Archive of Our Own

Pantalone was particularly happy to be home today. During the whole work week he had to close a lot of deals with some old partners, as well as look over plenty of budgets and loans concerning Fatui’s funds.

The couple of Harbinger meetings about their future plans also threw their own hurdles his way, which he managed to deal with spectacularly– if he could say so himself.

Besides him, Dottore also had his own work he was busy with the entire week, that the Regrator himself barely knew about. Although he was sure that the moment the two of them sat down comfortably, he would get an earful about his current troubles and ideas– like always.

Sufficed to say: both of them were busy, both saw each other only briefly during the day, while in the evening, one of them would often simply still be working, so they could barely interact.

Pantalone was really looking forward to this long weekend. Not only because it had a few extra free days, courtesy of some Snezhnayan holiday, but also because his husband was the one that had come back earlier than him– so he wouldn't have to wait for Zandik to get his final notes sorted out in their home’s office before they could relax.

The banker was smiling genuinely when he was taking off his coat and putting away his shoes, probably scaring off the couple of their maids who currently still were working in their manor. But it was his home– he had all the right to be genuine within his walls.

Although Pantalone had taken a briefcase with him from the Palace full of documents that needed to be put away, he decided to leave that task for later, first wishing to find that man that drove him insane, and smelled of chemicals no matter what.

While taking his sweet time, the Regrator sauntered over to the living room– having left his cane by the front door, since the distances in their home weren’t great –getting ever closer to that crackling fireplace, and the warmth that it always emanated, already searching for any trace of his fellow partner.

Yet, there, he found only one maid dusting away something, no trace of that doctor of his.

Deciding that he wasn’t ready to search the whole house for one sly man, he found said maid and asked of his husband’s whereabouts.

“Lord Dottore should be in the kitchen, I believe.” The woman answered simply, to the point, as was required of their staff.

“Kitchen? What is he doing there?” Pantalone knew well that the other man had quite the knack for cooking, but it wasn't often he would make something– he rather liked the food their chefs would make. While on the rare occasion he did cook, it was more usually him trying to be romantic with the banker.

And if he were honest, the Regrator would say that it was one of his favourite forms of love that the doctor would give, savouring each bite of affection turned labour turned delightful dish.

Not the point!

“To be truthful, lord, he said not to tell you anything.” The maid was hesitant, obviously wondering how her superior would react.

“Is that so?” The Doctor keeping some secrets? That's quite normal– he learns something new about the man every day, but in the kitchen? What had he done?

Something that would anger Pantalone, surely.

With his thanks to the maid, he headed off to the kitchen, pondering what in the world could've someone like Dottore have done.

Before even entering, Pantalone could already hear the doctor’s voice– he couldn't understand a word, but he felt how calm and quiet it was.

The Regrator frowned as he silently opened the door to the room, making not a single sound as he tried to find his husband with only the man’s whispers to aid him.

Finally, he was in earshot of Dottore’s words: “Eat up while you can, who knows how long you’ll stay here… Hm, I wonder if he likes cats…” For whatever reason he was also… crouching? As well as opening some sort of can, and if the Regrator strained his ears, he could hear something else shuffling.

Finally, Pantalone had found his lover, coming up to him from the back: “Hello, Doctor.”

That spooked Zandik enough to make him jump up to his feet, turning around, all while making a racket with that mystery can. “Oh! Hah! I didn’t see you there! Good evening.” The man managed to sound completely composed by the end of the sentence.

Although nothing could fool the banker’s nose– as it appeared, that aforementioned can was most likely filled with salmon, and just faintly, he could smell something foreign from Il Dottore’s side.

That smell was actually very similar to… his shampoo?

“Dear, what are you hiding in your arms? I can smell it perfectly, you know, and I heard you talking with something.” To be frank, the banker was less angry at not knowing something, and more curious about what was making the doctor act so odd.

“You must’ve been imaging things, love, say, how was your–” 

As if to illustrate a point, the thing in the doctor’s arms let out an angry meow that echoed in the quiet kitchen.

It took a good moment for any of the two men to speak up again, as both were simply frozen in their places, neither knowing how to exactly react.

“Doctor,” Pantalone began, unsure about everything, even his own existence at this moment, “is that a cat you’re holding?”

Another good moment of silence, before, as much as the banker could here, Dottore ended up petting the cat, making it purr almost instantly. “Yes…”

“Doctor, why do you have a cat in your arms? Where did it come from?”

“I–” it was almost laughable, hearing the great Doctor stutter at having been found holding some random feline. “I didn’t find it, if that’s what you’re asking– A few weeks ago, when there was that snowstorm, a maid– Aimee, I think –found it by the doorstep, and took it in–”

“This cat has been here for over two weeks?!” Pantalone just couldn’t believe it– how had he missed a whole cat while actively working and living here?!

“Yes, although, if it helps, I didn't know of its existence from the very start either, and when I first saw it, I thought of just getting rid of it, but…” a pause, during which Zandik shuffles for a moment, turning his head to look at something specific, “but when I saw that it was sick– walking around with an infected eye, and the other– glossy and cloudy, I just couldn’t.” The man sighs, as if letting out something he has been holding in for a long while.

Meanwhile, Pantalone stirs his thoughts, overviewing the situation both of them found themselves in, weighing all the positives and negatives.

“I think…” the banker takes one more moment to reconsider, ”I think it can stay, although you said it had an infected eye?” He tries to look at the doctor, who seems to be playing with the feline still cuddled in his arms.

“Yes, but I have already removed it– it was beyond healing –and if you will question if, er, she has any other diseases, don't: she's fully healthy beyond her sight.” Il Dottore seems determined, seemingly comforted by the fact that both agree to keep the cat.

Pantalone hums for another minute. “Well, I guess, a cat walking around the house won’t cause too much trouble. Not that I would know…” He tried to finally touch the cat too, extending his hand, where it landed on the oddly shaped skull. “Say, dear, what breed is she?”

The doctor seems to spring to life at that question, as if remembering an old fond memory– a rarity: “Ah, she’s a Sumerian!”

The Regrator looked up at that: “What?”

As it so happened, there was a special breed of cat originating from Sumeru– with a long coat, a shorter-than-usual muzzle, small ears, and an almost forever frown embedded onto their face. How a cat from such a warm place arrived in the coldest city on Teyvat, it was anyone’s guess. Although Zandik guessed that she had run away from the previous owner, or perhaps, was thrown out.

Not like anyone was missing a particularly exotic cat in the towns around them.

All of this was explained to the banker while Zandik was talking the his ear off about the breed and his personal experience with cats– one of the couple of things he sounded fond of while remembering his days in his motherland.

The banker had only thought of cats as transactional creatures, similar to him, he supposed– if you feed them your scraps, they’ll keep the rats and mouses away, maybe even catch a bug or another. He hadn't thought of them as… companion worthy.

Although he heard of some of his other business partners participating in animal auctions, paying good sums of money for cats. Pantalone saw it as a horrible investment: they didn't accumulate value, only lost it, while their best function– keeping rodents and bugs away from food –was something replaced by maids and butlers, no need for pseudo-wild animals inside your home. That's not even to mention their small lifespan, which could be made even shorter due to some disease.

And their household wasn’t that much different from his colleagues’– they didn't have a need for a rat hunter.

But he wasn’t a great banker because he couldn’t adapt– he was sure that he would get used to the feline fast enough, maybe even see some sort of new value in the species as a whole.

With the matters of a newfound permanent resident in their home sorted, the evening quickly came to a close, and the couple found themselves back in their bedroom after a good dinner.

And while Pantalone was finishing taking care of his hair for the night, he heard the ajar door of the bathroom open further, followed by a “mrp!” sound.

Spooked, the banker instantly turned towards the admittedly small feline, almost ready to strike her down if she moved another inch.

Although, when he remembered that the cat was almost as blind and clueless about the world as he was, he relaxed, continuing his routine. “Looking around, huh? You’ll find no food here, you should rather return to the first floor.” At this moment, the black-haired man realised that they hadn’t given their cat a name– something that made it hard to call upon her.

He looked down at his legs out of instinct when he felt something shuffling near them– the same cat with her long fur and even longer tail. She didn’t seem to care that she had triggered such a reaction from her new owner: simply strolling by, looking and sniffing around on silent paws.

The banker silently cursed the feline for scaring him for the second time, and decided to finish up as fast possible, shuffling to his and the doctor’s shared bed, where the other man was already half sleep.

For a moment, when he was finally under the covers, already starting to drift asleep right beside his glorified heat generator of a husband, he heard something jump on the bed, slowly making way to the pair and the space between them.

Awfully confident she was, in a foreign home and in a foreign room.

Pantalone tried his best to uselessly glare at the creature, wishing to scare her off, so she wouldn’t take away his heat source. Because if he knew something about cats, it was that they loved warm places, and they loved occupying those warm spots, just to absorb all the heat like the selfish animals they are. 

Amidst the feline approaching, and the Regrator trying to shuffle to somehow deter her from coming closer, Zandik had awoken, humming in interest at the odd scene unfolding on their bed. “Love, what the hell are you doing? Let the cat come here, she doesn’t bite– I think –there’s enough space for all of us.”

Although the Regrator was ready to protest, Dottore beat him to it, urging the cat closer with a whispery sound, humming a bit when it answered and came closer to him, meowing purring and rubbing her waging tail in the banker’s face.

After the blind man groaned enough, the cat ended up settling in the space between the two men, effectively hogging both of their warmth, all while Pantalone was left without direct access to his primary heat source.

But, silently, a portion of that discomfort was forgotten with the rhythmic purring of the feline, as well as the comfort that the fluffy fur brushing against the man's cheek gave, as he fell into a slumber.

But only a portion.

When the Regrator wakes up, it is now early Saturday, with the sun only peaking through, only running its fingertips over their bedroom, bringing in only a touch of light– dark enough for Pantalone not to be forced to close his eyes.

The banker tries to sit up, start his day, but a heavy weight upon his chest stops him– makes it hard to breathe too.

Instantly, his heart rate picks up, mind already running through all the actions he can take to save his life, and his hand moves to grasp and get that thing away that's currently suffocating–

And he feels fur.

His head hits another shock– the thing that is currently trying to suffocate him is furry.

Pantalone tries to think for a moment longer then, and realises that it is actually their newfound Sumerian cat that is currently laying on his chest, presumably sleeping, not even thinking about what her weight can do to the person below her.

Or, actually, she probably knows well, just doesn't care.

At this, the Regrator curses loudly enough so that the cat may hear his anger, accidentally waking up his husband from his slumber again.

“What are you so angry about?” Zandik shuffles, propping upon his elbows to see what all the unusual cussing is about.

“She keeps scaring me half to death, and now she's trying to kill me!” The banker half whispers while complaining.

“Is that so?” The doctor hums, reaching out to pet the cat and scratch behind her ear, downplaying it all.

“Yes– she– it's almost like she wants to scare me and make me miserable.” The man groans, giving up while laying on the bed, accepting his fate.

“It's only been one evening since she has become an official household member– I think you both just need time to get used to everything.” When Zandik sees that his words aren't quite reaching the other, he switches his attention fully to the banker, trying to sort the loose strands of hair on his face. “Give her a chance, will you? If you had given up on me after the first time I tried to smuggle out mora from your iron grip, we wouldn't be here.”

That idea intrigued the Regrator, and as per usual, he found himself agreeing to his partner even if he didn't quite like It. “You raise a good point. Well done.” He sighed, his hands going to his eyes to rub the sleepiness still left on them.

Pantalone could practically hear the Doctor smiling wide, happy that he had won this time.

After that whole incident on their bed, their day stared soon enough: after changing clothes into something comfortable, but formal still, they went downstairs, heading for the dining room where breakfast was served, all while greeting every maid and butler they passed.

Not like there were many still working in their house in the first place– with the upcoming national holiday, as well as both of the Harbingers wanting more privacy, a lot of them took a couple of extra days off.

The banker quite liked these deals with their workers– the off days they would sometimes give them kept the morale up. And the fact that compared to other estates, their house was smaller, hence easier to take care of, as well as the two of them being fine employers– only really paying attention to each other when they were home –pushed their employees to become much more loyal, less likely to leave or change their job.

For the maids and butlers, all of this made their positions comfortable, for Pantalone, it meant less turnover, some mora saved during the off days and overall less complaining from the employees.

Just thinking about all the mora he has saved with his brilliant plans makes him happier while eating his food at the table.

And just when he thinks he's safe, he hears the meows of one frustrated cat approaching, entering the dining room.

But the Regrator remembers that he should give the feline another chance, and so, he tries his best to relax, focusing on the food in front of him.

Il Dottore, the oddly cat person that he is, happily greets the feline, urging it to come to him, so he may give her his attention: “Morning– oh you haven't a name yet, huh? We should probably give you one.” The man turns his head to face his husband: “What do you think? What name would fit her?”

The banker chews on that thought, going through his head, when he realizes: “What colour even is she?” He knows that certain coats are more rare and sought after, hence more valuable, hence more important to emphasize.

“Ah, right– her fur is completely black, while her eye resembles one cloudy amber.” The man sounds so gleeful talking about one simple cat, that the banker is almost jealous of the rawness of his emotions.

“I would personally name her Devil, I think.” Pantalone idly mused.

“I'm not letting a cat be called that, love.” Although Zandik sounded frustrated, with the bite in his words, it was more likely he was simply passionate about the animal. “I'm not a fan of naming things, so you'll have to choose a good name for her, that doesn't insult her instantly.”

That earned Dottore a scoff from the esteemed banker, who now tried to actually think of a fine name to give to something he cannot see and can barely imagine. Lack of experience with cats is also keeping him from feeling favourable towards her.

“How about Sha Gua then?” The Regrator smiled like a mischievous cat.

“Are you serious? ‘Dummy'?” Zandik could not look less impressed.

“Oh fine, fine,” Pantalone took another bite of his breakfast and thought for a while more, “Niu Niu then– I've got nothing else.”

“Ox… stubborn… hm that's quite alright– while she was hidden away from you, she would often follow around the staff and demand food…”

At the reminder that there was a practically wild animal wandering around their house for a couple of weeks unbeknownst to him, Pantalone’s expression becomes strained, a hair away from something unpleasant.

After the breakfast, the pair of Harbingers spends their free time leisurely, always in each other's proximity– playing a couple rounds of chess, sorting through some files they both keep in their shared office in the house, the Regrator reading some book for fun while the doctor tinkers with an odd piece of technology.

And yet, it is after a light lunch, while the two end up discussing work related matters in their lounge, that the cat who had disappeared since breakfast emerged once more.

Pantalone decides to pay little attention to the feline, continuing on with his speaking even as he hears Niu Niu approach them: “…Since last Tuesday I had met with Leo, I really do think expanding the printing house in the third sector would gather a sizeable amount of income, especially, if we could print in other languages– we are quite lacking on the Inazuman front.”

“But we can’t exactly export to Inazuma, you know this well,” Niu Niu, amidst the exchanged foreign words, has found the couch they’re both sitting on, and was thinking about jumping on it– to which Zandik barely casts a glance at her, not trying to lose his train of thought, “that’s not even accounting for the shipping costs– although, I bet, you have already figured out some kind of way to smuggle books into Inazuma, hm?”

The banker scoffs: “Of course, that’s why Leo from Mondstadt intrigued me,” the cat silently jumps up on the couch, having gained enough courage, escaping the earshot of a relaxed Pantalone, “he showed proof of how he has been smuggling dozens of–”

Niu Niu decides that the best place to go to now was towards the banker, and to find a nice spot to rest somewhere on his lap.

All while, the Regrator is malfunctioning like some robot– having completely forgotten what he was talking about, if only due to the sheer audacity of the overly confident cat.

While the doctor opposite of him laughs at the absurdity: “Oh, what happened, my love? Cat got your tongue?” He chuckles at his own joke, finding enjoyment in how the Sumerian cat is trying her best to mould into the form of Pantalone.

It is after the feline settles that the banker seems to have regained his composure enough to speak: “I hate you, Zandik, for leaving me to fend for myself.” He has his hands held a good distance from the cat, as if fearing she is somehow contagious.

“Oh, you– Niu Niu is the most friendly cat I’ve seen, calm down, she just wants to sleep by you, nothing more…” The man smiles with his sharp teeth, observing how the richest man on Teyvat slowly relaxes, letting the small animal calm him down.

A few moments of silence pass. 

“And now? What am I supposed to do with her?” Pantalone sounds almost frustrated at not having an answer.

“Sit in that exact same place until she skitters off, in the meantime, we can continue to discuss Inazuman books.”

The Regrator hums, agreeing to the proposed idea, but still being stuck at the cat part of it all.

Was this what owning a cat meant? Letting it sleep on you whenever it wants? Feeding and taking care of it like some child? Letting it control and use you like some mere tool?

Was this what everyone was so crazy about?

…Perhaps it wasn’t so bad– he could get used to it, eventually.

Over the next couple of days of the holiday and after, in a half empty manor, the pair of Harbingers and the staff get used to the new member of the household.

Although, it appears that it is the feared and ruthless banker that needs the most time to get used to a single black and blind feline, who roams around the house freely.

With every other day, he lets her get more and more comfortable with him, lets her cuddle him longer, and lets himself fall asleep with her, no longer fearing that she might suffocate him.

It feels good, the banker realizes, trusting a smart animal, having a small companion that seems to love him.

And the banker realizes that he's starting to care more and more about Niu Niu, as if he has already secured a strong bond with her, as if he is already feeling fond of her.

And although it was obvious love at first sight between the doctor and the cat– perhaps the same motherland made for a great foundation –their staff also looked like they were forming a bond with the feline.

This was nicely illustrated by a moment shared between Niu Niu and one of their employees, that Pantalone coincidentally overheard, while heading somewhere.

If he was remembering correctly, the maid, named Aimee, was crouching on the floor, petting and rubbing Niu Niu, saying something like: “Ohohoho you would look so süß with an eye patch on your missing eye… oh! And maybe then a green wig, like from–”

As if to question the proposed ideas, the cat meowed, interrupting.

Although it didn't earn some grunt or a sound of disapproval from Aimee, only a squeal of apparent happiness, followed by even more aggressive petting and supposed affirming words in Mondstadt's tongue.

Truly, that one incident really showed what a cute and furry cat can do to people, and how it can change the collective atmosphere of a place.

If the Regrator was instead his dear husband, he would say that this has been a fruitful experiment that has given a lot of useful data, that could very well be used for further research or perhaps even while planning certain secretive Fatui missions that included infiltration.

But, the banker was himself, so all he could think was how could he possibly turn cats– not Niu Niu herself, of course –into Mora and profit.

And as enticing as the idea was, he ended up shelving it away, to be inspected later on, during actual work hours, not when he was supposed to be resting for once in his life.

The other reason he couldn’t put more time into thinking about that new way of earning profit, was because on the very last day of their time off, a most unexpected guest appeared at their doorstep– The Sixth Harbinger, Scaramouche.

The arrival wasn't even whispered about in a telegram or anything, so barely anyone even greeted him at the doorstep when he first arrived. Although, with some odd twist of fate, it was Il Dottore who ended up welcoming the puppet first out of the two Harbingers– somehow being the person who the Balladeer was also searching for. 

Pantalone himself only went to see what was the fuss about when he heard a both foreign and familiar voice downstairs, after which he followed from where his husband’s confident sentences came from, and ended up in the living room.

“Although these changes aren't structural, they are still pushing the boundaries of what I can allow to be altered at this point in the construction, Scaramouche.” The Doctor was stern, clinical, exactly what his job required. 

The Sixth retorts in his usual half-annoyed manner: “With the way you are usually late with your projects, I think that you could easily allow these changes, even if they pushed the deadline a–” The puppet had noticed the banker creeping from the doorway, inspecting their conversation, so he shut his jaw tight.

Unlike with Dottore, before he lost his sight, he never had seen any type of portrait or picture of the Balladeer, so he hadn’t formed a strict silhouette of the puppet, less so his characteristics and quirks.

But, after getting to know the Second, he had explained a lot about the oddly short Harbinger among their ranks– ignoring Pulcinella and his unique situation of course. He told him that Scaramouche was a disposed puppet of the Shogun, meant to embody and replace her, although he never quite looked like her. Even more so, Scaramouche appeared as an average teenager: moody, easily irritated, as well as having a certainly unique point of view of the world and beyond.

Of course, Il Dottore had also told the Regrator what he had done in Inazuma so many years ago now, how he recruited the grieving puppet into their ranks, how he had done it because he believed that a divine creation would be a lovely object to research, and so on.

After getting to know Zandik better, Pantalone also understood the bigger, and more personal reason he was recruited.

And after even more time, after he and doctor had been close for a while, he noticed how his perspective about the actions he had done to get Scaramouche here, had changed. In the past– as well as all the younger segments currently –talked about that mission pridefully, like it was a great achievement, showing off his genius and ingenuity. In contrast, was his older self, who, for whatever reason, started to actually reflect on his actions, and almost started to regret what he had done.

The Regrator always felt like he had the responsibility to treat the Inazuman now known as Scaramouche differently, if only because he was associated with the doctor.

He also saw the Doctor in the Balladeer, so he made an effort to treat the puppet favourably, whether it would be in daily conversations or when overviewing his monthly expenses.

He couldn't change anything, he knew that, and he sometimes thought how would the Sixth react when he ultimately learned of the truth– but even so, the Regrator still felt like he had to do something.

Il Dottore looked between the guest and his husband. “He's the one who makes sure we have the Mora to complete Fatui’s projects, there is nothing he does not already know about this.” That was his attempt to calm down the other.

But Scaramouche didn’t quite buy it. “Perhaps that's more a testament to your inability to shut up, doctor.”

Pantalone understands that this isn’t a conversation that really interests or needs him, so he offers: “I can just leave you two be, I have other matters to attend to.” Said matters were making himself a cup tea and catching up with the latest newspaper– nothing too fascinating, but the mundane was welcoming.

“No, no, this brat needs to learn a lesson– keep him company while I get those blueprints.” The Doctor directed his words to the Regrator, all while standing up and shooting a glare at the puppet.

“I am in no need of a babysitter, and your home does not garner any interest from me– I can sit still for a moment and not cause chaos, unlike you, doctor.” Scaramouche could be mistaken for a snake the way he hissed with venom while speaking.

“I do not care what you believe.” Il Dottore was moving away from the sofa the two sat at, to the banker's side, heading for the office: “Just watch over him for me, please, I don't want him wandering around our home.” The blue-haired man almost whispered those words, his tone having changed to something genuine, private, in only a matter of a second.

Pantalone simply nodded, letting the man pass through him, and then making his own way to an armchair that should overlook the Balladeer, settling in it.

And while as much as the banker and Scaramouche had in common, neither let out a sound while they were like this and alone. As if they both had signed a contract of muteness.

The Ninth couldn't speak about the Sixth, but he personally felt uncomfortable, since he was forced to speak to a person that was different from him in age, interests, and ideas all while having no idea how to bridge the gap between their beliefs.

It was odd– Pantalone is often the one in control: in control of the situation, the people, the atmosphere, sometimes even the outcome, and here he was dumbfounded when faced with a colleague.

He has spoken with Scaramouche before this, he knows that, but all of those times were in a professional environment, under certain circumstances while discussing certain topics.

It felt like the puppet's presence threw a wrench into the charismatic machine that is the Regrator's mind.

But somehow, some twisted god had heard their shared silence, and decided to end it with introducing a new variable into the situation– Niu Niu.

She came in slowly, strutting along and meowing, as if trying to either mimic echolocation, or looking for a response from someone who might interest her.

It was the Balladeer who first noticed the cat and acknowledged her: “You have a cat?”

The passiveness in his voice surprised Pantalone, although he didn't show it, rather happy to see they had found some type of middle ground: “Indeed, although she has officially joined our household not that long ago, she has fitted in nicely.”

The feline sauntered over to the two that were eyeing her, would It be because she heard their voices and was seeking pets and attention, or would it be because she had smelt a new scent– Scaramouche.

Niu Niu started smelling and sniffing the Inazuman puppet when she got close, which first surprised him, although he relaxed soon enough.

Pantalone could only guess that he was somehow used to cats, or had an affinity for them– not like he had ever heard anything about the Balladeer and cats in the past.

Soon enough, the overly friendly cat jumped up on the couch, getting closer to the Sixth, asking him for love by bumping her head into him.

For whatever reason, he conceded– the puppet ran his cold fingers through the cat’s fur, allowing for an unfamiliar soft moment, that the banker could never have expected from the likes of Scaramouche.

It was again the guest that broke the settled silence between the two Harbingers: “The cat is missing an eye, did you know that?” He asks a question but the way he speaks sounds closer to an accusation.

“Yes, it was infected, Zan– er,” they both knew of his husband’s true name, but it wasn't something to be uttered easily in company, “the Doctor took it out, since it was the best for her.”

Scaramouche seemed satisfied, only giving a quiet hum in response– probably the nicest thing you may hear from him.

A couple of moments of more silence pass, with Pantalone feeling like he might doze off, and the cat starting to purr and truly basking in the attention and love that she is getting from unfamiliar hands.

“She seems content with living here. You must be taking good care of her.” The fearsome Balladeer speaks once more, this time in a quiet tone, like he didn't want to say it really.

Pantalone thinks over the words. “Niu Niu is one lucky cat that’s for sure– went from living in the snowy streets, to being pampered in a mansion.” He offered a smile, but it came out more simple and less sly than usual– something true.

After that, neither said another thing, both focused on the purring feline, and oddly enjoying the moment of rare calm in their lives.

Only when Dottore returned, carrying quite a lot of rolled paper, that conversation is born again, and the Regrator is able to slip away, leaving the puppet, the cat, and the doctor together, to discuss something or other.

The banker thinks of buried things as well as people now dead that he can still remember, as he finds his way to the office of the mansion.

He thinks of the Doctor and the Balladeer, and then of a certain fluffy cat with a squished face who only desires love, in the end.


When Dottore and the puppet finish, and the former goes off somewhere to the depth of their mansion, complaining and muttering under his breath, it is Pantalone who ends up seeing the Sixth out.

They haven't spoken a word really, and Scaramouche is just buttoning whatever coat he has brought with himself, that he perhaps doesn't even need for survival, when he suddenly speaks: “Your cat… what's her name?” He stands still, simply looking the blind banker in his closed eyes.

“Niu Niu– I named her myself.”

The puppet blinks, nodding, turning to leave the manor in the same quiet way he had entered. “Goodbye, Regrator.”

And the door shuts, and the guest has left, and Pantalone can breathe a sigh of relief and go off to do his own thing again, having finished with the odd variable in the holiday day.

While walking to another part of their house, he hears Niu Niu pitter-patter away, obviously having seen the Harbinger out in her own way.

That earned a chuckle from him, since he found the cat's duality of friendliness and over-awareness cute.

Pantalone is on his way home alone once more.

Zandik had already returned earlier, having somehow finished earlier than anticipated for the first time ever probably, and is probably sulking around the house, itching to do something stimulating for his head, like always.

The banker wonders himself, with the approaching weekend, what even were their plans, or if it all was open.

The Regrator is just sorting a couple of his papers in his briefcase before soon arriving at the manor, after which he quickly wishes goodbye to the driver. After leaving the comfort of the cabin, he dares step into the cold outside, where he says hello to the stationed guards and then inside– maids and butlers. Only then he fully realizes that the two Harbingers were actually free from any constraints this weekend.

It was odd, but not unwelcome.

After he had given out a couple of orders to the staff, who soon left him alone, and then successfully shed the thick layers of warmth from himself, Niu Niu came almost running to him, meowing the whole way, the new bell around her collar jingling with every step.

The cat kept shuffling against his legs, rubbing her raised tail, demanding attention from the banker, even when he tried to get his way to the living room.

But he was only so strong, and so, affected by the constant meowing and insistence and stubbornness, he ended up crouching and chuckling, giving the feline all the love she wanted and craved so much: “Oh you, are you happy now, Niu Niu? Happy that I dropped everything for you?” He kept smiling while petting that long and soft fur.

Somehow, that almost instantly made Niu Niu purr, which made her slowly fall on the floor, showing her stomach to the banker, letting him simply give more and more love to her.

But Pantalone knew better: he hummed a short sound and stood up, knowing that the cat will most likely follow him, right by his legs, while he makes his way to the living room, where he expects one doctor patiently waiting, having not welcomed his own husband at the door.

And just as always, just as he expects, Niu Niu is soon off the floor, back to the side of one of her owners, all smiles and purrs.

It almost feels surreal to the Regrator, to imagine days or times when this wasn't the normality, when he didn't like and love Niu Niu as he does now.

He knows that those days did exist and weren't that long ago, but for whatever reason, they don't seem correct– more like an odd joke told by a stranger.

He wonders then, if he has really changed in such a small span of time, for one small animal, that only coincidentally appeared near their household.

Pantalone thinks about how the cat that is now trying her best to keep up with his pace, is almost as blind as him, dons a coat the same shade as most of his wardrobe, all while being from a foreign land far away, where warmth and humidity rules.

He wonders if Niu Niu ever feels like a fish out of the water.

He coincidentally wonders about how he felt when he arrived in Snezhnaya, as well as how Zandik felt when he first stepped foot on this frozen land.