The finale of this little mousy aside. Res finally gets on stage with Roxie, for his big show. Will his music go down a treat? Will it prove, detrimental to someone's future prospects in music...? Only one way to find out


Musicians Big Break Part 3
Res’s stomach was in a knot. It had been a few days now. Practicing his guitar imitation, learning to balance on the moving cat, devising some lyrics with Jack’s help for his, contrasting solo sections. Despite it all, he felt he knew so little about what was going to happen this evening. The sun was already dimming outside, but the big event was ahead.
He watched the cat in motion. Donning his glasses, shoving some clothes and, stuff Res didn’t really know into a backpack which he slung over his shoulder.
“So… can you, tell me again what exactly the… timeline is here?” Res mumbled to himself
Without pausing his movements, the cat replied “we walk down to Roxie’s club, should get there… bout an hour before her big, thing… she’s put out a lot of fliers and stuff… but we should get there before anyone can crowd in. You’re going to be her opening act… she performs normally till the early hours”
“And, then we come home?” Res hazarded. He, saw the feline’s paw pause a moment, before zipping up the backpack
“Probably not” Jack responded “you might need to spend the night there. I’ll, bunk up with a friend and get you in the morning. Roxie won’t want to be disturbed…” he drew in a slight breath “depending how her song with you goes, she might want you to be a prop for the others too”
“What?” Res felt, fresh tension tug at his gut “But we’ve only been preparing for the one”
“I know” Jack mumbled “it’s just a thought… I get the feeling, if she does that it won’t be musical… like, wanting you to… perch or scurry or…” he trailed off “she’ll fill you in with what she wants. It’s just one night, right?”
“One night” Res mumbled to himself as reassurance “Is she normally so, secretive about all this?” he paused “or is this normal…?”
“Not normal…” Jack threw the pack over his shoulder and offered Res a paw to hop onto “this whole… thing isn’t super normal. But she’s keeping her lyrics to herself, and wants us to do the same… Roxie does things she way she wants… she’s impulsive”
“That’s not what I want to hear”
“Me neither” Jack muttered, closing his fingers around the mouse and padding for the door “but bad gigs are normal at first” he exhaled faintly “it’ll be over soon”

Res felt increasingly nauseous as the cat carried him along. No outfit on the cat this time for him to be squeezed under. He assumed, Jack didn’t feel the same need to be presentable, though why he had spare clothes in his backpack was beyond the mouse’s understanding. The heat of the leathery pads surrounding him was mitigated by the chill of the evening air gusting between the furry digits. The sway, back and forth, did nothing to settle his nerves.
The trip though didn’t feel that long. Though his mind festered in worry, the repetitive motion was hypnotic. Broken only when the cat’s thumb brushed in close, along Res and the side of his miniature guitar.
Eventually, he heard a doorway creak, and beyond it, a slightly familiar squeal. His world shook, very suddenly
“Roxie… get off” Jack mumbled above
“oh, come on… you love it” the soft feminine voice giggled “you got our little star?”
“Yeah…” Jack’s paw rose, and Res was cast into light again, with a starkly uncomfortably close look at Roxie’s face. Just how he remembered it in his nightmares. Bright white fur, cute pink nose, the curls of fur draping down over her face a hotter pink than the last time he saw her. Her face was beautiful… and he knew, deadly
Her breath, hot but, minty billowed out over him as she spoke “and how are you feeling Res? Gotta be a big, big night for you”
“Nervous” He answered, eyed widening as, her paw rose like a great leviathan, and swept across the dark pads of Jack’s paw, engulfing him in a world of, soft pink and pristine white. Briefly he was reminded of the old stories of a heavenly realm and wondered if she’d crushed him… but the sharp transition faded some as the paw opened, revealing her muzzle to him again.
The mouse looked around to see Jack… the cat, didn’t look happy, his paw falling back to his side, head turned away.
“Be gentle with him Roxie, please” Jack muttered
“Oh, come on… you know me” Roxie glanced past the mouse
“I do…” Jack responded bluntly
“Well… let’s get you backstage” Roxie chimed, her paw turning slightly under Res as she surveyed him “such a cute little guitar… oh this’ll be purrfect” she grinned
Res watched, as Jack faded away, his world bounding, the light footed cat sweeping away across the room without a care, yet, her paw felt so, stable as she sprang her way across the room, and pressed her way through a side door into, a long, very pink room.
The door shut, and Res was, deprived of the outside world. Left to look up to the white jaw above as Roxie swayed through the room, flopping in a chair before a vast mirror. To his surprise, the jolt didn’t travel up her arm as much as he expected.
The paw swept down to the table, tilting to let him tumble onto the creamy wood surface. Tall pots, a stack of brushes and little boxes decorated the space with him, but distantly. He felt, left in the open, looking up as the immaculate goddess above. She rested her head on her other paw, looking down to him with what, seemed a sweet smile. A gentle sort of interest in her eyes. It wasn’t, quite the stark predatory gaze he was used to… but it was an intent look.
“I’ve never performed with a mouse before” Roxie informed him “first I’ve met with a sincere interest in music too”
“Thanks” Res answered, unsure what else to say “I guess this is my first time… performing”
“mmm, try not to let the nerves get to you” Roxie advised, her thumb rolling little circles through her whiskers on one side “It’s pretty dark in the club, all the lights are on me… and hey, I like to stand out against a black background. Just pretend the audience isn’t there. None of them are going to eat you”
“Thanks” Res mumbled again, a little more, sincerely this time
“No sweat. I want you to do your best out there” Roxie smiled, big, fluffy tail swishing behind her “I’ve had a whole lot of interest in this event, so, trust me, I want tonight to be, perfect. If you’re stammering, trembling… it won’t be as fun a night, as good a show so…” she purred lightly “I doubt you wanted your first big show to be with me, but.. let me lead, ok? Trust, if nothing else, that I want you to do well and make this a night to remember”
“Yeah, ok” Res felt himself relax, despite the cat looming above. He hadn’t expected her to be this, nice. Maybe he had worried over nothing… this was her job, her performance. Jack had said she was professional.
“Can’t tell you… too much more about the show… I like surprises” she informed him with a playful grin “Kinda trusting my little partner to have put together some good accompanying lines… that match the music you got, but as far as choreography…” she trailed off for a moment “you’re going to be, riding on me all night, you know that right?”
“Yeah… I guess so” Res nodded a little grudgingly
“It’s better that way” she shrugged “I mean… if I stepped on you, that would… not be good for anyone. And in theory an eager cat could grab you off the stage if you strayed to the edge”
“Makes sense” Res rubbed to one ear… both sounded, bad
“I’ll handle you well, don’t fret” She smiled down to him “dang you’re cute… this is going to be a blast…” her tail swished again, an excitement betrayed in the tail that her resting features hid “anyway… it’ll be getting more… intense as the show goes on, but just follow my lead, ok? I’ll do a double tap with my left hand where I want you to be… and you stand on that spot, ok?” she lifted the paw for emphasis “if you miss a cue, I’ll try to give it again. I’d much rather you move yourself than have me grab you, ok?”
Res nodded quietly to the instructions.
Beyond the cat, he could hear, noise building. He was faintly aware there was a big set of doors there… he assumed, to the place they’d perform.
The cat’s eyes lifted from him, to her own reflection. Her head lifting from the supporting paw as the paw in question felt down with blind precision for a small brush close to Res, which was lifted, carefully run through her fur
“I’ll give you a little brush down to make your fur neater” she informed him “but I won’t trouble you with anything else… you’re a bit small for any sort of makeup to make a difference” she spoke to the air “got a little wearable mic for you too. It’ll go around your neck like a collar and hang to your chest so, try and speak downwards when you sing, ok?”
Res nodded again, sitting himself and watching the cat’s reflection. It was… strange. He felt an odd quiver in his chest. She, was beautiful. She was sleek, fluffy, her voice was like silk and powdered sugar. He’d never been attracted to a cat before, but she was close.
He reminded himself he’d seen that pretty muzzle take in a mouse…

The nerves ramped up again as the noises beyond the door behind the feline grew louder. Eventually he could hear her name being chanted… a chorus of feline voices… coming from a crowd of feline throats, each of which would eagerly accept him…
Around his neck was, something too much like a collar for comfort. A small dangling microphone he was wary of making sound into. He stroked the edge of his guitar for comfort. From it wafted a hint of Jack’s scent. Though tingling with the spice of danger, like all cats, it held a certain, familiar comfort.
Roxie’s paw slid before him. Dainty despite the overwhelming size. He took himself up onto her pink pads. He rose, higher, as she took him right to her left shoulder, placing him down in a grass of white fur. To his side, one of those long, pink strands was dangling. He assumed some sort of gel was keeping the fur in those, sickle shaped bands.
Perched on the shoulder which weaved below him, he got his first view, of his first real audience. The doors swung open to her press, from the bright room, to one clad in darkness. He could, make out briefly, countless predatory faces, before the doors shut, giving him mostly angles. Sharp ears, moving, massive bodies, blunt short muzzles and the subtle glint of eyes in the gloom. His heart felt it would explode with the cacophony of subtle feline noises. All sounding through a beat, a thump in the air he barely noticed till he paid attention. Blinding light above swivelled to pour down upon them, further obscuring the audience itself from his view. Roxie’s right paw rose, bearing in it a white cone with a sort of mesh ball at the top… it reminded him strikingly of an ice-cream cone.
“How is everybody doing tonight?!” Roxie called into her microphone, voice booming out beside him, and echoing from speakers to their sides. She thrust the device forward as an answering, wordless cry of approval washed across the stage from the crowd.
“We’ve a special guest on stage… say hello to Res”
There was, a moment of silence… the mouse taking a moment to realise she’d said his name. A moment later, her shoulder rolled to jostle him, and, nervously he waved at space.
Seemingly without cue, the thump changed, a more pronounced beat it rattled through his bones, he swore his heartbeat adjusted to match it. His stomach rushed, as Roxie started to move. She turned, she crouched, she swayed. And yet, he felt a remarkable sense of balance. Perched on her shoulder was easier than any of the testing practice he’d done with Jack. Quite suddenly he, felt the cat he lived with was, clumsy.
Her head turned, quite suddenly, a single eye focussing on him, as she brought her microphone meaningfully to her lips. Something, in the music caught his focus… a trigger. His eyes widened… right.
He put his paws to the guitar, feeling to the strings as he heard, what sounded so much like Jack’s playing bellowing from the speakers around. Then Roxie began to sing. Her voice had seemed so, musical to him before… but, it was, different. Her words strung together formed a beautiful weave, a humming harmony in every syllable, right beside him. Thoughts of the cats watching ebbed from his focus in the wake of her, voice. It bounced with energy, as did she, she swayed, and drifted, spun herself. He felt, an energy pumping into his body, learning, somehow, to predict her, in the motions in her shoulder, when to lean one way or the other, balancing against her constant motion. Every movement was precise and graceful and controlled, despite the sense of unbridled energy she exuded. He barely soaked up her words, her voice was so, loud all around him… but it vibrated through the air, set his whiskers quivering to hear her vocalizing with such gusto.
In the corner of his eye, he saw movement in her paw, honing on it. She’d made a strange movement. Her arm extending towards the crowd and holding position for a long moment. He noticed it again, the fingers on that paw, tapping down to her pads. His cue!
He dropped to all four paws, and ran up the arm, her fur and flesh felt surreal under his paws, a padded pathway to the clawed plinth. He recognised the music now… his first solo was coming up.
She seemed to adjust to his moving weight effortlessly, fingers splaying out as he found his perch. Aware, in the gloom, luminous, sharp eyes were narrowing on him. But he was feeling it… that energy music gave him… he felt safe from those eyes, up here on Roxie’s paw.
There was a shift in the music, it struck so suddenly, slowing, contrasting versions of the same notes the music had rung out before. He felt deep… he knew his lines, brief as they were.
“A thousand days, I’ve scurried low. That feline urge, the acid flow. But why can’t I, just walk out free… why oh why… is that not for me!” he forced his muzzle down, towards the microphone, hearing… feeling his own voice booming out from the speakers to their sides, the music springing back, Roxie’s paw in movement again. The lurch in his stomach was worse, but her fingers pinched gently to his body to keep him supported. He could, barely make out her words, so loud she boomed, his ears suffering from the movement. He knew what he’d had to pair his lyrics to. Two gaps in her music. Her words rang energetically of growth, or trials, of overcoming them, all upbeat and springy as she moved. Quite suddenly, her paw with him clasped in closer to her microphone… he saw her thumb tap her muzzle, and obligingly he leapt up upon it moments before her jaws parted, her voice rising, in a long, high, haunting note that echoed out over the crowd. Her head tipped back as her microphone rose, the mouse scurrying practically onto her lip. Once more, he saw her left paw giving him guidance. It tapped down on her lower teeth.
His brain had the good sense to hesitate. But his fur felt electric, the performance had him thrilled… the tone of the music was set… it, was for effect he was sure. He could tell from the music… his turn was coming up again soon. Res slipped down her snout, and landed on the teeth, claws digging into the enamel perch, fur, rustling with her breath… and bones, rattling as her voice, erupted past him.
“And I… believe in change. The world, it never stops turning” she sang past him, her microphone dropping as he heard his cues in the music, less of a contrast this time.
“My place, in the world, it’s calling. A home, I carve for myself” he let his passion carry out on his voice, his wishes, dancing on his tongue “A change, is an old system falling. The future not too high a shelf”
He felt her breath wash in past him, the microphone rising to largely block his view of the outside. His eyes, flicked for her left paw but he didn’t see his next guidance yet.

Roxie, had been practicing singing with a blockage all week. Carefully voicing her way for the finale. “The past, is due no return. No jukebox or CDs to burn…” her head tipped back as she smiled to herself “so on this day let it be said…”
She paused, the fleshy sea of her tongue sliding to Res’s paws, sweeping them from under him. Deprived of his grip, the mouse tumbled back. A few, muted twangs from his little guitar, a few sharp, squeaking objections. She dropped her microphone to her throat, sultry eyes gazing over her rapt crowd, downing the mouse in a single, practiced swallow, a sound that carried through her speakers in a succinct gulp. She lifted the device to sigh softly over it, grinning to those watching “Soul is dead…”

“No! Please!” Res screaming, begged to the world as he finally learnt what his greatest fear felt like. His kicking claws just slid right off the tube he was sinking down. There was nothing to grip. His paws, claws raked for a hold in a frenzy, but his stomach twisted with the knowledge he was powerless to intervene. A rapid heartbeat thumped through him, somewhere above and muffled he heard the, echoes of a new verse being sung in the song…
His muzzle was squished into one side of the fleshy chute as her body moved suddenly, before settling. A ripple rolled along his body, squeezing him down that bit faster.
His kicking feet briefly found an elating sense of grip. Something solid. But it parted at his first attempt to kick off from it, worse, his paws sank into open, empty space. Flailing legs and tail did nothing to help him, but he felt it, momentum, gravity, sliding him faster out from the tube of Roxie’s throat to thump down into a chamber.
For a long, stunned moment Res sat there, staring blindly up the way he had come, thoughts dull, mind trying to… comprehend what had happened… why it had happened, why he was here now. Here in a hot, humid, dark abyss with an unpleasant, sharp edged odour of stale saliva with an aftertaste of mint. It was soft beneath him, but rippled. A low, rumbling groan broke him from his stupor. He was in a stomach…
“No…” he scrambled to his paws, lunging at the wall around, paws grasping to the walls, trying to, claw, he tried to bite but the walls, slippery, slimy slipped from his grip. His footing slipped from under himself when he pushed. The pouch, reminded him it was solid muscle as it squeezed inwards, knocking him off his feet to land on his tail. The guitar bumping to his belly… he still had the prop.
A new vibration echoed through the chamber from one direction, a pressure accompanying it. Outside, he heard Roxie was speaking again, her voice… he could just about make it out… possibly more from the surrounding speakers booming through her flesh. He, wasn’t quite sure, but her tone sounded… light, airy. He made out the word, “solo”
Each breath drew ragged and rapid from the mouse. The stark, all-consuming fear, began to twist. He was going to die here… he knew it. He could only imagine how it would be… would it be quick… painless? A shorter life terrified him… would it be drawn out… agonising in this digestive pit… instinct commanded he go down fighting, but imagining that made him tremble and whimper. But all those feelings contorted, into an emotion so much, easier to deal with. Rage.
“Damn you!” he screamed at Roxie, at the world, scrabbling to his paws with renewed energy, ramming to the wall before him. Somewhere outside, and through the very fleshy tomb she’d sealed him in, he heard a light, unconcerned giggle. She was killing him… and, she didn’t care… it was part of the show. He screamed wordlessly, and grasped down at the guitar at his chest. And Jack… that damn, traitor… he’d done this. He wrenched on the fake instrument till the cord snapped painfully across his back, lifting it by the neck and slamming it against the surrounding, fleshy walls. The impact gave a slightly satisfying thump and splat of sound… but the cat seemed unconcerned. This gift… how he hated it. Had Jack known? His rage flickered, just an instant with the question, before hardening again. It didn’t matter. He was about to die, and Jack had sent him here.
He screeched till his throat hurt, hammering the guitar to the walls around. He heard strings twang as they snapped, the crumple of thin wood cracking, a sharp crackle of shattering glass.
Res froze. The guitar, he couldn’t see it, but he’d heard enough to know it was broken, but the sound, caught him off guard. A thick, syrupy substance oozed down the neck and over his paws, the mouse dropping the instrument in disgust, as he felt to his paws, sniffing what lingered on them. It smelled vile in ways he couldn’t describe, worse than the surrounding death chamber. He wiped it off against his flanks… little as it mattered. And was reaching down to pick up his sole weapon to rage against fate, when quite suddenly he was thrown off his paws by a sharp, muscular lurch.

Roxie paused to catch her breath between a verse, undulating herself, shooting her audience a playful look as she played her fingers along her midsection again. The mouse wasn’t the first she’d eaten on stage. Her audience ate it up. Her smile lingered genuinely to reflect on those past. It wasn’t a common bit, became stale. But there had been something surreal and powerful about downing a squealing fan. The burst in revenue from the snack bar didn’t hurt either. But this performance, she was already relishing… totally worth performing with a mouse. His lyrics hadn’t fit hers as nicely as she’d hoped, but he’d have never gotten on stage if he’d known hers. But hey, she could work with the clash. His medium just wasn’t in anymore… it was right where it belonged.
She exhaled, sliding into a gentle sway, from her demonstration of agility, raising her microphone, opening her mouth to lose herself into the music again. But, the words froze on her lips. Her body, stopped dead. A murmur, she heard through the noise of her crowd, as the microphone slipped from her fingers and thumped discordantly to the ground. A pristine paw slipped over her lips, another to her stomach. Gods… what the hell.
Her eyes went wide as she felt her body, heave involuntarily. Where the hell had this come from? “I’m gonna be…” she mumbled through her fingers, before her stomach lurched again. She wobbled, collapsing to her knees. In her periphery she saw the dark clothed, nigh invisible security rushing up onto stage. Her fans clustering in a bit closer to the stage. With a paw she vehemently waved her watchers away before a guttural heave escaped her lips, shattering the dignity in her voice as she trembled.
“No…” she mumbled, prayed to the world to quell her stomach from, whatever had brought on the sudden… not even nausea… just the clawing knowledge in the back of her psyche that… this was going to happen.
In a new, fresh shudder she felt her light dinner rising, and with a pained grimace of anticipation, retched across her stage. A thin slime pouring out over her chin and across the wood, the building juices readying for their simple task. Amid it all, a scattering of fragments of wood veneer, and a sodden ball of fur that shot out of her jaws like a cork from a bottle. But the mouse was barely on her mind. Rather a clawing horror, eyes wide and aware of the, staring crowd.
Only in the corner of her awareness did she note her slippery snack floundering with momentum to slip off the stage edge with the trickle of stomach juices.

The throat was tight, the jaws a brief flashing tunnel of pink before Res found himself falling, landing on his shoulder on the stage, floundering to stop himself as his dazed mind only vaguely realised his trajectory, thrashing at the edge of the stage for a grip before falling. His throat felt too hoarse to scream as he fell through the dark and landed with a winding thump onto his stomach. Adrenaline pulsed through him enough to push himself over onto his back with uneasy paws. He could see so little… the edge of the stage illuminated with lights. A dark forest of legs and paws in almost all directions… he was still dead. He realised, a flicker of confused hope ebbing quickly. Above the heads weren’t turned towards him… they were on the stage. Except one. A shadow rushed down, as the mouse realised one of the sets of towering legs was bending. He couldn’t see much of the cat who must have noticed him first. But he saw the lighting above blocked out by a five pronged claw dropping for him. What he could see above, wasn’t a face, nor a set of sharp ears. The feline’s features obscured by the shadow of a hood. The paw dropping for him held outstretched a white cloth, which pushed down onto and over him, surrounding him utterly in soft darkness which sealed behind him as the fingers scooped. His last observation before he was sealed in the dark, a strange, twin edged glossy sheen shining softly under the hood of the capturing cat.

Res woke, without remembering falling asleep, or anything for a long moment. But yet, so suddenly, he bolted up with a gasp. Little paws felt down over his form. His fur, his tail, his… flesh and blood, not currently liquified for feline nourishment
“You’re up… that’s good” the voice of Jack made his head swivel quickly. There was the cat, sat on the edge of his bed, paws tuning his guitar like he did every morning.
Res realised he was, on his newer bed, atop the closest box to Jack’s head level, in the cluttered room. Gone was the noise he remembered, the haunting, cloying scent of cats and alcohol, the angelic voiced embodiment of death.
“What day is it?” Res spoke, but heard himself croak, paw moving to his throat… it hurt, he realised. That alone, felt it answered his real question.
Jack’s sombre eyes considered him for a moment “morning after your big show” he noted passively
“I’m alive…” Res mumbled to himself. It wasn’t some terrible dream or… vision of the future… it was the past. He buried his muzzle in his paws as his mind tried to unpack the experience “she swallowed me… she was going to kill me…” his head rose sharply, eyes flicking to Jack “did… did you know?”
Jack’s paws paused in his work for a moment, frown settling deeper “She didn’t tell me what she was going to do, but I had my suspicions”
Res swallowed the words with a grimace “you thought she’d try to eat me… hell, she did eat me, and… you sent me out there? You didn’t even warn me!”
Jack sighed “yeah… suppose that’s one way of looking at it… worked out though, you’re alive and all. I didn’t leave you, like, out cold”
Res squinted at the cat for a long moment “you were there to grab me..” he noted… it had to be Jack who had scooped him up “and that guitar…” he felt along his own paws for a moment
“Yeah, told you about my old bandmate didn’t I?” Jack’s features twinged a slight smile “that stuff’ll empty your gut pretty quick. You kept hold of it all the way, told you to didn’t I? I was looking out for you”
“You bet my life on it” Res eased to his paws, gesturing accusingly at the feline
“Well… suppose you’re not wrong” Jack muttered “but I figured either she’d give you back or eat you. If she ate you, she wouldn’t use her teeth, blood shows on that fur brightly. Didn’t reckon she’d try and take that thing away if you were holding onto it, and it was strapped to you. Break her flow and all that”
“I’m lucky I was spat out at your feet too” Res added to the list
“Well, I wouldn’t say luck” Jack adjusted the guitar, plucking at a few strings “moment you went down, I knew you’d be coming back up. Figured you for a fighter… no way it wouldn’t break in there. Just a matter or pushing through the stunned folk to be where I had to be” he looked to Res for a moment, the eyes, seemed gloomy “mean… you’re not wrong, there was a risk, and I didn’t ask. I’m sorry” he sighed “saw a way to get what I’ve been after for so long, figured, you’re used to risking your life for, well, life. My success is yours and all”
The mouse pawed along his muzzle. He, truly didn’t know how to feel… he was alive, he’d taken stupider risks for less… even lost a friend to one way back. Still, it irked him. He folded his arms “you should have told me”
“Guess” Jack rolled a shoulder “didn’t think it would help. If you’d resisted, she’d have been more likely to… I dunno, do something I didn’t plan for. Could you have gone through that knowing she, probably meant to eat you?” for a moment Jack scowled “for her little, soul is dead, bit. Real clever…”
“Probably not” Res conceded “Was it worth it at least?” he grunted “almost killing me? You have your gig now and all”
“Oh, Roxie cancelled that” Jack’s lips curled in a light smile “got a real angry call last night. Her little stunt sure made a statement like she wanted. She’ll never live down, coughing you up. Already making statements about food poisoning, and the risks of eating while dancing. She’ll cover it up pretty good, she’s good at that. Still gonna have folk snickering at her though”
“So, it was for nothing?!” Res burst
Jack raised a single claw “Wouldn’t say that. See, if we’d backed out, we’d have broken contract. We carried out our bit. Technically our contract wasn’t with Roxie, but the club. Even if it’s hers. She’s cancelled my gig sure but, there’s some consolation for her breaking the contract. I made sure of that”
Res was silent a moment “are you telling me, this was all planned? By you?”
A slight snicker escaped the seated cat, eyes gleaming a little more as he glanced to the mouse “I can be a sly old cat sometimes. But hey, we’ve got some money now. What’s mine is yours, Res. We can, like, practice, do some music, find somewhere else. Maybe introduce ourselves to something new, see if that takes our fancy. We’ve got time”
Res sighed “promise me, you’ll never do that, or anything like that again… and, I’ll look past it”
“Course” Jack noted “You’re like…” he trailed off for a moment “you’re a special mouse… I, am sorry”
“Fine” Res folded his arms… he felt there was still some, emotions to work through but… he didn’t hate Jack, not even now. There was an odd bond there, he didn’t quite get, yet “I’m too hoarse to sing though”
“You’ll get better” Jack strummed his claws down the strings, letting a soft melody play through the air “you just relax and listen. Eat, drink and be merry. For you had your first big gig with a local celebrity, and you got paid… indirectly”
Res felt a slight smile curl his lips. That was one way to put it… So, he sat, and flopped to his back, listening as the cat started to play. His long tail swishing on the cardboard. He’d really gotten himself into something… not a very traditional path for survival… but, he had to admit, he did want to see where it went.