To call Dumbo, the one-of-a-kind, big-eared, flying little elephant a 'star' would be the understatement of the century. The unique pachyderm was an icon in his own right, and for one Timothy Q. Mouse, he couldn't be more proud of his boy if he'd tried. And he wasn't just saying that as his manager, either.

He was happy to see the kid grow from the shunned, mocked and derided carnival oddity he'd been labeled as by both people and pachyderms alike, to the main attraction of a bigger and better circus that was considerably more kind to Dumbo and his unconventional appearance - and his mama, for that matter.

That said, while Timothy had a lot of work on his plate now, especially after having signed that big Hollywood contract for Dumbo, he always found time to come see the little fella in the act. Even without the black feather, his innate skill of flight had become a masterpiece, soaring over the awed and excited crowds. Having cheers instead of jeers in the audience was a welcome change of pace, no doubt about it.

However, there were a whole bunch of other animals in the circus; treated far better than Dumbo had been, having learned from experience. Timothy decided to take a peek between performances out of sheer curiosity. He did mind himself, though - he may be a brave mouse, but even he knew to cut his losses and not look a gift lion in the mouth.

As he furtively strolled along the pens, he clocked one which stopped him in his tracks, with a rather restless-looking critter inside who looked to be on their own. They kinda reminded him of Dumbo in a sense at first glance, which compelled him to make his move.

"Hey there! The name's Timothy - Timothy Q. Mouse, at your soivice!" he greeted with what he'd hoped was a pleasantly disarming smile as he tipped his ringmaster's hat, his thick yet friendly Brooklyn accent ringing loud and clear. "Gee, you look kinda noivous. Aww, don't worry, I'm just a little guy - I ain't gonna hurt'cha or nothin', not even if I wanted to! What's on your mind, friend?"