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“Stop that.” Athos raised his wrist, shifting the hand of cards from the questing face of Marsac’s cat. He mentally added – and heard in Porthos’ voice – the admonishment that it was not, indeed, ‘Marsac’s cat.’ He held the cards closer to himself, meeting the cat’s eyes over where it had been staring at the back of his cards.
“Pretty good tactic though…” Porthos observed. He was draped over his chair, one leg braced on the empty stool tucked near the side of their table. The garrison’s common room was emptied of any save the two recruits and their feline companion. In order to protect their unexpected guest they’d closed the door when he’d shown up.
Often when the cat wandered about the garrison in the evening Marsac took to searching for him. Unbeknownst to either of them, until they’d become closer friends, Porthos and Athos had naturally taken to aiding the vat’s avoidance of the veteran musketeer. If Marsac did turn up tonight they’d do the same – they’d already witnessed his quick reflexes when the door opened a half hour prior.
To Athos’ surprise the cat had first leapt onto his lap, before slinking down the chair to tuck behind the cloak he’d slung over the back of it. The motions happened before the door had fully opened and Athos was satisfied their feline friend could sort out several places to tuck in the room should any further intrusions occur.
“Pestering?”
Porthos chuckled, using two fingers to pluck gently at the upright tail. It swished before he could get a hold, and he reached for his cup instead. “Nah, fishing for information.”
“Porthos. The cat cannot read my hand.” Athos told him, meeting his eyes across the way.
“Looks like he got a fairly good look to me.” Porthos nudged his nose at the empty air, before raising his drink. He hid a broad smirk by taking a deep pull from his cup.
Athos meanwhile dropped his gaze to find two pointy, furred ears and the back of the cat’s head blocking his view of his hand. The tops of his cards were still visible to him around the dark fur, but the full cards were on view to the sneaky feline. While Athos had been addressing Porthos the cat had slunk under his arm and sat down in front of him.
The bold ‘Master Cat’ as Athos had a fondness for addressing him over their late-night meetings had taken advantage of Athos’ distraction. Most likely looking for pets and attention rather than any of the motives Porthos had taken to assigning the creature Athos indulged him. He ran the back of his hand along the arch of the lithe back and was treated to a pleased meow for his efforts.
Porthos’ fingertips rapped the table the percussive sound causing the cat’s ears to perk.
“Your turn.” Porthos said.
When the cat didn’t shift Athos tilted his cards further left, his arm drawing further across him. “I believe I’ll take – ”
“No, it’s Monsieur Charbonneau’s turn.”
Athos nearly dropped his cards. As it was his wrist dipped as he angled his head to cast his eyes to the rafters. “Porthos, he can’t play. This is madness.”
Porthos ignored him, fingers still tapping the open section of table closest to the fire. That side of the worn, square, table-top had several face-down cards laid on the wood. Over Athos’ objections and complaints of ‘undignified distractions’ from their actual game Porthos had dealt the extra hand.
“Why must you persist in this?” Athos said even as his hand and the cards he held were jostled by ‘Monsieur Charbonneau’ knocking into his forearm as he moved to where Porthos indicated.
“He’s very smart.” Portos insisted.
Athos paused before he reacted to Porthos’ assertion about the animal’s intellect. He glanced at his cup, considering how much he’d had to drink already “Cats are not suited to training – and certainly not to play card games.”
“Don’t you listen to him, Monsieur Charbonneau,” Porthos comforted the oblivious cat. His one hand tapped on the backs of the cards, but he brought the fingers of his other hand under the dark-furred chin. Leaning down slightly Porthos brought his face closer to meet the cat’s eyes and tilted the face up as he scratched. “Yer doing great.”
“He’s stepped on them, knocked several to the floor, and sat on the discard pile.” Athos remarked.
Monsieur Charbonneau’s eyes were half-moons of pleasure as he twisted his chin to encourage Porthos’ scratching. “We’ll see, maybe we can’t train him to play, but those are still great diversion tactics.”
“We?” Athos queried. “I will play cards with you Porthos, but I will not indulge this fantasy of yours that you are going to teach him to assist your gambling ventures.”
“Pffft,” Porthos ignored Athos in favor of angling his scratching higher, before giving a final ruffle to Monsieur Charbonneau’s head. “Don’t listen to him. Go on...pick your discards…”
Athos watched Porthos tap the cards he’d laid out for the cat, inviting him to do – something – with them. He again questioned if he’d overindulged this evening. “I can’t believe this.” Shrugging, he interrupted his thoughts with a sip of wine.
Monsieur Charbonneau meanwhile had turned to consider Porthos’ moving fingers. Most likely wondering why they’d stopped scratching him and were wiggling atop paper scraps.
Athos smirked behind his cup thinking of the times he’d observed Porthos chatting to the cat while spreading out the cards. Nights when Porthos didn’t challenge Red Guards and other unsavory characters across Paris or accompany Athos drinking he often could be found in the company of the garrison’s resident cat. Athos suspected Aramis was entertaining Marsac as the man was hunting the cat out less than Athos had witnessed in the past.
More wine than he’d intended passed his lips when he widened them in surprise at seeing the cat nosing the cards. Monsieur Charbonneau stood over them, soft paws stepping gingerly near the edges of the flat cards. Athos lowered his cup as one dark paw slid a card toward the center of the table.
Porthos’ eyes gleamed in the firelight when they cut to Athos. He leaned closer, resting his cheek on his fist and sticking his head level with the cat’s face. “Any others?” His hand hovered over the remaining cards.
Athos sighed. A forceful breath that caught the attention of them both.
The cat let out a soft mew.
“What’sa matter?” Porthos’ voice was anything but concerned.
Athos raised a brow. He waved a hand at them both and kept his face otherwise blank.
Porthos was caught off guard by the puff of the tip of a tail swishing across his face. Monsieur Charbonneau turned and picked his way to the other corner on ‘his’ side of the table across from Porthos. Were Athos to reach out he could pet the furry mischief maker. He judged it best not to interfere in Porthos’ scheme. The cat sat on his hind legs, tail hanging off the edge of the table.
“He helped you.” Porthos nodded, raising his head off his fist to slouch back in his chair.
“For the last time – and I do mean the very last – he did not help me with cards. He nosed the cards. He poked the cards. He shoved his face at my hand for scratches...”
Athos listed the antics like an inventory of weapons. “Because he is a cat.”
He eyed the man and cat with an air of resigned determination. He didn’t believe he had to have this discussion, but it fell to him to attempt logic and reason among the absurd. “A curious one, sometimes lacking in boundaries, but not a card player.”
Coincidentally, as though he’d been personally affronted, the cat’s eyes remained on his as one forepaw extended to slide a second card forward from those Porthos had distributed.
Porthos’ chortling snicker drowned out the meow Monsieur Charbonneau uttered.
“Most amusing.” Athos said dryly. “Perhaps you may win hands by entertaining your opponents so that they do not pay attention to your own play.”
“That’s an idea, what do you think Monsieur Charbonneau? Want to learn some tricks?”
Both front legs extended along the table as Monsieur Charbonneau stretched, his tail raising as he arched his back. Dragging his back legs, he rolled his head before he dropped to his side. The dark tail swished over his remaining cards and he looked up at Porthos with a loud meow.
“Guess he wants his cards.” Porthos shrugged.
“Or attention.” Athos countered.
“Well, he can have both.” Porthos stroked his knuckles between Monsieur Charbonneau’s ears. “How many do y’want?”
Athos discarded cards from his hand, the corner of his mouth lifting in spite of his words when he looked at the reclined cat.
“And...that’s two for you.” He smiled as he slid two more cards to the cat on his right, the tail occasionally flicking Athos’ left arm as it moved back and forth. Porthos discarded and drew his own replacement cards last.
Since they’d agreed not to bet, given one player couldn’t articulate bids, Athos and Porthos laid their hands down at the same time. Athos gathered his winning hand to place the cards back in the pile, but Porthos held up one palm.
“Wait.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Can’t declare you’ve won, haven’t seen all the hands yet.”
“Perhaps he folds.” Athos said with as much sarcasm as he could infuse in his words.
Ignoring Athos’ comment, Porthos reached for the cards laying before Monsieur Charbonneau. “Yer not gettin’ away that easily.”
“No, I suppose I must be subjected to the fullest extent of this farce.” Athos complained.
“Well, look at that.” Porthos smirked at Athos, already rewarding the reclining feline with gentle strokes.
“Congratulations seem in order…” Athos slid his cards to the center pile. “I am only unclear to whom.”
Porthos gathered up the winning hand and pulled the other cards over. “Play again?”
“I think our third would like to quit while you’re ahead.” Athos nodded his head at Monsieur Charbonneau.
Porthos glanced over to where the cat’s face was propped on top of his two crossed paws, eyeing them through slitted eyes.
He reached over and laid his palm on the rise of shoulder blades and stroked his thumb over the soft fur, between the pointed ears. He glanced at Athos as the purring grew louder and passed the cards for him to deal.
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