(Author's Note: Do ignore my horrid song-writing skills. :P And yeah I know, fail cockney accent is fail.)

In the clearing, the moonlit gathering had come into full swing. Many cats chatted and twirled about, choruses of the Ball the night before still raging like fire in their minds. Even those who played no main part in the celebration knew every line and song by heart, though they had only heard many of them just that once; it was such an occasion that everything had to be committed to memory, with nothing left out. Many of the younger ones grouped together and planned new songs, hoping to be allowed to sing at the next Jellicle Ball.

Misto sat hidden in the shadows on a large tire and watched the mingling cats, dark eyes glimmering in the light of the moon. The tuxedo tom had danced a solo during the Ball, and used his magic to recover Old Deuteronomy from Macavity. Since then, the younger females had been all over him, as they were with any tom thrust into the spotlight; willing, as with Tugger, or not. Misto had originally enjoyed the attention, but it was getting to the shy cat. He didn't like being followed around everywhere he went, with a young queen squealing if she simply brushed his fur. It was exasperating, to say the least. So he stayed in the shadows, hidden partly by his dark coat and partly by some unintended magic.

The tuxedo cat heard a pawstep behind him and his head quickly shot around to face it, but no cat was to be seen. He slowly turned back, but couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. After a moment of the unpleasant sensation, Mistoffelees returned his gaze to the shadows, eyes narrow as they tried to cut through the dark. He thought, after a few minutes of scrutiny, he could make out the calico form of a tom.

"Who's there?" Misto called out, unwittingly ceasing the magic that made him unseen.

The strange tom's head swung up and the moon hit his face; it was simply Mungojerry, half a pair of calicos prone to stealing and getting into trouble.

"Eh!" Mungo replied, startled. "Oh, Misto. Didna see ya there. What'cha doin' by your lonesome over here?" The calico rose out of his crouch and strode towards the young cat.

Not concerned with the thieving reputation of Mungojerry, Misto scooted over for the tom to sit next to him. Mungo flopped down, bouncing a little on the rubber tire.

"I'm trying to get away from them," the tuxedo cat replied, flicking his forepaw at the she-kittens in the clearing, who were sitting in a circle and chatting. "They are just so… annoying!"

The calico snorted at that. "Are ya tellin' me that ya don't like the attention from the gals?" Mungo smirked, hinting at an implied meaning.

The tom scowled and swiped his paw at Mungo, nearly clipping his ginger ear. "You know what I mean!"

"Hey, hey, joke," Mungo said, holding his arms up defensively. "I get ya. Don't worry 'bout it, mate."

"What do you mean?"

The calico shrugged. "They'll move on. Ya have to keep doin' stuff to keep them interested, like Tugger does with all 'is showin' off. If ya just let 'em 'lone, they'll leave ya 'lone, eventually."

Misto frowned, his white forehead scrunching up as he did so. "I'm not so sure I like the word 'eventually,'" he said. The sooner the better, he thought. I can't even walk across the clearing without having to push through a crowd. And their squealing hurts my ears.

"Sorry, mate," Mungojerry replied, clapping the younger tom on the back and rising up to leave. "Tis what it is." As the cat began to slip away, he glanced back and smirked. "Can't say I don't envy ya, though."

Misto sighed incredulously as he watched the calico meander away. Perhaps his position was to be envied, but he'd just as soon leave the queens and attention to Tugger - and all the noise that went with it. He wasn't a partier, but when one had magical powers, it was difficult to not be made a fuss over. How he had managed to stay insignificant as long as he did, he had no idea. But it was the case no longer, though he sure wished he could go back to it.

Misto sat brooding with his head in his forepaws, unwittingly becoming invisible yet again as he pondered how to regain his former comfortable status among the Tribe.

Elsewhere, a duo of toms had no qualms about being in the spotlight, whatsoever.

Tumblebrutus, a young chocolate-and-white tabby tom, strode out into the middle of the junkyard clearing, eyes bright with mischief. He brought a leg to point and spread his arms, which quickly instilled quiet over the gathered Jellicles; he was about to sing. Taking a breath, he glanced over at his friend Pouncival, who was on the sidelines, and winked. Pouncival grinned widely in return; they were ready.

"Take a look at this tom," Tumblebrutus sang out, flicking his forepaw towards his friend, who was striding out to join him. "Now what do you see? His muscles or spots? His stripes, perhaps? Or the way he moves as he dances, maybe?" Here Pouncival gave a cheeky little pirouette, finishing with his arms spread towards the she-kittens who had begun to gather.

"But I would say it was none of that, cats," the chocolate tabby sang, shaking his head. "You see… A cat needs no moves if he has this one thing: an attitude of comedy, and a grin to match!"

Pouncival beamed his pearly whites to stress the point as Tumblebrutus continued. "That Pouncival has, and a jester he be!"

The two toms linked arms and pranced about the clearing as they lifted their voices up together.

"A laugh and a smile, a well timed grin! That is how you bring the ladies in. You need not conspire, nor plot or plan, the way to convince them you're just the man. Just a laugh and a smile, and a well timed grin!"

Now Pouncival moved away from his companion and spread his arms out towards the cat. He turned his head towards the kittens and smirked. "Now glance at him here," he sang, referring to Tumblebrutus; "oh how handsome he be! A smooth and soft coat, his brown and white fur. But that's not just it, and you know it, really." The tom dropped down on his knees and looked seriously at the females – or tried to, anyway – while Tumblebrutus stared down at his fur as if the statement had surprised him. "There's so much more that gives this tom his allure. You see… a tom needs no moves if he has this one thing: an attitude of comedy, and a grin to match. Tumblebrutus has, and a jester he be!"

The chocolate and white tabby seemed to shrug off his previous concern, and joined Pouncival gladly in the chorus.

"A laugh and a smile, a well timed grin! That is how you bring the ladies in! You need not conspire, nor plot or plan, the way to convince them you're just the man! Just a laugh and a smile, and a well timed grin!"

Tumblebrutus gave a quick summersault, springing back up proudly. "Again I say!" he called out. "A laugh and a smile and a well timed grin!"

"That is how you bring the ladies in!" Pouncival sang back with gusto. They then sang together: "You need not conspire, nor plot or plan, the way to convince them you're just the man!"

As if acting on impulse, Pouncival suddenly struck a pose, hips swung to the side and forepaws at an imaginary belt. His friend quickly copied him. The gathered kittens began to chuckle, but attempted to keep their amusement hidden from the subject of the joke, who was chatting with Jellylorum on the other side of the clearing, unseeing.

"No need to flaunt, to strut your flair," they sang, swinging their hips mockingly. "Heck, now that's just a lot of hot air! Don't be like Tugger; we certainly don't need it!"

That the tom did hear, and he spun around to face the singers. A scowl on his face and Jellylorum attempting vainly to hold him back, the black-and-gold tom charged towards the troublemakers. Pouncival kept up impishly.

"For we have a laugh-" he sang.

"And a smile-" Tumblebrutus returned.

"And a well timed grin!" they finished together as Tugger came upon them, larger form dwarfing them. The gold ruff about his neck bristled dangerously, and his eyes were chips of yellow steel. Electra, one of the kittens, chuckled nervously and hid her face.

Pouncival and Tumblebrutus beamed innocently up at the tom. "Hey Tuggs! What's up?" Pouncival asked, as if they had sung no song at all.

"Oh, you know very well," he growled. Without warning Tugger rushed the toms, who went scurrying off with him hot on their tails.

Across the clearing, Demeter and Bomba stood together with the other older cats, who were watching the collapse of the impromptu song-and-dance routine with amusement. Bomba elbowed Demeter and pointed at the fleeing toms, who were ducking into the pipe in attempt to escape Tugger. With a grin on her elegant face, she told her friend, "They've sure got a mess coming to them." Her eyes glimmered mischief as she watch Tugger slip in after them.

Demeter looked up, startled, as if she hadn't been paying attention. "Hmm?" she said distractedly. "Yeah, yeah."

The red queen looked at Demeter with concern. "Hey, what's up?" she questioned.

Demeter lifted her forepaw in a gesture that said 'nothing,' but Bombalurina knew better than that. She lifted her green gaze and scanned the gathered cats for Munkustrap; he, if any, would know what was up with his mate. After a bit of looking, she spotted the tom standing with Alonzo.

Drifting over to Munkustrap, the queen cast one look back at Demeter. "Is she alright?" Bomba quietly asked the silver tabby.

Munku gazed at his mate, and then returned his eyes to Bomba. "She'll be fine. She's just had Macavity on her mind, because of last night…" he trailed off, hoping the queen would understand. It wasn't a subject that the tom enjoyed talking about; it hurt him to see his mate afraid, especially with him being the guardian of the Tribe. It made him feel as if he let her down.

Bombalurina did understand. She dipped her head to the protector and returned to Demeter's side, confidant that the tortoiseshell would talk about it if she wanted to.

Suddenly there was a screeching yowl from the pipe, with a flurry of hissing and spitting following it. Immediately all the cats dropped to all-fours, prepared to run or fight as the need arose. Demeter's yellow eyes were wide with panic.

Bomba swallowed hard. "Tugger wouldn't have done anything to them," she said to no one in particular. "Right?"

There was some activity in the shadows of the tunnel. First Tumblebrutus and Pouncival backed out, followed by the Rum Tum Tugger, who held himself in a low stance; arms outspread to protect the younger toms from whatever the danger was. When he found himself out in the view of the others, the black-and-gold cat quickly dropped his arms down, but his pose remained defensive.

On high alert, Munkustrap stalked swiftly towards his brother, muscles tense and his head glancing around for a sign of what caused the commotion. The tom paused in the center of the clearing, unmoving, as his gaze skimmed the top of the rubbish heaps. Not a thing seemed out of place. The silver tabby continued forward until he reached his brother's side. "What happened?" he asked in a harsh whisper.

Tugger's amber eyes remained fixed on the pipe, his face more fierce and serious than it had probably ever been - an expression of pure scorn. He made no attempt to quiet his voice as he spoke bitterly; "Macavity."