"Bet she enacted some real interesting laws," he muses, then releases his hand hold, teetering on a drawer handle, before reclaiming it with uncharacteristic smug ease, the same reaction when his Ma starts to fret. Eddy's been risking life and limb for years, dangling midair off his broom all for the sake of keeping some balls out of a hoop. Scaling some desk drawers is child's play in comparison. "Fine. Promise."

"None up here either," he reports, also with relief, when he makes it atop the desk. From here it's a much clearer view of the scene unfolding, and though he might be cat-sized, T-Bone is built like a car in comparison. "'Bout to fuck this guy up though."