It took a while for the office to get the paperwork prepared, but soon enough Macavity found himself standing outside the door to what used to be Plato Philipson's townhouse. "Great," he muttered, tilting his head back. "I should've stuck to thieving." With a sigh, he knocked on the door, telling the suspicious looking butler he was in fact the lawyer.
He was shown into one of the parlors and Victoria joined him several minutes later, dressed in full mourning, "Mr. Hollister."
"Mrs. Philipson," Macavity said, voice soft as his eyes tracked over her.
"Thank you for coming," she murmured.
"It is in my job description," he replied and almost winced. "But you're welcome."
Victoria dropped her gaze at that, drawing a steadying breath, "You have the first set of papers there, then?"
"Yes," he said. "Are you ready for them? It can wait."
"I am as ready to deal with them as I will ever be. They need to be dealt with," she murmured.
"Then, shall we?" he asked, motioning toward the chairs.
The white queen nodded very slightly, moving over and sitting down on one of the chairs. Hesitating, he followed her, sliding into the seat across and pulling out the papers. "How have you been holding up, milady?"
"I have been holding up well enough, sir. My husband is dead, but there is much to be done."
"That," he hesitated and considered. "That does not seem particularly heart broken."
She looked at him for a long moment, "Are you so surprised?"
Considering everything Coricopat had told him, and the dance just a few weeks ago, he shook his head. "I will mourn him as expected, and then I shall continue my life. It will hardly be the easiest thing I have done, but it will be done."
"I'm still sorry," he said. "If not for your loss then for having to go through this."
Victoria offered him a faint smile, "Thank you, Mr. Hollister."
"Words aren't much to give you," he said, busying himself with the papers.
"But they are something. And I thank you for them," she replied, her gaze moving to the papers.
"You'll need to sign some things," he said, not looking up. "I can explain the language to you if you need.
"I likely will. Legal matters were not my area at any time in my life."
He gave her a thin smile. "They shouldn't be part of anyone's life. I still think I'm a fool for choosing a profession that's so twisty. But it does bring in money."
She offered him a faint smile in return, "Well, twisty or not, people need it."
"Could be less complicated," he pointed out, pushing the first page toward her.
"Probably," she answered, turning her attention to the papers.
He tried to explain them in as small words as possible, except he kept getting distracted and animated as trying to explain small points of legal law, and the ways he'd twisted them to get the most favorable terms. He may have just dismissed law, but his face lit up when he talked about manipulating it. By the end of it, Victoria had set aside the smiles she had been giving him for far more genuine ones.
He tried to explain them in as small words as possible, except he kept getting distracted and animated as trying to explain small points of legal law, and the ways he'd twisted them to get the most favorable terms. He may have just dismissed law, but his face lit up when he talked about manipulating it. By the end of it, Victoria had set aside the smiles she had been giving him for far more genuine ones.
"And that..." he paused, considering. "Should honestly be the last of it. For today, at any rate."
"Will," she hesitated, "when do you think you'll need to come again?"
"Next week, probably," he said, suddenly paying more attention to the papers again.
Victoria dropped her gaze to her paws, "Thank you again, Macavity."
"Any time," he said after a moment of looking at her. "I mean, for you? I don't mind at all."
She offered him a faint smile, "Still, thank you. I would be completely lost without your help."
He returned the smile after another pause. "It's no problem. When it's the only thing I can give."
"It's so very much, though."
Hesitating, he lightly brushed her paw. "Then you're welcome."
Victoria startled faintly at the touch, but her smile brightened a bit, "And you will have more papers for next week?"
"I will," he said, own smile matching her's inch by inch. "Probably for a few more weeks."
"I should let you return to your office."
Pausing, he nodded. "I have some time, but time is still money and I should probably..."
"I will see you next week," she offered him a gentle smile.
"Til then," he said, brushing her paw again and rising.
She rose, seeing him to the door of the room, "Take care, Mr. Hollister."
"You too," he said. "You especially. I'll be back soon."
Victoria offered him another gentle smile and watched him go before heading back to her rooms.
v.v.v.v
Mistoffelees looked around the restaurant, feeling jittery in his skin. They had not eaten somewhere respectable in a while, going to pubs to avoid Plato. Only that was no longer a factor and he wasn't actually sure how to feel about that.
Tumble arrived shortly after him, settling down at the table across from his friend, "Afternoon, Misto."
"Good afternoon," he said, voice soft, eyes tracking over his friend. "How does the day find you?'
"As well as can be expected, I suppose." He touched the black armband he wore in memory of his cousin.
"I'm sorry," Mistoffelees said, the words automatic.
Tumble shrugged slightly, "The family will recover, given a bit of time. We'll miss him, but grief should fade." He glanced up as Pounce sat down in one of the remaining seats.
"Still," Mistoffelees said and glanced at Pounce, his ears never having quite straightened since Tumble appeared.
Pouncival glanced at Mistoffelees, "How are you today?"
"Fair enough," he said, not wearing any black arm band even though it might have been appropriate. "How do you fare?"
Pounce glanced between them, "Pretty well, actually."
"That's a nice change," he said, darting a glance at Tumble.
Tumble nodded his agreement, "What's causing this, Pounce?"
He hesitated, "Well, I've a job now, and I'm engaged."
"You're-what?" Mistoffelees asked, abruptly.
Pounce bit his lip, "Engaged."
"The actress?" Tumble's brow rose sharply.
"Or arranged?" Mistoffelees asked, bitterness curling around his words and he winced.
Their friend offered Mistoffelees a slightly hurt look, "No. It's Jemima."
Tumble just stared at him, trying to find a way to express what he was thinking when he knew his own affair was a hundred time worse.
"What?" Mistoffelees frowned at Pounce's look.
"I've been courting her for well over a year," his friend answered quietly. "Arranged marriage or not, at this point I would let my father disown me."
Mistoffelees dropped his eyes. "He probably will anyway."
Pounce drew a deep breath, nodding slightly, "Quite probably. I'm leaving within the next couple of months, though."
"For where?" Mistoffelees asked, eyes snapping up and ears almost going flat.
"I have a position with the new ambassador to the United States."
Tumble blinked at him, his ears tilting back, "And when were you going to let us know this?"
"Well, I...now?"
"The correct question is when did you find out?" Mistoffelees asked.
"This past week," Pounce answered.
"And when did you get engaged?" he inquired.
"Three days past," the patched tom said, one ear flickering at Mistoffelees' questions.
The smaller tom gave him a long look but there was little way he could actually complain, having never come close to willingly telling Pounce about his own lover. Of course, he could never get engaged to them anyway, and possibly the entire British Empire knew about his own engagement. "Oh."
Pounce glanced at Tumble who offered a faint shrug, "It would have been nice to hear when it happened, Pounce."
"I suppose I should have let you know. It's just with everything else..." he glanced at the conspicuously empty seat at their table.
For half a second Mistoffelees really did consider storming out. "Maybe good news would have been appreciated."
Pounce flinched at that, "I..."
Tumble looked at Mistoffelees with a small frown, "He didn't wait that long to tell us, Misto."
"I'm sorry," the smaller tom said, the words practically automatic, too many of his own secrets still unshared.
"It's fine," Pouncival murmured. "Is...what's going on with you, Misto?"
"How do you mean?" he asked, dropping his paws into his lap.
"I mean, what's happening in your life? Beyond the engagement and your cousin."
"Who says anything is happening?" he asked, voice going dry.
"No one? I just thought I would ask," Pounce answered almost warily.
Mistoffelees clamped down on a sigh. "I'm sorry," he repeated, realizing he was wearing the phrase out. "It's been more than enough with my own engagement, arranged by my uncle of course, and Plato's quite sudden death. But," he paused again.
"But?" Pounce pressed, earning him a sharp look from Tumble.
"You're pushier now that you have an occupation," Mistoffelees returned, dryly. "But I believe it will only be a little longer before my father arrives. From Australia." Coricopat he still kept to himself.
Tumble's brows shot up at that, "Your father? But I thought that he..."
"So did everyone else," Mistoffelees replied, ear going back.
"But he's coming to England?" Pounce looked shocked, but it was tinged with curiosity. "How did you find him?"
"I didn't, so much," Mistoffelees shifted back. "I found his letters was all."
"His letters." Tumble blinked at him, "That's quite the find. All these years later."
"The last one wasn't a month old," Mistoffelees said. "So it's not quite all these years later."
Pounce shook his head, "I think there's still a point there that Tumble has. So you've written him then?"
"In... some ways," Mistoffelees replied. "More of I telegrammed him."
That earned a slow nod from Tumble, "Well, I wish you well when he arrives."
"Thank you," he said, adjusting a fork compulsively.
v.v.v.v
Serafine looked up at a hesitant knock on her boudoir door, "Enter."
The servant came into the room, looking quite pale, "Milady."
"What is it?"
"It...it's the master, milady."
The black-furred queen sighed, "What does he wish?"
"Nothing. He...he's dead, milady."
The mistress of the house rose, sweeping out of the room behind the servant and down to her brother's office. She entered, brushing aside the butler outside. Sera froze inside at the sight of her brother before she backed out of the room and closed the door, "Send my son to me. And send for a doctor."
"Milady?"
"I would have someone confirm him dead before we announce it."
Mistoffelees came down the steps, frowning as he finished tying his carvat. "Mother. Is something happening?"
Sera looked toward her son, waving the servants away to do as she had instructed, "There's...That is..."
"Mother?" Mistoffelees approached, mentally rearranging his day's plans.
She glanced at her brother's office door, "Your uncle...he..." Drawing a deep breath she finally said it, "He's dead."
The smaller tom blinked at her. "You... but, how?"
"I do not know. It was rather sudden, so I can only surmise it was his health," she shook her head.
"It was never the best," Mistoffelees agreed, taking a step away from the door.
Serafine glanced at the door again before stepping away, "We...have things we should see to."
"Yes," he managed, not quite going hysterical yet. "I suppose this does mean I'd have to go into mourning."
She held a paw out to him, "Yes. It does. We shall have to go into mourning, and the lawyers, and I shall have to send notification to friends. And his business partners."
"I'll deal with the lawyers and business," Mistoffelees said.
"Good. I don't have the knowledge for those. I'll send the cards to friends tomorrow. Today I shall see about clothes for mourning, and that the notifications are prepared," Sera murmured.
"Are, are you sure?" Mistoffelees asked, ears going back. "That he really...?"
"I've sent the servant for a doctor. To confirm."
Swallowing, Mistoffelees nodded. "Alright. Shall I deal with the doctor then?"
"…I can if you need me to. Though I should let Victoria know." The older queen drew a shaky breath at that, "Oh Lord..."
"I can," Mistoffelees said, resting a hand on her arm. "Let me help." He was sure to be more then busy in the days to come.
His mother offered him a faint, sad smile, "If you would?"
"Yes," he repeated. "I can do whatever you need me to."
"Thank you. If you could see the doctor. I'll see to the tailors, and the notifications."
"You have my measurements I believe?"
Serafine nodded, "Yes. I'll use the usual tailor."
"Then if you need to see Victoria... send, my, my affection to her would you?"
"I shall. I'll be out most of the day."
"I'll let the servants know," he said.
"Thank you," she murmured. "I'll be back in time for a light dinner."
"I'll have it prepared."
Serafine offered him the faintest quirk of her lips before heading for her chambers to find something she could wear before finding full mourning.
Mistoffelees waited for the doctor to confirm and to give orders to the servants before appearing at Bailey and Solicitor's offices. Coricopat looked up from the papers he was going over, "Mist-er Quaxo. What brings you here?"
"I," he started as Macavity looked up in confusion. "I, it seems that my uncle has recently passed. I need to speak to your employer about, the fact, that I am his heir."
The mottled tom's eyes widened and he rose, "I'll...let him know you're here."
"Thank you," he said, meeting Coricopat's eyes for a moment. The other nodded slightly and slipped over to Bailey's office, knocking on the door.
"What is it?" Bailey demanded. Mistoffelees startled at the voice and went to the door, slipping into the office to talk to the solicitor. Coricopat stood, staring at the closed door for a long moment before turning back to his own desk.
A while later, a somewhat haggard looking Mistoffelees emerged.
The mottled tom hesitated and then rose, his voice pitched low enough that Bailey wouldn't hear him, "Mistoffelees?"
He reached a paw out to Coricopat's shoulder, holding it for a moment. "When will you head home?"
"Five o'clock," the other answered softly.
"Can I?" Mistoffelees asked softly, asking to come over aftwards. "There is still much to be done."
His lover nodded, "Of course."
Mistoffelees gave him another long look, lingering before he nodded, heading for the door. Macavity finally looked up from where he'd been busying himself while Mistoffelees was there. Coricopat drew a deep breath before returning to his desk and glancing at his friend.
"Will you be alright?" the ginger tabby asked.
"I will. I think...I don't know if he will."
"I'm sure he'll figure something out. He's adaptable after all," Macavity shrugged. "He's adjusted to many things after all."
Coricopat nodded very slightly, "I hope so."
"Trust in him," Macavity advised.
"I..." the mottled tom offered him a faint smile, "Thank you."
v.v.v.v
Fumbling around, Tugger was trying to pack things away, in preparation for Bombalurina moving out. He was covered in ink again though, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
There was a hesitant knock at the door, the person trying to figure out whether they should be there or not. Tugger blinked, head snapping up before he went to the door.
Tumble stood on the other side, offering the other a faint smile, "Hello."
Tugger offered him a wide grin, exhaustion melting away. "Tumble!"
"May I come in?"
"Of course," Tugger said, stepping to the side. "I mean, I'd say the place is a mess but-it sorta always is."
Tumble stepped inside, offering the other a bit of a smile, "It does seem a bit more chaotic than when I was in last."
"Moving does that, apparently," Tugger shrugged.
"Moving? You're...leaving?" He looked confused by that.
"No," Tugger laughed. "Bomba. She got engaged. To my brother no less, and believe me, I'm still not sure what to do with that. But there you have it."
Tumble blinked at that, "She's engaged to your brother?"
Tugger paused. "Did you not hear about that? I'm sure it'll cause some kind of scandal, but yeah. He proposed. 'Straps always was a bit more romantic."
That earned a bit of a smile, "Unfortunately I've been engaged with other matters recently."
"I heard, some," Tugger said, spine tensing. "I'm sorry. Seems your set hasn't been faring too well lately."
The smaller tom sighed, "No. Not especially well at all, unfortunately. It's...not been easy all of it coming on the heels of the rest."
"The heels of the rest?" Tugger asked, slipping an arm around Tumble's waist.
"Plato's death, Lord Jones, one of my dearest friends from kithood is going to cause a right scandal shortly just before he leaves the country." He shook his head before resting it against Tugger's chest, "God, I'm tired."
Tugger hummed, pulling him closer and a paw coming up to the back of his neck. "Shush. You're okay here."
He drew a shaky breath, "Thank you."
"What else would I possibly do?" Tugger asked, threading a paw through his headfur.
"I don't know, but it's nice knowing I have somewhere I can come."
Tugger grinned into his headfur. "You can always come here. I miss you when you're gone."
Tumble nestled a little closer to the other, "And I you. I miss you so very much when I'm away."
"I mean," Tugger started, blushing lightly. "There's always something to do but..."
Tumble drew back enough to lean up and kiss the other tom, his paws twining in Tugger's mane. The taller tom leaned down, kissing the other thoroughly, paws resting on his hips.
Making a small noise in the back of his throat, the noble pressed up against the other as a faint purr replaced the sound. Tugger grinned, leaning back to smooth a kiss across Tumble's forehead to his ears.
The smaller tom's ears flickered, but he smiled up at the other, "God, it's good to see you."
The taller laughed, kissing him again. "That's not entirely something I'm used to hearing."
"Well, that's a shame. And it doesn't make it less true."
"You certainly didn't like me before," Tugger replied, still peppering kisses over his face.
Tumble laughed, trying to draw his head away slightly, "I was trying to avoid liking you. There's a difference."
"Really?" Tugger grinned, paws tracing along his back. "Care to elaborate on that difference?"
Arching at that touch, the young nobleman smiled, "Well, trying to keep myself from liking you required me to like you in the first place, while disliking is built on negative assumptions, which I've found tend to be easier to handle."
"My question was more why try to dislike me in the first place," Tugger chuckled.
Tumble blushed slightly, "Well, because it's hardly proper what we are, and what you do. It...seemed a good idea at the time?"
Tugger laughed again, pulling him a bit closer. "And now?"
"Now...I don't think I much care at all whether this is improper or not."
The taller laughed again, leaning in for a long kiss.
And there's shocking incident number two.