whatever are you doing here?"

"I was just admiring this lovely Ming vase," Macavity replied sweetly.

Cori shot Macavity a long look at that, hissing his name under his breath. "We're here to see your uncle, Mr. Quaxo."

Macavity offered him an innocent look in return. Eyebrows rising, Mistoffelees glanced between the two and finally motioned up the stairs. "Yes, of course. Go right ahead."

They reached the study door and Cori knocked lightly.

"Enter," Jones said from behind his desk.

The mottled tom entered, holding the door for his partner, "Good afternoon, Your Lordship."

Macavity entered behind, looking suitably respectful. "What can I do for you, Mr. Zimmerman?" Jones asked, a bit coldly.

"I believe you had some work for the firm, sir? And, I wished to introduce my partner, Macavity Hollister."

"Yes, since you are here, I believe you might as well take the papers for the preliminary engagement," Jones said, and eyed Macavity. "But why would you need to introduce your partner?"

"Because, sir, I have had personal issues arise and I fear that I will not be able to adequately handle your business. Mr. Hollister is the most competent solicitor I know, short of Mr. Bailey himself, and I wished to recommend him to you."

Jones raised his brow before he nodded. "Very well. I expect the same level of service I have received from you in the past."

"Of course, sir. I will see to it that everything is relayed to Mr. Hollister." He paused, "Do you have the papers for the preliminary engagement, my lord?"

Jones produced them from his massive desk, handing them over.

Coricopat took them, offering him a bow, "Thank you, my Lord. We'll be on our way if there's nothing else?"

"There is nothing else," Jones informed the pair.

The mottled tom offered another bow before slipping out of the study, waiting for his partner in the hall. Macavity followed quickly, having no inclination to stay around Jones.

Down the stairs, Mistoffelees was discussing a matter with the butler, and glanced up as they came from the office.

Coricopat tipped his hat slightly to the black cat, "Good afternoon, Mr. Quaxo."

"Afternoon, Mr. Zimmerman, Mr. Hollister. Have you concluded your business with my uncle?"

"We have, yes," he glanced toward the door.

"What was it, if I may ask?" Mistoffelees glanced between them. Macavity wasn't meeting his eyes, looking around the foyer instead.

"He wished to have us begin with the engagement papers. And, I needed to introduce him to my partner."

"Why?" Mistoffelees asked, tilting his head. "I thought you had always dealt with my uncle's business." The butler had long since made a tactical retreat.

"Some personal problems have arisen," he repeated his excuse to Jones, "I haven't the energy to complete the work as well as it needs to be."

"Oh," the smaller said and tried not to stare at Macavity. "Is Mr. Hollister to take over your duties then?"

"Yes, he is."

"Oh," Mistoffelees repeated again and Macavity made a face at him sounding so terribly displeased by that.

"I will do my best to be worthy of being the Baron's lawyer," he said as evenly as he could.

"Now, if you'll excuse us, Mr. Quaxo, we need to be returning to work," Coricopat murmured.

"Yes, of course," he said, stepping to one side. He wanted to ask, "Will I see you around?" but the very phrase sounded oddly needy in his mind so he just offered the other a small smile. "A good afternoon to you-to the both of you," he added a bit more grudgingly.

Coricopat tipped his hat before exiting, waiting for his partner and hailing a cab.

Macavity trailed after him, tail swishing slightly, leaving Mistoffelees at the door. "That went well?" the ginger tabby offered.

"I don't know. It went well with the Baron, but I don't know regarding his heir," Cori sighed heavily.

"Oh?" Macavity prodded gently.

"I know this is the right decision, I just...didn't think it would be so hard."

Getting into the cab, Macavity considered him. "You really do get in deep, don't you? He didn't look so pleased either."

Coricopat sighed again, leaning back against the seat, "I can't help it."

"No, you really can't," Macavity shook his head.

"Hopefully this will make it easier."

"Sure, until you run into him again."

"The likelihood of that is vastly decreased," his tone indicated that he wasn't sure how happy about that he was.

Macavity inclined his head, not willing to push the conversation.

v.v.v.v.

Several days passed before anything else happened to disturb the calm. Occasionally Bailey would interact with his actual clients, usually on their own terms. Drinks with Bustopher Jones were rare, happening only once a year, sometimes two. The fact it happened to fall on a date so soon after Coricopat's departure from Jones' service was simple chance.

The two toms talked comfortably for a while, glasses kept full. Swirling the alcohol around in his glass, Bailey considered. "Have you gotten much time with Hollister yet?" he inquired.

Jones shrugged. "He is not nearly so pleasing as Mr. Zimmerman. But he said he had a personal issue come up that meant he would not have enough energy to devote fully to my case, and considering the engagement to my daughter..."

Bailey startled slightly. "He said it was a personal matter? Odd. He told me it was a problem with your heir, Mr. Quaxo."

Every muscle in Jones' bulk tensed. "Excuse me?"

"So, that was not what he told you," Bailey said, nodding. "When he brought it before me to check, he said he was developing issues with the nephew. Something about not being able to help what he said around him. I assumed they had gotten into some sort of argument, possibly more than once."

Jones' face darkened as he listened to that. "That brat child."

"I thought Mr. Hollister was sufficiently pleasing for the job," Bailey said, unperturbed. "Does it matter which lawyer is looking after your case?"

"It is the principle of the matter," Jones rumbled and the smaller tom shrugged, pouring another drink and not much caring either way. So long as his firm was being paid, he did not care about the noble families internal issues.

v.v.v.v.

Later that evening, Mistoffelees was called to his uncle's study. Considering the way it had gone last time he'd been there, he was concerned. Knocking, he entered, tail twitching around his legs. "Yes, Uncle, Sir?" he asked, keeping his voice as even as possible.

Jones glowered at him from behind the desk. "Mistoffelees," he all but spat. "I always knew you would do me ill."

"S-sir?" Mistoffelees gaped, running down everything he had done recently. "I-I-"

"The lawyer?" Jones snapped. "He had issues with you. His problems with you apparently are why he left."

Mistoffelees' ears flattened. "H-he, what?" he asked, voice growing small in confusion.

"He could no longer work with you. You cost me the services of an excellent lawyer!" Jones thundered and Mistoffelees leaned harder against the door.

"I-I, I'm sorry," he managed, all coherent thought fleeing from his mind. Maybe he should no longer spend time with Tumblebrutus, if his sudden stammer was any indication.

"You're useless, pathetic!" Jones declared. "You could never do anything right! You're a layabout, a waste of space. Tell me, Mistoffelees Quaxo, why I should ever do anything for you?" He put so much hate into the last name that Mistoffelees bristled.

"Don't you dare insult the name of my father," he snarled, anger making him forget his place.

"Why not?" Jones demanded. "He never did anything worthwhile. He couldn't even produce a decent son."

Mistoffelees' ears had flickered up before flattening again. "Is that all, sir?" he managed finally, still sane enough to try and call a retreat.

"Like hell it is!" Jones yelled. "I have not finished yet." Mistoffelees shrank further against the door. "If you must cost my services, you had better start doing things to earn your keep as my heir."

"I-but there is-" Mistoffelees started.

"If you can be of no use, then away with you!" Jones yelled. "I can make an heir out of Philipson. He already has come into his titles after the recent death of his father. As soon as Victoria has a child, they shall have all my money unless you can give me a reason to choose you instead."

Biting the inside of his lip, Mistoffelees couldn't even be surprised. "S-sir-"

"Well, Mistoffelees?" Jones demanded. "What say you?"

"I hardly know what I could possibly-"

"After all, you're a pathetic waste of space."

"If I'm that much of a waste," Mistoffelees snapped again, finally giving in to anger again. "Then why do you bother keeping me around?"

"Yes," Jones snarled. "Why do I?"

"That, I mean, that's not what I-"

"If you can't do anything useful then you have no place under my roof!" Jones roared, rising.

"You, but, where am I to go?" Mistoffelees managed.

"Out!" Jones roared and Mistoffelees retreated before anything could be thrown at his head.

v.v.v.v.

Coricopat was settled in his chair, reading that day's newspaper. He hadn't had the opportunity to peruse it before the evening-he never did. He frowned at a couple of the headlines, but found that he was only re-reading the same sentence over and over again. He hadn't been able to concentrate much outside of work since he'd exchanged positions with Macavity in regards to their clients. Mac had introduced him to the other family the day before and he never thought he'd say it, but he almost preferred working for Jones' interests.

The mottled tom sighed and set the paper aside, picking up a book from the small table and locating the page he had left off on.

A sudden loud knock sounded from his front door.

The lawyer startled, nearly dropping his book, and rose. He set the volume aside and moved over to the door, answering it cautiously, "Yes? Can I help you?"

"What I don't understand," Mistoffelees said, walking into the apartment without waiting to be invited. "Is what your problem with me is."

Coricopat turned to face him in confusion, closing the door, "What?"

"What I just said," Mistoffelees replied. "What the hell is your problem with me? Because I was somewhat unaware."

The mottled tom's ears lay back, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Funny, considering your boss seemed pretty succinct on the matter."

Cori paled, "He spoke to your uncle?"

Mistoffelees nodded. "I can only presume that considering what my uncle told me shortly."

"Damn...That was not supposed to happen." He sighed, looking away.

"Then what was?" Mistoffelees demanded. "Which has not answered my question of what your problem was in the first place!"

"Can I get you anything? And your uncle was supposed to have heard exactly what I told you, and nothing more."

"Well that's not what happened," Mistoffelees crossed his arms over his chest. "And no, not until you give me a damn answer!"

His ears lowered further, "Surely you can put it together yourself. I didn't lie to either of them."

"An issue with me and a personal issue. What the hell could that possibly be?" He was too frazzled and angry to be thinking clearly.

Coricopat opened his mouth to reply, but shook his head, turning and retreating to the kitchen. Mistoffelees gaped after him. Fury was starting to crawl up his spine. "What's going on?" he called after the other, a little helplessly.

"I have a personal issue and trouble working with you that is not conducive for me to be able to continue in your uncle's employment," he answered, setting to washing the dishes that he still hadn't dealt with from his supper.

"You never seemed to have such a problem before," Mistoffelees protested. "What could it possibly be?"

"I-I...I can't tell you," He rinsed the dishes and started drying them.

Impulsively Mistoffelees reached out, grabbing his wrist to stop him. "You're washing dishes?" he managed not to yell but it was close. "Are you serious?"

Cori startled, nearly dropping the plate as he yanked his arm away from the touch, "I can't tell you!"

Mistoffelees flinched back slightly. "Why not?" he demanded, in confusion. "What could be so bad as all that?"

The solicitor closed his eyes, pressing the heel of his hand to the bridge of his nose, "I... I believe myself to be falling in love with you." His voice was barely audible.

"O-oh," Mistoffelees blinked wide eyes at him, entire posture shifting from aggressive to shocked. "You, but you, isn't that illegal? And you're, you," he realized he was circling the same thoughts without getting anything said and snapped his mouth shut.

Coricopat nodded slightly, turning his attention to putting the dishes away, "It is illegal. Do you understand now why I cannot work for your uncle any longer?"

"I, yes," Mistoffelees said in a small voice. "You love me?"he asked in an even smaller one.

"I-I..." The solicitor swallowed and then nodded.

"I suppose that explains some things," he managed. His heart was attempting to pound out his chest.

Coricopat's ears flickered, "Oh?"

"Your habit of being terribly honest with me?" Mistoffelees offered and then frowned, past conversations catching up in his mind. "Wait, if you're in love with me then…What happened to passion is only a lie and dreamers only harm those around them?" His posture shifted again to defensive, slinking back slightly and looking up at the other.

"I still believe that dreams do more harm than good. And...passion, is questionable. Whether or not it exists depends on the cat," Cori had rather forgotten that hole he'd dug.

Mistoffelees looked far from impressed. "But you love me despite that?"

"Despite what?"

"Despite passion being questionable and that I'm only going to do more harm than good to those around me?"

Cori's ears lay back again, "I..."

"What am I supposed to do?" Mistoffelees asked, looking up at him.

"Th-that's hardly for me to answer," the solicitor answered, glancing toward the main room of the flat.

"Any thoughts? You've been so honest I'd be hurt if you suddenly stopped now," Mistoffelees replied dryly.

"It isn't as though there's a lot of options. If you don't feel the same my only request is that you not mention it to anycat who might cause trouble for me-I could lose my freedom, and my job for this. If you do reciprocate? I don't know."

"That's not terribly helpful," the shorter tom said, voice almost lost in the room.

Coricopat sighed heavily, "I'm at a loss for what to tell you. Anything beyond this is up to you."

Mistoffelees looked down. "I... I should see about finding a hotel for tonight."

"I...if you wish. Good evening, Mr. Quaxo." He hesitated another long moment before swallowing and turning to go. Coricopat watched him, "I do have the spare room if...that is if you need somewhere to stay."

Mistoffelees paused for a long moment, glancing back at him. Finally, he shook his head. "N-no. I, I'll see you around," he managed.

The lawyer dropped his gaze, nodding slightly, "Very well. Good night."

"Good night," Mistoffelees managed, turning and ducking out, mind still whirling in confusion.

Coricopat locked the door once the other had left and got ready to try and sleep. It was going to be a long night in a pretty constant state of "not panicking."

Your songs for this chapter: "Cannonball" and "Whatever You Want" by Vienna Teng. (Though, Damien Rice also does Cannonball if you prefer that version).

Love confession time! Woo! We hope everyone enjoyed this chapter and feedback is given much love and deeply appreciated. That little review button at the bottom of the screen feels lonely after all. Cheers!