Let Augie just say, this is not exactly how he'd normally like to spend a weekday afternoon.
He'd rather Not be an indentured servant to the owner of a speakeasy for one. And he'd rather not feel like he was basically a toy for the Bigguns running or frequenting that owner's establishment. However, he'd also rather keep breathing and frankly him doing the first two things is the only way that he keeps doing that as far as he can tell, so he's more that happy to shut up, keep quiet and do as he's told.
Especially for Mitzi May. Sure its her fault that he's in this mess in the first place. Or rather its his own fault but without her he would of been in a far, far worse mess than he is now. Or in a coffin, that would also be an entirely likely possibility. But instead he's here, alive...
And currently doing the frankly humiliating task of rubbing a biggun's feet to help her relax. Which...clearly he'd rather not do. Mitzi had her paws up on her desk, and hadn't even bothered to remove her stockings before having him do this so she either was trying to humiliate him by making it seem like it wasn't even worth it to her to do so, or just hadn't thought about it. Either way, not the best feeling for the little human. Not even interesting enough to take her stockings off? Real-
"Augie, honey I don't recall telling you to stop" Mitzi's voice rang out, snapping Augie out of his own headspace. The older cat-woman frowned down at him but was clearly not too upset.
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