Still working out the name of this story....

 This is the first time I've worked on a project and been close to finishing it without having any ideas for a name. I've tried brainstorming a few but nothing is fitting, which means I haven't even come up with a placeholder cover yet. 

I have words though, ones I am happy to share with you. This is Mouse and Cas, they've just had an afternoon out brainstorming ideas for a comic they are planning. Unfortunately, a storm came through and cut their outdoor time off, so now they are back at Cas's place, enjoying a meal and some conversation. 

“I prefer to do my living with a little less mistakes.”

“Why?”

“Because they tend to piss people off.”

“Yeah, the wrong people.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because anyone who thinks they have to be so perfect they can’t live with a screw up or two if just lying to themselves and I hate liars,” Cas said. “There is no reason anyone should have to hide who they are just to make someone else happy.”

“Even if who they are is a screw up who’s head is so far in his books he forget that real people need time and attention too?”

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said. I cry bullshit on that. You’re forgetting that I’ve seen you with Daddy G and I know how you are with me. You might be working on something, but you know how to step away and you know how to give your full attention to the people in your life too. Know what I think?”

“What?”

“You spent too much time hanging around with the wrong people.”

“And you know what I think?”

“What?”

“That you’ve got rose colored glasses on when it comes to me.”

“Bah.” Cas grumbled, waving a hand through the air between them. The French Toast was amazing, so he reached for another piece, glad he’d had the good sense to order a batch of his own. “Again, I’ll cry bullshit. I don’t even like roses.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“What I’m trying to say is that I see you,” Cas said. “The real you, and you intrigue and fascinate me. When I think back on the way you sashayed through the playroom with your tail swaying and your head held high, it’s all I can do not to paint a picture of you with a crown of stars on your head and the cosmos at your feet. I don’t think you realized how proud or how powerful you looked.”

“You think I looked powerful in a kitty-cat suit?”

“Think about how much confidence you have to have to step into a room as your true, authentic self,” Cas said. “I know what I felt the first time I walked into a club, and while there will aways be a feeling of shyness at the prospect of meeting new people, knowing I could do it as me, that I could chase balls and babber happily and play without feeling like the world was judging me, that’s the kind of freedom I always wanted but never dared hope I’d have.”

“But you do.”

“Exactly. And so do you.”

“I guess I never looked at it that way.”

“You should,” Cas suggested. “And you know what else I think?”

“What?”

“That we need a character in our comics who discovers the exact same things about themselves,” Cas said. “Who knows, maybe one day someone will read our stuff and realize they don’t have to tone themselves down for anyone. That all they have to do to be the best version of themselves they can possibly be is just stay true to what they feel and believe.”

“You know what. I’d like that too, but you know what I’d like more than anything?”

“What?”

“To share that moment with you.”