Situated comfortably on the window seat, Anton listened intently as Stella recounted stories from her childhood.  Most of her anecdotes centered around music, specifically of the classical variety.  Which made perfect sense, of course, since that was now her bread and butter.  He marveled at her being an accomplished pianist at such a young age, and he told her so, too.  Not too certain as to what he was up to at 15-years-old, he settled on chasing girls and playing sports.<br/><br/>A chiming clock reminded the neighbors of how quickly the evening had moved on.  The advancement in time seemed to impact Stella much more than Anton.  He tried, to no avail, reassuring her that there was really no time limit to their evening.  Though if her were completely honest, fatigue had begun its slow assault on him.  Visions of his comfortable bed all but sealed the deal.  Having both survived the lava-embedded tiger prawns, perhaps it was best to call it a night.<br/><br/>Anton followed her eyes until he saw what (or rather, who) Stella was requesting.  He flashed her a thumbs-up sign, and added, “I’m on it.”  Approaching the snoozing feline equivalent of a monster truck, he was well aware of lifting the Maine Coon was a workout unto itself.  The behemoth of a kitty secured in his arms, he turned to trail Stella up the stairwell.<br/><br/>Licorice stirred, but was probably still too sleepy to file an official protest at the catnapping already under way.  Anton grabbed his keys on the way out the door, closing it behind him.  Tesla purred without opening an eye.