The Silver Protector And Me

Magician In Progress

Quaxo Mistoffelees' den looked very similar to Munkustrap's, except that it was much smaller and on two levels. The top floor was his living quarters, while the ground floor was set aside for his experiments; and judging by the dark marks on the ceiling, they tended to get quite explosive.

In actual fact, he had recently finished one such experiment, and was in the middle of trying to figure out what he'd done wrong, when he heard someone rap sharply on the door. The style of knock was one that was particularly curt, and so he didn't need to guess who the visitor was. "Come in!" He coughed, attempting to beat sulphurous fumes away from his face with his paws. "The door's open!"

As the smoke cleared, the black tuxedo Angora removed his protective goggles and beheld the cat, who was considerably larger in stature than himself, staggering in through the door, and rolled his eyes. "Hi Dad. How was training?"

"Yeah... good," panted the other, sounding chipper and not in any way bothered by the smoke. "Bast almighty, Quaxo! Have you been cooking again? It smells like a pair of Tugger's cowboy boots after a successful two day pub crawl!"

"No, just a minor hiccup," Quaxo replied as he hung up his apron, deciding to conclude his studies for today.

"Really?" The silver Maine coon squinted at him incredulously. "You ought to do something about that."

"I'm in the middle of some very important research," Quaxo answered primly, as he went to open a window, not taking kindly to the insult about his cooking. He wasn't a bad cook! Just a magician in progress! "And anyway, how would you know what my uncle's boots smell like?"

Munkustrap answered in a bored tone of voice, "Oh, I would regale you with tales of alcohol infused vomit and having to drag a stupified Maine Coon home on one's back, but I'm quite sure it wouldn't interest you." As he said that, he sat down heavily in a chair next to a table and began to select various beakers of brightly coloured liquids that happened to be set upon it, giving each one a tentative sniff.

Quaxo started to chuckle, "You sound like that's what you've just done- Hey! Don't touch those!"

Munkustrap ignored him and carried on. "Yeah, that's another story of how Sadist Cat Rumpus likes to use me for demonstrations. Today, he was teaching us nonces how to avoid grapples by repeatedly dumping me on my backside. I can show you what he did, if you like?"

Quaxo crossed his arms over his dapper looking jacket, which matched his black fur superbly and glittered with many sewn-on mother of pearl buttons. However, it rather contrasted with his annoyed frown. "No thanks. Please, put those down!"

"Oh! You're no fun!" The Maine Coon complained, finally leaving the beakers alone. "And you never let me near any of your decent drugs."

"They're not drugs!" Quaxo snapped. "Some of those liquids are highly toxic! And besides, where's Alonzo for that sort of thing?"

"Your older brother doesn't take kindly to being put on his arse either, apparently," Munkustrap stated, with an air of innocence that indicated he had done just that in their sparring session.

"I hope you weren't too harsh with him. I know what you're like when you get carried away."

"I couldn't help it! Little bastard got me right here!" Munkustrap pointed to a very small bruise on his chin. "Anyway, what convoluted excuse do you have for not being there?"