Chapter Text
Lucky's Bar was packed, as it usually was when it docked it's doors in Seussian lands. All manners of creatures, big and small, short and tall, tame and bizarre crowded the floor, drinks in hand as the smooth piano hovered in the air, mingling with the many conversations taking place.
Cat knows why he's here, and he knows what keeps him coming back. It's not the drinks, or the pool, or even the music. It was that four eyed cat, Knowhere. He leaned against the pool table, nursing his whisky glass of milk while Knowhere played against himself. They don't really talk during these meetings, and Cat is completely fine with that.
So it's a shock when Knowhere says something.
"Do you still do your visits?" He asked with his know-it-all smile.
Cat nearly spat out his drink in surprise. "What?"
"Your visits, to human children?" The smile didn't drop.
Cat scoffed. "You already know the answer to that, don't you?"
"Why yes, I do. I just wanted to start a conversation." Knowhere answers in a sickly sweet tone. "But since you've skipped the formalities, I guess I'll cut to the chase. There is a boy, living in a shack on the outskirts of the town of Grumms, next to a plum orchard. I want you to check on him."
Another scoff from Cat. "What do want out of this?"
Knowhere opened his second set of eyes, all four of them glowing. "Let's just say I'm... calling in a favor." His smile widened as he held out a hand. "Do we have a deal, Kitty-Cat?"
Cat thought for a moment, then he took the hand. No shame in entertaining another bored child after all. "Don't call me Kitty-Cat."
-
Cat straightened his tie as he stood infront of the shack's door. First impressions were important, after all, and a sloppy tie was a horrible way to present yourself. With his tie straight, he adjusted his hat. Then, he knocked on the door.
No response. He knocked again, still no response. Strange.
Cat leaned to look through the window next to the door. He could see no sign of a child, but he could see bottles spread across every surface. "Oh dear, that won't do." He said. That was no environment for a child to live in, let alone thrive. He immediately tried the doornob, which was unlocked. "Double oh dear!" He stepped past the threshold and opened his briefcase. "This is a job for a Clean-erator 3000!" He let the machine lose to do it's job so he could look for the child.
It didn''t take long to find the child's room, as it was one of three separated from the rest of the living space. It was a tiny room, with a bed in one corner and a small table and chair in another. There was no colorful rug, and there wasn't many toys, but the walls where littered with hand-made maps of constellations and solar systems, very well made for a child. Cat had to appreciate the hard work it must have been.
"A little astronomer, I see." He remarked. A shuffling sound came from under the bed, but it stopped as soon as it started. That was a scared child.
"Ah, there you are. Just in time for tea." Cat didn't pressure the kid into coming out from under the bed, curiosity would do it's job well enough. Instead, he moved the table to the middle of the room and set his briefcase on it. Opening the briefcase, he pulled out a chair, a tablecloth, a teapot, a sugar dish, two teacups,two teaspoons, two saucers, two plates, and a three layered tray of all the essential tea party snacks cookies, scones, and PB&J finger sandwiches. He tossed them all up and let them fall to their places on the table with nary a scratch, crack, or wrinkle, no, not even a crumb was out of place.
In the time he had done that, the child had emerged, wrapped in a hand sewn quilt of navy blue, decorated in stars of all size, and clutching a purple telescope. The child's hair was a shaggy, tangled mess of black, and his eyes were magnified by a pair of glasses that seemed too big for his face. He is small, and can't be more than seven years old. He stared at Cat in apprehension, though his eyes betrayed him with every glance at the snack tray.
Cat smiled welcomely. "Pull up a chair, help yourself! I'll pour you a cup." The kid edged closer, shedding the quilt and telescope on the bed before rushing in and taking a sandwich in both hands while Cat pours their cups. "Do you want sugar in your tea?" Cat asked. The child nodded, mouth full of PB&J.
☆
The child didn't talk that day, not even when Cat had brought out Thing One and Thing Two. He had laughed at their performance, but that was it.
As they neared the end of his visit, Cat ensured that the child had a proper bath and meal. The sun was setting, and the child was getting tired, so Cat tucked him into bed with the star quilt. Leaving the room, he had reached for the light switch when a startled yelp stopped him. When he turned back, the child was starin at the light switch in fear.
"Ah," Cat said as he connected the dots. "You're afraid of the dark?"
The child nodded fearfully.
"I'll leave the light on, then."
The kid relaxed, taking off his glasses and setting them on the table with the telescope.
Cat sighed and shut the door, promising himself to visit often. On his way out, his foot touched a paper that the Clean-er-ator 3000 must have missed. It was a map of Ursa Major, signed 'Howard Plunkett' in crayon on the bottom. Cat smiled and picked up the drawing, folding it and tucking it under his hat.
Then he left, with the house cleaner than it was when he arrived.
He wished he could have taken Howard with him.