Much better, he thought, now that Stella made the effort to turn to face him.  It pained him to see the facial expression she offered, for it was one of anguish.  Am I the cause of that? Anton wondered, disturbed at the thought of it possibly being true.  Not wanting to add to the palpable tension in the air (though this was mostly stemming from Stella), he dared not move any closer to her.<br/><br/>It was quite fortunate that Tesla was unable to stand on his hind legs and confront the pair.  If he could, he would have long ago grabbed Anton by the scruff of his neck and dragged him downstairs to open that door of promise and kitty adoration.  However, all he could manage were expectant<i>mews </i>and<i>meows,</i>with the occasional<i>growl </i>thrown in.  Sadly for him, his efforts fell upon four deaf ears.<br/><br/>Anton listened to her apologies, though why exactly she was apologizing he couldn’t begin to fathom.  When she was done, he had a few things that needed to be said.  “I wouldn’t worry about what’s on my plate, Stella,” he began, accompanied by a soft chuckle.  “It’s not as glamorous as you might think.”<br/><br/>A quick glance toward Tesla, and the Maine Coon tilted his head with an imploring look on his animated face.  Turning back to Stella, he muttered, “And I still don’t know why you’re moving out.”  With a goofy smile, Anton concluded, “What if I, uh, what if I actually like dorky?”