Serafine knocked on her brother's study door the next afternoon. She glanced at the clock in the hall, it was one of the safest times to speak with him, but that might not mean much of anything. He called out permission to enter, not sounding thrilled with anyone knocking on his door but accepting it.

The tuxedo queen smoothed a paw over her dark green dress with black satin trim before stepping inside, "Good afternoon, brother."

"Sister," he greeted. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you had seen Mistoffelees?"

"He left last night," her brother said, perhaps almost ashamed but voice still dripping arrogance.

She frowned at him, "Whatever for?"

"We had a disagreement," Jones said mildly.

"So you threw him out? Bustopher, are you trying to cause scandal?"

"He deserved it," Jones rumbled.

"How?" She demanded.

"His lack of respect was costing me valuable services," Jones replied.

Sera bristled at that, "Mistoffelees is one of the most respectful young toms in society, and you know that."

"He apparently cannot even get lawyers to work for him."

"What? Whatever are you talking about?"

"The lawyer that has worked for me for years resigned from my services due to your son."

"You're certain? Have you found another lawyer?"

"Yes, but that is hardly the point. The man's very boss came to talk to me about this!"

Her ears flickered back, "So you threw your heir out of the house? That will cause more harm than good, Brother."

"He left," Jones protested.

"And how much of that was caused by you threatening him?" Sera's golden eyes narrowed.

"That hardly matters," Jones sniffed. "He removed himself from the house after all. I cannot control his actions."

"No, but you can control your own."

"Are you questioning my conduct, dear sister?"

She pursed her lips, "I'm questioning your treatment of your heir."

"How dare you," he seethed. "You are the one who brought him here after all."

Her ears lay back, "Because we had nowhere else to go. You let us return, but I certainly did not bring my son here so you could mistreat him and use him as a pawn."

"A pawn?" Jones demanded. "You think I am treating him as a pawn?"

"I think you treat many cats as pawns, my son included."

"Are they not my pawns?" Jones asked. "If you insist that I treat them as such."

"They're living breathing cats, not designed for your personal use, Bustopher."

"What could they ever do against me?" he asked.

"One of these days, Bustopher, you're going to find that you've lost any allies you have due to your penchant for treating them as pawns and stepping stones."

Jones arched his brows. "Surely that wasn't a threat."

"No, it's a statement based on things I have seen," she answered quietly.

"Any more statements knocking around in that brain of yours?"

"I believe I've said my piece."

"If that's all then?"

"Good afternoon, brother," She dipped a slight curtsey and left the room.

v.v.v.v.

Munkustrap wove his way through the printing room for his brother's "paper" and ascended the stairs at the back. He paused in front of the door to the small apartment before rapping sharply on it.

Glancing up from where he had several drafts spread out around the table, Tugger moved over to open the door. Sitting in her usual chair by the fire, Bombalurina barely looked up from the book she was reading, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

"Yeah?" Tugger asked, leaning against the door frame as he opened it. "Oh, Straps."

"Afternoon, Tugger. You going to invite me in?" The silver tabby's brow arched.

"Sure," he said, rolling his shoulders and standing back. "Come right on in. Don't mind the mess."

Munkustrap entered, pausing as he saw Bombalurina, "My apologies, I didn't realize you had a guest."

Bomba glanced up from the book with an arched brow and for a moment there was an awkward silence. "She's not a guest," Tugger replied as Bomba turned her gaze to him.

"Why are your brothers so attractive and how ever did it just skip over you?" she asked, shaking her head. "No wonder you hid this one so long."

"Hid?" Tugger asked. "I never... Oh. Oh. You two have never met have you?"

Munkus' ears flickered at that, looking from his younger brother to the queen seated by the fire, "She's not a guest?"

"No?" Tugger offered.

"I live here," Bomba informed the silver tabby, bookmarking her book.

"...You live here?" His brows rose at that, "How long?"

"Four years?" she offered and Tugger had the decency to look abashed.

"Four years?" His blue gaze darted to his brother, "Are you going to introduce us, Tugger?" The unspoken "like you should have done ages ago" hung in the air.

"Bombalurina Harris, this is my brother, Munkustrap Hollister. He can go by 'Straps," Tugger said, motioning between them.

"Lovely to meet you," Bomba said, rising fluidly and moving over, offering her paw to the silver tabby.

He took her paw, kissing the back of it, "And you, Miss Harris."

Her brows rose. She's meant to shake his paw, her tail curling slightly when he kissed it instead. "Thank you, sir."

Munkus released her paw, stepping back slightly, "I do wonder how we never met before now."

"Chance, probably," she replied.

"'Straps tends to show up in the late afternoon or evening," Tugger added.

"That would explain it then," she said, offering him a smile. "I'm usually working."

"Working? May I ask what you do?" The tabby asked.

Tugger bit his lip at how her first answer had sounded, turning back to his drafts as they talked.

"Actress," she replied, something cold going up behind her eyes. "A perfectly respectable profession."

Munkustrap held his paws up placating, "Yes, a perfectly respectable profession. And it would keep you out in the afternoon and evenings." He glanced toward his brother, "How is it dealing with him day in and day out?"

She smiled faintly, though the chill remained deep inside. "It simply requires a loss of sensitivity to ink stains everywhere. He's not too bad otherwise. So long as you can keep his more insane impulses under control."

"I still think that-" Tugger started.

"No," she replied simply and the manned tom shrugged before going back to his draft.

The tabby's brow rose at that, "Do I want to know?" He shook his head, answering his own question, "Probably not. I didn't realize there was room for two cats in this apartment, is all."

"I have the attic," she replied. "It's my non-ink stained refuge. And if it's one of his crazy ideas, chances are it would cut the already small space further into a smaller space. You just have to put your paw down with him is all."

"Ah, the attic, I had forgotten this place had one. And, I suppose that would do it." He looked around, speaking to his brother, "How are things with you, Tugger?"

He glanced back from the sheets he was laying out over the table to organize them, ruffling his mane. "Same as always really. Why? Anything up?"

"Just curious. I'm not allowed to ask how you are?" His brother queried.

"Well, yeah, but usually there's a reason behind it is all."

"I'm checking in is all, reminding you to keep your head down."

Raising his head, Tugger gave him a long look. "Me? I always keep out of trouble."

Bomba let out an undignified snort as she returned to her place in the chair, shaking her head slightly as if she doubted those words highly.

Munkustrap's brow rose, showing his agreement with Bombalurina's apparent sentiment, "Right. Of course."

"So long as you're not annoying nobles at the theatre or rescuing queens off the street you stay at home and have a nice cup of tea, right?" Bomba asked, gracefully quirking a brow.

Tugger made a face at her and she smiled softly, warmth behind her green eyes.

"Annoying nobles at the theatre?" Munkus glanced at the red queen to see if she'd finish that story.

"A few lords' sons stopped by after one performance," she said with a shrug. "The way little Jemi told it to me later he regaled one of them with all the reasons socialism was the only acceptable system and how corrupt the lords were before figuring out who he was talking to."

The silver tabby ran a paw through his headfur, "You didn't really?"

"He... well yeah," Tugger admitted. "He wasn't very forthcoming with me, okay?"

"Surely it can't have been that hard to tell he was noble?"

"Well," Tugger admitted. "In hindsight, no." Bomba rolled her eyes at him.

"Do you at least know which nobleman you spouted on about the evils of his class to?" His older brother sighed.

"Yeah, I know his name," Tugger mumbled.

The silver tabby shook his head slightly, "Well, that's good at least." He glanced at his pocket watch, "I really ought to be going...I just wished to come check in."

"Alright," Tugger said, sounding a bit huffy. "Have a good evening and all that business."

Bomba rolled her eyes again. "It was lovely to meet you finally, Mr. Hollister."

"And you, Miss Harris. I do hope to see you again. Good evening, Tugger." The silver tabby offered them both a nod and then slipped out of the apartment.

Tugger and Bomba glanced at each other. "You seriously never met?" Tugger asked and she shook her head, glancing toward the closed door.

"No."

"Well, I'll be damned," Tugger remarked with a shrug.

v.v.v.v

Mistoffelees paused as he entered the apartment, considering retreating back outside. "Who let you in?"

"The maid of course," Plato replied, glancing up from the newspaper Mistoffelees had bought the day before. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"We aren't old friend," the smaller replied, finally closing the door and stalking over to the sideboard and pouring himself a glass of water. "What do you want?"

"To talk. It's been ages. It seemed you might need a friend in this trying time."

"I'm doing just fine," Mistoffelees managed, not quite growling.

"Come now," Plato said, rising and holding his arms out. "Wasn't there a time you—"

"Thought I cared for you?" Mistoffelees cut in. "Yes. But that was a long time ago."

"I simply wanted to make sure you were alright," Plato said though his face twisted darkly at the smaller tom's words.

"As you can see, I'm doing fine."

"In a hotel rather than your actual place at the Jones' estate," Plato arched a brow. "Fine indeed."

This time it was Mistoffelees' face that twisted. "How dare you."

"How dare I?" Plato asked in some shock, though he smirked moments later. "What am I daring, dear little Misto?"

"My cousin," he snapped, having changed the subject to what really bothered him. "How dare you engage yourself to my cousin?"

Plato's expression darkened. "Excuse me? I came to see if I could find some way of helping you and instead—"

"You? Help?" Mistoffelees looked scornful. "You help me? God, I can't believe you. You… this summer," he shook his head. "Then you engage yourself to my cousin?"

"What would last summer have to do with that?" Plato asked. "It was a fun way to pass the time, wasn't it?"

"No," Mistoffelees replied coldly.

Plato blinked. "Well, that's your own problem, not mine. I am surprised you are against my alliance with your cousin, however. I will bring a better name to your family and give her wealth after all. I am already my own lord, since my father died a few months ago. I belong to the House of Lords and am steering our country to greatness."

"She deserves better," was Mistoffelees' reply.

Plato's eyes went cold. "Are you jealous?"

The smaller gave him an incredulous look. "Of—no. God, no. I would never do that to myself again."

Plato stepped forward so his thin form could loom over the shorter, whose ears tilted back. "So you do not approve then?"

"No."

Shaking his head, Plato smiled coldly. "I was going to offer putting in a good word with your uncle for you. But you seem quite capable of living like this." He paused to glance around the two room hotel suite. "After all, you do best with no power to your name. After all, I am a count and you are only a Baron's heir—and right now you're hardly even that."

Ears going flat, Mistoffelees took a deep breath. "Get out," he said, pointing toward the door but forcing his hazel eyes up to meet Plato's brown ones, chin jutting out in anger. But he refused to step back from where the other tom was attempting to use his height as a weapon.

"Do you think you can make me do even that?" Plato asked, smirking.

"Yes," Mistoffelees said, voice even. "Now get out."

"You're hardly doing a good job of convincing me not to marry your cousin," Plato said, heading for the door and pausing to turn around, Mistoffelees watching him warily. "And you're so much more honest in private. I wonder how you'll enjoy the next time we have lunch. Or better yet the wedding party."

"Out," Mistoffelees replied and leaned against the sideboard when the door finally closed. He considered the glass of water and set it down, pouring a glass of port instead.

v.v.v.v

Mistoffelees glanced around the theatre as cats rose for intermission. "Well, aside from the fact I think you're using me as cover... thank you," he told Pounce beside him. "For getting me out tonight. That hotel room was starting to drive me insane."

"I still say that we have plenty of spare rooms and you could probably stay in one of them with no one the wiser," his friend offered, not countering the accusation of using Mistoffelees as cover.

The smaller tom sighed. "No. I think this is best for now. Just because I would hate to put you in trouble with your father. Only one of us should be in trouble at a time."

"You could always talk to Tumble about a room, too?" Pouncival rose, glancing at the curtain to his family's private box.

"Could," Mistoffelees said, rising as well. "I don't know. Hopefully I'll be able to talk to my uncle soon."

"Hopefully. Well, shall we go join the masses on the other side of this curtain?"

"We could, yes," Mistoffelees agreed.

Pounce offered him a grin and pulled the curtain aside, motioning his friend through, "After you."

Sighing, Mistoffelees stepped through, looking around the lobby area, not really expecting to see anyone.

Pounce stepped out as well, coming to stand beside his friend, his gaze scanning the lobby.

Coricopat slipped out of the main auditorium, he'd heard good things about the latest production and had decided to take an evening to try to get his mind off of a certain Baron's heir. His grey eyes swept around the crowd, stopping when they came to rest on Mistoffelees.

Eyes still roaming, it took Mistoffelees a few moments longer to spot Coricopat, though when he did his spine went straight. Pouncival's brow arched as his friend stiffened next to him, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," he managed, eyes still across the room though he managed to get his spine to relax.

Coricopat hesitated for a long moment before he wove his way through the crowd to the other toms, "Good evening, Mr. Quaxo."

Pouncival's brows rose, but he kept quiet for the moment.

"Good evening, Mr. Zimmerman," the smaller tom replied, voice completely even. "How does it find you?"

"Quite well, thank you. And yourself?"

"Doing alright," he replied. "Life remains much the same. Are you enjoying the play?"

His ears flickered as he realized what life remaining the same could mean considering the last time he'd seen the smaller cat, "Well enough, yes. And you? Are you enjoying it?"

"It's a well done production," Mistoffelees replied, watching the other's ears.

Coricopat forced his ears to settle mostly forward, "It really is." He glanced at Pouncival, "I fear I have interrupted. I should leave you two gentlemen be, and bid you good evening."

"You don't have to," Mistoffelees said a little too quickly and drew back. "H-have you two met?" he managed to mostly hide the tremor in his voice.

Pounce shook his head, "I don't think so." He glanced at Mistoffelees, an eyebrow arching at the bit of a tremor which he was accustomed to from Tumblebrutus, but not from the black tom.

At least when Mistoffelees stumbled it wasn't as obvious. "Pouncival Smythe this is Coricopat Zimmerman," he managed a bit abruptly. Seeing the mottled tom since their last conversation was twisting his stomach up.

Pouncival offered his paw, "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Zimmerman."

"You as well, sir," came the response as the lawyer shook the offered paw.

Mistoffelees glanced between the two of them, unsure how to react in any way. He had already asked if the other was enjoying the play after all, and all conversation felt like it stopped after that.

Pouncival considered the taller cat, "May I ask where you're sitting?"

"On the main floor, near the back."

Mistoffelees blinked. "Those are hardly the best seats."

Coricopat shrugged slightly, "I didn't come for the best seats, I came for a relaxing evening."

Pounce considered for a moment, "You know, there's room in my family's box, if you would like to join us."

The lawyer's grey eyes widened, "I couldn't."

Hazel eyes turning to Pounce, Mistoffelees managed to keep his voice even when he replied. "You could, if you liked."

Coricopat glanced at him warily, his ears flickering, "I wouldn't want to intrude."

Pouncival ignored the looks he was getting from the other two toms, "Nonsense. We've both invited you now. I insist."

Finally turning back to the mottled tom, Mistoffelees rolled his shoulders slightly. : Coricopat glanced between them, still uncertain, "If you're sure I won't be intruding."

"You won't be," Mistoffelees replied.

The lawyer hesitated for another long moment and then nodded, "Thank you both, in that case."

"You're welcome," Mistoffelees mumbled, not quite meeting his gaze.

Pounce glanced around, "We'd best be heading back, intermission's nearly over."

Nodding, Mistoffelees led the way, sitting down in his earlier seat quickly. Pounce settled in his previous seat, motioning Coricopat into the seat on Mistoffelees' other side.

Trying not to react to the other being so close, the smaller looked down at his program.

Coricopat glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but turned his attention to the audience, scanning the crowd to see if there was anyone he knew even vaguely among the attendees that evening.

"Has work been going well?" he asked.

"Hm? Oh, yes. Thank you for asking."

"But you're not working on my uncle's cases anymore?" Mistoffelees asked, still not looking at him.

"No, Mr. Quaxo. I'm not, though my partner is. I believe you were aware of that?"

One of Pouncival's ears swiveled in their direction, his attention apparently on the box opposite them.

"Things could have changed," he replied, still not looking over.

"I do not think it would be wise to change lawyers with your uncle twice in such a short period of time."

"Probably not." Mistoffelees paused. "Have you heard any news about my cousin form your partner?"

"Not as such, no. Is there anything particular I can look into for you?"

"No," the smaller replied, carefully not thinking about Plato's appearance the day before.

Coricopat glanced at him from the corner of his eye, "You're certain?"

"Yes," he said. "I assume no news is good news."

The lawyer nodded very slightly, "In all probability." He fell silent as the lights dimmed and the curtain opened on the second act.

When the lights went out, Mistoffelees finally turned his gaze briefly to the other before trying to focus on the stage. However, throughout the act he found himself studying the other rather than the play, trying to figure out why.

Coricopat shot the occasional glance in Mistoffelees' direction, though did his best to concentrate on the performance and not the cat sitting next to him. The smaller tom was more than a little glad when the lights actually went back up and he couldn't obviously watch the mottled tom anymore.

Pouncival rose, "I'm going to go congratulate the performers, Misto. If you would prefer to head out now, I just need your word that I was here tonight?"

Mistoffelees managed not to roll his eyes. "Considering how long I expect you'll take? I think I'll leave now. Don't worry, you have my word."

Pounce nodded, glancing at Coricopat, "It was good to meet you, Mr. Zimmerman."

"And you, sir. Have a pleasant evening."

Mistoffelees really hadn't processed that would leave him with Coricopat. "Will you be heading home for the night?" he asked the mottled tom.

The lawyer nodded slightly, "I was intending to, yes."

"Oh," he said and realized he had no follow up. Rising, he considered the crowds and how quickly he should leave.

The mottled tom rose as Pouncival slipped out of the box, "I...had best be on my way."

"Probably," Mistoffelees said and it would have been wisest to leave it there. "Though you seem less inclined to be honest now."

Coricopat's ears went back at that, "How do you mean?"

"Well, from before. You've barely spoken all night."

"I...Was quite honest the last time we spoke, and…" he shrugged.

"And?" Mistoffelees asked. "Did you use it all up or something?"

"And I saw nothing which required candid frankness tonight."

"Ah," he said, glancing down.

The lawyer's ears flickered uncertainly, "Is...everything alright?"

Mistoffelees finally met his eyes. "Besides everything? Certainly."

"I...my apologies. I should be going," his gaze darted away, toward the curtain that separated the box from the corridor outside

"You know the thing I never did quite figure out was why," Mistoffelees continued.

"Why what?"

"Why you were honest with me. Why you were in..." he couldn't quite say the word, gesturing instead.

"Are." Coricopat corrected, "Not were."

Mistoffelees considered him a long moment before dropping his eyes. "Ah."

Coricopat's ears flickered at that reaction, "I...really do need to bid you a good evening."

"Right, of course," Mistoffelees said, looking down.

"Will you be alright getting to your accommodations?"

"Getting a cab outside a theatre should hardly be difficult, I'm not helpless."

"I never meant to imply that you were," came the almost sharp response.

Mistoffelees managed not to point out in every other way possible he really was but nodded, heading for the door rather than attempting to say anything else. Most of the crowd was already gone and it was a relief to be outside.

Coricopat's ears lay back a bit, but he followed the young nobleman into the foyer, hesitating for a moment before moving to stand at Mistoffelees' side, "Is something further the matter?"

Glancing at him Mistoffelees arched a brow. "Further? Isn't everything else more than enough?"

"You seem more...I don't know, perhaps so."

"More?" Mistoffelees asked.

"Nothing. It's nothing."

"No, you might as well finish what you started," Mistoffelees shrugged.

"Quiet? Bitter? Insistent? Maybe a combination of all three."

Mistoffelees glanced up at him. "There's the honesty. I was kicked out of my house by my uncle who still hasn't spoken to me, leaving my cousin alone in an engagement that will only be painful, and I've had the fact thrown in my face. Beyond which, there's you."

The lawyer's ears flickered again, "Me?"

"Yes, you," the smaller said, looking away again. "You said you were, are, do have feelings for me and yet on every other occasion you've done your best to inform me the terrors of dreamers. I just don't understand you."

"I..." He looked around, "This is hardly the place to have this conversation."

"Did you have another place in mind?" Mistoffelees asked, eyebrows arched.

"I...Not in public? We could...share a cab?"

"Alright," the black tom agreed, tail swishing behind him.

Coricopat motioned to the door of the theatre, "Shall we?"

Considering him, the baron's heir nodded, hailing the first cab he saw.

Welcome everyone to the latest chapter! We hope you all enjoyed. We went through a lot of character relationships this chapter, and don't worry, Misto and Cori aren't done with their conversation. Remember, reviews are well loved and cuddled!