Mistoffelees did his best to look innocent. He did a very bad job at it.
"He started it this time," he said quite honestly, holding up the first note. "And he called me dearest. And Misto. I hate being called Misto. What's a guy to do?"
'It doesn't matter who started it, Mistoffelees!' she yells. 'If you're willing to send spiteful little notes based on immaturity, name-calling and overall bastardry on both o' your parts, I might just go back 'ome!'
'--oh, and don't say that just because I told ya I'm going!,' she carries on. 'There ain't nothing funny about you two bein' wankers! Think about how poor Quaxo was affected. But that's your problem! Neither of you think, and you're so cocky you're up your own arse! Sort it the fuck out!'
Mistoffelees' mouth fell open. He wasn't used to being talked to like that. At all. After the first initial shock had passed, his lips pursed together, and he looked grim. It wasn't like he had forgotten about Quaxo or anything. He had felt the kitten's pain, too, when he woke up. And Quaxo had been furious when he'd found out about what Mistoffelees had done. Everybody seemed to be angry with the magician these days. That was no fun.
"You think he'll talk to me, then?" he grumbled, resigned, after a few seconds of silence.
Mistoffelees looked amused at that. Heh, at least then he wouldn't be alone in it... He scribbled a message on a small piece of parchment, and held it up for her approval. Then he stood, glanced around, and, lashing out with feline reflexes, he caught a struggling mouse in his hand. He grinned toothily at it, and it stopped moving, petrified with fear.
"Lucky this body doesn't have a taste for raw mouse flesh, li'l guy," he said to it, somewhat jovially, and tied the message around its tail. "Now scamper off and see if you can find a redhead named Mungojerrie."
Mistoffelees watched the mouse run off, probably thanking its lucky rodent star or whatever, and then he turned back to Rumpleteazer.
"That's all I can do, Teaze. Now, to quote a popular human saying, the ball is in his court. Anything else?" He sat down with his quill again.
Only that I'm really happy that you just did that for me and you look stunning as a human and I'm fairly sure incest is wrong but what am I meant to do, he's my brother, and don't just dismiss me, please.
She is not amused.
She has discovered that not going into heat means you get periods and PMS.
She wants to crack some skulls.
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He did anyway. After all, he could probably handle one angry female, couldn't he?
That thought pretty much proved how extremely little Mistoffelees knew about PMS.
He tried a grin. "Who, me? Just keeping up with my correspondance, Teaze. I get a lot of fanmail these days."
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'I thought I told ya to stop it.'
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"He started it this time," he said quite honestly, holding up the first note. "And he called me dearest. And Misto. I hate being called Misto. What's a guy to do?"
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Her eyes are blazing. She means it.
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"Fine, I'll stop," he sulked, adding 'if he does' in his head and muttered a "Sorry" under his breath.
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"You think he'll talk to me, then?" he grumbled, resigned, after a few seconds of silence.
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These moodswings are doing nothing at all for her disposition.
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"Lucky this body doesn't have a taste for raw mouse flesh, li'l guy," he said to it, somewhat jovially, and tied the message around its tail. "Now scamper off and see if you can find a redhead named Mungojerrie."
Mistoffelees watched the mouse run off, probably thanking its lucky rodent star or whatever, and then he turned back to Rumpleteazer.
"That's all I can do, Teaze. Now, to quote a popular human saying, the ball is in his court. Anything else?" He sat down with his quill again.
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'Nothin'. Thanks.'
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