Bowing her way off the stage, Bombalurina ran a paw through her carefully arranged locks, pulling her hair down from its constricted style. She was just glad to be done for the night.

Munkustrap managed to locate the entrance to the backstage area and slipped back into the exhausted chaos that was a post-play clean up. He glanced around the area, finally catching a stagehand as the cat scurried past him, asking for direction to where Miss Harris was. The smaller cat pointedhim int he right direction and then continued on whatever errand he had been in the midst of.

The queen was considering the pros and cons of just going home in her costume, but that would probably be a bad idea. She changed quickly before exiting the room, saying good nights to a few other cats and turning for the door. She paused when she noticed the silver tabby in the hallway.

He touched the brim of his hat to her, "Good evening, Miss."

"Mr. Hollister," she replied. "However did you find your way back here?"

"It took a couple of questions of the ushers and stagehands," he answered honestly.

Her brows arched gracefully. "Oh? And to what purpose do we owe such a visit?"

"In all honesty? I came to tell you that that was a very good performance, and congratulate you upon it."

Her brows inched higher. "Really now, sir?"

He nodded, "Yes, miss. Really."

"It seems like quite a bit of effort," she said and considered. "If you don't mind taking some more, perhaps you would not mind walking me home? I'm tired."

He considered before inclining his head, "I don't mind. Though you'll have to pardon me if I only see you to the front stoop, I'm not certain I'm in a state to deal with my brother tonight."

She laughed at that, a twinkling sound. "I'm not sure I can deal with your brother tonight, so I accept your terms."

Munkus offered her a smile at that, "Shall we then?"

"Yes," she said, stepping up beside him and then toward the back exit.

He fell into step beside her, "Do you enjoy your work?"

She tilted her head toward him. "A rather blunt question, sir. The answer is, most nights."

His ears flickered, "My apologies, it's been a long day of tripping around the issues at hand and being blunt."

She offered him a wary smile. "Yes, I can see how your profession might lend to that."

The tabby glanced at her in mild surprise, "Did Tugger tell you then?"

"Of course," she replied, one eyebrow inching up. "I have lived in his house for four years. His brothers were a common enough topic."

"And here, when we ever talk among ourselves you would think we'd be the last things he'd speak of," the silver tabby shook his head.

"Well, I never said it wasn't him barging in after dinner and ranting for an hour," she said with a faint teasing smile.

Munkustrap chuckled, "See, that? That I would expect."

"It's not always that way," she replied. "Just sometimes. Sometimes I think he just likes hearing his own voice. Others I think he genuinely cares about the pair of you, even if you frustrate him to tears some days."

The silver tabby nodded slightly, "We're brothers, no matter what. I worry about him, if I'm honest."

"As perhaps you should," she said with another faint smile. "But he keeps himself mostly out of trouble."

"That's reassuring to hear," the tabby offered her a bit of a smile.

She laughed softly again. "You're too overbearing," she scolded. "He actually is quite harmless. If he was the type to be an effective revolutionary he would have done it already. He's passionate but there's nothing really that he's fighting for. No cause to really rally himself around."

"I'm not certain that was as comforting as it was meant to be. I've seen what happens when cats think that there's some sort of disturbance of the peace going on," he shook his head, "perhaps I am overbearing, but I hardly know how to be different in that regard."

"I just meant, I think you over react to what he does," she said, waving a paw around before her. "Alright, I will, however, give you that he disturbs the peace."

"And that is all I ask him to avoid doing, simply for the sake of his own skull if nothing else. There are plenty of cats who aren't as forgiving of ideas that don't run concurrent with their own."

She shrugged. "That's where you become overbearing. Protective, yes, but he's not the cat that sits home around the fire. He has to be out thinking he's doing something or you might as well lock him up."

"I suppose it's too much to ask him to find a less concerning cause?" Munkus asked, glancing at her.

"It is," she assured him. "He's the type who relishes a fight. Be glad he didn't join a military."

"I don't think any of us would touch the military or the navy with a ten foot pole."

Laughing lightly, she nodded. "No, I doubt you would. But at least this means he stays mostly at home."

"This is true. It could be a good deal worse, I suppose."

"It could. Be thankful for what you have," she mock scolded him.

He chuckled, "Believe it or not, I am."

Her face actually lit up in a warm smile at that, pulling her shawl higher around her shoulders as they walked. "Good. So few are."

He glanced at her, "Are you warm enough?"

"Yes," she replied. "Well, I'm chronically cold. No more than usual then is the correct answer."

The tabby considered her quietly, "Alright, as long as you're sure."

"Why, were you going to offer me your coat?" she asked, arching a brow.

He shrugged, "If you were in need of it."

"What a gentleman," she murmured, glancing away.

That earned a faint frown, but he didn't pursue it, "How did you come to be living with Tugger, if you don't mind me asking."

"Your brother," she declared. "Likes to be the white knight on a pretty horse, running in to the rescue."

The silver tabby smiled wryly, "Allow me to let you in on a secret: it's a trait all three of us share to differing degrees. Am I allowed to enquire as to what he did to cause you to diagnose him as such?"

"Your family concerns me greatly in that case," she murmured and fell silent for a moment. "He swept in when a queen was not only in danger of starving and freezing, but being pressured by all those around her to distasteful things. He offered me a place to stay without expecting anything from me. The first tom to ever do so."

Munkustrap's smile turned fond, "That does sound like Tugger."

She nodded. "Yes. It is rather like him."

"Do you enjoy living with him?"

"Usually," she replied. "There are hard days and there are easy days. The hard days are when he's absorbed in his work so much that he nearly sets the place on fire and has forgotten he was supposed to pick up groceries or days I can barely bear to move and all he can do is run the press. Good days are when the sun is out and he decides what we need to do is go boating and take a picnic along." She paused. "And then he falls into the river."

The last comment got a quiet laugh, "Please tell me he didn't actually do that...?"

"He did," she replied with a grin. "He was attempting to lecture the fish on an equal society. Or it might have been the lilipads, I forget which he thought had the best chance of an socialist utopia."

"Oh dear Lord," Munkus tried to suppress his grin at that.

She laughed. "It was a wonderful day, all told, even if we had to use three towels to get his mane dry later."

"Well, as long as it was a good day, then I'm sure that was worth it?"

"It was," she agreed, nodded.

"What do you do with your days, if you don't mind my asking, when Tugger is busy and considering that the theatre work I assume is mostly evening work?"

"Sleep," she replied. "And you assume the theatre is evening work? Clearly you have never been to a rehearsal."

He inclined his head, "True, my apologies."

She shook her head. "Nothing to apologize for, it simply is not the case. I sleep in the mornings, I knit some of the time, and I sing the rest."

"Sounds pleasant enough."

"It has its moments."

Munkus fell silent for much of the rest of their journey, stopping at the door to his brother's press, "Well, here we are."

"Thank you, my second knight in white armor, for walking me home," she said, turning and offering him a smile.

He smiled gently at her, "Of course. Thank you for letting me walk you home."

"You're welcome of that," she replied.

"Good evening to you, Miss Harris."

"Good evening, Mr. Hollister," she inclined her head before turning to open the door. He tipped his hat to her before slipping away, heading back to his flat.

v.v.v.v

Tumblebrutus handed his hat and coat to one of the employees at the club, his gaze sweeping over the toms settled in chairs around the room before lighting on a seat he might care to settle in. The young nobleman made his way through the room, wrinkling his nose at the different conversations he passed, but always offering a cordial smile if anyone actually noticed his presence. He finally reached the side of the cat he was aiming for, "Afternoon. Do you mind terribly if I join you?"

Mistoffelees waved a paw, seeming a little intent on his drink. "I wouldn't mind terribly," he said and looked up, actually offering Tumble a smile. "It's always good to see you."

The patched tom returned the smile, settling in the nearest chair, "And you. How have you been, Misto?"

"Honest answer or socially acceptable one?"

"If you keep your voice quiet, I'll take the honest one."

"Let's talk about you first," Mistoffelees said, shaking his head slightly. "How have you been?"

Tumble's ears flickered, "Now th-that's not fair. I asked first." He turned slightly to signal a waiter to bring his usual drink.

"Yes, you did," Mistoffelees replied with a faint smile. "I'm not feeling terribly fair today though. So, please, take my mind off myself and tell me about you." He missed Coricopat and felt a little pathetic and a good deal maudlin about it.

His friend offered him a faint frown in response, "I-I've been well enough."

"Really?" Mistoffelees glanced over. "Oh, don't frown at me."

"Yes, really, and I'll f-frown at you if I like," the almost kittenish response came.

"You can, but I'm curious why exactly you're frowning at me now."

"Because you turned my q-question back without answering it."

"Well, I didn't say I wasn't going to answer, I just wanted to hear about you."

"I'm doing well enough. Th-though Pounce made m-me act as c-courier the other night."

"Oh?" Mistoffelees asked, brows arching. "And that implies it was not well enough?"

"Does it? I suppose I just wish h-he wouldn't drag me into th-this."

"Well, true." Mistoffelees propped his chin up in one paw. "How'd that go?"

"W-well enough. Why wouldn't it?"

"Because you're stammering?" Mistoffelees offered.

"O-oh, that." Tumble shrugged, "Took more t-time than I expected?"

"Tumble," Mistoffelees pressed gently.

"Wh-what?"

"If you're not going to be honest with me, I have inclination to be honest with you," the smaller simply pointed out.

"Tugger Hollister w-was there."

"Is that a bad thing? Or was he just annoying?" Mistoffelees asked, turning his glass around on the table.

Tumble fell silent as the waiter approached and set his glass down on the table before retreating again. The patched tom took a sip before answering, "He taught me a dance."

"A dance?" Mistoffelees asked. "He knows how to dance?"

"A-apparently."

"Well what sort of dance?"

"S-south American," he focused his gaze on his drink, but could feel the blush tinting his pale cheeks.

"South...?" Mistoffelees arched a brow. "Alright, now I must demand details."

"I-it's from A-Argentina. I-I think it's called the t-tango?"

"Your stammer is getting progressively worse. What was the dance like?" Mistoffelees asked.

He swallowed, "C-closer than a w-waltz?"

"Closer than a..." Mistoffelees suddenly blushed. "A-and you let him?" A week or two ago, he might have managed to sound vaguely offended or shocked, but now all he could think about was Coricopat staying the night.

Tumble's blush deepened, his gaze still focused on the drink in his paw, "I-I...h-he didn't leave me m-much ch-choice to begin w-with."

"Slapping him across the face and running might have worked."

"I-I w-was waiting for a reply t-to Pounce's l-letter."

"Well, still," Mistoffelees murmured and paused. "Do you like him?"

"H-how do y-you mean?" Tumble finally darted a glance up to his friend.

"How do you mean, how do I mean? Do you like him or not?"

"He...c-confuses me."

"Yeah," Mistoffelees nodded. "Been there. But, I mean, do you mind spending time with him or do you just want to run the other way?"

"B-both?"

"Confusion it is," Mistoffelees murmured.

Tumble nodded, sighing, "I g-get tongue-t-tied...I actually s-stammered so much h-he asked if I was alright..."

Mistoffelees' eyes widened. "Why does he do that to you?" he asked, tilting his head.

"I-I don't know."

"Oh," Mistoffelees said, considering him. "Good to know there are people worse off than me," he murmured, looking back at his drink.

"Worse than...Wh-what do you mean?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing," he shook his head quickly.

"O-oh no you d-don't. You never told me h-how you've been."

"Oh, I haven't, have I...?"

"No y-you haven't," Tumble replied, voice a little firmer now the subject was drifting away from him.

"Well," he started and took a sip of the drink. "Life has been... hotel like."

"That tells m-me nothing."

"It tells you I'm still estranged from my uncle and living in a hotel," Mistoffelees replied. "Oh, and your cousin stopped by a few days ago. That was exciting."

"Oh dear...how did that go?"

"Worse than you could imagine," Mistoffelees sighed, looking away. "In the gist of him being an arrogant git who was enjoying the power the situation gave him."

"...Sounds like Plato."

"Made worse by the fact we were alone," Mistoffelees said.

"God..." Tumble shook his head, "So that's all of note then?"

"We'll... say those are the most pressing matters at hand," he replied.

Tumble's brow rose at that, "Which implies that they aren't."

"Well," he started and paused, considering the space around them and Tumble for a long moment. "It's mostly it?"

"If we share a cab departing will you let me in on the rest?" Mistoffelees blinked at him, and had to muffle a half hysterical laugh. "I'll take that as a no?"

"I'm sorry," he managed. "Sharing a cab was what technically got me into this..." He had no actual way of describing what he was in.

"O-oh?"

"Mhm," he managed, biting the inside of his lip hard.

"Do I get to hear this, or should I stop asking?"

"I'm still trying to process it," was the reply. "And... certainly not here."

"Alright," Tumble said, still watching his friend.

"Do you genuinely care to hear it?" Mistoffelees asked.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't," Tumble answered softly.

"One of the few in society then," Mistoffelees murmured.

"How long are you planning to stay here?"

"I actually was simply trying to get out," he replied with a shrug.

Tumble nodded, "Why don't we take a ride to my home, you're welcome to stay to dinner if you like."

For a moment Mistoffelees actually had to consider that, weighing being in the same room as Tumble's mother before finally nodding. "Alright. Thank you."

"Of course." He glanced around, "Shall we?"

Rising, Mistoffelees nodded. "After you."

The patched tom rose, leading the way out of the clubroom, pausing long enough for a servant to fetch their hats and coats before he left the building, hailing a cab. The smaller tom trailed after him, still debating if confiding in anycat was actually a good plan.

Tumble stepped into the cab, glancing at his friend as he settled in one of the seats. Settling across from him, Mistoffelees considered him. "So..."

"So...if you don't want to talk about it I can hardly make you do so."

"It's just," he paused. "Have you ever considered yourself in love?"

Tumble thought about it for a long moment and then shook his head, "No I can't say that I have."

"Right," Mistoffelees murmured. "Do try and avoid it."

"You've fallen in love?"

"Yes," Mistoffelees said after another moment.

"With whom?"

For a moment Mistoffelees considered going back to hysterical laughter. "I, I highly doubt you've ever met..."

"Oh?" Tumble asked quietly.

"Because he..." Mistoffelees froze. "Actually, no, that says everything right there."

Tumblebrutus' eyes widened and his ears flickered, "He?" Mistoffelees swallowed and considered if he could sink through the cushions. Instead he just nodded slowly. "You fell in love with another tom?" Tumble sounded like he couldn't decide whether to be shocked or horrified. Biting his lip, the smaller tom just nodded again. "How? Why?"

"Because I am out of my mind and possibly masochistic in ways I never realized?"

"I...see."

"Really?" the smaller asked.

"Sort of? I still don't understand it, but..." He glanced away, shrugging.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," Mistoffelees said quietly.

"Keeping your head down, letting me know if I can help at all," Tumble offered.

"Yeah," he sighed again, wishing he could curl his legs up underneath him.

"Are you going to be alright?" Tumble asked.

"I hope so," he replied and paused for a long moment. "He loves me back. B-by the way."

Tumble looked at his friend, "Well, that could be considered a good thing, no?"

"On some levels," he replied. "On emotional levels. On practical ones? Not quite so much."

"Well, it means that there are two of you working together to conceal it rather than having to conceal it from him as well?"

"You're looking on the positive side," Mistoffelees said with a faint smile.

Tumble offered him a bit of a smile in return, "Well you need someone to."

"And who better than you?" Mistoffelees offered him a smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Offering him a faint smile, Mistoffelees glanced outside the window. "Well, you've certainly got the honest answer."

"So I hear. Thank you for telling me, you didn't have to."

"Well, no, but if I didn't tell someone I might have tripped up elsewhere," he said. "And you didn't throw me out of the carriage which I call thank worthy."

Tumble dropped his gaze to his paws, "Well, I spent my evening a couple nights ago dancing the t-tango w-with a socialist newspaperman, I can hardly condemn you for falling in love at this p-point."

"Well, perha-" Mistoffelees paused and blinked. "Wait, Tumble, you're not...?"

"Wh-what? N-no! That is...I mean...I-I don't th-think so?"

Mistoffelees blinked at him. "Good luck..."

The patched tom glanced at him, one corner of his mouth twitching upward, "It's n-not as though I-I'm going to encounter h-him much."

"You say that now but the world has this interesting way of surprising you under rainy day overhangs and lunch," Mistoffelees replied dryly.

Tumble's ears lay back, "Oh G-god..."

"Are you going to be alright?" Mistoffelees asked, leaning forward.

"I-I think so? I-I've only e-ever encountered him a-at the theatre...a-and that pub. I...w-will figure something out."

"Well, if you are, if it helps..." Mistoffelees sighed, sinking back against the seat. "We at least can help each other out."

Tumble offered him a faint smile, "Th-thanks. Who is th-the tom you've fallen f-for?"

"You remember that morning you found with me no hat?" Mistoffelees asked. "I had spent the night with him. He was my uncle's lawyer."

Tumble's brows rose, "Well, it could be worse."

"It could?"

"Maybe? I-I mean, at least there's a ch-chance you can say that when you encounter each other it's for business, o-or friendship."

"True, and something I'm quite determined to rely on."

"Good luck."

"Thanks. To you as well."

"Thanks."

Welcome to the latest chapter! Poor Tumble, he really has no idea what he's gotten himself into. Thank you every one who's been leaving feedback!