Jerrie knocked on Mistoffelees' door and stepped inside later that afternoon, "Misto?"

"Hey," Mistoffelees said, moving back and forth from the closet to the table, laying out suits and ties and looking dissatisfied with the entire thing.

"So, I want to know if this was an exercise in Schadenfreude? Because you win. It's just a bottle, Misto." His gaze moved to the suits, "What are you doing?"

"Getting ready for a date," he replied and stopped midway across the room. "And the lab needs to reexamine its work. It's not just a bottle."

"The lab went over every inch of the thing. Finger prints, chemicals, black light- nothing. I even tested the remnants of the wine left in the bottle. which, by the way, was a very lovely boxed franzia from early October."

"Thank you for that," Mistoffelees nearly growled, not sure he wanted to know what Pounce was drinking out of their bottle before leaving him.

Jerrie scowled at him, "Hey, you wanted to know what I found. That's what I found. In fact, that's all I found."

Pausing again, Mistoffelees ran a hand through his hair, considering the suit and shaking his head, taking it back to hang up. "Then you're still missing something."

"Misto, I ran test after test on this thing, there's nothing here."

"There has to be," he protested. "The only thing he left me? The Morse code? Our story can't be over like this, Jerrie. It's not an ending."

Jerrie finally spotted the kitten and scooped it up, scratching it behind the ears for a moment before sneezing, "Look, maybe you're grasping, Misto. Maybe it was good bye."

For a moment Mistoffelees considered the kitten and the picture the larger man made with the tiny tuxedo before his shoulders sagged as Jerrie's words sank in. "But... it can't be. Not like that."

His friend sighed, "I'll check one more time, but Misto...I don't think there's anything there."

"And you've had no luck actually finding him?" Mistoffelees asked, expression crumpling.

Jerrie moved over, offering the kitten, "Not yet."

Swallowing, Mistoffelees accepted the kitten, who mewed and batted one small paw at Mistoffelees' cheek. "God, why would he just take off like that?"

Jerrie looped an arm around his friend's shoulder, "Maybe you're right. Maybe he's being held against his will. We'll find him, Misto."

"We will," Mistoffelees agreed with a swallow. "I just, did you never talk to him while I was in prison?"

"Not much, not really."

"So no idea what might have caused this?" Mistoffelees asked, focusing on Oscar.

He shook his head, "I didn't know the guy, really."

Still paying more attention to the cat, Mistoffelees smiled faintly. "Never did approve of my lovers."

That earned a ghost of Jerrie's grin, "Well, have you ever liked any of mine?"

"Sure, that one girl, once," Mistoffelees shrugged.

"Oh, right, the one I ended up being unable to stand within three weeks."

"Yeah that one," Mistoffelees said with a grin. "I was real supportive of her." Leaning down, he let Oscar jump onto the couch from where the kitten was squirming. "Alright," he said, squaring his shoulder. "Please help me match a tie to a goddamn suit before I need to go out tonight."

w-w-w-w

That evening, Mistoffelees settled down across from Maria, offering her that charming smile that wasn't at all like the crooked grin he'd given Griddlebone. He raised a wine glass out to her. "To history, old and new."

She tipped her glass to him, seconding the toast. "So, how does an FBI agent get a table here? It's a six month wait."

"Well, an FBI agent wouldn't have gotten it," Mistoffelees replied, taking a sip. "I had a previous life after all, and plenty of charm."

That earned a smile as she sipped at her wine, "That's right. Do you believe in reincarnation then?"'

"You could say that," he replied. "But what about you? Any previous lives?"

"Not really, same as I've always been. Though the old me has nineties hair."

"I don't believe it," he returned, taking another sip of the wine. "Here," he said, setting the glass down and reaching a hand out. "Let me see your lifeline, to fill in those blanks."

She arched a brow, but held her hand out, "You aren't honestly going to read my palm right now, are you?"

"Why not?" he said, flashing her another grin. "Hm, calluses. Not afraid to get dirty then?"

"Very true. What else do you see?" she smirked slightly.

"No ring," he replied, "And no signs of there ever being one."

She closed her hand and captured his, "No ring for you either."

"No," he said, voice dropping and his eyes shutting off for a moment before he wrenched himself back into the moment. "Prison got in the way. Besides, it was illegal back then."

"Ill-Swing both ways then?"

He smiled. "You could say that. Equal opportunity, or that I like seeing things from all sides."

She returned the smile, "Very good to know. It must be strange now. What with working for the FBI and all."

"It's just a different side to see things from," he shrugged. "Besides, it's nice to read from the other team's playbook."

"The other team? Here I thought you were out of the game."

"Oh, I am," he assured, his grin belaying that statement entirely.

She considered him for a long moment, "Have you found your missing bible?"

"You know anyone who wants to buy one?" he asked, leaning in, and trying not to think about the FBI agents who were probably bugging Maria's apartment right now.

Maria leaned a bit nearer, "Maybe. Looters approach me all the time. So do buyers. It's rather an attractive offer."

"I'm sure it must be," Mistoffelees murmured, leaning closer.

She smirked, offering him one of the menus, "What do you say you surprise me tonight?"

"You sure?" he asked with an arched brow, accepting the menu. "I might order something you don't like and then where would we be?"

"I trust you. After all," she sat back, "you work for the FBI."

"More wine?" he offered, trying to ignore the entire issue of trust, and especially that of the FBI.

"You read minds as well as palms now?"

"The question is, do you?" Mistoffelees returned with a grin.

"Sometimes," Maria replied.

With another flash of his grin, he turned his attention to the menu. Their dinner passed in amicable conversation and flirtation and in the end Maria invited him back to her place as hoped.

Mistoffelees smiled, following her into her apartment, glancing around and hoping that the FBI had gotten and messed nothing up.

"Some wine?" She offered with a smile.

"More of it?" he grinned, leaning his hips against a counter. "Why not?"

"So, what shall we talk about then?" She moved over to pour some wine, her gaze flickering over the table.

"Well, there's the story of the two spies," Mistoffelees said, elbows moving back against the counter.

"Which one?" she asked, pausing for the briefest moment as she saw that her cup of brushes was off of the ring it had left in the dust, but a good inch.

"A French Duke and Italian Count. They were sworn enemies who spent the entire year trying to outwit each other, but on New Year's they got to ask a question the other had to answer truthfully," Mistoffelees continued the story, watching her.

"The trick was asking the right question, because you might never get another chance," She replied with a smile.

"I always thought honestly is a more challenging game," Mistoffelees grinned.

In the FBI van outside the apartment building, Macavity blinked. "Honestly is a more challenging game? Geez, how come none of my dates had ever gone this way?"

"Because you don't say things like honesty is a more challenging game," Coricopat muttered.

"Because no one talks like that," Bomba huffed.

"They do in his world," came the almost sulky reply.

Both Bomba and Macavity glanced at him. "You jealous?" Bomba asked.

Coricopat looked at her, "Jealous?"

"You sound sulky about something-wishing you had his moves or wishing he'd talk to you like that?" Bomba asked.

"Wishing we weren't stuck in this surveillance van while a former felon and a probable murderer are sipping high quality wine."

"So you're jealous of something," Macavity laughed.

"You two are insufferable. I'm finding someone new for my stakeouts," their boss replied testily.

"Like who? Vlask?" Macavity returned. "You'd just be stuck drinking bad coffee all night."

"I'm sure I can find someone," Coricopat muttered.

Bomba rolled her eyes, going back to listening to the tape intently.

Maria offered Mistoffelees a smile raising the wine bottle, "The wine needs to breathe. I'm going to get a decanter. Why don't you put some music on?"

"What are you in the mood for?" he asked, moving over to where he could see a player set out.

She left the room, calling over her shoulder as she entered her security room, "Oh you know!"

"Surprise you?" he asked, arching a brow at her music selections.

"Exactly." Her attention was fully on the screens in front of her, rewinding the right tape until she saw Bomba and Macavity placing the bug in her living room.

Mistoffelees fiddled with the player for a while, finally choosing something with a jazz flavor, looking around the room. There was no way a college professor could get all of this just off their salary.

Maria returned, offering Mistoffelees a glass of wine, "Good choice of music."

"Glad you approve. At least this time I knew I couldn't go wrong, since it's all yours," he replied, accepting the wine.

That earned a smile, "So, what do you think of the manuscript I'm working on?" she motioned toward her worktable.

He arched a brow, carefully taking the wine with him and leaning over one of the bibles. "It's stunning work."

"I agree." She leaned over as well, whispering in his ear, "You know what? I don't trust you."

"Smart," he said, turning his face closer to her's. A movement on either of their parts and they would be kissing, but there was an entirely different tension between them. "I wouldn't trust me either."

She considered him, still murmuring, "Let's play the spies' game. I'll ask you a question."

"And I have to tell the truth?" he asked.

"And you have to tell the truth."

"Then you better ask the question," he said, tilting his head slightly.

"Which Mistoffelees Caffrey are you? Are you working for the good guys, or are you working a bigger game?"

He considered a moment before stepping back and tagging the bug left in her pot, dropping it into his wine glass. She blinked in surprise at that action.

"That answer your question?"

"Maybe it starts to," she admitted.

"Look," Mistoffelees started speaking, rapid fire. "The feds linked the bible to Paul Ignazio and you to him through his visits to the college. Maria, look at me. I'm living proof if the feds want something from you, they turn your life inside out to get it. They'll tell Barelli you have his book."

"Even if I don't?"

The smaller man shrugged. "I can get you two hundred fifty thousand in two days. Which is better than you can get dead in or prison. With the FBI and the mob on you, you won't be able to move it. I can."

"The other team's playbook..."she considered, "If I shouldn't risk it, why are you? Won't they send you back for good?"

He pulled his pant leg up slightly, gesturing down. "I'm already in prison."

"Then we might be able to deal," Maria finally nodded.

"Good," he said with a grin, trying not to think about the panic that was probably happening in the van outside.

w-w-w-w

The next morning, Sonya considered Ruiz and Coricopat in one of the meeting rooms at the office. "How did you know she was in on it?"

"Lucky hunch," Coricopat answered.

Sonya looked far from impressed. "Hmmm... Ruiz?" he turned the other agent, who looked a little shame faced.

"I checked Paul's credit. He wired ten Gs from a shell corporation in Gibraltar. Owned by... well, your professor."

Coricopat managed not to smirk at that, "The hunch panned out. She has the book, and I'm sure she's the killer."

Eyes going heavenward, Sonya nodded. "Don't bitch at each other, boys. Now, how'd last night's fishing expedition go?"

"Well..." Coricopat sighed, "We had a bit of an equipment failure. But, Caffrey says she has the book. She'll sell, but only to him."

"Of course he'd say that," Sonya sighed. "What're the terms?"

"Two fifty. Wired to a Swiss account."

"No way!" Ruiz cut in. "What if he cuts a deal with her and runs off with the money?"

Coricopat's eyes narrowed, but he replied calmly, "What choice do we have?"

"Not much of one," Sonya said. "I don't want another body washing up. We'll send the cash to a dummy account."

"That's risky. What if she takes a shot at Mistoffelees?" Coricopat protested.

"I wouldn't lose any sleep over it," Ruiz huffed as Mistoffelees walked in.

"Morning, gentlemen," he drawled. "Everybody sleep well?" His tone was mild, but his stance and eyes belayed that entirely.

Coricopat smiled thinly at Ruiz, looking like he wanted to strangle the other, before he turned to Mistoffelees, "Well enough. We need to talk, my office."

"Sure," Mistoffelees said, offering him a charming grin. Usually he didn't bother in the FBI office; he was looking obviously rattled for first thing in the morning by using it.

The taller man considered that before he turned and led the way to his office, waiting until they were closed inside, "Everything alright?"

"Perfectly," he said, grin still in place.

The other didn't look like he quite believed him, but let it slide, "Are you going to be alright with conducting an exchange for the book?"

"Sure," he said, rolling a shoulder. "Am I cutting the anklet?"

"You're going to have to if you're to convince her..."

"Your heart gonna be able to handle that?" Mistoffelees asked, looking at him through half lowered eyes.

Coricopat stiffened slightly at that, "Why wouldn't it?"

"I meant the whole heart attack thing you're going to be dealing with while I'm off your GPS."

"I've caught you before, I can do it again if I have to. We'll make sure she doesn't do anything. Just try not to get shot, hm?"

"Not like anyone's going to lose sleep there," Mistoffelees said, plucking a pen off Coricopat's desk and playing with it.

The agent gaped at him for a moment, "Come again?"

The shorter man just shrugged.

"Do you really think we hold your life so cheaply?"

"Some people certainly do," Mistoffelees returned, not adding that everyone who didn't say it explicitly seemed to believe it just as well too.

Coricopat sighed heavily, "Fine. Just try to be careful."

"What's the plan then?" Mistoffelees said, expression shut off.

"We're placing the money in an account from Caymans First National. You'll meet with her, let her take you to the drop, and I'll e-mail you the pin for the account right before the buy."

"First they're sending me back to prison," Mistoffelees remarked, still looking at the pen. "Tomorrow they're giving me a quarter of a million tax payer dollars in an off shore account. I guess that shows how much faith they have in you, huh?"

"And how much I have in you," Coricopat replied quietly.

Mistoffelees' eyes flickered up and back down, expression suddenly unsure.

"Just be careful. And prove them wrong."

Biting his bottom lip, Mistoffelees finally nodded. "I'll look into doing so."

"I think there's some files and things if you'd like something to go over?"

The smaller man just shrugged. "Not really? But sure."

"Or books, either way I have some things I need to do at this point."

"Sure," Mistoffelees murmured, moving away from the desk to leave the office.

"I..." Coricopat nodded and let him go, settling in his chair to get some work done.

Macavity walked in shortly therefore, looking Coricopat over. "Lucky tie today?"

Coricopat glanced up, "Mistoffelees making that buy later today, remember?"

"We're giving him money? No wonder you're wearing the lucky tie."

"We're not that stupid. It's a fake wire transfer," Coricopat turned his attention to his computer screen.

"Then why are you so worried?" Macavity asked, crossing his arms over his chest and the files he had with him.

"He has to convince her he's working for us, which means cutting his anklet. For real. He...could run with that book."

That got an arched brow from the dark skinned agent. "So you have more faith in that ratty tie then Mistoffelees?"

"This ratty tie's never forged a priceless map of Vinland," it wasn't the primary concern he had, but it was a close second.

"And you find it hard to believe he'd gonna do the right thing?" Macavity asked, finally setting the files on Coricopat's desk.

"It's not his first instinct."

"Trust isn't yours is it?" Macavity asked, well aware it was not.

"Occupational hazard. What if we can't manage to keep an eye on them?"

"Then he'll come back," Macavity said with a shrug.

"Or get himself shot," Coricopat muttered.

"You worried about him getting shot?" Macavity asked, arching a brow.

"She's killed once already for this book, what's to stop her doing it again?"

"I think our felon is slightly smarter than that," Macavity said with a shrug. "With a really big self preservation streak."

"And so I should stop worrying?"

The taller man just shrugged. "Maybe not."

"I'll be fine once this is all finished."

"Great," Macavity said, not quite rolling his eyes but heading for the door. "Then let's get it finished already."

Coricopat rose, "Go let Ruiz know we're set." He headed down the stairs to let Mistoffelees know.

w-w-w-w

Mistoffelees stood on a street corner, looking both ways, hands in his pockets. Maria pulled up a couple minutes later, getting out of her car, "Hey."

Offering her a smile, Mistoffelees stepped forward, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "We have a chaperone," he whispered. "White van over my left shoulder."

She glanced in that direction before smiling, "Well, then we'll have to be careful."

"Indeed we will," he said, moving his hands to her waist. "If you don't mind, I believe this is the junction when a pat down would be appropriate?"

"Only if I can reciprocate."

"Ladies or men first?" he asked, smirking into her hair.

"After you," she replied, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Grinning, he skidded his hands down her sides and felt along the line of her skirt, patting down anywhere she could logically hide either a bug or weapon. She returned the expression, leaning into a couple of his touches, "My turn."

Still smirking, he leaned back, considering what exactly this would look like to the agents in the van. Maria ran her hands carefully over his body, checking for weapons or wires, shoulders to heels. Finally stepping back she smirked at him, "No bugs, where's my money?"

He waved his phone. "Where's my book?"

She looked down at his ankle and headed for the driver's side of her car, "You ready?"

For a moment he wavered, looking toward the van before meeting her eyes. "If I cut the anklet, they're going to be onto us. Think you can lose that van?"

"I've been chased by the Carabinieri, drug cartels in Bogota-"

"I get it, you're good," he said, holding a hand up before leaning down and snipping the anklet with a pair of cutters he'd brought just for the occasion.

She got into the car, waiting until he was in before pulling away and taking off, intent on losing the tail, "With all due respect, we could make quite a fine pair."

"With all due respect, shut up and drive," he replied.

She rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the road.

Shortly they ended up at a lake front, Mistoffelees getting back out. "Can I see it yet?"

She got out, going to the trunk of the car and opening it, "I can't believe I'm doing this. I spent a long time looking for her..."

He snapped a pair of gloves on, taking the book, and looking through it to verify. "Guess it wasn't meant to be," he murmured, flipping pages.

"You satisfied?"

"Very," he said, closing the book and using his free hand on his phone, sending the money.

She pulled out her phone, "Ah, and there it is. Thank you very much."

"Pleasure doing business with you," he said with a small bow, moving to leave.

"Mm. You'll never know how much of a pleasure it could have been," Maria responded, pulling a gun.

Mistoffelees' spine tensed, and he leaned back slightly. "You know, I had a feeling all the lovey-dovey stuff was bullshit."

"You should learn to trust your instincts."

"You know, you think I would have," he murmured, pulling something from his pocket. "But I did lift your clip with patting you down."

She cocked the gun, "You forgot the one in the chamber."

"I hate guns," he breathed, taking a step back and holding the book in front of his chest. "That still only gives you one bullet."

"That's all it takes," came the reply. "Give me the book, Mistoffelees."

"No," he said, holding the book up. "Is this why you killed Paul?"

"He wanted the money and the book!"

"Yeah, that's what happens when you get greedy!"

She fired, the same second the FBI finally showed up on scene. Mistoffelees dropped.

Coricopat was out of the car, gun drawn in an instant, "Drop the gun! Gun down, don't shoot. Gun down, hands behind your head!" Maria followed his directions, swearing under her breath as she was cuffed. Once he saw she was being dealt with, he holstered his weapon and rushed to Mistoffelees' side, "Mistoffelees?"

The shorter man blinked up at him. "Cutting it a little close there, aren't you?" he asked, holding the book in front of his chest still, were a bullet was lodged in the head of the saint on the cover.

Coricopat offered him a hand up, "Looks like someone had your back. What did I say about getting shot?"

"I think you said not to," he said. "And I lifted the clip. So she only had one chance anyway."

The taller man shook his head, "One chance. Great, that vastly improves the odds of her not hitting you."

"Still here, ain't I?" he asked, grin crooked.

"Because you have the best luck of anyone I've ever met."

"Maybe," Mistoffelees said, looking over as Barelli showed up on the scene. "But it's certainly proved useful."

"Well, I need to go run some interference." Coricopat turned as Barelli approached, "How did you and your cub scouts find out about this? NYPD?"

"I got one of those police scanners. It's a hobby, ya know?" The mobster's gaze moved to where Maria was being put in a car, "She Paulie's shooter? A lover's quarrel?"

"Just business," the agent replied. "Hate to break it to you, your nephew decided to free lance behind your back."

"Sad," Ruiz remarked. "You can't trust family then who can you trust?"

Barelli ignored them, "If you guys're done, I'd like my bible back. Mass starts in an hour."

Coricopat rolled his eyes, "Would it kill you to say thank you? All right, give it to him, Mistoffelees."

"I don't have it," Mistoffelees said, looking between them.

"What do you mean you don't have it?" Coricopat blinked at him, "You just had it in your hands."

"I handed it to an FBI agent," Mistoffelees said with a tiny shrug. "That's what I was supposed to do, right?"

Barelli scowled, "You think you can get it over on me? You'll wish you were never born, pal."

"I'm getting that speech a lot lately," Mistoffelees replied, meeting the other's eyes.

"This ain't over," Barelli growled.

"Where is it, Caffrey?" Ruiz seethed. "Or I'll let Barelli give you a ride home."

Coricopat cut in, "I think I may know where it is." Mistoffelees took a shuddering breath at that threat from Ruiz, glancing over at Coricopat. "I'll take Mistoffelees with me, Barelli, you're welcome to follow."

Mistoffelees took a step closer to Coricopat, feeling tired and worn out and relieved when Barelli nodded his assent to that.

They pulled up in front of Barelli's church a short while later, Coricopat getting out and heading inside to find Steve there with Lucy and the bible.

Steve looked up and smiled serenely at all of them, petting his dog. Barelli strode in, his eyes narrowing, "Hey, pally. What are you doing with my bible?"

"She would've died without it," the man explained.

"Not so fast. You know who you're messing with?"

Coricopat's jaw tensed, "You've got the bible, Barelli. Leave him alone."

"No. I'm not about to let this go." He stopped as Lucy got up and licked his hand, wagging her tail slowly. His entire tough guy persona seemed to crumble and he knelt down, rubbing her ears, "Hey, sweet girl."

"Her name's Lucy," the veteran said proudly.

"Lucky Lucy, huh. She don't look so good. Whatsa matter with her?"

"She's been sick," Steve explained as Mistoffelees looked over at Coricopat. "Until today." The agent was staring at the scene, his brows raised.

Barelli rocked back on his heels before getting to his feet, "I got a vet over in Yonkers. He saved my pugs from diabetes. You wanna take a right and go see him? Have her checked out."

"Kay," Steve said, nodding happily.

"Come on then," Barelli headed out to his car with Steve and Lucy, leaving a very confused Agent Zimmerman behind with Mistoffelees.

"We were giving the bible back," Mistoffelees said.

"I know."

"How'd you know?" the shorter man asked, tilting his head.

"Alright, I didn't. But I took a leap of faith that you did the right thing."

"I told you it's a healing bible," Mistoffelees said with a charming grin.

"And here we go again..." Coricopat shook his head, "Barelli's just a softie for dogs."

"Not enough smiting and lightning for you?" Mistoffelees asked with an arched brow.

"It's not a miracle. No Red Sea was parted here."

"I'll take my miracles where I can get them," Mistoffelees replied.

"Right, well then you can call it a miracle if you're so inclined." A couple of other agents arrived at that moment with a new tracking anklet for Mistoffelees.

Mistoffelees sighed, meeting Coricopat's eyes. "I didn't get shot, and I didn't run away. Are you taking that or is there still not enough smiting and lightning?"

Coricopat shrugged slightly, "I might take it if I didn't think you had a decent self-preservation streak."

Mistoffelees sighed and smirked. "Really now?"

"I like to think so, anyhow," he replied as one of the agents reattached the anklet.

Mistoffelees glanced down and back up. "Well, back to the ball and chain."

"Long chain," Coricopat reminded. "Shall I take you back to Jenny's or the Bureau?"

"Is there a reason to go back to the Bureau?"

"Not that I can think of, for you. I'll drop you at Jenny's on the way."

"Great," Mistoffelees murmured.

w-w-w-w

Later in the evening, Mistoffelees was turning the bottle at the table. Several candles lay around, lit to give the room a more romantic atmosphere.

Jerrie was stretched out on Mistoffelees' couch, asleep, Oscar curled up on his chest, his hands cradling the kitten.

As he was turning the bottle, one of the flame started heating up the paper. Slowly, lines started being revealed and he froze. "Jerrie!"

The redhead startled awake, "Let me see your warrant!" He came fully awake as the alarmed kitten on his chest dug its claws in, "Ow, damnit. What is it, Misto?"

The shorter man just arched a brow at him. "Come here, you," he said, gesturing. "Lemon juice and candle light."

Jerrie scooped up the kitten, smoothing Oscar's ruffled fur as he came over, "How did I miss this?"

"Weren't you ever a boy scout?"

"I got kicked out. Pinewood derby, magnets. It was a whole big thing."

Mistoffelees gave him a sideways look. "I don't even want to know."

"It was a great race, but they figured it out. Stopped doing things that'd get me caught after that. So. The bottle. A map?"

"It's a map," Mistoffelees nodded. "New York City subway."

"Great, so you have a map of a huge subway system. What good is that?"

"I don't know yet," he said, grinning up at his friend. "But I'm going to find out."

Jerrie offered him a ghost of a grin in response as he cradled the kitten a bit closer, still stroking its fur, "I'm sure you will."

Mistoffelees looked between the purring kitten and Jerrie. "Find allergy medication or something?"

Jerrie looked at the feline, "No," he was sounding a bit stuffy, "I'll be paying for this tomorrow."

"I'm glad you're getting along, seeing as you're here so often," Mistoffelees said, looking back at the bottle where he'd gotten the entire map exposed.

"I like the kitten. We'll see if I like the cat."

That startled a laugh from Mistoffelees. "It's gonna be the same creature."

"Except with bigger teeth, bigger claws, and a bigger pelt to produce dander."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," Mistoffelees said as Oscar purred. The dark haired man was already distracted by the bottle again.

Jerrie finally sneezed, jolting the kitten slightly, "You're not allowed to ignore the kitten."

"I'm not?" Mistoffelees asked, not even looking over.

"No. I'm allergic and I don't think the suit likes cats. Jenny ahs the pug. So you can't ignore him."

"I'm..." Mistoffelees frowned, looking up at Jerrie. "You make it sound like I'm abandoning him in an alley."

"I don't mean to sound like that, you just get...focused."

"Well, yeah," Mistoffelees said. "The kitten can survive a little while on his own."

Jerrie didn't look impressed, but he shrugged, "Alright."

"Here," Mistoffelees said, setting the bottle down and taking the kitten, who rubbed up under his chin. "Feel better?"

Jerrie nodded, "Yes, that's much better."

"Good," Mistoffelees said, kissing the top of Oscar's head when the kitten batted at his cheek.

"It's a cute cat."

"Yeah," Mistoffelees said, eyes straying to the bottle over the squirming ball of fur he still held.

As a heads up, this is the last chapter of this fic to be posted to this site. Your author's are packing up over to AO3 (Archive of Our Own). We can be found under victoriousscarf or Meadowlark4491, and this fic is posted over there under the same name as is most of our stories. ((I usually like giving 2 chapters warning but this wrapped up an arc too neatly.)) Hope to see you all on the other side.