Puddles and Whiskers, WBD Post Meeting Car Ride

This is section is small, but important. Previous versions of this section had more of a “something is happening” and the “characters know things” feel than I ever wanted. This ends with Puddles and Whiskers actually having a plan, something they are smart enough to do and should have done in previous versions. Ah well…what are you gonna do, writing and all. These changes allow me to straighten out other parts of the story to make a cohesive narrative. Enjoy.

Previously.

Post Meeting Car Ride

“Um…,” Puddles said.

“Please escort us back to our car,” Whiskers said to Monotone.

One express elevator ride up two floors, ten pieces of bland corporate art, six white hallways, and not a single word back to the landing pad entrance. Monotone and Glare stopped at the door.

“Did you see Doctor Marlowe’s face when I mentioned Tumbledown?” Whiskers asked standing next to the passenger door.

“Behind the window and holo I couldn’t tell if he was smiling, scowling, or passing gas and neither could you,” Puddles replied testily, ears flattening.

“Fine. Tell me this,” Whiskers said as he opened the door, “why would anyone hire us to find people who do not exist?”

Sitting down with a thud ears still flat, Puddles answered, “No clue, but someone did hire us to clean out that gang.”

Exiting Titan Industries landing pad and merging with traffic heading into Stroud, Puddles set the car on auto-drive and sat back, fuming about the last day. Whiskers watched traffic fly around them in silence, thinking about the last.

Ten minutes of fuming and thinking passed before Puddles shattered the silence, “We need to do something.”

“Such as?”

“Find Doctor Dan and shake answers out of him!” Puddles said angrily, “That is my first inclination.”

“Mine as well. However, we do not have any real information on Doctor Dan. We need information.”

“We have information,” Puddles said relaxing, “We know the name of the gang…”

“We have vid of the clean room…”

“We have vid of Doctor Dan…”

“An inkling that Titan Industries is involved…”

“We have information to work this out,” Puddles finished with an emphatic arm pump.

“Call Chuck and have him meet us at the office tomorrow. We will start working through the case.”

“Already making the call.”

Puddles and Whiskers, WBD Back To The Present

Never fails to amuse me when I find after two or three edits something simple overlooked, such as hear instead of here. This section was more of that kind of edit and some cutting down and clearing up of details. I am still not geeked about this section, so you may see it again soon before I finish up the remaining chapters.

Previously.

Back to the Present…

“I wish these alarms would shut off,” Whiskers said louder than he would have liked. “They know we are here.”

Shrugging Puddles stepped around piles of garbage, constantly on the lookout for dangers or messes on the uneven floor. Alarms blaring, they moved cautiously through several tunnels and rooms, other than garbage, debris, and graffiti all empty. Standing in the middle of the third graffiti covered room; Whiskers looked at his skin watch two hours since they started this search. Puddles kicked over a table, scattering empty cans and vape inhalers. Her physical expression of frustration mirroring his internal frustration.

Walking over to Puddles he shouted, “They are not here. If they ever were. Looks like whomever was here left in a hurry.”

“I know. I want to know for sure,” gesturing at lopsided doorway, “let’s finish this up. Maybe we will get some answers.”

“If nothing else find the alarm controls.”

Puddles smirked before heading out the doorway. Whiskers nearly stumbled over Puddles peeking around a corner paw held up, something ahead. Stepping aside, Puddles gave Whiskers room to look around the corner. A white metal reinforced metal door, ajar bright light shining through the gap.

“No need to be quiet,” Puddles said.

Hefting her frying pan, she strode to the door and waited for Whiskers to catch up.

“Ready?”

“Yes,” he said drawing his katana stepping through the door into the bright room.

Following him in, frying pan and pistol ready, “Shit these lights are bright,” she exclaimed.

“The room is clear,” Whiskers announced.

They stood in white room, three white sealed suits hanging on pegs next to the door. Every surface in the room was white. Without warning the alarms shut off.

“Found the alarm controls,” Puddles announced from the other side of the room, “Everything else on this terminal has been wiped. Same with whatever they were working on at the tables.”

“Record what you find,” Whiskers ordered as he pulled out his phone, “hopefully someone can tell us what all of this was for.”

A half-hour recording holo-vid of the room and an adjacent room; the only visible clue small piles of white ash on tabletops and in cabinets. Whiskers found an exit. Following the exit tunnel to a hidden landing pad took another half-hour.

“This was unexpected,” Whiskers said.

“Feels like a set-up to me,” Puddles replied.

“Who and why?”

“Good questions. Let’s get out of here before someone comes back.”

“I need a shower,” Whiskers said looking at his gore-covered body.

Puddles and Whiskers, WDB An Hour Later

Previously.

An Hour Later…

Standing next to their car after taking Chuck home, Whiskers asked for a second time, “Are you sure about this?”

“It’s a sneak and peek,” gesturing towards Tumbledown, “shouldn’t be a problem at all. You got your gear?”

Adjusting his katana and tightening his belt, Whiskers nodded affirmative.

Finding Black Myst territory took less time than they expected, gangers walking around made entry difficult. An hour of searching dead ends, alleyways, rubble-strewn corridors, and tunnels they found an unguarded battered door covered in Black Myst graffiti. The thump of music from behind the door shook dust loose onto both of them. Puddles drew her pistol and frying pan and stood before the door. Whiskers, one paw on his katana, used the other to yank the door open.

Puddles leapt into the room, pistol and frying pan ready. Twenty-four drug hazed eyes starred back at her, the dozen vapeheads clustered around the room and a battered purple did not react other than to take a hit from a vaporizer.

“Nobody move!” Puddles shouted leveling her gun at the group.

All twelve vapeheads bolted for the door, rushing past Puddles, knocking her aside in their eagerness to escape. Puddles, positive she saw someone matching the daughter’s description did her best to keep an eye on her. Unfortunately, two black and red clad gangers, previously hidden by the vapeheads, stood up from the couch kicking an unconscious vapehead out the way.

“We’re moving,” the larger ganger growled while reaching for her waist.

“So this is how you want to play it,” Puddles said aiming her pistol at the mooks.

The door slammed into Whiskers as the vapeheads bolted out of the room. He saw a blonde haired woman run past.

The larger mook pulled a vaporizer from her waist and took a hit, instead of the euphoric glazed expression Puddles expected, pure rage and a primal scream as she charged across the room popping razorclaws and elbowblades. The other mook activated a personal bubble shield and drew a handcannon.

                “shit.”

Ducking underneath Razorclaw’s drug-fueled rage swipes, Puddles cracked her frying pan against the back of the mook’s knee. Expecting her to fall down, Puddles swung for where her head should have been. Pain flared across Puddles outstretched arm from the back swing of Razorclaw’s elbowblade. Blocking a follow through swipe of razorclaws with her frying pan Puddles came close to losing her grip from the impact. Trying to get some space, Puddles hopped back from Razorclaw.

BOOM!

Handcannon fired. A huge hole appeared in the wall next to the door. Whiskers flinched when the hole appeared in the wall, the shot killing an escaping vapehead. Eager to get into the room, Whiskers lashed out with a claw swipe, knocking the last vapehead out of the way. Whiskers charged into the room drawing his katana, the etching blazing blue.

Blocking another swipe of razorclaws with the frying pan, Puddles arm felt sore and heavy. Razorclaw was aggressive enough to keep Puddles from shooting her. Roaring and frothing at the mouth, Razorclaw swung at Puddles head, following through with elbowblades. Puddles ducked and scooted back against the wall.

BOOM!

“How about a truce?” Puddles shouted, while ducking and dodging Razaorclaw.

Razorclaw turned as Whiskers rushed past. A momentary distraction, but enough. Leaping forward, Puddles slammed her frying pan against the side of Razorclaw’s head and jammed her Manstopper into Razorclaws’ side, pulling the trigger three times rapidly.

Katana held in a low position holo-etching leaving a blue trail ran past as blood from Razorclaw sprayed over Whiskers’ left side. Handcannon could not hear Whiskers through the bubble shield and focused on killing Puddles did not react when Whiskers stepped through the bubbleshield. Whiskers blade passed through Handcannon’s right leg. As he swung his katana up and then down the blue trail created an arc, the katana decapitated Handcannon before he finished falling to the ground. With his foot, Whiskers deactivated the bubbleshield.

“…and that’s what you get!” With the shield down Whiskers could hear Puddles yelling at Razorclaw’s body.

Wiping the blood from his katana on Handcannon’s body Whiskers took note; one-half of his body was red and sticky.

“You look like…”

“Don’t.”

“Fine, I won’t. Guess we aren’t going to get any information from these two,” Puddles said sarcastically.

“Should we continue on?”

“Can’t be too much left. Right?” she said with a shrug.

Puddles and Whiskers, WDB Six Hours Later

The revision of Chapter 5 is finished. The last 1/3 rewritten. Enjoy. 🙂

Previously.

Six Hours Later…

Looking down at the perpetual destruction and mess that was Tumbledown, Chuck asked, “When is the City going to clean up TDown?”

“Probably never,” Puddles replied looking around. “There’s no traffic here.”

“Usually quiet,” Chuck replied off-handed, “nobody likes to come here.”

“I can see why.”

The ruins of Tumbledown covered a city block and parts stood over 50-stories tall. A few months after the disaster, before the city could begin clean up, the undesirables of the City moved in, claiming the ruins as theirs. After several newsworthy attempts to move the squatters out, the City moved on. The residents of Tumbledown had to make their own way. Which is how Tumbledown grew and continues to grow into a sprawling and thriving city block, ignored by the city until something comes to a head.

“Look at that,” Chuck said excitedly pointing at Tumbledown.

“What am I looking for?” Whiskers asked, looking around from the driver’s seat.

Puddles nudged him, getting his attention pointing to the left, “That.”

Hovering over the ruins two police cruisers moved their spotlights over the ruins, stopping to highlight a work of art on the side of the remains of a tower. Nearby, a sensationalist vehicle filmed the entire scene. Below residents took cover.

The red navigation light blinked three times. “Torkal’s is right over there,” Chuck indicated.

“Where are the parking lights?” Puddles asked with some worry.

Descending all three of them looked out the window at a blank spot in the city. No lights. The closer they approached details emerged from the darkness, a black windowless building, a parking lot with a few vehicles, a person or two walking to somewhere.

“That is amazing,” Puddles said with awe. “I just noticed that there is a building on top of Torkal’s.”

“Torkal’s is the ground floor to the tower,” Chuck informed them. “There are no connections with the tower, people live and shop above, rarely knowing about the bar that is the first floor of their building. That’s lower Stroud for you.”

“Cannot say I have much experience,” Whiskers mumbled.

“I do,” Chuck said flatly. “Give me ten minutes before you enter.”

Clasping her holster in place, Puddles nodded. Whiskers nodded as he took in the surroundings; across the four-lane street an edge of Tumbledown, a mass of stone, metal, glass, haphazard construction, and other signs of life. The normal background noise of the City, almost non-existent. The normal sense of movement and life, also almost non-existent. The few people on the streets kept their heads down, moving quickly from one place to another.

“What a shit hole,” Puddles complained, “Do they pay extra for darkness?”

“They just might,” Whiskers replied with a smirk. Looking around one last time, “Ready to go?”

“Ready.”

The exterior of Torkal’s, light absorbing black, no windows, no sounds emanating from inside, and one undecorated black door. Standing in front of the door and looking up, Puddles and Whiskers could see where the rest of the tower resumed from the top of Torkal’s.

“Amazing,” Whiskers said after an appreciative whistle.

The door opened smoothly, the loud music pushed past them, and the bright multi-colored lights blinded both of them. Stepping inside the door closed quickly. Whiskers stepped to the right of the door taking in the scenery. Puddles searched for Chuck.

Against the back of the bar, a long unadorned bar with mismatched barstools spaced intermittently. Leaning against the bar, a human male with long hair. An unknown band filled the space with noise. Multi-colored lights meant for the stage flashed everywhere. Scattered throughout the rest of the space, more mismatched tables and chairs. Surprisingly, there were less than twenty people in the bar, including the band. Puddles nudged Whiskers in the ribs, nodding in the direction of Chuck and Scar sitting at a table in the corner. Whiskers noticed that other than Chuck, nobody payed any attention to them or their weapons.

Chuck stood up next to Puddles as they approached the table, “You found the place.” Leaning close to Puddles, “Don’t start any of your shit.”

Puddles took a step back, ears back, tail lashed twice, before she regained her composure, “You got it.”

Watching the exchange an illietheril woman wearing a grey and black urban camouflage shirt. Her neon green hair spiked tall with tiny motes of lights rising from her scalp to explode in a tiny burst of light at each tip. When Puddles stepped back, her namesake scar pinched her face into a fiercer expression.

“Sit,” she barked at them over the music.

Pulling a chair out, Whiskers sat down across from her. Chuck sat next to her. Puddles glaring at Scar stood behind Whiskers keeping an eye on her and the room.

“Scar,” Chuck gesturing towards Puddles and Whiskers, “Puddles and Whiskers.”

She nodded at both of them. She leaned close to Chuck’s ear, whispering into his ear, sitting back alertly when the front door opened. Scar relaxed after the person walked to the bar. Chuck stood up and headed to the bar, Whiskers felt Puddles tense expecting a confrontation. A few minutes later Chuck returned with a pitcher and four glasses.

“Drink,” Scar “asked.” While Chuck poured and served Scar asked, “Numb says you two need some local information, what’cha need to know?”

“Numb?” Puddles mumble asked to herself.

Whiskers passed her a glass of beer. Taking a sip of his, he tried to hide his distaste. Pulling his tablet from a pocket, he slid the table over to Scar, “Our client believes his daughters are hanging out there with their boyfriends.”

Scar’s barking laugh topped the music, “Here? He told you here?”

“Yes.”

“He wants you two dead then. No way. No how,” she finished with a slashing motion.

“Why not?”

Scar starred at Whiskers questioning his intelligence. She looked askance at Chuck, “They don’t know?”

Chuck shrugged and took another drink.

Gesturing at the tablet, which she shoved back, “This is Black Myst territory. They don’t have girlfriends. They have guns and vapeheads.”

“Is it possible his daughters are vapeheads?”

“Anything is possible in Tumbledown,” she responded off the cuff, “Only way you’re going to know is to ask.”

Puddles set her beer down, “Then we ask.”

“Then you die.” Scar stood up, whispered something to Chuck before leaving without a second glance at Puddles or Whiskers.

“We need to do some recon and fast,” Puddles urgently said to Whiskers.

“I agree.”

Puddles and Whiskers, WDB Working Chapter 5, 2

Okay, ugh on the title, but you get the drift, Chapter 5 needs a lot of work and as I am satisfied with each bit of work I bring it here. I know seems like a shifty way to add posts, but honestly this is how I work. I haven’t had this much work on a single chapter since I started. To make things a bit easier this post is a combination of yesterday (not the old stuff) and the new work. Oh the process of this writer. Hopefully someone is learning something. 🙂

****

Looking down at the perpetual destruction and mess that was Tumbledown, Chuck asked, “When is the City going to clean up TDown?”

“Probably never,” Puddles replied looking around. “There’s no traffic here.”

“Usually quiet,” Chuck replied off-handed, “nobody likes to come here.”

“I can see why.”

The ruins of Tumbledown covered a city block and parts stood over 50-stories tall. A few months after the disaster, before the city could begin clean up, the undesirables of the City moved in, claiming the ruins as theirs. After several newsworthy attempts to move the squatters out, the City moved on. The residents of Tumbledown had to make their own way. Which is how Tumbledown grew and continues to grow into a sprawling and thriving city block, ignored by the city until something comes to a head.

“Look at that,” Chuck said excitedly pointing at Tumbledown.

“What am I looking for?” Whiskers asked, looking around from the driver’s seat.

Puddles nudged him, getting his attention pointing to the left, “That.”

Hovering over the ruins two police cruisers moved their spotlights over the ruins, stopping to highlight a work of art on the side of the remains of a tower. Nearby, a sensationalist vehicle filmed the entire scene. Below residents took cover.

The red navigation light blinked three times. “Torkal’s is right over there,” Chuck indicated.

“Where are the parking lights?” Puddles asked with some worry.

Descending all three of them looked out the window at a blank spot in the city. No lights. The closer they approached details emerged from the darkness, a black windowless building, a parking lot with a few vehicles, a person or two walking to somewhere.

“That is amazing,” Puddles said with awe. “I just noticed that there is a building on top of Torkal’s.”

“Torkal’s is the ground floor to the tower,” Chuck informed them. “There are no connections with the tower, people live and shop above, rarely knowing about the bar that is the first floor of their building. That’s lower Stroud for you.”

“Cannot say I have much experience,” Whiskers mumbled.

“I do,” Chuck said flatly. “Give me ten minutes before you enter.”

Clasping her holster in place, Puddles nodded. Whiskers nodded as he took in the surroundings; across the four-lane street an edge of Tumbledown, a mass of stone, metal, glass, haphazard construction, and other signs of life. The normal background noise of the City, almost non-existent. The normal sense of movement and life, also almost non-existent. The few people on the streets kept their heads down, moving quickly from one place to another.

“What a shit hole,” Puddles complained, “Do they pay extra for darkness?”

“They just might,” Whiskers replied with a smirk. Looking around one last time, “Ready to go?”

“Ready.”

The exterior of Torkal’s, light absorbing black, no windows, no sounds emanating from inside, and one undecorated black door. Standing in front of the door and looking up, Puddles and Whiskers could see where the rest of the tower resumed from the top of Torkal’s.

“Amazing,” Whiskers said after an appreciative whistle.

The door opened smoothly, the loud music pushed past them, and the bright multi-colored lights blinded both of them. Stepping inside the door closed quickly. Whiskers stepped to the right of the door taking in the scenery. Puddles searched for Chuck.

Against the back of the bar, a long unadorned bar with mismatched barstools spaced intermittently. Leaning against the bar, a human male with long hair. An unknown band filled the space with noise. Multi-colored lights meant for the stage flashed everywhere. Scattered throughout the rest of the space, more mismatched tables and chairs. Surprisingly, there were less than twenty people in the bar, including the band. Puddles nudged Whiskers in the ribs, nodding in the direction of Chuck and Scar sitting at a table in the corner. Whiskers noticed that other than Chuck, nobody paid any attention to them or their weapons.

Chuck stood up next to Puddles as they approached the table, “You found the place.” Leaning close to Puddles, “Don’t start any of your shit.”

Puddles took a step back, ears back, tail lashed twice, before she regained her composure, “You got it.”

Puddles and Whiskers, WDB Working Chapter 5

I have so many notes about Chapter 5. I really am not pleased with what I wrote and then shared with you the reader. Sorry. The very first note, the opening paragraph that sets the scene needed a lot of work. Don’t believe me or more like do not want to search through 1,600+ posts, take a look. First the original:

Standing next to their car lights from surrounding buildings, holos, vids, and other advertisements normally bright appeared to intentionally miss Torkal’s, a bar across from the South-West corner of Tumbledown. The squat black building with no windows, only a front door contrasted with the towering neighboring buildings. The only light from two working streetlights and the ambient light from the city. Music from Torkal’s competed vehicles driving or flying by, the barker’s call from drug dealers and the occasional gunshot from Tumbledown. Unlike other parts of Stroud, everyone kept their heads down, except those people looking for trouble. Puddles checked her holster three times in the last five minutes. Whiskers, calm as always, remained alert.

“What a shit hole,” Puddles reiterated for the millionth time, “Do they pay extra for darkness?”

“It is odd, the lack of city environment here.”

“Looks like the rest of the city decided to move on from here,” Puddles pointed to Tumbledown, “Seriously, why hasn’t the city done anything about that mess?”

Whiskers shrugged, “Ready?”

“Yep, let’s go.”

Now the new opening.

Looking down at the perpetual destruction and mess that was Tumbledown, Chuck asked, “When is the City going to clean up TDown?”

“Probably never,” Puddles replied looking around. “There’s no traffic here.”

“Usually quiet,” Chuck replied off-handed, “nobody likes to come here.”

“I can see why.”

The ruins of Tumbledown covered a city block and parts stood over 50-stories tall. A few months after the disaster, before the city could begin clean up, the undesirables of the City moved in, claiming the ruins as theirs. After several newsworthy attempts to move the squatters out, the City moved on. The residents of Tumbledown had to make their own way. Which is how Tumbledown grew and continues to grow into a sprawling and thriving city block, ignored by the city until something comes to a head.

“Look at that,” Chuck said excitedly pointing at Tumbledown.

“What am I looking for?” Whiskers asked, looking around from the driver’s seat.

Puddles nudged him, getting his attention pointing to the left, “That.”

Hovering over the ruins two police cruisers moved their spotlights over the ruins, stopping to highlight a work of art on the side of the remains of a tower. Nearby, a sensationalist vehicle filmed the entire scene. Below residents took cover.

The red navigation light blinked three times. “Torkal’s is right over there,” Chuck indicated.

“Where are the parking lights?” Puddles asked with some worry.

Descending all three of them looked out the window at a blank spot in the city. No lights. The closer they approached details emerged from the darkness, a black windowless building, a parking lot with a few vehicles, a person or two walking to somewhere.

“That is amazing,” Puddles said with awe. “I just noticed that there is a building on top of Torkal’s.”

“Torkal’s is the ground floor to the tower,” Chuck informed them. “There are no connections with the tower, people live and shop above, rarely knowing about the bar that is the first floor of their building. That’s lower Stroud for you.”

“Cannot say I have much experience,” Whiskers mumbled.

Puddles and Whiskers, WBD One Day Ago…Over Noodles

Yesterday, I wrote about crafting a story. Today, is a good example of that. This scene takes place in one of the iconic locations in Stroud, a NiHo’s Noodle Shop. When I originally wrote this scene, I started with conversation. In later scenes details of NiHo’s were added. I spent some time finding those details and putting them here, which makes life easier for the reader, as NiHo’s is introduced and described before any of the other conversations over noodles. Enjoy. 🙂

Previously.

One day Ago…Over Noodles

NiHo’s Noodle Shacks, everywhere and easy to find, due to the bright, clashing, and gaudy neon decorations. Neon decoration bright enough that parking lot lights were unnecessary. As the neared their favorite NiHo’s, the car’s auto-shade windows activated. The moment their doors opened, a welcome holo, a non-specific female wearing a neon green and yellow kimono with NiHo logo on the shoulders, began bellowing welcome in every language in the city.

“Tang kai!”

“Un-shil ir!”

“Gaa Kha!”

“Welcome!”

Upon reaching the front door, a holo-menu with the day’s specials appeared over the top half of the door. Whiskers stepped through the door where the neon assault continued. Each round table edged with a different color neon, a neon-holo of a chubby faced non-descript yet vaguely asian looking human smiling with a bowl of steaming noodles under his chin on table tops, and four different colored neon-edged chairs at each table waged a war to be seen.

Puddles pointed to their favorite table in the back of the restaurant. The few patrons paid them no mind as they walked past. A holo-menu popped in front of them with the day’s specials highlighted in neon red, when they sat down. Seconds later, a holo-waiter materialized next to the table, a male version of the door greeter.

“Please input your orders,” the waiter announced.

A few minutes later, a human waitress wearing a neon-colored kimono and carrying a tray with three bowls of noodles approached the table. Silently, she set bowls in front of Chuck, Puddles, and Whiskers before walking away.

“Pass me the chili oil,” Puddles said to Chuck.

“Not hot enough?” he asked passing the bowl of chili oil.

Around a mouthful of noodles, “Not even close.”

Whiskers shook his head at her love of heat, picked up his tea, and resumed reading his tablet, “Are you sure this is the right Doctor Marlowe?”

“I pulled the CIS data for all registered Marlowes in the city,” Chuck replied, “Why?”

“Something wrong?” Puddles asked.

“Not sure. This Marlowe seems most likely.” Holding up a paw, he ticked off his points, “He works for Titan Industries in research and development of pharmaceuticals. He is not married, which does not mean anything. He has no registered children, which is contrary to what he told us. There are other Marlowes who could fit our client.”

“But,” Puddles began, spooning another dose of chili oil over her noodles.

“There’s always a butt,” Chuck finished, flashing a smile at Puddles and Whiskers.

Puddles stifled a chuckle with a mouthful of noodles. Whiskers, right ear briefly twitched before smiling, “This Doctor Marlowe is the closest to the person who wants to hire us. The rest either lack the resources, the job, have too many children, or some other detail removing them from consideration. Do we have a connection who knows Tumbledown?”

They stared at each other for a moment, “Scar. I know Scar, she may talk to us,” Chuck broke the silence.

Puddles set her chopsticks over her bowl, “Scar?”

“Yeah, she lives in Tumbledown. I’ve gotten information from her before. She’s…”

“Did you date her?” Puddles interrupted with a grin.

Chuck glared at Puddles.

Whiskers sip of tea filled the silence.

“I’ll set up a meet tonight,” Chuck said, ignoring Puddle’s question.

“You dated her, didn’t you?” Puddles pestered.

A little while later, standing outside between their cars, “Did she break up with you?”

“I’ll hit you up with the meeting details,” Chuck said to Whiskers, ignoring Puddles while getting the car.

“What did you do?” Puddles asked.

“Why do you do that to him?” Whiskers asked knowing the answer.

“What?” Puddles replied holding her paws up, eyes wide, ears relaxed in her “Who me” pose.

“Here,” he said handing her his tablet, “you review the data. I will drive.”