The Hidden Paw stayed occupied in his Warehouse the next day. He isolated himself, feeling as though he had shriveled into nothing. The petrified look on Demeter's face was frozen in his mind. It was a flinching look of fear and pleading to him. She didn't even see the white truck speeding towards her, becoming her demise. He was there when it struck her. He was there to see the only queen he cared about die. The only Jellicle he ever loved... Macavity grimaced, menacingly staring at himself in a mirror.

The ginger tom studied his pose, which looked less than intelligent. The face in the mirror looked dead and dark. His elbows rested on the arms of a leather chair. His claws intertwined together, and were gently pressed against his mouth. His broad shoulders were hunched over. His usual sleek ginger head fur was unkempt, standing in a mess. The Hidden Paw realized that he had a coat that had lost its shine of mystery, and had demoted into a dull, sandy shell of its original color. Macavity's eyes narrowed lowly as they met with their reflection. He was a wreck. His emotions had become so overwhelmed with grief and depression that the ginger tom had lost himself, dwelling in an insane silence.

Demeter was gone…and it was his fault. How could he do it? If he hadn't revealed himself to her, she wouldn't have become frightened and backed into the street. In Macavity's twisted mind, it wasn't the car that had killed her; he did. The ginger tom had constantly tried to convince himself that he felt nothing for Demeter and she was with Munkustrap, but now she and her unborn kits gone… the kits. More victims in his murder. He didn't even care that they were Munkustrap's. They were kits. Deme's kits. What a cruel idiot he was. The Napoleon of Crime had everything he had ever wanted. Almost. Now everything had vanished, and Macavity was left alone to wallop and grieve. He'd never be able to live past this, even if he outlived all the Jellicles.

The ginger tom heard his door open with a high-pitched squeak. His ears flattened, seeing Griddlebone tentatively walking into his den. It was very late, almost near sunset, so he figured. He had been in solitude longer than he had realized. Macavity decidedly didn't move his gaze from his reflection, mostly because his parasite of an agent could not help him, no matter how much she had toned out her ignorant, sarcastic personality. She knew what had happened, but for her sake, she wouldn't mention the deceased queen's name to him.

"What." He growled harshly at her.

The Persian queen's figure moved into the mirror behind him. She faced his back with a solemn, neutral expression. "I found out the funeral procession is going to be tomorrow. You said you wanted to send something there?"

Macavity wanted to do something special for Deme, as a last gift for her, but he wanted it to involve a small amount of symbolism. "Yes… I want flowers sent… Roses. I want a hundred roses sent to the funeral. All of them should be yellow." He remembered yellow being one of Demeter's favorite colors.

Griddlebone raised an eyebrow. "A hundred?" she asked in a curious voice.

"Yes." He answered flatly. "A hundred."

Roses, 1-9 were for her family.

"How the hell am I supposed to make that happen by tomorrow?" she asked with a slight glare

He growled. "I'm the Napoleon of Crime. If I want a hundred roses sent to a funeral in a day, any florist in the city would have it done early. Take some bribery with you if it helps; Use that damn tongue of yours. I don't care how you do it, Griddlebone, I just want it done!"

Griddlebone paused a moment. He already knew what she was thinking. Her boss was in a depression over a queen he had been infatuated with for years. It didn't surprise him with her serious disposition and cold eyes. She looked almost disappointed with him, but she gave a sharp nod, and quickly walked out of the room.

Roses 10-30 were for the friends that would suffer the loss with him.

Macavity watched her leave dismally, which had been the first time he had exercised his neck. He groaned in some pain. The back of his head, down to his spinal cord, was aching. The ginger tom ignored it, and turned himself back to the mirror. He wasn't sure what the logic was to sitting around doing nothing. It just felt like he had ran back into his dry spell, except now he felt like he just had to end his run of crime for good. Roses 31-79 were for the remorse and sadness he felt over her death.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do with himself. All he knew was that his work on causing chaos in the tribe had caused an unintentional death, and he didn't want anything like that to happen again. But what would become of Macavity, the mystery cat, if he left the underground world of Crime? He sighed, really just wanting to die in peace at that exact moment. He could continue a life of crime, getting everything he could get his paws on, letting his influence of London continuously grow, but even with all of this in his mind, he almost felt like none of it had a point. Roses 80-99 were for the amends he planned to make, in honor of Demeter and her life.

Macavity craned his neck to look out of the window. It was a cold dusk, or so he had figured, yet the dying sunlight shined through the glass and blazingly touched the furniture in the room, giving it a faint aura of orange in every direction he looked. Macavity scowled, wishing that it had been a better, gloomier day. Didn't Demeter deserve some sort of depressing day in mourning for her? Macavity sighed, his thoughts turning toward the gold queen, and his constant regret for ever following her on that walk.

The last of the roses was for the love he felt for her still, even after her death. He still loved her, no matter what. He would always still love her…

~^..^~