Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

...

Kev woke up, the world a dull roar in his ears. His head throbbed like a bass drum, each beat echoing the memory of a car barreling towards him. He blinked, trying to focus on his surroundings. This wasn't his room. This wasn't his bed.

The space was small, cramped even, a studio apartment crammed into what felt like a forgotten corner of a grander structure. A single window, veiled by heavy drapes, offered a sliver of moonlight light, mixing with a lantern on the table, painting the room in a murky twilight. The air hung heavy with the scents of aged wood and something oddly metallic, a far cry from the clean linen smell of his own bed.

Kev sat up, the movement sending a fresh wave of pain through his skull. He winced, gingerly touching the back of his head. No blood, at least. He looked down at himself, confusion mounting. He was dressed in someone else's clothes, a half buttoned suit jacket and a pair of oversized slacks.

A sound from outside the door startled him, a low, guttural growl that sent shivers down his spine. The door creaked open, revealing a towering figure silhouetted against the dim hallway light. As the figure stepped into the room, Kev's breath hitched in his throat.

It was a… man? Tall and broad-shouldered, but his features were... different. Sharp, lupine ears poked through thick, dark… fur? And his eyes, glowing amber in the dim light, held a predatory intensity. The lips pulling back from his long snout showed his long canine teeth, displaying his full wolfen nature. Yet, he was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit. The air around him crackled with a raw, animalistic energy.

"Ah, you're awake," the man said, his voice a deep rumble. "Good. We have much to discuss."

Kev's heart hammered in his chest. Where was he? Who was this man? And why did he feel like he'd just stepped into a nightmare?

The wolfman was a striking figure, a stark contrast of refined elegance and untamed power. His grey fur, neatly groomed, blended seamlessly with the charcoal grey of his tailored suit. Sharp, polished shoes clicked against the wooden floor with each deliberate step he took. His face, framed by thick, dark fur, was that of a savage beast.

He stopped a few feet from the bed, his amber eyes fixing on Kev with a piercing intensity. He opened his mouth to deliver a sharp, dismissive command, the words already forming in his mind. But then he truly saw the creature before him, saw the pale skin, the slight frame, and most of all, the terrified blue eyes that stared back at him

Something in fang’s chest seized. The anger, the impatience, it all just vanished, replaced by a strange, hollow ache in his chest, something he hadn’t felt since he was a pup. Those blue eyes were a ghost, some memory that tickled at the wolfman’s oldest thoughts.

A moment of stunned silence hung in the air as the two stared at each other.

"What are you?" the wolfman finally asked. Even to his own ears, his voice sounded different. The sharp edge of authority was gone, replaced by a low growl that held bewilderment instead of menace.

Kev, initially paralyzed by fear, felt a wave of absurdity wash over him, momentarily overriding his terror. He stood up, his legs wobbling slightly. "My name is Kev," he managed to say, his voice raspy. "I... I'm not sure where I am."

The wolfman frowned, his brow furrowing. "I was told you bumped your head on the journey here," he said, his tone laced with a hint of impatience. "But that doesn't explain... this." He gestured vaguely at Kev's form. "What are you?" he repeated, his voice hardening.

Kev's confusion deepened. "I'm... human?" he offered tentatively, unsure if that was even the right answer in this strange place.

The wolfman let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Human?" he echoed, his lips curling into a sneer. "You look more like some kind of... monkey-pig hybrid."

The wolfman's eyes remained locked on Kev, his gaze unwavering. A nervous laugh escaped Kev's lips. "Human, since the day I was born," he confirmed, his voice shaking slightly under the scrutiny.

"They were supposed to hire someone... exotic," the wolfman grumbled, more to himself than to Kev. "But I've never even heard of a 'human'." He sighed, a heavy sound that seemed to carry the weight of his frustration. He brought a paw to his face, rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off a headache.

With a visible effort, he shook off his annoyance and straightened his posture. "Forgive my rudeness," he said, his voice regaining its earlier composure. "My name is Fang, and I am the owner of this establishment." He gestured around the room with a sweep of his hand, though the gesture seemed out of place in the cramped space. "Welcome to Club Fang."

"As my new personal assistant," Fang continued, his voice taking on a practiced cadence, "your duties will include managing my schedule, handling my correspondence, and ensuring the smooth operation of my... personal life." He paused, his eyes lingering on Kev's form. Despite his initial surprise, Fang couldn't deny a flicker of interest. The human was undeniably attractive, his slim build and delicate features a stark contrast to the burly beastmen Fang was accustomed to. Interesting, at the very least.

Kev listened intently, though his mind was reeling. A wolfman, a nightclub owner, a personal assistant... It was all too absurd, too fantastical. He felt like he'd stumbled into a bizarre fever dream, a world where the lines between reality and fiction had blurred.

Fang, catching Kev's wide-eyed stare, faltered in his speech. The human's gaze was unnerving, a mix of fear and fascination that sent a strange thrill through him. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "As I was saying..." he began, but the words trailed off. His thoughts scattered, replaced by a sudden, primal awareness of the human standing before him.

A giddy, almost awkward feeling settled over Fang. The human's unwavering attention was doing strange things to him, stirring emotions he hadn't felt in ages. He was the owner of a notorious nightclub, a purveyor of debauchery and indulgence, and yet here he was, flustered by a new hire. It was absurd.

Kev, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, broke the silence. "What kind of club do you run, Mr. Fang?" he asked, his voice tentative.

Fang's grin returned, sharp and predatory. "The kind of establishment where anyone can come and indulge their desires without fear," he said, his voice dropping to a low purr. "A place where inhibitions are shed, and fantasies become reality."

"That sounds..." Kev hesitated, searching for the right word. "Intriguing."

"It is," Fang agreed. "But it also requires certain... precautions." His grin widened. "This is an electronics-free establishment. We have proprietary systems in place to ensure that what happens within these walls stays within these walls. No pictures, no videos, no phones."

Kev's eyes widened in surprise. "That's... impressive," he admitted. He'd never encountered anything like this back on Earth.

Fang chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "These days, if it isn't on camera, it isn't real," he observed. "We allow people to shed their fear of being canceled, of being shamed. If someone outside speaks about this place, it's merely hearsay."

A flicker of curiosity crossed Kev's face. "But is it practical?" he asked. "I mean, it must be hard to keep a club going with no music or lights."

Fang's laughter boomed through the room, a deep, resonant sound that sent a shiver down Kev's spine. "Oh, we have music and lights, my dear human," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Just not the electronic kind."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Torches and strings, mostly. It's very... medieval. Helps one get into a more primal mindset, wouldn't you agree?"

Fang's tail, previously still, began to wag subtly behind him as he continued. "The kitchen, the bar... everything is done without electricity. It's a challenge, but it adds to the unique atmosphere of the place." He paused, a sly grin spreading across his face. "And it certainly keeps things... interesting."

Kev's interest was piqued. "Can I have a tour?" he asked, his eyes wide with curiosity, a spark of adventure momentarily overshadowing his earlier trepidation.

Fang's gaze flicked towards the door, and his tail, which had been wagging gently, stilled abruptly. "Perhaps not until the morning," he said, a hint of hesitation creeping into his voice. The truth was, he was reluctant to expose Kev to the full extent of the club's activities just yet. It was a world of uninhibited desires and primal instincts, a far cry from the mundane reality Kev seemed to have come from.

He frowned, taking in the cramped, outdated room. It was hardly a fitting accommodation for his new personal assistant, especially one who looked so out of place in this world of beastmen. "Besides," he added, "we should get you a better room. This one is... subpar." It was far too close to some of the club's more... adventurous playrooms. He didn't want to overwhelm the human, or worse, scare him away on his first day.

Such a delicate creature, Fang thought, his mind wandering. My personal assistant should be closer to my own chambers, where I can keep a watchful eye.

Kev reached for the doorknob. Fang reacted instinctively, lunging forward and pushing the door closed with sudden speed. Their hands overlapped on the cool surface, Kev's small, delicate hand dwarfed by Fang's large, calloused one. A jolt of electricity shot through Kev at the unexpected contact, and he looked up at Fang, his eyes wide with surprise, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

The door refused to budge, the knob turning uselessly in Kev's hand. They were trapped.

"We could just yell for help," Kev suggested, his voice a mix of nervousness and practicality.

Fang scoffed, turning away. "That would likely go ignored this time of night," he said, a growl rumbling in his chest. Frustration gnawed at him. He had a club to run, deals to close, and here he was, stuck in a cramped room with a human who seemed to have fallen out of the sky.
He paced the small space, his agitation growing with each step. Kev, sensing the tension, offered a tentative solution. "If you want the bed, I can..."

Fang's gaze snapped towards the bed, then to Kev, a flicker of something primal flashing in his amber eyes. The truth was, he wanted Kev far more than he wanted the bed. But he couldn't, not yet. Not when the human was so clearly out of his depth.

He shook his head, pushing the thought aside. "I'll sleep on the floor for a few hours," he said gruffly. "We can yell for help in the morning. Someone on the cleaning crew is bound to find us."

Kev nodded, relief washing over him. He climbed into the bed, careful not to make any sudden movements that might upset the volatile wolfman. He closed his eyes, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with him. Kev prayed that sleep would claim him and when he woke up this would all be a strange fading dream.

Fang watched him for a moment, a complex mix of emotions swirling within him and snuffed the lantern.

"Good night," he said softly, before settling down on the floor, his large form curling up surprisingly small in the corner.

The silence stretched, punctuated only by the soft rhythm of Kev's breathing. But the stillness was deceptive. Fang, lying on the hard floor, fidgeted restlessly. The years had taken their toll, and his body ached in protest. He was no longer the spry young wolf he once was.

After what felt like an eternity, he couldn't take it anymore. With a sigh of resignation, he rose from the floor and carefully climbed onto the bed beside Kev. The human remained still, his breathing even, feigning sleep.

A blush warmed Fang's cheeks. "The floor is... unforgiving," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Forgive the intrusion."

He settled behind Kev, his large body spooning the smaller one. The warmth and softness of the bed were a welcome relief, and he closed his eyes, sleep claiming him almost instantly.

Kev, trapped between the wall and the massive wolfman, felt his heart pound in his chest. The scent of Fang's fur, a mix of musk and something uniquely him, filled his senses. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, a strange sense of comfort settled over him. He closed his eyes, the warmth of Fang's body a soothing presence in the darkness. Sleep, when it came, was surprisingly peaceful.

Chapter Text

Kev's eyes fluttered open, the sound of insistent pounding jolting him awake. Fang, his suit rumpled and his hair tousled, was hammering on the door with a clenched fist, his frustration palpable.

"Let us out!" he roared, his voice echoing through the small room. "Is there anyone out there?!"

He paused, his chest heaving with exertion. Catching sight of Kev stirring, a flicker of embarrassment crossed his face. "Ah, you're awake," he said, his tone softening slightly. "It seems we're still trapped."

Kev's head spun. The events of the past few hours, or was it days?, swirled in his mind like a chaotic kaleidoscope. A car accident, a wolfman, a jammed door, and now, the sound of Fang's increasingly frantic pounding filled the room.

"Someone, anyone!" Fang's voice rose to a desperate bark. "We're trapped in here!"

The wolfman's patience was wearing thin, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. Just as Kev braced himself for an outburst, a deep voice resonated from behind the door.

"Stand back," the voice commanded, its tone firm and authoritative.

Fang, startled, retreated towards Kev, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and hope. "All clear!" he shouted back, his voice strained.

A moment later, the door exploded inward, wood splintering and scattering across the floor. Standing in the shattered doorway was a colossal figure, easily dwarfing even Fang in size. A massive mooseman, his antlers brushing the ceiling, surveyed the room with calm, dark eyes.

"Took you long enough, Horns," Fang grumbled, though the relief in his voice was evident.

The mooseman dipped his head in apology. "My apologies, Mr. Fang. We had a bit of a... situation this morning."

Fang waved a dismissive hand, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles in his suit. His gaze flicked towards Kev, a fleeting glance that held a surprising tenderness. "Horns, please see to it that our new assistant is given more suitable accommodations," he instructed.
"Somewhere less... busy. Perhaps closer to the administration offices on the second floor. This room is too close to the public areas. I don't want him disturbed." He talked as he walked towards the now blown open doorway.

Fang turned back to Kev, a hint of warmth in his amber eyes. "Follow the big guy," he said with a reassuring smile. "Horns will take care of you today. I'll be back in the afternoon to check on you." He couldn't help but feel flustered by how endearingly out of place the human looked in his rumpled clothes, standing amidst the wreckage of the door.

"Horns, get him whatever he needs," Fang added, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone. Then, with a final lingering look at Kev, he turned and strode off into the depths of the nightclub, his figure swallowed by the shadows as the morning light began to filter into the dark, fire-lit halls.

Kev's gaze traveled upwards, taking in the sheer size of the mooseman standing before him. Horns was truly massive, his broad shoulders and thick neck suggesting a strength that was almost intimidating. He wore a simple black suit, but even that seemed undersized on his frame. Kev couldn't help but think that Horns' jacket probably contained more fabric than his entire outfit.

The mooseman's dark eyes regarded Kev with a gentle curiosity. "And what might you be?" he inquired, his voice surprisingly soft for someone of his stature.

Kev sighed, a hint of weariness in his voice. "Human," he replied. "Call me Kev."

A warm smile spread across Horns' face, and he extended a massive hand towards Kev. "Pleased to meet you, Kev. I'm Horns, the manager here at Club Fang."

Horns guided Kev through the labyrinthine corridors of the nightclub, its layout more akin to an old, sprawling mansion than a modern establishment. They passed by cleaning crews, all different species of beast men and women, just like Fang and Horns, diligently scrubbing away the remnants of the previous night's revelry. Kev couldn't help but steal glances into some of the private rooms, his concern growing with each glimpse.

Horns greeted the various workers they encountered with a friendly nod or a cheerful wave, his demeanor a stark contrast to the carnal underbelly of the club Kev had just seen. He led Kev up a grand staircase, the air growing lighter and fresher with each step.

The second floor was a different world altogether. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, illuminating plush carpets and polished wooden furniture. The atmosphere was hushed, the silence broken only by the occasional muffled sound from behind closed doors. This was clearly where the club's administrative functions took place, a far cry from the dimly lit, pulsating heart of the establishment below.

Horns stopped halfway down a long hallway, his hand resting on an ornate door handle. "Here we are," he announced, a hint of pride in his voice.

Horns swung the door open, gesturing for Kev to enter. The room was a revelation compared to the cramped quarters Kev had woken up in. It was a spacious, well-lit apartment, complete with a small kitchen and living room, a separate bedroom, and a full bathroom. Large windows offered a view of the expansive backyard, a welcome sight after the claustrophobic darkness of the club's lower levels.

The apartment was sparsely furnished and the kitchen was barren. Kev wandered through the rooms, taking in the luxurious surroundings. It was a far cry from anything he could have imagined for himself just a day... or two ago.

Horns watched Kev explore, a patient smile on his face. "Well?" he finally asked, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "What do you think?"

"It's very nice," Kev replied, his voice echoing slightly in the empty space. He peeked into the bathroom and bedroom, both equally well-appointed, but with a similar air of disuse. A layer of dust clung to the surfaces, and the bed linens, though neatly arranged, seemed untouched for some time.

"Why are you giving me such a nice room?" Kev asked, a hint of suspicion creeping into his voice.

Horns chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through the apartment. "The boss's orders," he explained simply. "He wants you to be comfortable."

With a grunt, Horns lowered himself onto the couch, his large frame taking up both cushions. "Now," he said, folding his hands across his stomach, "what do you need? Clothes? Food? Anything at all?"

Kev's mind raced, trying to prioritize his needs. "Clothes, definitely," he said. "And food. Some basic toiletries too - soap, a toothbrush..." He glanced at the bare mattress. "And some sheets for the bed."
Remembering the lack of electricity, he added, "Just something simple for food. Nothing that needs refrigeration."

Horns nodded. "I'll also bring you some lanterns and candles," he said. "For light."
Kev hesitated, then added, "And some cleaning supplies, if you have them."

Horns raised an eyebrow. "Our cleaners can take care of the room for you."

"I'd rather do it myself," Kev insisted. "It'll give me something to do."

A smile spread across Horns' face. "I like that," he said, his voice booming with approval. "A hard worker. Just like the boss."

"Is there anything else you might need?" Horns inquired, his voice echoing slightly in the spacious apartment.

Kev paused, considering. It was a strange new world he found himself in, and he wasn't entirely sure what else he might require. "I think that's everything for now," he replied, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Horns nodded, then added, "Oh, and feel free to get any drinks or food you want from the bar downstairs. It's all on the house." He grinned. "I'll make sure the staff knows who you are." A chuckle rumbled in his chest. "They'll be able to spot you right away, that's for sure. Never had a human in the club before."

Kev managed a weak smile. "That's very kind of you."

Horns lumbered to his feet, clearly eager to get back to his duties. As he reached the door, Kev called out, "Wait!"

Horns turned, an eyebrow raised in question.

"Could you also get me a pack of cigarettes?" Kev asked, a sheepish look on his face.

Horns nodded. "The boss said you can have whatever you want. Don't hesitate to ask."

With that, he stepped out into the hallway, leaving Kev alone in his new, albeit temporary, home.

Kev stretched out on the queen-sized mattress, the soft fabric a stark contrast to the stiff, unfamiliar bed he'd woken up in earlier. His thoughts drifted back to the whirlwind of events that had brought him here. The car accident, the blinding pain, the disorienting awakening in a strange room, the imposing wolfman, and now, this luxurious apartment.

It all felt so surreal, so utterly impossible. Perhaps this wasn't reality at all. Maybe he was in a coma, his mind conjuring up this fantastical world to cope with the trauma of the accident. A beastman-filled nightclub, a personal assistant job, a broken door leading to a chance encounter with a gentle giant of a mooseman... It was the stuff of dreams, or perhaps nightmares.

But as sleep tugged at his eyelids, the warmth of the sunlight streaming through the window, the feel of the soft sheets against his skin, and the lingering scent of Fang's cologne on the pillow beside him all felt undeniably real. With a sigh, Kev surrendered to exhaustion, letting the mysteries of this new world fade into the comforting embrace of sleep.

Kev's slumber was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. He blinked awake, momentarily disoriented, before spotting Horns standing in the doorway, laden with bags.

"Good afternoon, Kev," the mooseman greeted him with a warm smile. "I've brought the supplies you requested."
He deposited the bags onto the kitchen counter, their contents spilling out in a colorful array of food, toiletries, and clothes.

Kev rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "What time is it?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Just past noon," Horns replied, settling back onto the couch with a contented sigh. His large frame seemed to expand even further as he stretched out, his limbs sprawling across the cushions.

Kev began unpacking the bags, carefully organizing the items on the counter. He sifted through the clothes, a mix of casual wear and more formal attire. "You didn't know what I might like, so I brought a variety," Horns explained, observing Kev's inspection.

Kev nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Horns. This is perfect."

Horns, seemingly content to simply observe, watched Kev unpack and organize. As Kev moved on to cleaning, Horns pulled a small, ornate ashtray from his pocket and placed it on the coffee table. He then produced a rolled joint and lit it, taking a long, slow drag.

The pungent scent of the smoke wafted towards Kev, tickling his nostrils. "Can I have some of that?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Horns chuckled, tossing a small baggie towards Kev. "There's really no need to be shy around here," he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Kev caught the baggie, his fingers brushing against Horns'. "Is it really okay?" he asked, still hesitant. "I mean, I still don't know what my job will involve."

Horns shrugged. "Your job is to make Fang happy," he said simply.

Kev frowned. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"Fang's a very busy man," Horns explained. "He's also... very controlling. He doesn't relax, and he's been stressing himself, and us, out." He took another drag from his joint. "The employees got together and decided to hire him a personal assistant, someone to help him... unwind."

Kev pulled a chair closer to the coffee table, lit a cigarette, and inhaled deeply. "Unwind, how?" he asked, exhaling a plume of smoke.
Horns' smile turned sheepish. "However you can," he replied, his gaze lingering on Kev. "Fang was resistant to the idea at first. Must've been impressed with you yesterday, though. I thought you'd have been fired already."

He glanced around the apartment, taking in the luxurious furnishings and the view of the sprawling backyard. "The fact that he wanted you up here on the second floor before you even started your first day... that really says something."

Kev took a drag from his cigarette, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I haven't really done anything yet," he admitted. "I was too nervous to say much to him yesterday."

Horns chuckled. "Fang can be quite intimidating," he agreed. "But he's a good man, deep down."

Curiosity piqued, Kev asked, "What do you do here, Horns?"

"I'm the staff manager," Horns replied, puffing on his joint. "It's my job to make sure personnel issues are resolved, paychecks go out on time, and everyone's doing what they're supposed to be doing."

Kev nodded, impressed. "Sounds like you're second in command around here," he observed.

Horns grinned, taking a final drag from his joint before carefully stubbing it out in the ashtray. "It's the best job I've ever had," he admitted, a hint of wistfulness in his voice.
Kev leaned back in his chair, taking a sip from the glass of water Horns had brought him. "Is it hard to get used to the lack of electricity?" he asked, curiosity lacing his tone.

"After a week or two, you won't even miss it," Horns assured him. He stood up, stretching his massive frame. "Well, I'd best get back to work. Duty calls."

As Horns made his way towards the door, Kev spoke up. "One more thing, Horns," he said. "Could you possibly bring me some books?"

Horns paused, turning back with a questioning look.

"Books about the local area, the history of this place... anything that might help me understand where I am," Kev explained.

A look of genuine admiration crossed Horns' face. "I'll see what I can do," he promised. "That's a smart idea, Kev."

With a final wave, Horns left Kev once again to his own devices.

Alone in the apartment, Kev managed to put together a light lunch from the supplies Horns had brought. The simple act of preparing food, even in this unfamiliar setting, provided a sense of normalcy amidst the chaos of his new reality.

With a renewed sense of purpose, he set about cleaning the apartment. He dusted the furniture, swept the floors, and scrubbed the bathroom until it sparkled. The physical activity helped to quiet the anxious thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him.

By the time the evening sun began to paint the sky in hues of orange and purple, Kev had finished putting away the remaining supplies and decided to reward himself with a hot shower. As he stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, the door to the apartment swung open.

Chapter Text

Fang stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of surprise and... something else Kev couldn't quite decipher. The wolfman's eyes raked over Kev's bare chest and damp hair, a flicker of heat passing through his gaze. He cleared his throat, his composure momentarily shaken.

"I... uh... didn't expect to find you like this," Fang stammered, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

Kev's face flushed a deeper shade of red. "Sorry," he mumbled, quickly retreating into the bedroom to get dressed.

Fang, left alone in the living room, busied himself by inspecting the kitchen. When Kev emerged a few minutes later, fully clothed in a comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt, Fang turned to him with a smile.

"Looks like Horns has been taking good care of you," he observed, gesturing towards the neatly arranged supplies.

"He's been great," Kev agreed, taking a seat on the couch.

"That's good to hear," Fang said. "He's my right-hand man for a reason." He paused, a hint of guilt in his voice. "I apologize for taking so long to come back and see you. I had some work to catch up on from last night."

Kev nodded understandingly, lighting a cigarette. Fang, observing this, pulled the ashtray closer and sat down on the chair opposite Kev. His gaze remained fixed on the human, a mixture of curiosity and something more primal simmering beneath the surface.

Kev, feeling the weight of Fang's stare, shifted slightly in his seat. "So," he began, trying to break the silence, "what would you like me to do to help?"

A hungry look flashed across Fang's face, quickly replaced by a more composed expression. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers thoughtfully. "For now," he said, "let's start by introducing you to the other staff members."

Kev nodded. "The club is really big," he observed. "You must have a lot of employees."

"We do," Fang agreed. "But we only need to introduce you to the managers of each department. They'll be your main points of contact."

"I thought Horns was the manager," Kev said, a hint of confusion in his voice.

"Horns is in charge of the staff as a whole," Fang explained. "But different operations have their own teams, each with its own manager. Bartenders, cooks, security, IT, cleaning, entertainment... I want you to get to know them all."

"However," Fang added, his eyes scanning Kev's attire, "you'll need to change into something more... appropriate."

Kev glanced down at his jeans and t-shirt, a self-conscious flush creeping onto his cheeks. "There weren't a lot of clothes to choose from," he mumbled.

Fang's smile widened. "We have a tailor on the payroll," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "Don't worry, we'll get you sorted out in a few days."

Kev couldn't help but admire Fang's own appearance. The wolfman had changed out of the rumpled suit from the previous night and now wore another impeccably tailored ensemble, this one black with white pinstripes. He looked like an old-school gangster, exuding an air of power and confidence that Kev found both intimidating and strangely alluring.

"Perhaps you could help me pick something out?" Kev asked, his voice tentative. "I'm not sure what would be the best choice."

Kev disappeared into the bedroom, the sound of rustling fabric and opening drawers filling the brief silence. Fang hesitated for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. It wasn't often he ventured into someone else's personal space, especially not so soon after meeting them. But curiosity, and perhaps a more primal urge, spurred him forward.

He stepped into the bedroom, finding Kev sorting through the pile of clothes Horns had provided. The human's back was turned, offering Fang an unobstructed view of his slender form. A wave of warmth washed over the wolfman, a stark contrast to the cool, calculated demeanor he usually maintained.

Fang's own closet, a stark contrast to the disarray of Kev's current situation, was filled with pre-selected outfits, each meticulously chosen and arranged. He rarely gave much thought to his attire, efficiency being his primary concern. But now, looking at the meager selection before Kev, he found himself imagining how each piece would look on the human's frame. A smile tugged at the corner of his maw, his sharp teeth flashing briefly.

A part of him, the wilder, more instinctive part, wanted to see Kev free from the confines of clothing altogether. But he pushed the thought aside, reminding himself that this was a professional setting.

He reached for a simple outfit-black slacks and a crisp white button-down shirt. It was understated, yet elegant, and Fang had a feeling it would accentuate Kev's delicate features.

Kev disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water and the faint clink of a belt buckle filling the quiet apartment. A few minutes later, he emerged, dressed in the outfit Fang had chosen. He'd tucked the shirt neatly into the slacks, and his hair, still slightly damp from the shower, was combed back from his face.

"Is this okay?" he asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Fang's eyes swept over Kev's form, a flicker of appreciation in his gaze. "It will do," he said, his voice a low rumble. He couldn't deny the subtle thrill he felt seeing Kev in the close-fitting clothes, the fabric clinging to his lean build, hinting at the curves beneath.
"Now," Fang said, a predatory grin spreading across his face, "let's introduce you to the rest of the pack."

The upstairs hallway had been a sanctuary of quiet, a stark contrast to the world below. But as soon as Fang led Kev down the grand staircase, the cacophony of the nightclub engulfed them. Even though it was still early, the club was already teeming with life, a diverse crowd of beastmen eager for a night of unrestrained pleasure.

The setting sun cast long shadows across the room, bathing the space in a warm, golden glow. It softened the rough edges of the exposed brick walls and the worn wooden bar, lending an almost ethereal beauty to the otherwise gritty establishment. The air thrummed with the vibrant energy of the crowd, punctuated by the lilting melodies of a string quartet and the crackling flames of torches and fireplaces being lit by nimble-fingered staff.

Fang, a natural leader in his element, navigated the throng with an air of authority, his broad shoulders parting the crowd like a ship cutting through waves. Kev, dwarfed by the towering wolfman and the bustling patrons, struggled to keep pace. He clung to Fang's side, his senses overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and smells of this unfamiliar world.

Finally, they reached the main bar, a long, polished expanse of mahogany that gleamed in the firelight. The bartender, a grizzled horseman with a perpetual smirk, paused in his work to acknowledge their arrival. Fang leaned against the bar, his posture relaxed yet commanding, and turned to Kev with a knowing grin. "Welcome to the heart of Club Fang," he said, his voice a low rumble above the din. "Let the introductions begin."

Fang gestured towards the bartender, his voice cutting through the rising noise of the club. "Kev, meet Dale, our head bartender and the keeper of all our secrets."

Dale, a seasoned horseman with a salt-and-pepper mane and a perpetual smirk etched on his face, leaned across the bar, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "So you're the one who has to take care of this big pup," he said, his voice gruff but laced with warmth. He extended a calloused hand towards Kev. "Welcome to the madhouse, kid."

Kev hesitantly took Dale's hand, surprised by the unexpected kindness in his eyes. Dale's grip was firm, a testament to years of hard work behind the bar. "Thanks," Kev replied, his voice a little shaky. "I'm not sure what I've gotten myself into."

Dale chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed through the bar. "Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it," he assured Kev, releasing his hand. He winked conspiratorially. "Just try to keep up with the boss's demands, and you'll be fine."

Fang barked a laugh, clapping Dale on the shoulder. "Shut it, Dale, and make me a drink. You know what I like."

"Right away, boss," Dale replied, his smirk widening. He turned to Kev. "And what can I get for our new recruit?"

Kev looked up at the imposing horseman, a nervous smile playing on his lips. "Can you make a Cape Cod?" he asked tentatively.

Dale blinked, clearly unfamiliar with the term. A puzzled frown creased his brow.

"Cranberry vodka," Kev clarified, hoping the simpler description would suffice.

"Haven't heard that one before," Dale said. He quickly assembled the drink, his movements practiced and efficient, a testament to his years of experience behind the bar. "One cranberry vodka, coming right up!"

"Dale's been our head bartender for years," Fang remarked, taking a sip of his bourbon. "He has a gift, you know. Can remember any customer's drink order, even if they only visited once, years ago."

Dale, having placed a perfectly crafted Cape Cod in front of Kev, winked at the compliment. Kev, still a bit overwhelmed by the bustling atmosphere, nursed his drink, watching the patrons flood into the club.

As the crowd thickened, Fang gestured towards a secluded booth nestled in a dimly lit alcove. "That's a VIP table," he explained. "We'll sit there, and the other managers will come by as the night goes on."

He turned back to Dale, his voice firm. "Do good work tonight, as always."

Dale snorted. "You wouldn't accept anything less, boss."

A towering figure approached the VIP area, a muscular kangarooman with a stern expression. He lifted the velvet rope, nodding respectfully to Fang. "Sir," he acknowledged.

Fang led Kev to the booth, sliding in beside him. The plush leather seats offered a welcome respite from the frenetic energy of the main floor. Kev took a deep breath, steeling himself for the introductions to come.

The nightclub pulsed with a frenetic energy, a whirlwind of activity that captivated Kev's senses. He had initially thought the absence of loud electronic music would create an odd atmosphere, but he was pleasantly surprised. The large barroom throbbed with life, filled with the sounds of laughter, animated conversations, and the occasional boisterous shout. The air crackled with anticipation, fueled by the warm glow emanating from the grand chandeliers adorned with countless flickering candles.

Kev's eyes darted around the room, taking in the spectacle. Dale, a blur of motion behind the bar, poured drink after drink with practiced ease, his booming laughter punctuating the din. A steady stream of cooks and busboys scurried to and from the bar, their movements a well-choreographed dance as they ferried plates of food and fresh glasses.

A waitress, her feline features accentuated by the flickering candlelight, approached their table with another round of drinks. Fang nodded his approval to Dale, then turned to Kev with a warm smile. "Enjoy," he said, his voice a low rumble amidst the surrounding noise.

Kev took a sip of his cranberry vodka, the tart sweetness a welcome contrast to the smoky atmosphere. He felt a thrill of excitement, a sense of being on the cusp of something extraordinary. The drink, with its subtle warmth, seemed to loosen Kev's inhibitions. Emboldened, he turned to Fang, his curiosity overcoming his initial shyness.

"Mr. Fang," he began, his voice a touch hesitant but filled with genuine interest, "what do you actually do here? I mean, operationally. What's your day-to-day work like?"

Fang blinked, a hint of surprise in his amber eyes. It was a refreshingly different question, one that cut through the usual superficial chatter he was accustomed to. "No one's ever asked me that before," he admitted, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Most people just assume I'm here to party all night, lost in the revelry like everyone else."

He leaned back in the booth, his posture relaxed yet exuding an air of authority. "In reality," he continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "I'm the one pulling the strings behind the scenes. I'm in charge of the numbers - marketing, event planning, budgeting... ensuring the club remains profitable. But it's not all spreadsheets and profit margins. I also have to navigate the delicate dance of keeping the city officials happy. Noise complaints, the occasional... unruly customer... It's a constant juggling act."

He paused, his gaze meeting Kev's. "It's a demanding job, but it's also incredibly rewarding. Seeing people let loose, shed their inhibitions, embrace their true selves... that's what makes it all worthwhile." A hint of pride crept into his voice, a warmth that softened his otherwise imposing demeanor.

As Fang spoke, Kev's attention was drawn to the dance floor, which was gradually coming alive. Beastmen and beastwomen alike swayed and twirled to the rhythm of the live music, their movements languid and sensual, almost hypnotic in their slow, deliberate grace. It was a far cry from the frenetic, high-energy dance floors Kev was accustomed to back on Earth. Here, the pace was unhurried, each movement a deliberate expression of sensuality and connection. The absence of pounding electronic beats, replaced by the melancholic strains of the string quartet, created an atmosphere that was both intimate and electrifying. Kev found himself mesmerized, his gaze tracing the interplay of light and shadow on the dancers' bodies.

Suddenly, a disturbance near the entrance shattered the spell. A massive tigerman, his muscles bulging against the seams of his black suit, shouldered his way past the kangaroo bouncer, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He moved with a predatory grace, his eyes scanning the room with an intensity that sent a shiver down Kev's spine. Without a word, he slid into the empty seat at the booth, snatching up Kev's half-finished Cape Cod and draining it in one swift motion.

A grimace twisted his features. "What the hell is this?" he spat, his voice rough and gravelly.

Fang sighed, a weary look crossing his face. It seemed introductions were inevitable, even in the relative sanctuary of the VIP booth. "Kev," he said, his voice laced with a hint of resignation, "meet Rex, head of security. Rex, this is Kev, my new personal assistant."

Chapter Text

Rex's gaze fell on Kev, his eyes narrowing in appraisal. "This little guy doesn't look like he could handle himself in a pillow fight, let alone assist you," he scoffed, a cruel smirk twisting his lips, exposing his sharp feline teeth. "Guess you like the small ones, huh, Fang?"

Fang's growl deepened, a warning rumble that even Rex couldn't ignore. "Watch your tongue, tiger," he warned, his eyes flashing with a dangerous glint.

Unfazed, Rex waved a hand at a passing waitress. "Another round here, sweety," he called out, his voice rough and commanding. "And make it something with a bit of bite this time." He turned back to Kev, his gaze unwavering.

"So, what are you, then?" he asked, his tone laced with a hint of mockery.

Kev, growing weary of the constant questioning, met Rex's gaze with a defiant stare. "I'm a human," he replied, his voice trying to hide how intimidated he felt from the predator.

Rex's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "A human? Never heard of it." he echoed, a sardonic laugh escaping his lips. "The old wolf hasn't made a move on you yet, has he?" His eyes flicked suggestively between Kev and Fang.

Kev's face flushed a deep crimson. Fang, sensing the human's discomfort, intervened. "That's enough, Rex," he said, his voice sharp. "Mind your manners."

Rex leaned back in his seat, a smug grin plastered on his face. "Well, if the boss man doesn't want to show you a good time," he said loudly, his voice carrying across the booth and drawing curious glances from nearby patrons, "I'm always available when you're off the clock." He punctuated his offer with a suggestive wink, leaving little to the imagination.

The waitress, seemingly unfazed by Rex's brashness, arrived with a tray laden with three drinks. Rex, ever the alpha, didn't even wait for her to set them down before snatching them up. He downed each one in quick succession, the amber liquid disappearing down his throat with guttural growls.

He slammed the empty glasses back onto the tray, a loud clang that echoed through the now-hushed booth. A belch, loud and unapologetic, erupted from his chest. He stood, towering over Kev with a predatory grin. "I look forward to seeing you around, human," he purred, his voice a low rumble. He gave Kev another wink, this one even more suggestive than the last, then turned to Fang with a curt nod. "Gotta get back to work, boss."

With that, he sauntered away, his muscular frame parting the crowd like a hot knife through butter. The tension in the booth lingered even after he was gone, a palpable reminder of his unsettling presence.

Fang's jaw clenched, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "That tiger's been getting a bit too comfortable lately," he muttered under his breath, his eyes following Rex's retreating figure.

Turning to Kev, he offered a sincere apology. "I'm truly sorry about Rex," he said, his voice softening considerably. "He can be... a bit much, sometimes. Especially after a few drinks." He paused, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "I hope he didn't make you uncomfortable."

Kev forced a smile, trying to shake off the lingering unease Rex had left in his wake. "It's fine," he assured Fang, though a knot of anxiety tightened in his stomach. The encounter with Rex had forced him to confront a reality he'd been trying to ignore: the true nature of his job. He hadn't really thought about what it might mean to "make the boss happy," but if Rex's suggestive comments were any indication, Kev might be in a more precarious position than he originally assumed.

The big, burly beastmen of the club were undeniably attractive, their raw masculinity and animalistic energy a stark contrast to the men Kev was used to back on Earth. But the thought of being with one of them, of surrendering to their primal desires, was both exhilarating and terrifying. He wasn't sure he could handle the intensity, the sheer physicality of it all. Kev sighed wistfully, at least his sexuality wasn't going to be an issue in this strange club. 

As Kev wrestled with these complicated thoughts, Fang's voice broke through his reverie. "Ah, Kaiote, you made it," he greeted warmly, a hint of relief in his tone.

A slender crow-woman, her jet-black feathers shimmering in the dim light, approached their table. She had a large sweatshirt on, hood pulled over her head so only her black beak stuck out. She moved with quick jerky steps and clearly wasn't comfortable in the boisterous atmosphere of the club, her posture tense and guarded.

"Kev," Fang said, turning to him with a smile, "meet Kaiote, our IT manager. She's the one who keeps all our systems running smoothly, even without the luxury of electricity."

Kaiote's sharp eyes flicked towards Fang, a hint of amusement in their depths. "There's plenty of electricity down at the entrance to the parking lot," she corrected him, her voice a melodic counterpoint to the surrounding din. "Just not within the club itself."

She turned her attention to Kev, her curiosity evident. Before she could voice the inevitable question about his species, Kev interjected, "I'm a human."

Kaiote's interest piqued. "A human?" she echoed, her gaze sharpening. "I've only read about them..." Her focus seemed more on the concept of humans as a whole than on Kev as an individual.

Kev, sensing her scientific curiosity, decided to steer the conversation towards her work. "What exactly do you do here, Kaiote?" he asked.

"I oversee the club's security systems," she explained. "There are multiple layers of protection surrounding the property, ensuring no one sneaks in any sort of electronics. It's a complex setup, but it's essential for maintaining the privacy and safety of our patrons."

Fang offered her a drink, but she politely declined. "Thank you, but I'd prefer to get back to my office," she said, her gaze lingering on Kev for a moment longer. "It's much quieter out there." With a final nod to both of them, she turned and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving Kev with a sense of intrigue and a growing list of questions about this fascinating new world.

A pleasant warmth spread through Kev's body as he finished his second (and a half) drink. The initial anxiety had given way to a sense of cautious curiosity. However, he knew he should put something substantial in his stomach before Dale's potent cocktails caught up with him. "Can we get something to eat?" he asked Fang, a hopeful note in his voice.

Fang, also feeling a bit loose from his own drinks, stretched his arms out along the back of the booth, one casually landing behind Kev's shoulders. Kev felt the warmth and firmness of Fang's furry arm and a blush crept up his neck. Rax's suggestive words still echoed in his mind, adding an unexpected layer of tension to the otherwise comfortable gesture.

Fang, oblivious to Kev's internal turmoil, beckoned a waitress with a flick of his wrist. "Two steaks, rare," he ordered, his voice carrying an air of authority even amidst the boisterous atmosphere.

Kev, his heart pounding in his chest, tried to focus on the anticipation of a good meal, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Rex's words, and the lingering touch of Fang's arm on his shoulder.

As the steaks arrived, sizzling and fragrant, Kev noticed a subtle shift in the club's atmosphere. The dancers on the floor began to disperse, and groups of patrons peeled away from the bar, disappearing into various hidden doorways and dimly lit corridors. The bar remained busy, but the crush of bodies had thinned considerably. Kev's curiosity piqued.

"Where is everyone going?" he asked Fang, watching a group of giggling hyenas vanish behind a velvet curtain.

Fang, momentarily distracted from his steak, followed Kev's gaze. "Ah," he said with a knowing smirk, "the night is just getting started for some. The real action happens behind closed doors."

He gestured vaguely towards the labyrinth of corridors that branched off from the main barroom. "Private rooms, play areas... all sorts of hidden delights for those seeking a more... personalized experience."

Kev felt a shiver run down his spine. He tried to imagine what went on behind those closed doors, but his mind conjured up images that were both thrilling and unsettling. Even with his brief passing peak, Kev knew that they weren't playing cards. 

Fang, meanwhile, had devoured his steak with impressive speed, the bone picked clean in a matter of minutes. Kev, on the other hand, had only managed to eat half of his. The portion size was clearly meant for a beastman's appetite, not a human's. He pushed the plate away, feeling a sense of fullness he hadn't experienced in a long time.

As the night wore on, the combination of Dale's potent cocktails and the intoxicating atmosphere of the club began to take its toll on Kev. He found himself leaning against Fang, the warmth of the wolfman's body a comforting anchor in the swirling chaos. The subtle scent of Fang's cologne, a mix of musk and something uniquely him, filled Kev's senses, creating a strange sense of intimacy.

Fang, though outwardly composed, was anything but calm on the inside. The proximity of the human, his scent and warmth so close, sent a thrill through him that he hadn't experienced in years. His heart hammered in his chest, a primal rhythm that echoed the beat of the live music. He was both excited by the prospect of having this exotic new assistant in his life and strangely nervous, unsure of how to navigate these unfamiliar feelings. The contrast between his usual confidence and this newfound vulnerability was both exhilarating and unsettling.

"We're just waiting a bit longer to meet the head chef," Fang explained, his voice a low rumble in Kev's ear, trying to maintain his composure. "The kitchen will be closing soon, and she'll be free to join us then." He hoped the slight tremor in his voice wasn't noticeable amidst the surrounding noise. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. This was just a business meeting, he reminded himself. Nothing more.

Kev, picturing the bustling kitchen and the hearty meals being served, had expected the head chef to be a burly figure, perhaps a buffalo or a pig man. He was taken aback when a slender rat woman, dwarfed by the surrounding beastmen, approached their table. She pulled off her chef's hat, revealing a mop of greasy, dark hair, and slumped into the seat across from Fang.

"What the hell is this?" she asked, her voice raspy and laced with exhaustion, gesturing towards Kev with a cigarette dangling from her lips.

Kev, emboldened by the alcohol, giggled. "I'm a human," he replied, a playful lilt in his voice.

Fang chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through Kev's body. "This is my new assistant, Kev," he introduced, a hint of pride in his voice. "Kev, meet Reepicheep, but everyone just calls her Reepia, our head chef extraordinaire."

Reepia's sharp, beady eyes assessed Kev, her expression unreadable. She lit her cigarette with a practiced flick of her wrist, exhaling a cloud of smoke that momentarily obscured her face. "Fang doesn't need an assistant," she declared, her voice gruff. "He needs a damn army."

Fang's smile faltered slightly. "Thank you for your concern, Reepia," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "But I can't afford to take a long break. The city's been breathing down our necks lately. If I step away for too long, they'll find an excuse to shut us down." He looked down at Kev, his gaze softening. "Give him a chance, Reepia. He might surprise you."

Reepia's gaze shifted to Kev, her eyes narrowed in a skeptical glare that could cut through steel. "And what exactly can this... little human do to help you?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "He looks like he'd break in half if he tried to lift a sack of potatoes, let alone handle the shit-storm you call a life."

Fang bristled, his protective instincts flaring. The urge to defend Kev, to silence Reepia's sharp tongue, was strong. But he'd known the rat woman since they were pups, their bond forged in the rough-and-tumble streets of their youth. He knew her gruff demeanor and biting words hid a genuine concern for his well-being. Reepia was one of the few who could get away with speaking to him so bluntly, and he tolerated it, even encouraged it, because he knew she had his best interests at heart.

"This is really the best you could find?" Reepia continued, her voice rising in disbelief, a cloud of smoke curling around her head like an angry storm cloud. "He's even smaller than me! And I'm a rat, for crying out loud!" She threw her hands up in exasperation, her cigarette dangling precariously between her fingers. "I'll have to give Horns a piece of my mind for not hiring someone more... capable. Someone who can actually handle the stress of this place."

She took a long drag from her cigarette, her eyes never leaving Kev. "I hope you're not just another pretty face, human," she said, her voice low and menacing. "Because Fang needs more than just a distraction. He needs someone who can actually make a difference."

Kev's brows furrowed in confusion. He'd hoped to foster a friendly rapport with his new colleagues, not face hostility on his first night. He decided to try a different approach, aiming for common ground. "The steak was delicious," he offered, a genuine smile gracing his lips. "But the portion size was a bit much for me."

Reepia's expression softened slightly, a flicker of acknowledgement in her eyes. "That's the Carnivore's Choice," she explained with a shrug. "Most of those phony alphas want to impress their dates with a big hunk of meat."

Fang let out a choked laugh, a rare display of amusement that caught Kev off guard. Reepia's bluntness, while sometimes abrasive, was often refreshingly honest.

"Relax, Reepia," Fang said, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Give Kev a chance."

Kev, emboldened by Fang's support, spoke up. "I'll try to order a smaller portion next time, so I don't waste any food."

A hint of approval flickered in Reepia's eyes. "Good," she grunted. "Waste not, want not."

She stood up, her gaze sweeping over Kev and Fang one last time. "I'll be keeping an eye on you, human," she warned, her voice low and gravelly. "One wrong move, and I'll have to break out the kitchen knives."

With that ominous pronouncement, she turned and disappeared back into the bustling kitchen, leaving Kev to ponder the implications of her words.

Fang leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "There are others you should meet," he admitted, "but perhaps this is enough for one night. We wouldn't want to overwhelm you."

He hesitated, a hint of concern in his eyes. "Just... try not to wander around too much. Some of our guests can get a bit... enthusiastic, especially after a few drinks." He didn't want Kev to become the target of unwanted advances.

Fang stood up, his towering form casting a long shadow over the table. He lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on Kev. The memory of the human leaning against him, their bodies pressed together in the dimly lit booth, sent a shiver of excitement through him. He was reluctant to leave, but duty called.

With a final, lingering look, he said, "Good night, Kev. Sleep well." Then, with a nod, he turned and strode off into the heart of the club, his powerful presence leaving a palpable void in the booth.

Kev, feeling a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, rose from the booth and made his way towards the exit. He paused at the velvet rope, offering a grateful smile to the kangaroo bouncer. "Thanks for keeping an eye out," he said, his voice slightly slurred.

The bouncer nodded in acknowledgement, his stern expression softening slightly. "No problem, kid. Sleep well."

Kev navigated the maze of corridors, his steps a bit unsteady, until he reached the familiar staircase leading to the second floor. He climbed the stairs, each step a minor triumph, and finally arrived at his room.

The apartment was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon filtering through the windows. Kev fumbled with the matches and lantern Horns had provided, cursing under his breath as he struggled to light the wick. Finally, a soft yellow glow filled the room, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

He settled onto the couch, lighting a cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke into the quiet air. His mind raced, replaying the events of the evening. The vibrant energy of the club, the intimidating presence of Rex, the enigmatic Kaiote, and Fang's lingering touch... It was all so much to process.

With a sigh, Kev stubbed out his cigarette and made his way to the bedroom. The queen-sized bed, with its crisp, clean sheets, beckoned him like a haven. He sank into the plush mattress, a wave of exhaustion washing over him.

As he drifted off to sleep, a part of him couldn't help but wish that Fang was there beside him, his warmth and presence a comforting counterpoint to the strangeness of this new world. But for now, Kev was content to let sleep claim him, the promise of a new day, and perhaps a new understanding of his place in this world, awaiting him in the morning.

Chapter Text

Kev's eyes snapped open, the first rays of dawn filtering through the curtains stirring him from a deep slumber. His heart skipped a beat as he noticed the lantern still burning brightly on the bedside table. A fleeting worry about a potential fire crossed his mind, but the room remained untouched, bathed in the soft morning light.

He stretched, his muscles protesting the unaccustomed activity of the previous day. A hot shower and a trip to the bathroom helped to shake off the lingering remnants of sleep. As he wandered into the kitchen, the desire for a cup of coffee gnawed at him. He rummaged through the supplies Horns had provided, but the absence of an electric kettle left him stumped. After a few futile attempts at lighting the gas stove proved beyond his ability, he gave up with a sigh, opting for a cigarette instead. The familiar ritual of lighting up and inhaling the smoke calmed his nerves, offering a sense of normalcy in this strange new world.

With a sense of restlessness, Kev decided to explore the club in its daylight guise. He left his apartment, carefully locking the door behind him, and ventured down the grand staircase. The once bustling club was now eerily quiet, the echoes of last night's abandon replaced by the mellow sounds of cleaning and preparation.

He passed by diligent workers sweeping floors, polishing furniture, and hauling away bags of refuse. The air, previously thick with the mingled scents of sweat, perfume, and alcohol, now carried the clean, sharp smell of disinfectant.

As he approached the main bar, he spotted the unmistakable figure of Horns sitting at the counter, nursing a drink. The mooseman looked exhausted, his usually cheerful demeanor replaced by a weary slump. The weight of managing the club's staff, especially after a busy night like the previous one, was clearly evident on his face.

Horns greeted Kev with a weary smile, his voice raspy but welcoming. "Well, hello there, Kev," he said, his large frame slumped against the bar. "Glad to see you haven't run off yet."

Kev chuckled, taking a seat beside the mooseman. "I'm still trying to figure out if this is all a dream," he admitted, glancing around the quiet barroom. The contrast to the previous night's revelry was stark. "You look like you could use a nap yourself," he added, noting the dark circles under Horns' eyes and the exhaustion etched into his features.

Horns let out a long, weary sigh, the sound echoing through the empty space. "My workday just ended," he explained, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "I'll be heading to bed soon enough." He paused, a flicker of longing crossing his face. "Just need to unwind a bit first."

Kev's curiosity was piqued. "Do you live here in the mansion?" he inquired.

Horns shook his head. "No, but I don't live far. I basically just rent a room to sleep in during the day. All my waking hours are spent here." A hint of sadness tinged his voice, a fleeting glimpse into the sacrifices he made for his job. It seemed the club consumed his life, leaving little room for anything else.

Kev, touched by the mooseman's dedication, felt a surge of empathy. He couldn't imagine devoting his entire existence to a single place, no matter how fulfilling the work. "You're welcome to use my bed if you want," he offered sincerely. "I'm sure I can find somewhere else to hang around while you sleep."

Horns considered the offer, then shook his head. "Maybe next time," he said with a chuckle. "Wouldn't want to upset the boss man."

Kev's brow furrowed. "Why would Fang be upset?" he asked, genuinely confused.

Horns took a long sip of his drink, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You made quite an impression on the staff last night, Kev," he revealed.

"How so?" Kev asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Well, for one, Rex is already talking about hooking up with you," Horns said with a sly grin. "Mostly as a power play to annoy Fang, but still..."

Kev coughed, nearly choking on his own saliva. "What?" he sputtered, his face turning a bright shade of red.

Horns continued, unfazed by Kev's reaction. "Kaiote seemed to like you well enough, though she's a bit of an odd bird, so it's hard to tell what she's really thinking." He paused, taking another sip of his drink. "Dale hasn't quite got a grasp on you yet, but he thinks your drink choice is a bit... feminine."

Kev opened his mouth to protest, but Horns held up a hand. "That's not a bad thing, mind you," he clarified. "Dale judges a person very deeply based on their drink of choice. It's his bartender's intuition, or something like that."

He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a quiet whisper as he looked at the door to the kitchen. "And it seems like Reepia liked you."

Kev snorted. "She threatened me with kitchen knives," he pointed out, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

Horns burst into laughter, his booming voice echoing through the empty bar. "That sounds about right," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "She's got a soft spot, deep down, but she's not one to show it easily."

Horns finished his drink in one long gulp and gave Kev a hearty slap on the back. The friendly gesture, though well-intentioned, nearly knocked the wind out of the smaller man. "See you in the evening, Kev," Horns said with a cheerful wave. "Don't over do it today, we've got another busy night ahead."

With that, the mooseman lumbered off, leaving Kev alone in the quiet barroom. Kev watched him go, then turned his attention to the scene around him. A few cleaners were still busy at work, their movements efficient and practiced. Others were replacing candles in the chandeliers and wall sconces, polishing the glass covers back to their transparent glory.

Kev took a deep breath, the lingering scent of stale alcohol and disinfectant filling his nostrils. He wondered how he should spend his time until Horns returned. He could go back to his apartment and try to catch up on some sleep, but the idea of being alone in that large, empty space didn't appeal to him. He could explore the club further, but Fang's warning about overzealous patrons still echoed in his mind.

Kev, wanting to escape the cleaners glances and stares, decided to explore the backyard he'd glimpsed from his apartment window. After a few wrong turns, he finally located a door that led outside.

The backyard of the mansion-turned-nightclub was a sprawling expanse, a stark contrast to the dimly lit, enclosed spaces within. Lush green lawns stretched out, bordered by towering trees that cast dappled shadows on the ground. A stone patio, furnished with wrought-iron tables and chairs, offered a place to relax and enjoy the fresh air. A large, kidney-shaped pool shimmered invitingly in the sunlight, its surface undisturbed save for a few fallen leaves.

Beyond the pool, a winding path disappeared into a dense thicket of trees, hinting at further hidden delights. The air was alive with the sounds of nature – the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves, and the gentle gurgle of a nearby fountain.

Despite the tranquil setting, there were subtle reminders of the club's unique clientele. A few discarded feathers lay scattered on the patio, and the occasional paw print marred the otherwise pristine lawn. It was a curious blend of wildness and refinement, a reflection of the club's duality.

Kev inhaled deeply, the crisp morning air filling his lungs. It was his first venture outside since his arrival in this new world, and he was surprised by how familiar it felt. The sun shone warmly, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead, and the scent of freshly cut grass tickled his nostrils. It could have been a scene from back home, were it not for the towering mansion-turned-nightclub looming in the background and the occasional glimpse of a furry tail disappearing around a corner.

He turned to face the building, taking in its grandeur from a new perspective. The mansion was truly impressive, its weathered stone facade hinting at a long and storied past. It stood in stark contrast to the sleek, modern clubs he was used to, its old-world charm lending an air of mystery and intrigue.

Kev lit a cigarette, the smoke curling upwards in the still air. He strolled along the manicured paths, his footsteps silent on the soft grass. A few groundskeepers, their beastly features hidden beneath wide-brimmed hats, tended to the landscaping. They paused in their work to watch him pass, their curious gazes following his every move. But no one spoke, their silence adding to the surreal atmosphere.

Kev felt a strange sense of isolation, a solitary human amidst beastmen. Not a single person he had met so far seemed to have even the slightest clue about what humans were. Even that crow woman, kaiote, had just mentioned reading something about humans. He wondered if he would ever truly belong here, or if he was destined to remain an outsider, forever observing from the sidelines. The thoughts were too overwhelming, kev shook his head and pushed the feeling down, this was just a coma dream anyways, no need to make himself more anxious.

As Kev continued his exploration of the grounds, he spotted Reepia and a group of cooks huddled near a back door, enjoying a smoke break. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to take a chance.

"Morning," he offered with a tentative smile, approaching the group.

The other cooks, a motley assortment of beastmen, glanced at him with varying degrees of curiosity and suspicion before quickly dispersing back inside. Reepia, however, remained, her cigarette dangling from her lips, her expression as frazzled and tired as Horns' had been earlier.

"What do you want, human?" she grunted, her voice rough and unwelcoming.

Kev felt a pang of disappointment. He'd hoped for a more cordial interaction, but it seemed Reepia wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. Still, he pressed on, his need for caffeine outweighing his apprehension.

"I was just wondering if there's any coffee in the kitchen," he asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Reepia scoffed, smoke curling from her nostrils. "You'll have to prove you can work before you get anything from me," she retorted, her tone sharp and dismissive.

Kev straightened his back, a flicker of determination in his eyes. "I can help," he offered, his voice firm. "I may not be able to make coffee without electricity, but I'm sure I can be of assistance in other ways."

Reepia's gaze narrowed, her skepticism evident. "If you can't even make coffee, then you probably shouldn't be allowed in my kitchen," she retorted, her tone sharp as a knife.

Kev sighed, trying to suppress his frustration. "I can wash dishes," he said, his voice steady. "I'm sure there's plenty of that to be done after a busy night. I'd really like some coffee."

The rat woman eyed him, her scowl deepening. "Fine," she grunted. "But you'll have to tackle that mountain of dishes before I even consider giving you a cup." She gestured towards the kitchen door, behind which Kev could hear the clatter of pots and pans.

Kev nodded, a sense of resolve settling over him. "Deal," he said, squaring his shoulders.

Reepia seemed momentarily surprised by his willingness, a flicker of curiosity replacing her seemingly perpetual disdain. She turned and pushed open the kitchen door, revealing a scene of controlled chaos.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," she said with a smirk, disappearing into the steam and clatter.

Kev had worked in a few kitchens in his younger years, bussing tables and washing dishes to make ends meet. The scene before him wasn't entirely unfamiliar, even with the absence of humming dishwashers and the presence of furry, scaled, or feathered cooks bustling around him. The air hung heavy with the mingled scents of spices, roasted meats, and strong coffee, a symphony of aromas that both tantalized and overwhelmed his senses.

He made his way to the dish sink, a massive stainless steel basin overflowing with dirty plates, pots, and pans. The water, pumped in from outside the grounds, was steaming hot and thick with suds. The sheer volume of dishes was daunting, a testament to the club's popularity the night before.

Kev rolled up his sleeves, a determined glint in his eyes. He'd tackled worse messes in his time. He plunged his hands into the soapy water, the heat a welcome contrast to the cool morning air outside. The rhythm of scrubbing, rinsing, and stacking soon took over, his movements becoming almost meditative.

The empty cart behind him slowly filled with gleaming clean dishes, a tangible testament to his progress. The cooks, initially wary of the human in their midst, began to acknowledge his efforts with grunts of approval and the occasional tossed compliment. Even Reepia, her sharp eyes observing him from across the kitchen, seemed to soften slightly as she witnessed his diligence.

Just as Kev was starting to make a dent in the mountain of dishes, Reepia appeared beside him, a steaming mug in her hand. "Enough," she barked, her voice gruff but not unkind. "Take a break."

Kev, surprised by the unexpected gesture, protested. "I can finish the rest," he insisted, gesturing towards the remaining pile.

Reepia shook her head. "Our dish boy will be back soon," she explained. "He'll be insufferable without anything to keep him busy." A flicker of a smile crossed her lips. "Get out of my kitchen."

She thrust the mug into Kev's hands. "The sugar and cream are behind the bar," she added,pointing to a different set of doors then kev entered. She then turned and disappeared back into the kitchen's organized chaos.

Kev, his hands wrapped around the warm mug, savored the rich aroma of the coffee. It was strong, just the way he liked it, and the caffeine hit his system like a jolt of electricity. He thanked Reepia silently, then stepped out of the kitchen and back into the relative quiet of the barroom.

Chapter Text

Kev, mug in hand, made his way back up the stairs to his apartment after pouring a splash of cream in his coffee. The warm coffee felt like a lifeline, its aroma a comforting promise amidst the strangeness of his new surroundings.

He settled into the small living room, taking a seat on the plush couch. The morning light streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on the room. He tore off a piece of bread from a loaf Horns had provided and dipped it into his coffee, savoring the simple pleasure of a quiet breakfast.

Without clocks, he could only estimate the time. Judging by the position of the sun, it must have been close to noon. He'd probably spent a good hour washing dishes in Reepia's chaotic kitchen.

As he finished his coffee, he reached for the small bag of greenery Horns had given him the day before. He carefully rolled a joint, lit it, and inhaled deeply, the smoke filling his lungs with a calming warmth.

Sitting there, bathed in the sunlight, sipping his coffee, and enjoying the gentle buzz of the herb, Kev felt a sense of contentment wash over him. The uncertainties of his situation, the looming questions about his purpose and his place in this world, faded momentarily into the background. For now, he was simply present, enjoying the quiet solitude of his new home.

 An hour passed in a haze of peaceful contemplation. Kev, once again feeling the thoughts of how he wound up in this situation prick at his mind, decided to explore the second floor. The silence of the hallways intrigued him, a stark contrast to the raucous energy that permeated the lower levels. Aside from the occasional cleaner diligently dusting or checking candles, he hadn't encountered another soul.

He wandered aimlessly, his curiosity leading him down one corridor and then another. The mansion's second floor seemed to stretch on endlessly, a labyrinth of rooms and passages. He passed by closed doors, some adorned with ornate carvings, others bearing signs indicating their purpose: "Accounting," "Library," "Private."

Eventually, Kev found himself back at his own apartment, having completed a full circle. As he reached for the doorknob, a sudden commotion caught his attention. A door near the top of the staircase behind him flew open, and a distressed beastwoman, tears streaming down her face, rushed down the stairs. She didn't even seem to notice Kev as she fled down the hallway, her sobs echoing in the otherwise silent corridor.

The door slammed shut behind her, and Kev heard Fang's voice, raised in anger, filtering through the thick wood. He couldn't make out the words, but the tone was unmistakable. A tense silence followed, broken only by the muffled sound of Fang's pacing.

Kev stood there, his hand still on the doorknob, his heart pounding in his chest. The unexpected outburst had shattered the illusion of tranquility he'd experienced earlier, reminding him that even in this seemingly idyllic setting, there were undercurrents of tension and conflict.

Kev hesitated outside Fang's door, unsure of how to proceed. The wolfman's anger had been palpable, and Kev didn't want to intrude on a private matter. But was it part of his duty as Fang's assistant to offer support, even in potentially uncomfortable situations?

He took a step towards the door, his hand raised to knock, when it swung open abruptly. Rex, the imposing tigerman, emerged, a smug grin plastered on his face. "Ah, there you are," he purred, his eyes raking over Kev's form. "Good timing. I just clocked out."

Kev's cheeks flushed, his heart skipping a beat. "I... I just wanted to know what was going on," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "A woman just ran out, crying."

Rex laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed in the hallway. "That bitch deserved it," he said dismissively. "But enough about her. How about you and I head down to the bar for a drink?" His eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger that made Kev's skin crawl.

Before Kev could respond, Fang's voice boomed from inside the room. "Rex, leave him alone!"

Rex merely winked at Kev. "Anytime you want it, little guy," he said with a suggestive smirk, then sauntered down the stairs, his laughter echoing in the hallway.

Kev took a deep breath, steeling himself, and stepped into Fang's office.

Fang's office was a sanctuary of quiet sophistication, a stark contrast to the pulsating energy of the club below. High ceilings, rich wood paneling, and walls lined with leather-bound books exuded an air of refined elegance and intellectual pursuit. A crackling fire in the grand stone fireplace cast a warm, inviting glow on the room, dispelling the lingering shadows of the recent confrontation.

Fang, however, looked anything but composed. His usually impeccable suit was rumpled, his fur slightly disheveled, and his eyes held a weariness that Kev hadn't noticed before. He was seated at a massive wooden desk, its surface littered with papers and half-empty glasses. The sight of Kev seemed to jolt him back to reality. He quickly straightened up, smoothing his fur and adjusting his tie with a practiced hand.

"Kev," he said, rising to his feet with a forced smile. "What brings you here?" His voice, though still carrying a hint of the earlier anger, was carefully modulated, an attempt to project an image of control. "Is everything alright?" He gestured towards a plush armchair by the fireplace, inviting Kev to take a seat.

Kev hesitated for a moment, unsure how to broach the sensitive topic. "I was just... concerned about the yelling," he finally admitted, his voice soft. "I saw a woman run past my room, crying."

Fang's expression darkened, his brow furrowing in displeasure. He sank back into his chair with a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "She was caught stealing," he explained, his voice laced with a weariness that belied his usual commanding presence. "Rex was here to vouch for the security member who apprehended her."

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes closing briefly as if to ward off a headache. "I haven't had a chance to sleep yet," he confessed, rubbing his temples. "It's been a long night."

A wave of sympathy washed over Kev, seeing the usually stoic wolfman looking so vulnerable. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Fang's eyes slowly trailed over Kev's form, lingering on his slender frame and delicate features. A flicker of desire crossed his gaze, quickly replaced by a weary resignation. "No," he finally said, shaking his head. "I just need some sleep." He glanced at the clock on his desk. "We've got five hours until the club opens again. I need to rest while I can."

Kev nodded, understanding. He couldn't imagine running a business as demanding as this nightclub, especially with so little sleep. "Are you sure you don't want anything?" he pressed gently. "A glass of water, maybe? Or some food?"

Fang shook his head again, pushing himself up from his desk and padding over to the plush couch by the fireplace. He stretched out, his large frame dwarfing the furniture. "No, thank you," he mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion. "Just... could you close the blinds and lock the door on your way out? The light bothers me when I'm trying to sleep."

"Of course," Kev replied, already moving towards the window. "I'll knock on the door when the sun starts going down, so you can wake up before the club opens."

Fang offered a grateful smile. "Thank you, Kev," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He rolled over onto his side, his back to Kev, and within moments, soft snores filled the room.

Kev quietly closed the blinds, plunging the office into darkness. He locked the door behind him, a sense of responsibility settling over him. Fang, despite his gruff exterior, was clearly carrying a heavy burden. Kev was determined to do whatever he could to lighten that load, even if it was just ensuring the wolfman got a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Filled with a sense of purpose, Kev returned to his apartment and spent the next few hours diligently cleaning. He scrubbed the bathroom until it gleamed, polished the furniture until it shone, and even managed to get rid of the faint layer of dust that had clung to the surfaces. By the time he was finished, the apartment looked and felt like a true home, a sanctuary in this unfamiliar world.

Just as he was putting the finishing touches on the living room, Horns reappeared, looking considerably more refreshed than he had earlier that morning. He tossed a stack of books onto the kitchen counter with a cheerful grin. "Here you go, Kev," he said, his voice booming through the apartment. "Some light reading material to keep you entertained."

Kev thanked him, his eyes widening in excitement as he examined the titles. There were books on local history, beastman culture, and even a guide to the flora and fauna of the region. It was exactly what he needed to start understanding this new world.

Horns settled onto the couch, producing another joint from his seemingly endless supply. As Kev continued his cleaning, Horns lit up and took a long, slow drag, exhaling a cloud of fragrant smoke.

"So," Horns began, his voice mellowed by the herb, "how's your day been so far?"

Kev chuckled, shaking his head. "I've learned that I desperately need to figure out how to make coffee without electricity," he admitted. "I don't think Reepia wants me down in the kitchen doing dishes every time I want a cup."

Horns raised an eyebrow, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "You did dishes to get a cup of coffee?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief. "After I left?"

Kev shrugged, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, Reepia said I had to prove myself worthy before she'd give me any."

Horns frowned, shaking his head. "I'll have to have a word with her about that," he muttered. "That's no way to treat the boss's new assistant."

Kev waved a dismissive hand. "It's not a big deal," he assured Horns. "I've met a few women like her before. She just wants to test me, see if I'm up for the challenge."

Horns' frown turned into a broad smile. "You're pretty clever for a human," he said, chuckling.

Kev feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. "I'll have you know, we humans are quite capable," he retorted playfully.

Horns laughed heartily, his booming voice filling the apartment. He leaned back on the couch, his large frame sinking into the cushions. "Well, I'm glad you're taking it all in stride," he said, his tone sincere. "You'll fit in just fine around here."

Kev, feeling a surge of warmth towards the mooseman, offered him some of the food Horns had brought earlier. "Would you like something to eat?" he asked, gesturing towards the kitchen counter.

Horns' eyes lit up. "An apple would be lovely," he said, reaching for the fruit bowl. He took a bite, the crisp sound echoing in the quiet room.

As Horns munched on his apple, Kev couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with the gentle giant. Despite the initial awkwardness and the challenges he faced in this new world, he was starting to find his footing. And with Horns as his ally, he felt a little less alone.

"Oh, and by the way," Kev added, remembering Fang's earlier request, "Mr. Fang is asleep in his office. We probably shouldn't wake him for another hour or so."

Horns raised a bushy eyebrow. "His office?" he questioned, a hint of amusement in his voice. "He's got a perfectly good bedroom just a few feet away." He shook his head, chuckling. "That wolf likes sleeping on the couch more than his own bed, sometimes."

"Anything else happen while I was gone?" Horns inquired, taking another bite of his apple.

Kev recounted the incident with the woman being caught stealing and subsequently let go. "It seemed to upset Mr. Fang quite a bit," he observed.

Horns sighed, a weary sound escaping his lips. "I'll have to go check the schedule," he said, rising from the couch with a grunt. "Figure out how we are gonna cover her duties." He patted Kev's shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry about it, Kev. Just part of the usual chaos around here."

With a final wave, Horns left the apartment, leaving Kev to his own thoughts once more.

Kev took a final, lingering drag from the joint Horns had left behind, letting the smoke curl slowly from his lips as he savored the calming sensation it brought. He carefully placed the stack of books on his bedside table, his fingers tracing the embossed titles with a sense of anticipation. The prospect of delving into the history and culture of this new world, of unraveling its mysteries and understanding its inhabitants, filled him with a quiet excitement. He made a mental note to choose one to read later, a welcome escape from the whirlwind of events that had consumed his first day.

For now, duty called. The lengthening shadows outside his window served as a silent reminder that it was nearly time to rouse Fang from his slumber. Kev freshened up in the bathroom, the cool water washing away the last vestiges of the day and the lingering scent of smoke. He changed back into the clothes he'd worn the night before, the familiar fabric offering a small comfort in this unfamiliar world.

With a determined nod, Kev left his apartment and made his way down the hallway to Fang's office. The mansion was still enveloped in a hushed stillness, the only sounds the soft creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet and the distant clinking of dishes from the kitchen below. He paused outside Fang's door, his hand hovering over the ornate knob. A wave of nervousness washed over him, a reminder of the power dynamics at play in this new relationship. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, then gently knocked. "Mr. Fang?" he called softly, his voice barely audible above the silence. "It's time to wake up."

A muffled string of obscenities echoed from behind the door, followed by a moment of tense silence. Kev's heart hammered in his chest, a nervous anticipation building within him. Suddenly, the door flew open, revealing Fang, his eyes blazing with anger, his teeth bared in a snarl.

Chapter Text

As the ferocious wolfman's gaze fell upon Kev, his ears flattened against his head, and the anger dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. A warmth spread through him, an unfamiliar flutter in his chest under the human's gaze. Kev, startled by Fang's initial aggression, took a step back, his eyes wide with surprise.

Fang, realizing his outburst, cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. "Sorry about that," he mumbled, avoiding Kev's eyes. He turned and walked briskly towards the next room, his bedroom. Kev followed, his curiosity piqued.

Fang stopped abruptly at the threshold, blocking Kev's view of the room. "Wait for me in the office," he instructed, his voice firm but not unkind. "I'll be cleaned up in a few minutes."

Kev nodded, a bit disappointed but understanding. He retraced his steps to the office, settling back onto the couch by the fireplace. The room still held the lingering scent of Fang, a mix of musk and something uniquely him, a comforting reminder of their shared space the night before.

Twenty minutes later, Fang re-entered the office, his fur still slightly damp from a hasty shower. He was once again impeccably dressed, this time in a dark blue suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and powerful build. The scent of his cologne, a subtle blend of pine needles and leather filled the room, momentarily distracting Kev from his thoughts. It was a stark contrast to the disheveled figure Kev had seen earlier, a reminder of the duality of Fang's existence - the composed businessman and the vulnerable individual beneath the polished exterior.

"I'm absolutely famished," Fang declared, his voice carrying a hint of urgency that betrayed his exhaustion. "Let's head downstairs and grab some breakfast. I also need to track down Horns and fill him in on the staffing situation from last night."

Kev nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Actually," he interjected gently, "I already mentioned it to Horns when he stopped by my apartment."

Fang's eyebrows shot up in surprise, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. "You did?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Well, that certainly saves me a trip." He paused, a thoughtful expression settling on his features. "I suppose that means we can just focus on enjoying a leisurely meal then."

A genuine smile spread across Fang's face, a rare sight that softened his usually stern features. It was clear that Kev's initiative had pleasantly surprised him, a small but significant step in establishing trust and proving his worth as an assistant. The tension that had lingered in the air since the confrontation in Fang's office seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sense of shared purpose and a growing camaraderie.

As Kev followed Fang down the grand staircase, he couldn't help but notice the early birds already flocking to the club. Despite the relatively early hour, a steady stream of patrons, eager to immerse themselves in the unique atmosphere of Club Fang, were making their way through the entrance.

Fang, his presence commanding attention even in the dimly lit hallway, led Kev back to the VIP section, claiming a table with a practiced air of authority. He flagged down a passing waitress, his voice a low rumble that cut through the growing din. "Steak and eggs, rare and runny," he ordered, "and a big cup of coffee. Black."

He turned to Kev, his amber eyes expectant. "And for you, my dear assistant?"

Kev hesitated for a moment, then replied, "A salad, please. With vinaigrette dressing."

Fang's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "A salad?" he echoed, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "I thought you were a carnivore. I hope I didn't offend you with the steak last night."

Kev chuckled, shaking his head. "Not quite," he replied. "I have a varied diet. I enjoy meat, but I also appreciate a good salad."

The waitress, a lithe cat-woman with piercing green eyes, nodded and hurried off to relay Fang's order.

Fang leaned back in his seat, his curiosity piqued. "So, tell me about your day," he prompted, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Kev. "What have you been up to since I left you in your new apartment?"

Kev recounted his morning, starting with his initial confusion about brewing coffee without electricity, his venture into the backyard, and his encounter with Reepia in the kitchen. He described the mountain of dishes, the unexpected cup, and Reepia's gruff but ultimately approving demeanor. He even shared his exploration of the second floor before the woman was fired.

Fang listened intently, his expression shifting between amusement, concern, and a touch of pride. He chuckled at Kev's coffee-making woes, his deep laughter echoing through the quiet barroom. He frowned when Kev described Reepia's initial hostility but seemed pleased to hear that Kev had managed to win her over, even if it was through sheer determination and a willingness to get his hands dirty.

"You're quite resourceful, aren't you?" Fang commented, a genuine smile gracing his lips. "I'm impressed."

Kev blushed slightly, his gaze dropping to his hands. "I'm just trying to make myself useful," he mumbled.

Fang reached across the table, his large hand gently covering Kev's smaller one. "You're already proving your worth, Kev," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Don't underestimate yourself."

A steaming mug of coffee and a tall glass of water were placed on the table, the waitress's movements swift and efficient, yet her eyes lingered on Kev, curiosity battling with a touch of apprehension. It was clear she was intrigued by the newcomer, but the presence of Fang, her employer, seemed to hold her back. Perhaps she was worried about overstepping boundaries or appearing unprofessional.

Kev, ever perceptive to the nuances of social interaction, picked up on her subtle glances and unspoken questions. He decided to break the ice, offering her a warm and inviting smile that reached his eyes. He extended his hand across the table, his gesture both friendly and disarming.

"Hi, I'm Kev," he introduced himself, his voice carrying a genuine warmth that instantly put the waitress at ease. "I'm Fang's new assistant." He paused, allowing the information to sink in, then added with a playful grin, "I'm also the one who ordered the salad."
 
The waitress, her feline features softening into a relieved smile, offered a quick, "Hello, Kev," before scurrying away, her curiosity momentarily satisfied.

Fang, seemingly unfazed by the brief interaction, turned back to Kev, his gaze intent. "So," he inquired, leaning forward slightly, "have you been enjoying your time at the club so far?"

Kev nodded thoughtfully. "It's certainly... unique," he admitted, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around everything, but it's definitely an experience."

He paused, his expression turning more serious. "I'm hoping to find some more things I can do during the day to help you," he continued. "I don't want to just be sitting around in my apartment, waiting for you to wake up."

A flicker of concern crossed his face. "Do you think I should try to change my sleep schedule to match yours? It might be easier to assist you if I'm awake when you are."

Fang's brow furrowed in contemplation. "I would love to have a more normal daily schedule," he admitted with a sigh, "but the demands of this business make it difficult. The club truly comes alive at night, and my presence is often required to ensure everything runs smoothly."

Kev tilted his head, a thoughtful expression on his face. "But couldn't you do some of your work during the daytime?" he suggested. "Maybe delegate some tasks to your managers, so you don't have to be here all the time?"

Fang's gaze swept across the bustling club, his eyes taking in the dancers, the mingling patrons, and the busy staff. "This place would burn down if I wasn't here to put out the fires," he said, a hint of pride mingling with his weariness. "There's always something that needs my attention, some crisis that needs to be averted."

Kev remembered Horns' comment about Fang being "controlling." It seemed the wolfman's hands-on approach might be bordering on micromanagement, leaving him little time for rest or personal life. He decided to tread carefully, not wanting to overstep his boundariesb.

The waitress returned, balancing a platter laden with a hearty breakfast. Fang's steak and eggs sizzled invitingly, the aroma of grilled meat and spices filling the air. Kev's salad, a vibrant mix of greens, vegetables, and a light vinaigrette dressing, looked equally appealing.

Fang wasted no time, diving into his meal with gusto. He devoured the steak in large, satisfying bites, the eggs disappearing in a matter of seconds. Kev, on the other hand, savored his salad, enjoying the crispness of the vegetables and the tangy dressing.

"Eggs aren't usually on the menu," Fang remarked between bites, "but there are certain perks to being the boss." He winked at Kev, a playful glint in his eyes.

Kev watched in awe as Fang demolished his meal, marveling at how the wolfman managed to keep his immaculate suit spotless despite his enthusiastic eating habits. He glanced down at his own clothes, feeling a pang of self-consciousness. The simple white button down and slacks, while comfortable, seemed woefully inadequate compared to Fang's tailored attire. He made a mental note to ask about the tailor Fang had mentioned earlier.

Fang, having polished off his breakfast and coffee in record time, bellowed across the bar, "Dale! Bloody Mary, and make it snappy!"

Kev, taking advantage of the momentary lull in conversation, pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The smoke curled upwards, a comforting ritual in the midst of this unfamiliar world. He inhaled deeply, savoring the familiar taste. As he exhaled, a thought crossed his mind. If they were going to be spending a few more hours in the bar, perhaps a bit of that herb Horns had given him would be a welcome addition. It had certainly helped to ease his nerves earlier.

Kev hesitated for a moment, unsure how to broach the subject. "Actually, i'll be right back," he began, his voice a touch hesitant, "I think I'd like to grab something from my room."

Fang's eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. "What is it you need?" he pressed, leaning forward slightly, his amber eyes intent on Kev's face. "Can't someone bring it down for you? I don't want you wandering around alone too much just yet." There was a hint of protectiveness in his tone, a subtle shift that Kev couldn't help but notice.

Kev's cheeks flushed a delicate pink. He fidgeted with the edge of his napkin, his gaze dropping to the table. "I, uh... I'd like to get a little high if we are going to be hanging around like last night," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, the words tumbling out in a rush.

A wide grin spread across Fang's face, his sharp teeth flashing in amusement. The tension that had momentarily gripped Kev dissipated, replaced by a sense of relief and a touch of warmth at Fang's understanding.

"Why go anywhere?" Fang chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through the quiet barroom. He raised a hand to beckon a nearby bouncer, his gesture casual yet commanding. The massive tigerman, recognizing the signal, quickly made his way over to their table, pushing past the closer kangaroo who stood at the rope. His powerful strides ate up the distance with surprising speed.

Rex approached their table with a swagger, his predatory gaze fixated on Kev. "Well, well, well," he purred, a suggestive smirk playing on his lips. "Look who's decided to venture back downstairs. And looking even more delicious than last night, I might add." He gave Kev a lingering once-over before finally acknowledging Fang with a curt nod. "What can I do for you, boss?"

Fang's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face at Rex's blatant flirting. He quickly pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand. "Kev here is looking for something to take the edge off," he said, his tone clipped.

Rex's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He turned to Kev, his voice a low, seductive purr. "And what might that be, little human? I can get my paws on just about anything you can imagine."

Kev, taken aback by the sudden offer, blinked in surprise. It seemed Rex's connections extended far beyond the realm of security. "Just some weed tonight," he replied, his voice a bit hesitant.

Rex's grin turned predatory. "If you want to come back to my place after work, I can introduce you to some real excitement," he purred, his gaze lingering on Kev's lips. "I bet you'd be a lot of fun to play with."

"Just get the damn weed, Rex," Fang growled, his voice laced with a warning. "And keep your filthy paws to yourself."

Rex's grin faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Yes, sir," he said with a mock salute, then turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Chapter Text

As the head of security departed, Fang's Bloody Mary arrived, a vibrant concoction of red and green that mirrored the energy of the club around them. He took a long, satisfying gulp, the spicy tomato juice a welcome contrast to the sweetness of his earlier breakfast.

Kev, still a bit unsettled by Rex's advances, shifted in his seat. "I'm surprised the head of security would... you know, get me drugs," he said, his voice hesitant.

Fang's gaze softened, a hint of understanding in his amber eyes. "This club is a hidden paradise, Kev," he explained. "Within these walls, people are free to indulge their desires, explore their fantasies, without fear of judgment or reprisal. As long as they follow the rules, of course."

"What kind of rules?" Kev asked, genuinely curious.

Fang's lips curled into a sly smile. "There are a few," he admitted, "but the most important one is no fighting. Or rather," he corrected himself, "no non-consensual fighting."

He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Rex is a natural fighter," he continued. "He's never lost a match in the ring, not since he started working here. It's a part of who he is, a part of his... appeal."

Kev nodded slowly, recalling the tigerman's imposing physique and predatory aura. "That's impressive," he admitted, though a shiver ran down his spine at the thought of Rex's fighting prowess. He'd seen some of the other beastmen in the club - a massive rhinoceros, a burly grizzly bear bouncer - and Rex, despite his size, seemed to hold his own amongst them.

Fang swirled the remaining liquid in his glass, a contemplative look in his eyes. "Rex is an inspiration to the rest of the security team," he explained. "They know that if things get out of hand, he's there to back them up. It gives them a sense of confidence, a feeling of safety, which is crucial in a place like this."

"It's still a bit odd that he's the one bringing me weed," Kev remarked, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Not a bad thing, just... weird."

Fang chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the booth. "Well, if the head of security brings it, at least you know it's pure," he said with a wink.

Kev stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Your staff all seem so... impressive," he observed, his gaze sweeping across the barroom. "Everyone seems to know exactly what they're doing."

Fang beamed, his chest swelling with pride. "We're one of the biggest attractions in town," he declared, his voice booming with confidence. "That is, if you're lucky enough to be on the invite list."

Just then, Horns appeared, navigating the crowd with his usual lumbering gait. Fang spotted him and waved him over. "Horns!" he called out, his voice carrying easily across the room. "Come join us for a bit."

Horns, a look of relief washing over his tired features, gratefully accepted the invitation. He slid into the booth beside Kev, his large frame taking up most of the space. "Anything I can do for you, boss?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble.

"Just relax for a few minutes," Fang replied, gesturing towards the empty glasses on the table. "Have a drink with us."

Horns smiled gratefully. "Thanks, boss. I've been running around like a headless chicken since I dropped off those books for Kev."

"Books?" Fang inquired, his tone softening as he addressed the human.

"They seem interesting," Kev replied, a flicker of excitement in his eyes. "They're all about the city and its history. Looks like I've got a lot of reading to catch up on."

Horns chuckled. "Looks like we've got ourselves a little scholar," he teased, nudging Kev playfully with his elbow.

Kev laughed. "Hardly," he protested. "I haven't even had a chance to open them yet."

Fang finished his Bloody Mary and signaled the waitress for another. "Horns," he said, turning to his manager, "you've done an excellent job taking care of Kev today. Is there anything you need? Any requests or concerns?"

Horns leaned back, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Just stop firing the staff on such short notice," he said, his voice light but carrying a hint of seriousness. "It makes my job a lot harder."

Fang's good mood evaporated, replaced by a flash of irritation. "She stole from me, Horns," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "You know the rules."

"It could have been docked from her paycheck," Horns countered, his tone calm but firm. "Or she could have worked extra shifts to pay it back. There was no need to terminate her employment outright."

Fang's jaw clenched. "You know the rules, Horns," he repeated, his voice rising slightly. "No fighting, no rape, no stealing. One strike, and you're out. It's not that hard to understand."

Horns sighed, recognizing the futility of arguing with Fang when he was in this mood. "I know, boss," he conceded. "It's just... frustrating."

He paused, taking a sip of his drink. "It's just a minor inconvenience, though," he added, trying to appease Fang. "We'll manage."

Fang's expression softened as he looked at Horns. "I truly appreciate you helping Kev out today," he said sincerely. "He's new to all this, and I want to make sure he feels welcome and supported."

Horns waved a dismissive hand. "Think nothing of it, boss," he replied with a chuckle. "Besides, you've already taken care of my family. I couldn't ask for more."

A warm smile spread across Fang's face. "That's why you're my second-in-command, Horns," he said, his voice filled with genuine affection. "Loyalty and dedication are hard to come by these days."

Kev listened to their exchange, a sense of curiosity piqued. It was clear that Fang and Horns shared a deep bond, a history that went far beyond their professional relationship. He wondered what Fang had done for Horns' family, what act of kindness or generosity had earned him such unwavering loyalty.

Before Kev could delve deeper into his thoughts, a familiar figure approached their table. Rex, the imposing tigerman, sauntered back into the VIP section, a small pouch clutched in his hand. He tossed it onto the table with a flourish, a smug grin on his face.

Horns greeted Rex with a nod, a hint of weariness in his eyes. "Rex," he acknowledged, his voice carrying a subtle undertone of disapproval. "Couldn't find me, so you had to go digging in the safe, did you?"

Rex shrugged, his grin unwavering. "Couldn't find you anywhere, big guy," he replied, his gaze shifting to Kev. "And the little human here was getting impatient." He winked at Kev, his predatory charm on full display.

Horns turned to Kev, his brow furrowed in concern. "You ran out already?" he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

Fang interjected, his tone light but laced with a touch of possessiveness. "Kev's still getting used to the club's... unique atmosphere," he explained. "He left it up in his room."

A soft smile played on Fang's lips as he looked at Kev. He found the human's reserved nature endearing, a refreshing contrast to the hedonistic abandon of most of his patrons. There was an innocence about Kev, a vulnerability that stirred a protective instinct within him. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time, and it both intrigued and excited him.

"Thanks, Rex," Kev said, a hint of gratitude in his voice despite the tigerman's earlier advances.

"Anytime, little guy," Rex replied, his gaze lingering on Kev for a moment too long. He turned to Fang, his demeanor shifting to one of professionalism. "Your guests have arrived, boss. They're going through the checkpoints now."

Fang nodded, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "Good work, Rex," he said, his voice carrying a note of approval. "Hang around for a bit. We might need you later."

Rex nodded and settled into the booth, his presence a silent but imposing reminder of the club's security measures.

Horns, meanwhile, had taken the bag of weed from the table and was expertly rolling a joint. Kev watched in fascination, impressed by the mooseman's dexterity. His large, calloused hands seemed ill-suited for such delicate work, yet he handled the task with surprising finesse.

"So," Horns asked, lighting the joint and taking a deep drag, "who are these guests Fang's so eager to entertain?"

"I invited Warlock over to discuss some business and have a drink," Fang explained. "He's a powerful figure in the city, and his influence could be beneficial to the club."

Horns, after taking a second long drag from the joint, carefully rolled another one and passed it to Kev. "Here you go," he said with a friendly smile. "Enjoy."

Rex leaned forward, his keen eyes observing the entrance. "Whoever this Warlock is, he didn't bring much of a crew with him," he noted, a hint of suspicion in his voice. He flexed his paw, and for a fleeting moment, razor-sharp claws extended from his fingertips before retracting back into their sheaths. "Just two bodyguards, from what we can tell."

Horns raised an eyebrow, curious. "What kind of business does this fellow do?" he inquired.

Fang took a thoughtful puff from his cigarette. "He works in information," he replied cryptically. "He knows things, secrets that others would pay dearly for."

He paused, a glint of ambition flashing in his eyes. "This is a high-stakes deal, Horns," he continued, his voice low and intense. "Probably the biggest one we've ever done."

Horns, sensing the gravity of the situation, nodded slowly. He waved Dale over, signaling for his presence. The bartender, ever attentive, hurried over, his practiced smile firmly in place.

Dale arrived at the table, balancing a tray laden with fresh drinks. "What's this then?" he inquired, his eyebrows raised in amusement. "A party in the wolf den?"

Fang leaned forward, his voice serious, cutting though the horse-man's jovial tone. "Dale, I'm going to need your help with some bartending soon."

Dale glanced back at the bar, where patrons were already nursing their drinks. "Yeah, that's what I do," he replied with a shrug. "Pour drinks and listen to people's problems."

Horns snorted. "More like pour drinks and laugh at people's problems," he quipped, earning a playful nudge from Dale.

Fang ignored their banter. "Get someone to cover this room," he instructed. "I need you to work the VIP room in the West Wing. We have a guest coming, and I'd like you to... hear the conversation."

Dale's smirk faded, replaced by a look of cautious curiosity. "I'm not your audio recorder, Fang," he said, his voice low.

Fang's grin widened, a hint of menace in his eyes. "Yes, you are," he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Dale let out a resigned sigh, shaking his head in amusement. "Fine, fine," he conceded, "I'll be ready in ten minutes." He distributed the fresh drinks, his expert hands ensuring not a drop was spilled, before disappearing into the kitchen.

Kev sipped his drink, his curiosity piqued by the cryptic exchange. He remained silent, however, sensing that Fang was purposefully keeping them in the dark. He was beginning to understand the intricacies of this world, where information was a valuable commodity, and secrets were carefully guarded.

Horns, after a few moments of contemplative silence, announced, "I need to take a leak." He stood up, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the table.

Kev, lost in his thoughts, absently ashed his joint into the ornate ashtray. Rex, ever vigilant, rose from his seat. "Boss," he said, his voice a low rumble, "would you like me to escort your guests in, or would you prefer to greet them personally?"

Fang considered the question for a moment. "Bring them to Dale in the West Wing," he instructed. "Let them have a drink and settle in for a few minutes. And make sure no other guests bother them." He paused, his gaze hardening. "This meeting is... delicate."

Rex nodded, understanding the unspoken implications. "Consider it done, boss," he said, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He disappeared into the crowd, his muscular form weaving through the tables with a feline grace.

With Rex and Horns gone, a comfortable silence settled over the table. Kev, emboldened by the shared intimacy of the previous night and the growing sense of camaraderie, ventured a question he'd been pondering.

"Are you nervous?" he asked, his voice soft but clear in the relative quiet of the VIP section.

Fang's gaze met his, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. It was an unexpected question, one that cut through the usual bravado and posturing he often employed. He took a deep breath, letting the truth slip past his lips.

"Yes," he admitted, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. "This isn't something I've been working on for a while. It's... a bit out of my comfort zone."

He studied Kev's face, noting the genuine concern in his eyes. The human's kindness, his willingness to see past Fang's tough exterior, was both disarming and strangely comforting. It was a reminder that even in this world of primal instincts and hidden desires, there was still room for genuine connection.

"You'll do great," Kev assured him, his voice filled with quiet confidence. "I can tell you're passionate about this club. That passion will shine through."

Fang took another sip of his drink, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through his chest. "I certainly hope so," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. He reached across the table, his large hand gently squeezing Kev's. "Thank you, Kev. For... everything."

Fang sipped the last of his drink and stood up, his towering form casting a long shadow across the table. "Come," he said to Kev, extending a hand. "It's time."

Kev, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling within him, took Fang's hand and followed him into the heart of the bustling club. The crowd had thickened considerably since their arrival, a vibrant tapestry of beastmen and beastwomen, their laughter and chatter creating a symphony of sound. The air hummed with energy, a palpable anticipation hanging in the air.

Chapter Text

Fang led Kev past the grand staircase, their destination the elusive West Wing. Horns, having seemingly materialized out of nowhere, fell into step beside them, his presence a reassuring bulwark against the throng of revelers.

They navigated the labyrinthine corridors, the flickering torchlight casting dancing shadows on the walls. The sounds of music and merriment grew fainter as they ventured deeper into the wing, replaced by a hushed stillness that spoke of exclusivity and secrecy.

Finally, they reached the VIP room, its heavy wooden door guarded by two imposing bouncers. Rex, recognizing Fang, nodded respectfully and opened the door, revealing a dimly lit, luxurious space.

The VIP room exuded an air of classic elegance, its ambiance a stark contrast to the main club's vibrant energy. Rich wood paneling lined the walls, and a plush red carpet cushioned every step. A gleaming pool table occupied one corner, while a large dining table, set for an intimate gathering, dominated the center of the room. A small but well-stocked bar, manned by Dale in his usual crisp attire, stood along one wall, its polished surface reflecting the soft glow of countless candles and a crackling fireplace.

An otter-man, his sleek fur glistening in the firelight, rose from a comfortable armchair to greet them. "Fang, my friend," he said, his voice smooth and welcoming. "Welcome. And congratulations on this magnificent establishment. Truly impressive."

"Warlock," Fang acknowledged with a nod, a hint of respect in his tone. He gestured towards his companions. "This is Horns, my manager, and Kev, my new assistant."

Warlock's gaze shifted to Kev, a flicker of curiosity crossing his sharp features. He then turned to his two bodyguards, towering bearmen who stood silently at attention by the door. "Your security is so thorough," he remarked with a dry chuckle, "they even found the camera I had Bruno hide in his ass."

A wave of shock washed over Kev. Did the otter really just say that so casually?

Fang's laughter boomed through the room, a deep, resonant sound that momentarily dispelled the tension. "Sorry, Bruno," he said with a playful grin, "better luck next time."

One of the bearmen, clearly displeased by the jest, let out a low growl. The otter, sensing the brewing conflict, swiftly intervened. "Bruno!" he snapped, his voice sharp and commanding. "Fang is your superior. If you disrespect him, you dishonor me."

The bearman subsided, his growl fading into a grumble of acquiescence. Kev, unnerved by the otter's sudden outburst, subtly shifted away from Warlock, seeking refuge closer to Fang and Horns. He found the otter's frenzied energy unsettling, a stark contrast to Fang's controlled power and Horns' calm demeanor.

Fang, ever the gracious host, smoothly steered the conversation back on track. "Have you had a chance to enjoy a drink yet, Warlock?" he inquired, gesturing towards the well-stocked bar.

"I don't drink," Warlock replied, his voice a smooth purr that belied the sharp intelligence in his eyes. He gestured for his bodyguards to remain standing as he took a seat at the table. Fang sat across from him, Kev and Horns flanking him on either side.

Warlock's gaze settled on Kev, a flicker of curiosity in his dark eyes. "Please do not consider this rude but… what might you be?" he inquired, his tone polite but probing.

Kev, maintaining his composure despite the already tiring question, replied, "I'm a human."

Warlock's brow furrowed slightly. "A human?" he echoed, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "I've never encountered one before. Fascinating." His attention shifted back to Fang. "Well, I'm here, and I'm impressed. Your club is quite the establishment."

Fang nodded, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Thank you, Warlock. We aim to please." He leaned forward, his tone businesslike. "Shall we skip the foreplay and speak openly?"

Warlock chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that echoed through the room. "Directness is always appreciated, Fang." He paused, his gaze sweeping across the table. "I have two ideas for how we can collaborate, both potentially lucrative."

He steepled his fingers, his eyes gleaming with ambition. "Firstly, we could install hidden recording equipment throughout the club. Discreetly, of course. Imagine the leverage we could gain over high-net-worth individuals, the secrets we could capture. Black mail is most effective when you know the target is already trying to hide."

He paused, allowing the idea to sink in. "Or," he continued, "we could come to some sort of agreement to host events for some… special VIPs. Private gatherings, discreet negotiations in a safe third party space, house an individual who might need protection... The possibilities are endless."

Fang's expression hardened. "The first option is a non-starter," he said firmly. "I will not taint this club with cameras. It's a sanctuary, a place where people can be themselves without fear of surveillance."

Warlock's eyes widened, a delighted giggle escaping his lips. "That's precisely what I was hoping to hear," he exclaimed, jumping to his feet with surprising agility. "You and your people will now be considered part of the family!"

He paced excitedly, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "Next week, some foreign VIPs will visit to confirm my recommendation. After that, I can have the local chapter leader officially welcome you."

Horns raised an eyebrow. "Just don't call," he interjected dryly. "We don't have phones here."

Warlock grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the candlelight. "That's part of the magic of this place, isn't it?" he said, his voice laced with a hint of mischief. "No technology, no distractions. Just pure, unadulterated... business."

Warlock turned back to Fang, his voice taking on a more business-like tone. "And of course," he said, "VIP events will pay VIP rates, Mr. Fang. From the local organization alone, I can imagine you'll have parties booked once a month at least. The privacy and discretion you offer are highly sought-after commodities."

Fang nodded thoughtfully. "That's certainly an attractive prospect," he admitted, "but we can't host very top-tier VIPs if we're open to the public."

Warlock waved a dismissive hand. "This is a big club," he countered. "I'm sure you can figure out a business plan where someone with deep pockets could rent this entire wing of the building for the night. The rest of the club can continue as usual, while your special guests enjoy complete privacy and security."

He snapped his fingers, summoning his guards. "Come along, gentlemen. We have work to do!"

Warlock turned to fang and smiled, his sharp teeth giving him a manic profile, "I'm bringing Bruno down to your private rooms. I'm sure there is someone down there that will teach him how to really hide a camera." Warlock laughed loudly with his hands on his stomach. "Keep an eye out for those foreigners next week." With a final nod to Fang and his companions, Warlock strode out of the room, his bodyguards following closely behind.

Rex re-entered the room, giving a curious look back at Warlock and his whimpering guards before clicking the door shut. Fang let out a long, drawn-out sigh and stood. The tension that had been building within him seemed to dissipate, leaving him feeling drained but strangely exhilarated.

Horns leaned back in his seat, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "I don't like that Warlock fellow," he grumbled. "Rubs me the wrong way. Too slick, too... opportunistic."

Fang shrugged, a wry smile playing on his lips. "We don't have to like him, Horns. He's just a middleman. We just need to impress him."

Kev, who had been quietly observing the exchange, couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. "What kind of VIP clients are we talking about?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Politicians? Celebrities? Activists?"

Fang chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down Kev's spine. "Oh, we already have plenty of those," he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "The VIPs Warlock is talking about are much higher up the food chain."

Horns' eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice hushed.

Fang leaned forward, his tone conspiratorial. "We've just joined the international beastman mafia, my assistant," he revealed, a hint of pride in his voice.

Kev's heart sank. The word "mafia" conjured images of violence, corruption, and danger. He swallowed hard, his apprehension growing. He wanted to voice his concerns, but the sight of Fang's triumphant expression held him back.

Horns, however, didn't hesitate to speak his mind. "What's the reasoning behind this, boss?" he asked, his tone cautious. "I thought we were doing fine recently."

Rex and Dale, having overheard the conversation from the bar, leaned in closer, their curiosity piqued.

"We've been fighting an uphill battle with the city for years, Horns," Fang explained, his voice laced with frustration. "This membership is a way to protect the club, to ensure its survival."

"By threatening them?" Kev finally spoke up, his voice soft but firm. "I'm not a big fan of that approach."

Rex scoffed. "Pussy," he muttered under his breath, but Fang silenced him with a sharp look.

"No, Kev," Fang said, his voice gentle. "It's not about threats. It's about connections, influence. We'll host their events, provide them with a discreet and secure location, and in return, their lawyers will handle our legal issues, their accountants will streamline our finances. We'll save thousands of dollars a month, and we'll have a powerful ally watching our back."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the table. "It's a mutually beneficial arrangement, one that will ensure the club's longevity."

Horns chuckled, shaking his head. "The group name sucks," he remarked. "Who would call themselves a 'mafia' these days? It's so cliché."

Dale, leaning against the bar, chimed in. "I overheard that the group originated in another country," he explained, "and the translation isn't perfect. The original name apparently had more of a... 'brotherhood' connotation."

Kev couldn't help but laugh. "It's still absurd," he said, shaking his head in amusement. "The international beastmen mafia. It sounds like something out of a trashy romance novel."

Rex, clearly disappointed by the lack of immediate action, sighed dramatically. "I thought it was finally gonna get fun around here," he grumbled, his shoulders slumping. "Guess I'll just go back to breaking up drunken brawls." He slinked off, his tail dragging behind him in a display of exaggerated dejection.

Horns, his brief moment of relaxation over, stood up with a groan. "Well, now I've got to find event staffing," he lamented. "This is going to be a logistical nightmare." He gave Kev a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "See you later, Kev. Don't let the boss work you too hard." With that, he lumbered out of the VIP room, leaving Kev and Fang alone once more.

Kev turned to Fang, a genuine smile on his face. "Good job, Fang," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "Sounds like you secured a major deal for the club."

Fang's eyes met his, and a warmth spread through his chest. He hadn't expected such a sincere compliment from Kev, and it touched him in a way he hadn't anticipated. He reached across the table, his hand gently brushing against Kev's. "Thank you, Kev," he said, his voice soft. "It means a lot."

He hesitated for a moment, a playful glint in his eyes. "So," he asked, his voice dropping to a low purr, "how would you like to celebrate?"

Kev's smile widened, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "It was your win, Fang," he replied, his voice light and playful. "Let's do whatever you want to do."

Fang's gaze lingered on Kev's face, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the lingering effects of the alcohol. For the first time, Kev truly noticed the depth of Fang's interest in him. It wasn't just the predatory gaze of a man accustomed to getting what he wanted; there was a genuine tenderness there, a longing that caught Kev off guard.

"What are you thinking?" Kev asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the question hanging in the air between them.

Fang blinked, as if startled back to reality. He cleared his throat, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "I was just thinking," he said, his voice turning playful, "that we need to get you to the tailor tomorrow to make you some clothes that actually fit."

Kev laughed, Fang's deflection was perfect. Kev, hoping to capitalize on his good mood, said, "The night is young. We could always play hooky from work."

Dale, still tidying up behind the bar, let out a snort of laughter. "Don't tempt him, kid," he warned, a knowing glint in his eyes. "The boss doesn't take kindly to slacking off."

Fang, however, surprised them both. A mischievous spark lit up his eyes. "Actually," he said, his voice low and seductive, "I have a better idea. Let's go for a little drive."

Chapter Text

Kev's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Are you sure you're okay to drive?" he asked, concerned about the amount of alcohol Fang had consumed.

Fang chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through Kev's chest. "I have a driver for occasions like this," he explained, winking at Kev. He turned to Dale, his expression softening. "Thank you for listening in, my friend," he said sincerely. "Your discretion is appreciated."

Dale nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Just doing my job, boss."

Fang grabbed a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar and tucked it under his arm. "Come on, Kev," he said, extending a hand towards the human. "Let's get out of here."

Kev, his heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, took Fang's hand and followed him out of the bar, leaving the familiar world of the club behind and stepping into the unknown.

The front courtyard of the club was just as meticulously maintained as the backyard, a testament to Fang's attention to detail. The sprawling parterre, manicured to perfection, framed a circular driveway that led up to the imposing entrance of the mansion. The building itself, bathed in the soft glow of the moon, retained its old-world grandeur. Strangely animalistic gargoyles perched on the eaves, their stone faces etched with centuries of weathering, and stained-glass windows hinted at the opulence within. Torches and lanterns lined paths leading to the entrance from some parking lot hidden in the surrounding trees.

Fang, his hand still clasped around Kev's, strode confidently towards the waiting area. He raised a hand in a casual wave, and the valet, an owl man with piercing yellow eyes, acknowledged the gesture with a sharp nod. With a swift and silent flap of his wings, the owl man took flight, soaring over the mansion's roof and disappearing from sight. Barely minutes later, the purr of a powerful engine announced his return. A sleek, polished, black car, its chrome gleaming in the moonlight, pulled up to the curb, the owl man now behind the wheel.

Fang, his grip on Kev's hand firm yet gentle, led him towards the waiting area, a covered portico where a solitary figure stood patiently. The valet, an owl man with piercing yellow eyes and a dignified bearing, acknowledged Fang's arrival with a respectful nod. Without a word, he spread his wings and took flight, his silhouette disappearing into the darkening sky. Moments later, a low rumble echoed through the courtyard, and a sleek, black car, its chrome gleaming under the moonlight, glided silently into view. The owl man, now behind the wheel, held the door open with a practiced flourish.

Fang ushered Kev into the backseat, the plush leather interior a haven of comfort and luxury. As they settled in, the owl man turned his head slightly, his gaze fixed on Fang.

"Where to, boss?" he inquired, his voice a soft hoot.

Fang leaned back, a relaxed smile playing on his lips. "Just a leisurely drive through the woods," he replied, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. "Take the scenic route."

The muscles at the edge of the owl mans beak turned up. "My pleasure, sir," he said, his voice filled with barely contained excitement. "The security road it is."

With a gentle purr of the engine, the car pulled away from the curb, leaving the bustling club behind. They quickly turned off of the main entrance road onto one that was just hard packed dirt. As they ventured deeper into the surrounding forest, the city lights faded, replaced by the ethereal glow of the moon filtering through the dense canopy of trees. The road, though narrow and winding, was impeccably maintained, a testament to the club's commitment to privacy and security.

The owl did not drive slow, he drove fast. So fast kev felt himself lifting off of the seat with each turn and curve of the road. He shut his eyes and held his breath, the view out the windshield just looked like they were perpetually about to drive straight into a tree. After the lack of a quick and fiery crash kev opened one eye and relaxed his clenched jaw, the ride was actually quite smooth. 

Fang, unable to contain his exhilaration, rolled down the window and stuck his head out, letting the cool night air whip through his fur. His tongue lolled out, his eyes closed in pure joy, a stark contrast to the composed businessman Kev had encountered earlier.

Kev, captivated by the sight of Fang's unbridled joy, couldn't help but chuckle. The usually stoic wolfman, with his fur tousled and his expression carefree, looked like an overgrown puppy reveling in the simple pleasure of a nighttime drive. He reached out, placing a hand on Fang's knee, a gesture of comfort and connection.

Fang pulled his head back inside the car, his smile widening as he met Kev's gaze. "Beautiful night, isn't it?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the car's interior, a subtle undercurrent of something more intimate mingling with the shared appreciation for the moonlit scenery.

The car glided along the moonlit road, the rhythmic hum of the engine a soothing backdrop to the intimate moment unfolding in the backseat. Fang's smile softened as he leaned closer to Kev, their legs brushing against each other in the confined space.

"You know, Kev," he whispered, his voice a husky purr that sent shivers down Kev's spine, "there's only one thing that could make this night even better."

Kev's heart hammered in his chest as he met Fang's gaze. The wolfman's eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, were now filled with a warmth and longing that Kev found both intoxicating and terrifying. He knew, in that moment, that he was teetering on the edge of a precipice, about to take a leap into the unknown.

Before Kev could respond, Fang leaned in and captured his lips in a gentle kiss. It was a fleeting touch, a tentative exploration, but it sent a jolt of electricity through Kev's body. He closed his eyes, savoring the unexpected intimacy.

Fang pulled back, his gaze searching Kev's face for any sign of rejection. But all he saw was a wide-eyed wonder, a hint of desire mirroring his own. Emboldened, he cupped the back of Kev's head with his hand, his touch gentle yet firm, and drew him in for a deeper kiss.

This time, there was no hesitation. Their lips met in a passionate embrace, the world outside the car fading into a blur of moonlight and shadows. Kev's hands found their way to Fang's shoulders, his fingers tentatively exploring the soft fur beneath his suit jacket. Fang's grip on Kev's head tightened, his other hand sliding down to Kev's waist, pulling him closer.

Kev, initially taken aback by the intensity of Fang's kiss, soon found himself melting into it. The wolfman's lips were surprisingly soft against his own, his tongue exploring Kev's mouth with a gentle insistence that sent shivers down his spine.

A wave of unexpected warmth washed over Kev, a feeling of comfort and belonging that he hadn't experienced in a long time. Back on Earth, most of his romantic encounters had been fleeting connections forged through the impersonal realm of the internet. This, however, felt different. This bond he'd formed with Fang, however unconventional, had developed organically, through shared experiences and a growing understanding. It felt real, tangible, and undeniably exciting.

The irony wasn't lost on Kev. 

 As the kiss deepened, Kev became acutely aware of Fang's sharp canine teeth, a chilling reminder of the wolfman's primal nature. The taste of Bloody Mary lingered on Fang's lips, a spicy, intoxicating blend that mingled with the warmth of their shared breath.

Kev, emboldened by the intimacy of the moment, reached up and cupped the side of Fang's face, his fingers tracing the sharp contours of his cheekbones and the soft fur that framed his jaw. The touch seemed to electrify Fang, his body shuddering slightly against Kev's. He nuzzled into Kev's hand, a low rumble of contentment vibrating in his chest.

Fang was on cloud nine. The events of the past few days had been a whirlwind of emotions, from the initial shock of Kev's arrival to the growing fascination and undeniable attraction he felt towards the human. This new assistant, with his gentle touch and inquisitive spirit, had captivated him in a way he hadn't experienced in years. He felt alive, invigorated, and filled with a sense of possibility he'd long forgotten. If anyone else had tried to touch his muzzle like that he would have bitten their hand off. But this human, so weak and gentle, held not a single ounce of danger, of threat. 

The car slowed to a gentle stop, breaking the spell that had enveloped Fang and Kev. Fang reluctantly pulled away from Kev, a wistful sigh escaping his lips. He turned to the driver, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of the car's interior.

The owl man, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, inquired, "Would you like to go around again, boss?"

Fang hesitated, a flicker of longing crossing his face. The temptation to prolong the intimate moment was strong, but duty called. He shook his head, a resigned smile playing on his lips. "No, let's head back to the club," he said, his voice a low rumble. "We've been gone too long already."

Kev, though slightly disappointed by the abrupt end to their passionate interlude, leaned against Fang, his head resting on the wolfman's shoulder. The warmth of Fang's body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, provided a sense of comfort and belonging.

The owl man, sensing the shift in mood, smoothly turned the car onto the main road, the headlights cutting through the darkness as they sped back towards the club. The silence in the car was charged with unspoken emotions, a mix of excitement, anticipation, and a hint of trepidation for what the future held.

The car pulled up to the club's entrance, the valet owl man holding the door open with a practiced flourish. Fang and Kev stepped out, the sounds of the bustling club washing over them like a tidal wave. The moon hung high in the sky, casting an ethereal glow on the mansion's facade.

Fang, his spirits lifted by the stolen moments in the car, draped an arm casually around Kev's shoulders, a gesture of possessiveness and affection. He led Kev through the throng of patrons, their path cleared by a combination of Fang's imposing presence and the respectful nods from the staff.

They settled back into their familiar spot at the VIP table, the remnants of their earlier drinks replaced by fresh ones. Fang leaned back, a contented smile playing on his lips.

"There are a couple more introductions to be made, my dear assistant," he announced, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver of anticipation down Kev's spine. "But first, let's enjoy another drink and savor the atmosphere."

Chapter Text

Fang signaled the feline waitress and placed their order, Kev opting for a soup this time, curious to see what Reepia's kitchen could conjure up besides massive steaks. As they waited, Kev's attention was drawn to the dance floor, where the energy had reached a fever pitch. Tonight, instead of the melancholic strings, a lone pianist commanded the room, his fingers dancing across the keys with breathtaking speed and precision.

Kev, though unfamiliar with the pieces being played, was captivated by the sheer virtuosity of the performance. The pianist's skill was undeniable, each note resonating with emotion and power. Having dabbled in music himself back on Earth, Kev could appreciate the countless hours of practice and dedication that had gone into honing such talent. The drums and guitar had been his instruments of choice, and he'd even managed to compose a few original songs on his computer. But hearing this level of mastery on the piano filled him with a sense of awe and inspiration.

The music shifted, transitioning into a fast-paced waltz. The dancers on the floor, as if guided by an invisible force, seamlessly adapted their movements to the new rhythm. Couples twirled and dipped, their bodies swaying in perfect synchronicity with the music. Kev found himself mesmerized by the spectacle, the interplay of light and shadow, the graceful movements of the dancers, and the evocative melodies weaving a tapestry of emotions.

Their food arrived, a steaming cup of soup for Kev and a T-bone steak with a side of pork-chops for Fang. As Fang dug into his meal with his usual gusto, he noticed Kev's rapt attention focused on the pianist. A soft smile touched his lips.

"That's our entertainment manager, Amadeus," he said, leaning closer to Kev so his voice could be heard over the music. "He's a maestro on the keys, isn't he?"

Kev nodded, his eyes still glued to the dancers. "He's incredible," he whispered, a genuine admiration in his voice. "I've never heard anyone play like that."

Fang chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through Kev's body. "After his set, I'll call him over and introduce you two," he promised. "He's a bit eccentric, but a true genius."

Kev's curiosity was piqued. He wondered what kind of face lay behind such masterful talent.

As they finished their meal, Fang casually draped an arm around Kev's shoulders, pulling him closer. A sense of contentment washed over him, a feeling of relaxation he hadn't experienced in a long time. Unlike Kev, who was still captivated by the music and the dancers, Fang's gaze roamed the club, taking in the scene with a practiced eye. He observed the staff as they moved about their duties, noting minor inefficiencies and potential areas for improvement. But tonight, his usual critical eye was softened by a newfound sense of peace. The presence of Kev beside him, the warmth of his body and his scent, had a calming effect on him, easing the constant tension that coiled within him.

For once, Fang was more interested in the human at his side than in the minutiae of running his club. Normally, he would be pacing the floor, checking on the kitchen, inspecting the security checkpoint, ensuring every detail was perfect. But tonight, he was content to simply sit and observe, his focus shifting between the mesmerizing performance on the dance floor and the captivating presence of his new assistant.

He caught Dale's eye across the room and offered a lazy wave. The bartender, a knowing smile playing on his lips, nodded in acknowledgement and returned to his work, pouring drinks with his usual flair. Fang chuckled softly, a warmth spreading through him. It was a good night, a night of making exciting connections.

Fang raised a hand, catching the eye of one the VIP section's bouncers, a wiry-looking ferret man with sharp, observant eyes. "Hey, Twitch," Fang called out, his voice a low rumble that cut through the music. "Can you fetch Cindy?"

The ferret man nodded silently, his gaze sweeping across the crowd before disappearing into the throng.

"Cindy's the head of housekeeping," Fang explained to Kev. "She's responsible for keeping this place spotless, which is no small feat considering the... activities that go on here." He paused, a wry smile playing on his lips. "She might not be here yet, though. She usually doesn't show up until later."

Kev, having finished his meal, lit another cigarette, the smoke curling lazily upwards in the dim light. Emboldened by the relaxed atmosphere and the lingering warmth of Fang's arm around his shoulders, he decided to push his luck. "So," he said, a playful glint in his eyes, "do you want to dance?"

Fang chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm not much for dancing, Kev," he admitted. "Besides, I need to keep an eye on things. Can't have the staff thinking it's okay to slack off just because the boss is having a good time."

Kev laughed, a light, carefree sound that echoed through the booth. "You started your day with a Bloody Mary," he pointed out, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "That's hardly setting a good example."

Fang's smile widened. "That's different," he retorted playfully. "Drinking on the job isn't against the rules. Dancing, on the other hand..." He trailed off, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

 Kev and Fang shared a laugh, the sound a welcome counterpoint to the usual cacophony of the club. The tension of the earlier encounters seemed to melt away, replaced by a comfortable camaraderie.

"There's only one other manager you haven't met yet," Fang said, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "Lanon."

He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Lanon is in charge of... personal relations."

Kev's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Personal relations?" he echoed, unsure of what that entailed.

Fang cleared his throat, his gaze shifting momentarily. "Some of our clientele," he explained, "have... specific desires that they can't always fulfill on their own. Our club provides... certain services to cater to those needs."

Kev's eyes widened in understanding. He'd suspected as much, given the suggestive comments from Rex and the overall atmosphere of the club, the mention of private rooms, but hearing it confirmed by Fang made it all the more real. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about the idea that part of the business involved escorts, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Fang, sensing Kev's hesitation, added, "Lanon has an undeniable eye for talent. He ensures that our... physical therapists are not only skilled but also discreet and professional." He paused, a hint of pride in his voice. "We have a reputation to uphold, after all."

The ferret man, Twitch, reappeared at their table, his movements quick and efficient. "Cindy's on her way, boss," he reported, his voice a hushed whisper.

Fang nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Twitch," he said. "And while you're at it, could you also fetch Lanon for me? Tell him I'd like to introduce him to our new assistant."

Twitch's ears flattened against his head, a subtle sign of displeasure. It was clear he wasn't particularly fond of Lanon, but duty called. "Yes, boss," he replied, his wispy voice hard to hear over the background noise. He turned and made his way towards one of the closed doors on the far side of the bar, his movements slow and deliberate, as if bracing himself for an unpleasant encounter.

Fang, ever observant, noticed Twitch's reluctance. He made a mental note to address the apparent tension between the two staff members later. For now, he turned his attention back to Kev, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Cindy should be here any minute," he said, his voice filled with anticipation. "Mind your manners around her."

He raised a hand to flag down the waitress. "Darling," he called out, his voice carrying easily over the din of the club, "could you please let Dale know that Cindy's on her way? And tell him to make her a drink. Something strong."

The waitress, her feline features lit up by a playful grin, nodded eagerly. "Right away, Mr. Fang," she replied, disappearing into the crowd with a swish of her tail.

Moments later, a figure emerged from the crowd, drawing Kev's attention. It had to be Cindy, the head of housekeeping. She was an older, but striking, red deer woman, her slender frame and gentle features a stark contrast to the boisterous atmosphere of the club. Her attire was simple and practical, a far cry from the revealing outfits worn by many of the patrons. She seemed completely out of place in this den of hedonism, her presence radiating a quiet dignity that set her apart. Her auburn hair was neatly pulled back, and her large, doe eyes held a warmth and kindness that belied the demanding nature of her job.

As she approached the table, the waitress placed a tall glass of iced coffee with milk in front of her. "Thank you, dear," Cindy said, her voice soft and melodious, a stark contrast to the raucous sounds of the club. She took a delicate sip, her hands wrapped around the glass, savoring the cool, creamy beverage. Then, with a gentle smile, she looked up and greeted Fang. "Good evening, Fang," she said, her voice carrying a respectful warmth. "I hope you're having a pleasant evening."

"Doing just fine, Cindy," Fang replied, his voice carrying a hint of warmth. "And you're looking as lovely as always."

Cindy's cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she playfully swatted Fang's arm. "Oh, stop trying to butter me up, you sly wolf," she chided, though her smile betrayed her amusement.

Her gaze shifted to Kev, and her expression softened. "Hello there," she said, extending a hand. "I'm Cindy, head of housekeeping. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Kev shook her hand, his own smile mirroring hers. "Kev," he replied. "The pleasure's all mine."

"You must be the new assistant I've heard so much about," Cindy continued, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"I hope it's all good things," Kev said, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips.

"Neither good nor bad yet," Cindy replied with a shrug. "But you certainly seem to catch people's attention." She paused, her gaze lingering on Kev's features. "Did you say you were a… human? I've never had the pleasure of meeting one until now."

Fang's arm tightened around Kev's shoulders, a subtle display of possessiveness. "This lad is my good luck charm, Cindy," he declared, his voice brimming with pride. "I'm sure you've already heard the news."

Cindy nodded, her smile widening. "Indeed," she said. "I'm happy for you, Fang. It sounds like the business meeting went well."

Fang's grin widened, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He leaned closer to Kev, his voice dropping to a pride filled whisper. "The walls may not have ears, but the cleaners do," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Dale might have a good memory, but Cindy gets information from every one of her workers. No one seems to pay much attention to them cleaning or changing candles, but they do pay attention."

Kev's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't considered the possibility that the seemingly innocuous cleaning staff might be a valuable source of intelligence. It was a testament to Fang's shrewdness and his ability to leverage every resource at his disposal. "That's impressive," he admitted, a newfound respect for Cindy growing within him.

Cindy, having finished her coffee, stood up, a graceful motion that belied her weariness. "I'll see you in the morning before you sleep, Fang" she said, her voice soft but firm. "I'm still quite busy, so I must get back to my office."

She offered Kev a warm smile, her eyes filled with a newfound approval. "It looks, to me, like you're doing a great job so far," she said. "I'll tell the cleaners to be good to you."

Kev grinned. "I haven't done much yet," he protested, a hint of self-deprecation in his voice.

Cindy chuckled, a soft, melodic sound. "This is the first time I've seen Fang sit still for such a long time," she observed, her gaze lingering on the two of them. "You must be doing something right."

With a final nod, she turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Kev to ponder her enigmatic words.

Chapter Text

Fang's hand, resting on Kev's shoulder, began to gently rub his chest in a soothing motion. Kev, his body responding to the unexpected touch, leaned into Fang's warmth, a sense of contentment washing over him. The subtle intimacy of the gesture, the silent communication of affection and desire, sent shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

Just then, the air shifted, a new presence entering the VIP section. Lanon, the manager in charge of "personal relations," sauntered towards their table, his movements fluid and confident. He was an iguana man, his scales a vibrant mix of emerald green and sapphire blue. He wore a black fitted leather ensemble that accentuated his toned physique, every inch of him radiating an air of sensual sophistication.

Lanon slid into the empty seat across from them, his sharp, reptilian eyes taking in the scene with a knowing smile. "Well, well, well," he purred, his voice smooth and seductive. "Looks like we've successfully found you an assistant."His long tail twitched and flicked rhythmically as he spoke, a subtle display of his... excitement.

Fang, ever the professional, performed the introductions. "Lanon, this is Kev, my new personal assistant. Kev, meet Lanon, our manager of personal relations."

Lanon's gaze lingered on Kev, his smile widening, revealing a set of sharp, reptilian teeth. "A human or so I've been told," he mused, his voice a low, seductive purr. "Quite the unique specimen."

Fang chuckled, a possessive arm tightening around Kev's shoulders. "Hands off, Lanon. He's mine."

Lanon laughed, his tail flicking playfully. "Just admiring, boss," he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "So, how are things going? Is everything running smoothly?"

Fang nodded, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "Things are moving in the right direction," he said. "Another week or two, and we'll have some exciting new business opportunities."

Lanon's interest piqued. "And what might the nature of these opportunities be?" he inquired, leaning forward slightly.

"Private parties for VIPs," Fang revealed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "High-profile clientele, deep pockets, and a desire for absolute discretion."

He winked at Lanon. "We'll have some extra revenue soon, so if you need to hire some... specialized talent to cater to their specific tastes, that shouldn't be an issue."

Lanon's smile broadened, revealing even more of his sharp teeth. "That should be fun," he purred, his tail flicking excitedly. "Just make sure you give me all the information you can about each event, so I can create the most... transformative experiences for our guests."

Lanon leaned back in his chair and stretched languidly. "Is there anything else you require of me at the moment, boss?" he inquired, his voice smooth and deferential.

Fang shook his head, a hint of dismissal in his tone. "No, Lanon, you're free to go. Keep up the good work."

Lanon rose to his feet, but before he could take a step, he turned back to Fang, his gaze pointedly ignoring Kev. "One more thing," he said, his voice curious. "Is your new assistant... allowed in the private rooms?"

Fang's brow furrowed, a flicker of conflict crossing his face. He didn't want to control Kev's movements, didn't want to stifle his freedom and risk scaring him away. But a primal possessiveness surged within him, a desire to protect Kev from the darker side of the club quickly outweighed any other choice.

He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "No," he said firmly, his voice carrying a hint of finality. "This little guy wouldn't have a very good time. I think they'd be a bit too... rough on him."

Kev's cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and a strange sense of disappointment and relief washing over him. He wasn't sure how to react to Fang's protective stance, but he couldn't deny a flutter of warmth in his chest at the thought of the wolfman looking out for him.

Lanon nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Very good, sir," he purred. "I'll inform my people to keep an eye out for him and make sure he stays safe." With a final glance at Kev, he turned and disappeared through the closed door leading to the mysterious east wing, his sinuous movements leaving a lingering impression of sensuality and intrigue.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence, Fang and Kev enjoying the lull in activity before the club's nightly transformation. The piano music had shifted to a more mellow tune, creating a soothing ambiance in the VIP section. Just as Kev was contemplating refilling his glass, a burst of vibrant color and energy filled the booth.

Asmodeus, the entertainment manager, made his grand entrance. The toucan man was a spectacle to behold, his plumage a riot of vivid blues, yellows, and reds that seemed to defy the dim lighting. His clothes, equally flamboyant, shimmered and sparkled with every movement. He swept into the booth with a flourish, his long beak held high in the air, his presence demanding attention.

Kev, still impressed by the earlier piano performance, couldn't help but express his admiration. "Your set was amazing," he said, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. "That fast waltz sounded incredibly crisp."

Asmodeus preened, his feathers ruffling slightly. "I like this one," he declared, his voice a melodious trill, gesturing towards Kev with his wing. He turned to Fang, his eyes twinkling with approval. "He has good taste."

Then, fixing his gaze on Kev, he inquired, "And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?"

Kev, a bit overwhelmed by the toucan's flamboyance, managed a polite smile. "I'm Kev," he introduced himself. "Fang's new assistant."

Asmodeus's question was quick and decisive, "how long have you been practicing piano, my dear?" 

Kev chuckled, a self-deprecating smile playing on his lips. "I'm afraid the piano isn't my forte," he admitted. "I dabble in a few other instruments, but I've never had the patience for the keys."

Asmodeus nodded sagely, his beak clicking thoughtfully. "Ah, a fellow musician," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "I had practiced for fifteen years before performing for another fifteen. It takes dedication, discipline, and a touch of madness to master this instrument."

"I can tell you've put in the work," Kev replied, his admiration evident in his voice.

Fang chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the booth. "The bird's naturally talented," he interjected, a hint of teasing in his tone. "He could probably play a symphony on a washboard if he wanted to."

Asmodeus, seemingly oblivious to Fang's comment, continued his conversation with Kev. "And what is your instrument of choice, my dear?" he inquired, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

"Drums were my first love," Kev confessed, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips. "I'm most comfortable behind a kit, but let's be honest, no one wants to hear a solo drummer." He chuckled softly. "So, I picked up the guitar a while back. Been practicing for a little over ten years now."

Asmodeus's brow furrowed slightly, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "Guitar," he mused, his beak clicking thoughtfully. "Wasting so many years on a beginner's instrument."

Kev's smile faltered, a sting of hurt pricking at his pride. He'd always considered himself a decent guitarist, but Asmodeus's dismissive tone made him question his own passions. Still, he pushed aside the momentary insecurity and pressed on.

"Were any of the pieces you played tonight originals?" he asked, his curiosity outweighing his wounded ego.

Asmodeus shook his head, his feathers rustling slightly. "No, my dear," he replied, his voice regaining its usual melodramatic flair. "I merely interpret the stories that the true masters have written. My role is to bring their visions to life, to infuse their notes with my own passion and artistry."

 "It would be nice to play guitar again," Kev admitted, a wistful sigh escaping his lips.

Asmodeus waved a dismissive wing. "That's no issue," he said, his voice brimming with confidence. "I'll have one made available to you. I'm sure we must have some children's scale models around somewhere."

He paused, his gaze sharpening. "Or, if you'd prefer, I could teach you a real instrument. The violin, perhaps? Or the piano?"

Kev laughed, shaking his head. "Music is just a hobby for me," he explained. "A way to relax, to meditate. I'm not looking to become a virtuoso."

Asmodeus nodded, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "I can respect that," he said, his tone softening. "The stage is not meant for everyone. Some find solace in the shadows, in the quiet creation of melodies that touch the soul."

He leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "I would be most interested to hear some of your... human music, when you get the chance," he said, his voice filled with anticipation. "I always enjoy experiencing different regions' and cultures' interpretations of the limited eight notes."

Asmodeus extended a hand, his long, colorful feathers brushing against Kev's arm. "I'll call for you tomorrow, with your guitar," he promised, his voice a melodic trill.

Kev reached out to shake his hand, but Asmodeus, with a flourish, brought Kev's hand to his beak and placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles. "Until then, my dear," he said, before rising gracefully from his seat and departing the VIP section, leaving a trail of vibrant colors in his wake.

Kev, a bit flustered by the unexpected gesture, looked up at Fang with a sheepish smile. "Sorry for taking over the conversation," he apologized.

Fang chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through the booth. "Not a problem at all," he assured Kev. "Asmodeus is... quite eccentric. The fact that he held any sort of conversation with us is impressive in itself. He usually prefers the company of his instruments."

Fang took a sip of his drink and continued, "Asmodeus plays here every night," he explained, his voice laced with a hint of admiration. "He leads the bands or performs solo, depending on the mood. The bird can play nearly any instrument you can think of, from the grand piano to the most obscure ethnic flute, and he's even been known to belt out a surprisingly soulful tune on occasion. It's a true spectacle, watching him in his element."

He paused, his gaze drifting towards the stage where the piano now sat silent, its keys waiting for Asmodeus's return. "He can be quite the perfectionist though. Throws a tantrum if a musician misses a note or a singer's pitch is off. We've had broken instruments, shattered glasses, even a few feathers flying on those nights."

Kev's eyes widened in surprise. "And you put up with that?" he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Fang shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Could have a meltdown every month for all I care," he admitted. "His skill is the real deal, and trying to replace him would be a nightmare. Besides," he added with a chuckle, "it adds a certain... unpredictable charm to the place."

Kev nodded slowly, still trying to reconcile the image of the flamboyant, passionate Asmodeus with the temperamental diva Fang had described. But then again, he thought, perhaps that was part of the allure. The club thrived on its unique blend of personalities, its ability to cater to every desire, no matter how unconventional. And Asmodeus, with his undeniable talent and unpredictable outbursts, was undoubtedly a key ingredient in that intoxicating mix.

"He seemed nice enough," Kev offered tentatively, recalling the toucan's genuine interest in his musical background.

Fang's smile widened. "He can be, when he wants to be," he replied. "But don't let his charm fool you. He can be dangerous, both on and off the stage."

Kev, reflecting on the evening's introductions, couldn't help but express his admiration. "You've got a really good team, Fang," he said sincerely. "Everyone seems so dedicated and talented."

Fang nodded, a hint of pride in his eyes. "I hold my staff to a high standard, Kev," he explained. "This club isn't just a job, it's my life's work, and I won't settle for anything less than excellence." He paused, his gaze sweeping across the barroom. "There are many more wonderful employees here, but the management team was the most important for you to meet. They're the ones you'll be interacting with most often."

He glanced at the clock on the wall, a frown creasing his brow. "It's getting late, Kev," he said, his voice softening. "You should head to bed. You've had a long day."

Kev, emboldened by the intimacy they'd shared earlier in the car (along with Dale's strong drinks), leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Fang's cheek. "You too," he whispered, his voice husky. "Do you want to call it a night as well? We could go upstairs together."

A flicker of conflict crossed Fang's face. The temptation to accept Kev's invitation was strong, but he knew he had responsibilities to attend to. He couldn't simply abandon the club, not when the night was still young and the energy was palpable.

"Not tonight, Kev," he said, his voice laced with regret. "I need to make sure everything runs smoothly. But soon," he added, his eyes locking with Kev's, a promise in their depths, "soon."

Kev, a mix of disappointment and understanding swirling within him, bid Fang goodnight and made his way back upstairs alone. The quiet of the second floor was a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the club below, a reminder of the duality of his new life.

He entered his apartment, the familiar surroundings offering a sense of comfort and security. He lit a cigarette, the smoke curling lazily towards the ceiling as he replayed the events of the evening in his mind. The introductions, the conversations, the stolen moments with Fang... it had been a whirlwind of emotions, leaving him both exhilarated and exhausted.

With a sigh, Kev stubbed out his cigarette and prepared for bed. As he lay in the darkness, the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains, he couldn't help but think about Fang's promise. "Soon," the wolfman had said, his voice filled with a longing that mirrored Kev's own.

Kev closed his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. He didn't know what the future held, but for the first time since his arrival in this strange new world, he felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps this unexpected journey wasn't so bad after all.

Chapter Text

The first light of dawn crept through the curtains, rousing Kev from a surprisingly restful sleep. The events of the previous night, a whirlwind of introductions and unexpected intimacies, swirled in his mind as he stretched and yawned. He made his way to the bathroom, the cool water on his face a refreshing start to the new day. A quick change into some of the clothes Horns got him, and he was ready to start the day.

Back in the kitchen, Kev found himself once again grappling with the unfamiliar task of making coffee without electricity. He'd managed to boil some water on the stovetop, lighting the stove with a match was a small victory, but the process of filtering the grounds proved to be a messy and frustrating endeavor. Just as he was about to give up in defeat, a knock sounded at the door.

Horns stood on the threshold, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced by a weary slump. "Morning, Kev," he greeted, his voice raspy and tired.

"Come in, Horns," Kev said, gesturing towards the couch. "You look like you could use a seat."

Horns gratefully accepted the invitation, sinking into the cushions with a sigh. He pulled out his trusty pouch and rolled a joint with practiced ease, the familiar scent of the herb filling the air.

"Long night?" Kev asked, watching Horns light up and take a deep drag.

"It was a good night, for the most part," Horns replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "The first half was smooth sailing, but things went back to their usual chaos once you headed to bed."

Kev raised an eyebrow, curious. "What happened?" he asked, watching Horns intently.

Horns shrugged, a weary smile playing on his lips. "Fang just being his usual self," he explained. "Pacing the floors, barking orders, checking every little detail. You know how he gets."

He noticed Kev's struggle with the coffee-making apparatus. "Here, let me help you with that," he offered, stepping forward and gently grabbing the filters.

Kev gratefully relinquished control of the coffee-making operation, taking a seat at the small kitchen table while Horns worked his magic. The mooseman's large frame made the already cramped kitchen feel even smaller, but Kev didn't mind. He was grateful for the company and the distraction from his failed attempts at caffeine.

"I think Fang's just worried about the club," Kev said as the moose-man handed him a cup. "He's trying to do what's best for the business, even if his methods are a bit... intense."

Horns nodded in agreement. "I know his intentions are good," he said, his voice laced with a hint of frustration. "But sometimes he goes overboard. He ends up intimidating the staff instead of inspiring them."

Horns took a sip of his coffee, a contemplative look in his eyes. "You know Rebecca, the cat girl who brought you your food and drinks the past two nights?" he asked, watching Kev's reaction.

Kev nodded, remembering the friendly waitress with the piercing green eyes. "I do. I introduced myself to her last night."

Horns leaned forward, a hint of intrigue in his voice. "She's the first waitress who's volunteered to serve Fang," he revealed. "He usually scares them off, and there's always an argument about who has to wait on him."

Kev's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Fang had seemed stern, but not particularly intimidating during their interactions. "Really?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

Horns chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the couch. "She even volunteered to take the VIP table again tonight," he added, shaking his head in amusement. "And that's without even getting a tip from Fang. Most of the staff avoid him like the plague, but she seems ok with him... or rather, you."

He paused, his gaze meeting Kev's. "Fang's almost a completely different person when you're around, Kev," he observed. "Much more relaxed, more approachable. She hasn't seen him like that without you, so she's not scared."

Kev chuckled nervously, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "That sounds ridiculous, Horns," he said, shaking his head. Yet, he remembered the way Fang had yelled at the woman he'd fired just hours earlier, his voice loud with anger and frustration. Was Fang really acting differently around him?

He poured himself a cup of the freshly brewed coffee, the rich aroma filling the air. "Thanks for the help," he said to Horns, offering a grateful smile.

He took a sip of the hot beverage, savoring the warmth and caffeine jolt. "So," he asked, turning back to Horns, "what are your plans for the day?"

Horns let out a long, weary sigh. "I'm heading home in a bit to catch some sleep. Hopefully, I'll get a few hours of peace before the madness starts all over again tonight."

He looked at Kev, a hint of concern in his eyes. "Is there anything you need before I head out?" he asked. "Anything I can bring you later?"

Kev shook his head. "I should be good for today," he assured Horns. "Thanks for everything."

Horns smiled, a genuine warmth radiating from his tired eyes. "Anytime, Kev," he said, patting Kev's shoulder gently before lumbering towards the door. "Just holler if you need anything."

With a final wave, Horns departed, leaving Kev alone once more in the peaceful sanctuary of his apartment. He settled back onto the couch, cradling his warm mug of coffee, and opened one of the books Horns had brought him.

The book, titled "A Brief History of Dala'Bon," offered a fascinating glimpse into the city's past. Kev learned that the mansion, now transformed into Club Fang, had once belonged to a powerful family, their lineage stretching back centuries. The property, once a sprawling estate on the outskirts of the city, had gradually been encroached upon by urban development, leaving the mansion and its surrounding woods as a secluded oasis amidst the concrete jungle. Part of the estate had even been converted into a large city park, a popular destination for families and nature enthusiasts.

Dala'Bon itself was known for its thriving tech industry, a hub of innovation and progress. Kev couldn't help but chuckle at the irony. The medieval-themed club, with its rejection of modern technology, was nestled in the heart of a cutting-edge metropolis. It was a testament to Fang's vision, his ability to create a space that catered to a primal longing for a simpler time, even amidst the relentless march of progress. 

Flipping through the pages, Kev frowned. The topical overview on the early pages was easy to understand, a summary of sorts, but the book was very dense, filled with references and names that held no meaning to a person from a different reality. Where were the Tiipita Islands? Who was Emperor Tusk? When was the year 3921? And to top it off, what was the current year? He put the book down in frustration, he was beginning to get anxious. There was an awful lot of lore to this coma dream.

Feeling a surge of restlessness Kev decided to take a walk through the backyard to clear his head. He craved fresh air and a change of scenery. As he passed by the cleaning crews, they nodded respectfully, a marked improvement from the curious stares he'd received the day before. He returned their greetings with a friendly smile, a sense of satisfaction warming his chest. It seemed his efforts in the kitchen had earned him a measure of respect among the staff.

Cindy must have put in a good word for me, he thought to himself.

He found a secluded bench nestled beneath a sprawling oak tree, its leaves providing a welcome respite from the afternoon sun and lit a cigarette, the smoke curling lazily upwards as he took in the serene surroundings. The manicured lawns, the vibrant flowerbeds, the gentle trickle of the fountain... it was a far cry from the chaotic energy of the club's interior.

As he exhaled a plume of smoke, he noticed a familiar figure approaching from the direction of the kitchen. Reepia, her chef's hat discarded and a cigarette dangling from her lips, strode purposefully towards him, her sharp eyes fixed on his face.

"Too good for my coffee now, boy?" Reepia asked, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

Kev grinned back, taking a drag from his cigarette. "Not at all, Chef," he replied, his tone light and teasing. "But being in your kitchen yesterday blessed me with enough culinary talent to brew my own this morning."

Reepia snorted, a cloud of smoke escaping her nostrils. "Don't get cocky, human," she warned. "I've heard rumors that you have some sort of magical hold on the boss. He's been practically purring like a lovesick kitten since you arrived."

She paused, her gaze lingering on Kev's face. "You need to become nocturnal, boy," she advised, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "That mangey mutt has got his eyes on you for some reason. It's good that Fang finally found a chew toy, even if you're useless otherwise"

She took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling slowly. "And besides," she added with a sly grin, "If you stay up all night you won't be here ruining my last cigarette of the day."

"I think the real trick will be getting Fang to be awake during the day," Kev countered, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "I've been thinking about it since I talked to Horns this morning."

Reepia paused and scowled, tapping her boot on the edge of the cast iron bench with a metallic clink. "Horns is a good one," she said, a rare note of fondness in her voice. "That big oaf is the only one Fang has never freaked out at. He's got a way of calming the boss down, even when he's at his most... volatile. But even he can't get Fang to take a nap."

Kev took a drag from his cigarette, his gaze focused on the smoke curling upwards in the still air. "If Fang could just get a few weeks of normal sleep, it would probably help his stress levels immensely," he mused. "He could keep working, just a bit less."

Reepia scoffed, a cynical laugh escaping her lips. "Fat chance of that happening," she retorted. "He's been like this since he opened the club twenty years ago. Workaholic to the bone." She paused, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "But if you manage to get that old dog to learn a new trick, I'll make you coffee every morning, personally."

With a final flick of her cigarette, Reepia turned and headed back to the kitchen, leaving Kev alone with his thoughts. He finished his own cigarette, a sense of determination settling over him. Reepia's challenge, though delivered with her usual gruffness, had sparked a fire within him. He was going to help Fang, even if it meant going against the grain of the wolfman's ingrained habits.

Kev stood up, brushing the stray leaves from his jeans. He took one last look at the tranquil backyard before heading back inside, ready to face whatever the rest of the day, and night, might bring.

Chapter Text

Kev, back in his apartment, spent the next few hours diligently cleaning his apartment, taking pride in transforming the once-neglected space into a comfortable haven. By noon, every surface gleamed, and the air was filled with the fresh scent of lemon-scented cleaning products. He prepared a light lunch, anticipating a more extravagant meal later in the evening when the club came alive.

As he was enjoying his sandwich, a knock echoed through the apartment. He opened the door to find a middle-aged fox-man, a member of the cleaning crew, standing on the threshold. The fox man looked slightly annoyed, his bushy tail twitching impatiently.

"Amadeus is looking for you," he said gruffly, his voice laced with a hint of disapproval. "In the dressing rooms."

Kev blinked in surprise. "The dressing rooms?" he echoed, unsure where those were located in the sprawling mansion.

The fox man sighed, clearly not thrilled about the interruption to his duties. "Follow me," he grumbled, turning on his heel and heading down the hallway.

Kev quickly put down his lunch. They descended the grand staircase, bypassing the now-empty barroom and continuing through a series of dimly lit corridors. They eventually emerged into a spacious, high-ceilinged room that resembled a small concert hall. A stage, draped in velvet curtains, occupied one end, while plush chairs and couches were scattered throughout the rest of the space.

"The dressing rooms are behind the stage," the fox man said, pointing towards a discreet doorway. "Don't keep him waiting." With that, he turned and disappeared back into the labyrinth of hallways, leaving Kev to navigate the rest of the way alone.

 Kev crossed the stage, his footsteps echoing in the empty hall. He couldn't help but marvel at the grandeur of the space. He'd had no idea this concert-like room even existed within the club. It seemed there were still countless hidden corners and secrets waiting to be discovered. A thrill of anticipation ran through him, a reminder of the endless possibilities that this new world held.

He pushed open the door leading backstage, stepping into a dimly lit corridor lined with dressing rooms. The air hummed with quiet activity - the soft strumming of a guitar, the rhythmic tapping of a sewing machine, the muffled sounds of conversation. A giraffe man, perched on a stool and meticulously tuning a stand-up bass, looked down as Kev entered.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his voice slow and thoughtful.

"I'm looking for Amadeus," Kev replied, scanning the corridor for any sign of the flamboyant toucan.

The giraffe-man pointed towards a door at the far end of the hallway. "His office is back there," he said, returning his attention to his bass.

Kev thanked him and made his way towards the indicated door. He hesitated for a moment, then knocked gently.

A gruff voice echoed from within, "Go away! I'm busy!"

Kev recoiled, startled by the abruptness. "Sorry," he mumbled, turning to leave. "I'll come back another time."

But before he could take a step, the door swung open, revealing Asmodeus, his colorful plumage ruffled and a frown etched on his face. His expression froze, then melted into a delighted smile as he recognized Kev.

"Oh, it's my human friend!" he exclaimed, his voice a cheerful trill. "I thought you were someone else. Come in, come in!"

With a sweeping gesture of his winged arm, Asmodeus ushered Kev into the dressing room.

"I can come back later if you're busy," Kev offered, feeling a bit awkward.

Asmodeus laughed, his beak clicking merrily. "If it were anyone other than you, my dear, I would be busy," he declared, leading Kev to a small, plush couch nestled in a corner. "But for you, I have time."

Kev settled onto the couch, his eyes taking in the surroundings. The dressing room was surprisingly spacious, though a grand piano, its polished surface gleaming in the dim light, occupied most of the floor space. How did they even get that in here, Kev thought. 

A small desk cluttered with sheet music and a metronome sat in one corner, and a vanity mirror adorned with theatrical lights occupied another. Despite the presence of the piano, the room felt cozy and inviting, a reflection of Asmodeus's flamboyant personality.

Asmodeus disappeared for a moment, then returned with a gleaming acoustic guitar. He thrust it into Kev's hands with a flourish. "Here you go, my dear," he said, his voice filled with anticipation. "Let's hear some of that human music you mentioned."

Kev's fingers instinctively wrapped around the neck of the guitar, a familiar weight settling in his hands. It had been a month or two since he'd last played, but the muscle memory returned quickly. His hands felt the fresh steel strings, the guitar seemed like it had never been used. He picked a note, a smile spreading across his face as the music began to fill the small space.

However, his smile faltered as a discordant sound echoed through the room. He frowned, his fingers plucking at the strings experimentally. "It's in a strange tuning," he observed, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Asmodeus watched with keen interest as Kev stood up and approached the grand piano. He carefully matched the guitar's strings to the piano's keys, adjusting the tuning pegs until the instrument resonated with the familiar sounds of Earth's standard tuning. A satisfied smile returned to his face as he strummed a few more chords, the music now flowing smoothly from his fingertips.

Asmodeus listened intently, his head cocked to one side, his sharp eyes following Kev's every move. "Interesting tuning," he remarked, his voice a melodic trill. "Quite... dissonant, but intriguing nonetheless."

Kev, encouraged by Asmodeus's curiosity, began to play a song he had written back on Earth. It was a simple, fingerpicked melody, filled with melancholic chords. He closed his eyes, letting the music transport him back to his old life, to the quiet solitude of his bedroom where he'd spent countless hours crafting his songs.

Asmodeus flinched a few times as Kev stumbled over a chord or missed a note, his perfectionist tendencies momentarily overriding his appreciation for the music. But as the song progressed, a look of genuine fascination spread across his face. The toucan's eyes were closed as he focused, his beak clicking softly in time. 

When Kev finished, Asmodeus remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the guitar in Kev's hands. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, he rose from his seat and approached the grand piano. His fingers danced across the keys, tapping out a few experimental notes, as if deciphering a complex code. Then, with a flourish, he flawlessly reproduced Kev's song, the melody echoing through the room with a newfound richness and depth.

Kev's jaw dropped in astonishment. He'd witnessed Asmodeus's skill the night before, but this was on another level. The toucan had captured the essence of his song, infusing it with his own unique flair, transforming it into something even more beautiful and poignant.

"You're... incredible," Kev breathed, his voice filled with awe.

Asmodeus merely smiled, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Yes, my dear," he said, his voice a soft melody. "Your song touched my soul."

Asmodeus's eyes gleamed with excitement. "I would love to hear a few more of your human songs," he said, his voice a melodic trill. "They would be a delightful addition to my repertoire." He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "But for now, I must transcribe this etude you've just shared. It has a certain... energy that intrigues me."

Kev blushed, a wave of embarrassment washing over him. He hadn't expected Asmodeus to take such a liking to his simple melody. If he'd known it might be played in public, he would have chosen something a bit more... complex.

Asmodeus, sensing Kev's discomfort, chuckled. "Don't worry, my dear," he reassured him. "Your song has a unique rhythm, a captivating dissonance that will undoubtedly cause chaos on the dance floor. Imagine the masses of bodies, forced to move in new and unexpected ways by my masterful interpretation." He spread his wings dramatically, his voice rising in a crescendo of excitement. "It will be a symphony of controlled chaos, a ballet of undulating umbral urges unleashed!"

Kev couldn't help but smile at Asmodeus's theatrics. "That was quite poetic," he remarked, genuinely impressed by the toucan's flair for the dramatic.

Asmodeus preened, his feathers ruffling slightly. "I've been working on my prose," he admitted, a hint of pride in his voice. "Thank you for noticing, dear."

Asmodeus, now fully engrossed in his task, sat down at the piano and began meticulously transcribing Kev's song. Kev, feeling a sense of accomplishment and a touch of nervous anticipation, carefully placed the guitar back in its case. A quick unreciprocated farewell and he returned to his apartment.

The afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on the neatly arranged furniture. Kev settled onto the couch, rolled another joint, and let the soothing smoke fill his lungs. With the guitar in his hands, he began to play, the familiar melodies a comforting anchor in this strange new world. He experimented with different chords and progressions, his fingers dancing across the strings with a newfound confidence.

Time seemed to melt away as he lost himself in the music. When he finally looked up, the sun was beginning its descent towards the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant hues of orange and purple. It was time to get ready for another night at the club.

Kev showered and changed into the clothes Fang had chosen for him the night before. The black slacks and white button-down shirt, though simple, fit him decently enough. He felt a surge of confidence, a sense of belonging he hadn't experienced before.

Just as he was finishing his preparations, a knock sounded at the door. He opened it to find Horns, his usual cheerful demeanor restored after a few hours of sleep.

"Good morning, Kev!" Horns boomed, stepping into the apartment with a wide grin.

Kev chuckled, glancing at the setting sun outside the window. "Evening, Horns," he said.

"Same thing," Horns replied with a shrug, settling comfortably onto the couch. He pulled a joint and the room was quickly filled with its sticky aroma.

Kev sat down across from him, reaching for the offered joint. "Busy day ahead?" he inquired.

Horns exhaled a cloud of smoke, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Sounds like it'll start smoothly, at least," he replied. "Fang wants to get you some more appropriate work attire. Seems like those jeans and t-shirts aren't cutting it anymore."

"I guess not," he agreed, taking a puff before passing the joint back. "I'm not exactly blending in with the crowd."

Horns took a long drag from the joint, a contemplative look in his eyes. "Take your time out there, Kev," he advised, his voice laced with a hint of mischief. "No need to have Fang rushing back here and making a fuss."

Kev chuckled, understanding the unspoken message. Horns clearly wanted Fang out of the club, away from the staff, and enjoying some much-needed relaxation.

"I'll do my best," Kev replied, taking another puff from the joint. "But ultimately, he's the one in charge."

Horns nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He took the joint back from Kev and inhaled deeply. "This is the first time I can think of that he's gone out for something that's not work-related," he mused, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Not in years, at least."

"It seems like he could afford to blow off some steam more often, if he wanted to," Kev observed, watching the smoke curl lazily towards the ceiling.

"Maybe," Horns said, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "But it seems like your presence is making him want to. That's a good thing, Kev." He chuckled. "You might just be the best thing that's happened to this club in a long time."

Horns stood up, stretching his massive frame. "Well, I should let you get ready," he said, patting Kev's shoulder gently. "Don't want to keep the boss waiting."

As he made his way to the door, he tossed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter onto the coffee table. "Figured you might be running low," he said with a wink. "Don't hesitate to ask if you need anything else."

With a final wave, Horns left the apartment, leaving Kev to prepare for his outing with Fang.

Kev had a cigarette in nervous anticipation, looking forward to seeing Fang. The fear and the loneliness of this place so far from home melted away when he was next to the charming wolf-man. As the moon began its ascent into the darkening sky, casting an ethereal glow over the mansion, a knock sounded at his door.

Fang stood on the threshold, a picture of refined elegance in a charcoal gray suit that hugged his powerful frame. His dark hair was neatly combed, his amber eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Chapter Text

"Good evening, Kev," Fang greeted as he entered the human's apartment, a warm smile softening his stern features. "Are you ready for our little outing?"

Kev nodded, a nervous excitement fluttering in his chest. "Yes, I am," he replied, stepping aside to let Fang enter.

"Tonight," Fang continued, his voice taking on a more business-like tone, "we're going to get you some new outfits. As my assistant, you should have clothes that reflect your position. Something a bit more... refined." He paused, a playful glint in his eyes. "And perhaps a few things for those… special occasions."

Fang, with a gentlemanly gesture, escorted Kev to the club's entrance, his hand resting lightly on the small of Kev's back. They walked past the very first customers of the night entering, the line of excited beastmen extending down the large stone steps that lead from the courtyard to the front door where a large black car waited, its boxy and wide body contrasting with the sleek chrome cars that waited behind it. The owl-man valet, ever attentive, held the car door open for them, his large round eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

As they settled into the plush leather seats, Fang turned to Kev with a warm smile. "We have a few stops to make tonight," he explained, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the car's interior. "Then we'll be meeting one of my friends for dinner in the city."

Kev's curiosity was piqued. "Who's the friend?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Fang rolled down the window, letting the cool night air fill the car. "His name is Ralph," he replied, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery. "He's a business associate of mine. Someone who's... in logistics."

Kev tilted his head, a puzzled expression on his face. "Logistics?" he echoed, unsure of what that entailed in this context.

Fang chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down Kev's spine. "He's a supplier," he clarified, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Of various things we use in the club. Drinks, food, certain... substances."

Fang's arm draped casually over Kev's shoulders, pulling him closer. "Ralph's restaurant is one of the best in the city," he confided, a hint of pride in his voice. "We often hire from his staff for our entertainment nights. He's not the biggest fan of it, but he can't complain too much since we buy all our perishables from him." A sly grin spread across Fang's face. "It's a mutually beneficial arrangement."

The car sped down the long, winding driveway, leaving the bustling club behind. As they approached the security checkpoint, a line of eager patrons snaked along the road, their anticipation palpable even from a distance. Rex, ever vigilant, spotted their car and approached, his muscular frame casting a long shadow in the moonlight. He leaned down, his face close to the window, and exchanged a few hushed words with the owl man driver.

"Have a good time out there, boss," he said with a respectful nod. "We'll make sure things are kept peaceful here."

Fang's lips curled into a confident smirk. "Make sure you do, Rex," he replied, his tone firm but not unkind.

With a final pat on the roof of the car, Rex stepped back, and they continued their journey. As they emerged from the wooded enclave onto the main road, Kev's breath caught in his throat. The contrast between the secluded, almost medieval world of the club and the vibrant cityscape that lay before them was breathtaking.

Dala'Bon was not just a modern city; it was a futuristic metropolis that pulsed with energy and innovation. Neon signs, holographic projections, and towering skyscrapers painted the night sky in a dazzling array of colors. The streets teemed with a diverse crowd of beastmen and beastwomen, their laughter and chatter creating a symphony of sound. Sleek, aerodynamic vehicles, some hovering silently above the ground, zipped through the traffic, their headlights cutting through the darkness like laser beams.

Kev's eyes widened in awe, his senses overwhelmed by the sheer scale and vibrancy of the city. It was a world unlike anything he'd ever imagined, a testament to the boundless creativity and ingenuity of its inhabitants. He couldn't wait to explore its hidden depths, to discover the secrets and wonders that awaited him in this extraordinary place.

The owl man driver, a master of his craft, expertly navigated the bustling streets, weaving through traffic with a grace that belied the car's size and power. Kev, his eyes glued to the window, took in the kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that flashed by. Fang, ever the enthusiastic tour guide, pointed out landmarks and notable establishments, his voice filled with pride for his city.

Kev was overwhelmed, his senses bombarded by the sheer scale and energy of Dala'Bon. It was like downtown Tokyo, but on a city-wide scale, every corner pulsating with life and innovation. He tried to absorb it all, the towering skyscrapers, the holographic advertisements that danced in mid-air, the diverse crowd of beastmen and beastwomen going about their lives.

Finally, the car slowed to a stop in front of a massive clothing store, its windows showcasing an array of dazzling outfits and accessories. Fang, ever the gentleman, helped Kev out of the car, his hand lingering on Kev's arm for a moment longer than necessary.

"Welcome to 'Threads of the Wild'," he announced, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "The finest fabrics in all of Dala'Bon."

He led the way into the store, his imposing presence parting the crowd like the Red Sea. Other shoppers, recognizing Fang, gave him a wide berth, their eyes filled with a mixture of respect and curiosity. Kev, feeling a bit self-conscious under their scrutiny, and fearing the mass of the crowd outside this little protective bubble, clung to Fang's side, grateful for the wolfman's protective aura.

The owl-man driver remained by the car, his gleaming eyes scanning the surroundings, ever vigilant.

A poised attendant, a graceful swan-woman with feathers as white as snow, greeted them at the entrance. "Mr. Fang," she said with a respectful bow, "you may take the elevator downstairs."

Fang nodded in acknowledgement, then turned to Kev with a reassuring smile. "This way," he said, guiding him through the bustling shop floor. The store was a sensory overload, a kaleidoscope of colors, textures, and styles. Mannequins, dressed in the latest fashions, lined the walls, their blank stares watching the shoppers with an eerie intensity. The air buzzed with the excited chatter of customers and the rhythmic hum of sewing machines from a hidden workshop.

Fang, unfazed by the commotion, led Kev to the back of the store, where an unassuming door bore a discreet "Employees Only" sign. He pressed the down arrow on the elevator panel, and the doors slid open silently.

The descent was swift and smooth, the elevator opening onto a vast, brightly lit workshop. Rows of tailors, their heads bent over their work, meticulously stitched and embroidered fabrics, the rhythmic hum of their machines creating a soothing soundtrack. The air was thick with the scent of freshly cut cloth and the subtle tang of machine oil.

Fang navigated the rows of workbenches, his confident strides leading them towards an office tucked away in the back corner. He flung open the door without knocking, his booming voice echoing through the space. "Marybelle!" he announced, a playful grin on his face. "I've brought you a new canvas!"

A startled gasp echoed through the office as a gecko woman, her emerald scales shimmering under the fluorescent lights, tossed a handful of pins into the air with a shriek. "Fang, you bastard!" she exclaimed, her voice sharp and exasperated. "Why can't you ever knock?!"

Her anger dissipated as her gaze fell upon Kev, standing awkwardly beside Fang. A moment of stunned silence hung in the air, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the sewing machines in the background.

Kev, feeling a bit flustered, offered a tentative, "Hello."

Marybelle's eyes, large and expressive, scanned Kev from head to toe, taking in his every detail. Without a word, she approached him and gently grasped his arms, pulling them out to the sides. She produced a tape measure from her pocket and began meticulously recording Kev's measurements, her movements swift and precise.

"My name is Kev, by the way," Kev offered, trying to break the ice.

Fang chuckled, settling into a plush armchair in the corner of the office. "Marybelle, do you think you can get him fixed up for me?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

Marybelle sighed, her gaze still fixed on Kev. "Of course I can," she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. "Just give me an hour, and I'll have him looking like a million bucks."

Marybelle, lost in her own world of fabrics and measurements, began mumbling to herself as she gathered a selection of materials from the piles scattered around her office. She held them up to Kev's face, her eyes narrowing in concentration.

"Hmm, skin is an odd color," she muttered, her voice barely audible above the hum of the sewing machines. "Blue eyes and brown hair... I haven't had a client with this sort of color swatch before. It's... intriguing."

Kev, feeling a bit like a specimen under a microscope, tentatively reached out to touch one of the fabrics. "I like this one," he said, his voice soft.

Marybelle swatted his hand away, her tone sharp. "Quiet while I work," she commanded, her focus returning to her task.

Fang, watching the scene unfold from his armchair, couldn't help but chuckle. He found Marybelle's bluntness and single-minded focus amusing. He leaned back, crossing his legs and folding his arms across his chest, content to watch Kev get fitted for his new wardrobe. The human's awkwardness in the face of Marybelle's scrutiny was endearing, and Fang couldn't help but feel a surge of protectiveness towards him. He was looking forward to seeing Kev transformed, dressed in clothes that would reflect his newfound status and highlight his unique beauty.

Marybelle, having finished her initial assessment of Kev's measurements, turned her attention to Fang. "Any specific requests, boss?" she inquired, her tone professional but with a hint of challenge in her eyes.

Fang chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Marybelle, you are the artist here," he replied with a playful grin. "A mere uneducated brute like myself could never hope to understand how you perform your miracles."

She snorted, a hint of amusement softening her usually stern expression. "That's true," she conceded. "Leave us for now. Go pick him some shoes and accessories from the shop upstairs. I'll handle the rest."

She paused, her gaze sweeping over Kev's form once more. "And no gold," she added, her voice firm. "Stick with silver. It'll complement his coloring better."

Fang raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I'm sure you'll have plenty to say about my choices," he teased.

Marybelle shrugged. "It's not hard, Fang," she retorted. "Just pick the right things."

Fang chuckled again, then turned to Kev with a warm smile. "I'll be back soon," he said, squeezing Kev's shoulder gently. "Behave yourself."

With a final wink, he left the office, leaving Kev alone with the formidable gecko tailor.

Kev felt a pang of vulnerability as Fang left the room, leaving him alone with the enigmatic Marybelle. She had barely spoken three words to him since their initial encounter, her focus entirely consumed by her work. Yet, in the span of a single hour, she had conjured up a near-complete suit, its fabric draped over a dress form in the corner. The suit was a masterpiece of tailoring, its lines clean and precise, hugging Kev's slender frame without a hint of wrinkle or excess fabric. The simple design was accentuated by subtle silver thread, its shimmer catching the light with every movement.

Marybelle stepped back, her critical eye scanning the suit. "Hmm," she murmured, a frown creasing her brow. "No tail... presents a challenge." She seemed to be contemplating how to adapt her designs to Kev's distinctly human anatomy.

Just then, the door swung open, and Fang returned, laden with bags from the shop upstairs. He surveyed the scene with a satisfied grin. "Any progress, Marybelle?" he inquired, his voice carrying a playful lilt.

Marybelle nodded, gesturing towards the suit. "Almost done," she replied, her tone clipped but not unkind. "Just a few finishing touches." She stepped back to admire her handiwork, a flicker of pride in her eyes.

Fang whistled appreciatively. "Impressive, as always," he said, setting the bags down on a nearby table. "I knew you wouldn't disappoint."

Fang handed Kev one of the bags, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Go on, try it on," he urged. "Let's see how Marybelle's magic works."

Marybelle, meanwhile, carefully lifted the finished suit from the dress form and handed it to Kev. "The dressing room is over there," she said, pointing to a curtained-off corner.

Kev, feeling a mix of excitement and self-consciousness, disappeared behind the curtain. Fang, unable to resist the temptation, peeked around the edge, his gaze lingering on Kev's exposed back and the graceful curve of his waist as he undressed. 

Kev emerged a few minutes later, transformed. The suit fit him impeccably, the tailored lines accentuating his slender physique without being restrictive. He'd paired it with a shimmering silver undershirt and matching socks, and the shoes, with their gleaming silver buckles, added a touch of understated elegance. A simple belt completed the ensemble, cinching his waist and highlighting his lean hips.

Marybelle stepped forward, a critical eye assessing her work. She fussed with Kev's collar, adjusting the pant legs, and finally, tucked a silver handkerchief into his breast pocket. She stepped back, her gaze sweeping over Kev's form.

"Well, Fang?" she asked, turning to the wolfman with a challenging glint in her eyes. "What are your thoughts?"

Fang's expression was one of pure admiration. "Marybelle," he said, his voice a low rumble, "you are the best in the city."

She smirked, a rare display of pride. "In the world, more like it," she corrected him. "But I'm not done yet. I'll send over a few more outfits tomorrow. Different styles, different occasions."

Fang nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Marybelle. You're a lifesaver." He turned to Kev, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Well, my dear assistant, are you ready for our next stop?"

Once again ensconced in the luxurious backseat of the car, Fang reached into one of the bags and produced a small, velvet-lined box. He opened it with a flourish, revealing a gleaming silver watch, its intricate gears and hands catching the moonlight.

"This is for you," he said, offering it to Kev with a warm smile.

Kev's eyes widened in surprise. "Fang, it's beautiful," he breathed, carefully taking the watch from its case. "But it looks really expensive."

Fang chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through the car's interior. "You'll need to know the time if you're going to be a good assistant," he teased, gently taking Kev's wrist and fastening the watch around it. The cool metal felt surprisingly comfortable against Kev's skin.

"It's hard to find a mechanical watch these days," Fang explained, his gaze lingering on the intricate timepiece. "Most people just check their phones… when I saw this in the shop, I knew you needed to have it."

Kev's heart swelled with gratitude. He raised his wrist, admiring the watch's craftsmanship. "Thank you, Fang," he said sincerely, leaning over to give the wolfman a quick kiss on the cheek.

Fang beamed, his eyes sparkling with delight. "You're very welcome, Kev," he replied, his voice husky with emotion. He cleared his throat, regaining his composure. "Now, our next stop is the salon. We need to make sure your hair is as impeccable as your new suit."

Chapter Text

The salon buzzed with activity, a symphony of snipping scissors, whirring hairdryers, and the lively chatter of beastmen and beastwomen indulging in a bit of pampering. The layout was a far cry from any barbershop Kev had visited on Earth. Instead of a single, open space, the salon consisted of a central hallway flanked by numerous private rooms, each offering a secluded haven for personalized grooming. Kev caught glimpses of towel-clad figures moving between the rooms, their diverse animal features adding an exotic touch to the already vibrant atmosphere.

A sleek weasel woman, her fur a glossy black, greeted them at the reception desk. "Welcome to Shear Elegance," she purred, her voice smooth and professional. "Do you have a reservation?"

Fang nodded, a confident smirk playing on his lips, "Valen should be expecting us."

The receptionist's eyes widened slightly as she consulted her appointment book. "Ah, yes, Mr. Fang," she confirmed, her tone tinged with a hint of awe. "Valen is waiting for you at the end of the hall, in the suite."

Fang led Kev down the hallway, their footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. The private suite at the end of the hall was noticeably larger and more luxurious than the other rooms, its door adorned with intricate gold leaf designs. Fang pushed it open without knocking, revealing a brightly lit space filled with gleaming mirrors, seamless tile floor and an odd looking object that sat in the middle of the space. It didn't resemble any barber's chair that kev had ever seen, wide and angular, it had many gaps across it, looking like it could be folded any which way.

In the center of the room stood Valen, a hawk man with piercing eyes and a razor-sharp beak. His movements were quick and precise, his entire demeanor radiating an air of focused intensity. He was dressed in a tailored black smock, his wings folded neatly behind his back.

"Fang," Valen greeted, his voice a sharp caw. "I was surprised to hear you'd made an appointment so soon after your last visit. And imagine my shock when I was told I'd be working on a human. Who's ever even heard of a human before?"

His gaze shifted to Kev, taking in the human's slender frame and delicate features. "Well, well, well," he said, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Aren't you a rare specimen?"

He gestured towards a plush chair in front of a large mirror. "Are you going to take your clothes off, boy?" he asked, his tone clipped and impatient. "Or do I have to pluck those feathers myself?"

Kev, a bit flustered by Valen's directness, stammered, "I... I only need a haircut."

Valen threw back his head and let out a raucous laugh, his beak clacking in amusement. "I know, isn't that why everyone comes here?" he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Fang chuckled, a low rumble that reverberated through the room. "The only hair on a human that needs taking care of is on his head, Valen," he explained, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Valen stepped back, his gaze fixed on Kev's hair. "Interesting," he mused, running his fingers through the soft brown strands. He tilted his head, contemplating the challenge before him. "This is going to be tricky," he finally admitted, turning to Fang. "I haven't done a cut like this before."

Valen, ever the perfectionist, meticulously wet and combed Kev's hair, his movements precise and deliberate. Kev, growing slightly anxious under the hawkman's scrutiny, offered a suggestion. "Maybe just clean up my sideburns and give it a light trim?" he ventured.

Valen scoffed, his sharp beak clicking in disapproval. "Any hairdresser could do that, boy," he retorted. "I am a stylist. I create masterpieces, not mere maintenance."

With a flourish, he picked up a pair of scissors and began his work. Kev, unable to see what was happening behind him, fidgeted nervously in the strange chair. He felt a cool substance being applied to his hair, followed by the gentle tug of a comb pulling his hair back from his face.

Finally, Valen stepped aside, gesturing towards the mirror. "Behold," he declared, his voice filled with dramatic flair.

Kev's eyes widened in surprise. His hair, usually styled in a casual, side-parted manner, was now slicked back, revealing his forehead and accentuating his sharp cheekbones. It was a bolder, more sophisticated look than he was accustomed to, but he couldn't deny that it suited him.

"Wow," he breathed, his fingers tentatively touching his hair. "I didn't think slicking it back would look good on me, but... I like it."

A satisfied smile spread across Valen's face. "Of course you do," he said, his voice a smug caw. "I am a master of my craft."

Fang, equally impressed with the transformation, reached into his pocket and pulled out a generous wad of bills. "Thank you, Valen," he said, handing the tip to the hawkman with a grateful smile. "As always, your work is impeccable."

He turned to Kev, his eyes sparkling with approval. "What do you think?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "Quite the improvement, wouldn't you say?"

Kev nodded, still admiring his reflection in the mirror. "It's amazing," he admitted, a shy smile playing on his lips. "Thank you, Fang."

Fang's grin widened. "You're very welcome, Kev," he replied, his voice warm and inviting. "Now, let's get going. We have one more stop before dinner."

He turned back to Valen. "If you ever want to visit the club, just let me know," he offered. "You and a guest are always welcome."

Valen's eyes lit up. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Perhaps I'll find a certain dashing human at the bar."

Fang chuckled, a possessive arm draping over Kev's shoulders. "Don't get any ideas, Valen," he warned playfully. "He's mine."

With a final farewell, they left the salon, stepping back into the bustling city streets. The owl man driver was waiting patiently by the car, his sharp eyes still scanning the surroundings. Fang opened the door for Kev, his gentlemanly gesture a stark contrast to the predatory atmosphere of the club.

As they settled into the backseat, Kev couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. He was curious about their final destination, and even more curious about what the rest of the night held in store.

The car glided through the city streets, a sleek black shadow amidst the neon lights and bustling crowds. After a short drive, they arrived at their final destination before dinner. The car pulled up in front of an unassuming storefront, its weathered brick facade and dimly lit windows hinting at the treasures hidden within. A simple sign, etched in gold lettering, read: "The Smoker's Den."

Fang, with his chivalry, opened the car door for Kev and offered his arm. "Shall we?" he asked.

Kev, intrigued by the mysterious shop, took Fang's arm and followed him inside.

As they stepped inside, the rich aroma of tobacco and spices filled the air, a heady blend that both tantalized and calmed the senses. The shop was dimly lit, its shelves lined with an impressive array of pipes, cigars, and exotic tobaccos from all corners of the world. The atmosphere was hushed, the only sounds were the soft creaking of the floorboards and the occasional murmur of conversation from a room in the back.

Fang gestured towards the shelves, a generous smile on his face. "Kev, my dear," he said, his voice a low rumble, "get whatever you want. It's all on me tonight."

He turned to the shopkeeper, a burly warthog man with a friendly grunt, and began discussing his own purchases. "I need to pick up a present for Ralph before dinner," he explained, his voice low and conspiratorial.

Kev, left to his own devices, wandered through the shop, his eyes wide with curiosity. He picked up a few intricately carved pipes, their designs both beautiful and bizarre, and sniffed at jars filled with fragrant tobacco blends, their names evoking images of distant lands and forgotten rituals.

Meanwhile, Fang engaged in a lively conversation with the warthog shopkeeper, their voices a mix of friendly banter and hushed negotiations. Kev couldn't help but eavesdrop, his curiosity piqued by the cryptic references to "special blends" and "discreet deliveries."

Kev, though impressed by the vast selection of pipes and cigars, wasn't particularly drawn to them. He'd never been much of a pipe or cigar smoker, preferring the simplicity and convenience of cigarettes. He wandered further into the shop, his eyes scanning the shelves for something that might pique his interest.

A display of ornate hookahs caught his eye, a nostalgic wave of memories washing over him. He recalled hazy nights in college dorm rooms, passing the hookah around with friends, the sweet, fruity smoke filling the air with laughter and camaraderie. He smiled at the memory, a bittersweet pang of longing for his old life tugging at his heart.

As he continued his exploration, a glint of silver caught his eye. Nestled amongst the pipes and cigars was a vintage cigarette case, its surface etched with intricate designs. It was a bit worn and tarnished, but it exuded an air of timeless elegance. Kev picked it up, running his fingers over the smooth metal. It felt cool and comforting in his hand, something solid. A smile tugged at his lips, he had one similar back home, just a stainless case, nothing as heavy as this, but it felt like something familiar. 

As he made his way towards the counter, the shopkeeper, his conversation with Fang concluded, pushed a small, unassuming cigar box towards the wolfman. "Always a pleasure doing business with you and the club, Mr. Fang," he said, his voice a friendly grunt.

Kev placed the cigarette case on the counter beside the cigar box. "How much for this?" he asked, his voice a bit hesitant.

The shopkeeper squinted at the worn silver case, turning it over in his hands. "Doesn't look like this one has a price on it," he mused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. He glanced up at Kev, then at Fang, a sly smile spreading across his face. "But if you're with Mr. Fang, I'll include it in his purchase for free." He winked at Kev. "Consider it a welcome gift to the neighborhood."

Fang chuckled, taking the cigar box and tucking it carefully under his arm. "Thank you, my friend," he said, his voice warm and appreciative. "As always, your generosity is unmatched."

Kev, his heart warmed by the shopkeeper's kindness, slipped the cigarette case into his front pocket. It felt like a treasure, a tangible reminder of his connection to both his old world and his new one. The silver glinted softly in the dim light, complementing the handkerchief and the subtle accents on his shoes.

Fang, his purchases secured, led the way back to the waiting car. The owl man driver, ever vigilant, opened the door for them, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings before they settled into the backseat.

As the car smoothly merged into the city's bustling traffic, the owl man driver glanced at the rearview mirror. "Right on time, boss," he hooted softly, his voice a comforting presence in the luxurious interior.

Kev, taking advantage of the lull in the action, carefully transferred his cigarettes from their crumpled pack into the newly acquired silver case. The simple act of placing them in the sleek container made him feel a bit more sophisticated, a bit more at home in Fang's world of refined tastes. He tucked the case back into his pocket, the cool metal a reassuring weight against his chest. Here, even the smallest details mattered, a reflection of the club's emphasis on elegance and discretion.

Fang, his gaze fixed on the ever-changing cityscape outside the window, turned to Kev with a warm smile. "I think you'll like Ralph," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the car's interior. "He's a fun guy, always full of stories and jokes. And his restaurant..." He paused, a wistful look crossing his face. "It's been a couple of years since I've been there, but I remember it being quite the experience. Not as atmospheric as the club, of course, but it has a certain... mass appeal. The food is exceptional, and the ambiance is both elegant and inviting."

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that sent a shiver down Kev's spine. "Ralph knows how to cater to a crowd," he continued. "He understands the delicate balance between indulgence and restraint, something that's essential in this city. People come to his restaurant to celebrate, to unwind, to forget their worries for a few hours. It's a sanctuary in its own way, just like the club."

The car smoothly navigated the busy streets, finally coming to a halt in front of a colossal structure that dominated the entire block. Its facade, a dazzling display of glass and steel, reflected the vibrant lights of the city, creating a mesmerizing spectacle.

"We're here," Fang announced, a hint of excitement in his voice. He leaned forward and spoke to the owl man driver. "Be back in two hours. We'll be waiting."

The driver nodded, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Yes, sir," he replied, his voice a soft hoot.

Fang stepped out of the car, offering his hand to Kev. "Welcome to the Grand Bazaar," he said, his voice filled with pride. "The largest shopping complex in all of Dala'Bon."

Kev, his senses already overwhelmed by the city's vibrant energy, gaped at the sheer size of the building. It dwarfed even the imposing mansion that housed Club Fang. The lower levels, visible through the expansive glass windows, revealed a sprawling indoor mall, teeming with shoppers of all shapes and sizes.

Fang led Kev through the revolving doors, the cool air conditioning a welcome relief from the summer heat outside. They stepped onto a moving walkway, joining the throng of shoppers heading deeper into the mall. Kev's eyes darted from one display to another, his head spinning with the dizzying array of clothing styles and the sheer diversity of the beastmen and beastwomen around him. He'd never seen so many different species in one place before, each with their own unique fashion sense and cultural flair.

Fang, seemingly unfazed by the chaos, confidently strode towards another elevator, hidden away in a discreet corner. He ushered Kev inside, pressing a button that led them further upwards into the building's labyrinthine interior. Kev, feeling a bit overwhelmed, clung to Fang's arm, his senses overloaded by the constant movement and the kaleidoscope of colors and textures.

They took several more elevators, each ascent revealing new and even more extravagant levels of the mall. Kev marveled at the sheer opulence of it all, the designer boutiques, the high-end restaurants, the sparkling jewelry stores. It was a world of luxury and indulgence, a playground for the city's elite. He felt a bit out of place in his simple clothes, but Fang's reassuring presence at his side helped to ease his discomfort.

The final elevator ride was a slow, deliberate ascent, the car gliding upwards in near silence. Fang, sensing Kev's anticipation, leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "We're going to the top floor. The view is spectacular."

As the doors slid open, Kev gasped in awe. The penthouse level was a breathtaking expanse of open space, its walls, ceiling and floor entirely made of glass, offering a panoramic view of the city's glittering skyline. The moon, now high in the sky, bathed the room in a soft, ethereal glow. The furniture, low-slung and minimalist, seemed to disappear into the background, allowing the breathtaking vista to take center stage.

Scattered throughout the dining area were several staircases, leading down to the floor below. Kev peered over the edge, his eyes widening in surprise. The entire lower level was a massive, open kitchen, its gleaming stainless steel surfaces and bustling chefs visible through the transparent floor. It was a culinary theater, a feast for the eyes as well as the palate.

In one corner of the penthouse, a secluded area was partitioned off by frosted glass walls, offering privacy without sacrificing the stunning views. Fang gestured towards this secluded space, a hint of pride in his voice. "That's our room."

As they approached the private room, Kev couldn't help but notice the other diners. They were all impeccably dressed, their attire ranging from elegant evening gowns to tailored suits, their beastly features accentuated by carefully chosen accessories. The atmosphere was hushed and refined, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the club. Soft music played in the background, creating a soothing ambiance that encouraged conversation and relaxation.

A waiter, a slender gazelle man with a nervous demeanor, approached them as they neared the private room. "Excuse me, sir," he said, his voice hesitant, "do you have a reservation?"

Fang raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Of course," he replied, his tone confident. "I'm here to see Ralph."

The waiter fidgeted nervously. "Please wait a moment while I confirm," he said, scurrying towards the private room and disappearing behind the frosted glass door.

A few tense seconds passed before the door flew open, the waiter stumbling back out, his face pale and his eyes wide with alarm. He quickly regained his composure, though his voice still trembled slightly. "Please, enjoy yourselves, Mr. Fang," he said, his gaze avoiding Fang's. "The boss is... waiting for you." He then turned and practically sprinted down the nearest staircase, leaving Kev and Fang standing in bewildered silence.

Kev's nerves tightened. The waiter's reaction had been anything but reassuring. What kind of man was Ralph, that even his own staff seemed to fear him?

Fang, sensing Kev's apprehension, squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, Kev," he said, his voice a low rumble that conveyed both confidence and a hint of underlying tension. "Ralph might be a bit... eccentric, but he's a good friend. And an excellent host."

With that, he pushed open the door to the private room, leading Kev into the unknown.

Chapter Text

 The private room mirrored the elegant simplicity of the main dining area, with its low, circular table and expansive glass walls that showcased the breathtaking panorama of Dala'Bon's sprawling cityscape. The absence of a transparent floor, however, provided a sense of privacy and intimacy, shielding the occupants from the prying eyes of the cooks below.

Three figures occupied the room, their diverse forms a testament to the city's eclectic mix of inhabitants. A stout beaver man, his fur meticulously groomed, sat beside a slender alligator woman, her scales shimmering under the soft light. At the head of the table, a mallard man, his argyle suit looked soft but had a sheen to it, almost like it was wet. The duck-man nursed a drink, his beady eyes fixed on the newcomers.

"Fang, it's been too long!" the mallard man exclaimed, his voice a surprisingly deep quack that echoed through the room. "Welcome, welcome. And who is this enigmatic human you've brought with you?"

Kev, taken aback by the duck man's unexpected appearance, offered a polite smile. He'd conjured up images of a powerful lion or a hulking gorilla when Fang had mentioned his friend Ralph. The reality, a dapper mallard with a penchant for fine dining, was a delightful surprise.

Fang strode confidently into the room, his presence commanding attention. He took his seat at the opposite head of the table, gesturing for Kev to join them.

Kev, still mesmerized by the sprawling cityscape below, reluctantly tore his gaze away from the window and approached the table. Choosing the seat across from the beaver-man who was now, apparently, trying very hard not to look at Fang.

"Ralph," Fang began, his voice booming with warmth, "this is Kev, my new personal assistant. Kev, meet Ralph, one of my oldest and dearest friends."

The mallard man extended a webbed hand, his smile wide and welcoming. "Raphael, actually," he corrected with a chuckle, "but Ralph is perfectly acceptable for friends. And, a friend of Fang's is a friend of mine."

Kev shook Ralph's webbed hand, surprised by its firm grip. He took the seat beside Fang, his nerves settling slightly under the duck man's affable demeanor.

The alligator woman, her movements surprisingly graceful for someone of her build, approached the table. "Can I get you something to drink?" she inquired, her voice a soft, raspy purr.

Fang didn't hesitate. "Whiskey, neat, for me," he ordered. "And for Kev..." He glanced at his assistant, a questioning look in his eyes.

Kev, still a bit overwhelmed by the opulence of the surroundings, opted for something simple. "Just water, please," he replied.

The alligator woman nodded, her smile revealing a row of surprisingly sharp teeth. She retreated to a corner of the room and pressed a discreet button on the wall. A section of the floor silently retracted, a hidden elevator that connected directly to the kitchen below. She stepped onto the platform, balancing the empty tray in her hands, and disappeared from sight.

Kev watched in fascination as the platform descended, the opening offering a glimpse of the bustling kitchen below. It was a marvel of engineering, a testament to the ingenuity and extravagance of this world.

"And this," Fang continued, gesturing towards the beaver man, "is Roan, the architect responsible for this magnificent building."

. "Nice to meet you, Roan," kev said, a friendly smile on his face.

"We've met," Fang interjected, his voice cold and clipped.

Roan's smile faltered, replaced by a nervous twitch of his whiskers. The beaver man's eyes widened in alarm. "I... I don't believe we've had the pleasure, actually," he stammered, extending a trembling hand towards Fang.

Fang's grip on Roan's hand was strong, almost painful. "Your name is on the blueprints of every building the city wants to erect on my property," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "We've met."

The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with unspoken threats and simmering resentment. Kev, caught in the crossfire, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsure of how to navigate this sudden shift in dynamics.

Ralph, sensing the rising tension, interjected smoothly, "Fang, Roan is one of the most sought-after architects in the world. His designs are visionary, his attention to detail unparalleled."

Fang released Roan's hand, his grip loosening but his eyes remaining cold. "That doesn't excuse his... transgressions," he muttered, his voice still laced with a hint of anger.

Kev, eager to diffuse the situation, turned to Roan with a curious question. "Do you draft in 2D or 3D?" he asked, his voice friendly and engaging.

Roan blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. He flexed his hand, the lingering sting of Fang's grip a reminder of his precarious position. "I still prefer to draft by hand," he admitted, a hint of pride in his voice. "I know it's slower than using a computer, but it allows me to... think more. To truly connect with the space I'm creating."

Kev nodded, a genuine interest in his eyes. "I did some drafting before my current job," he shared. "Nothing as grand as this, of course." He gestured towards the breathtaking view of the city.

Roan's curiosity was piqued. "Do you have a degree in architecture?" he inquired.

"No, electrical, actually," Kev replied with a sheepish smile. "But I ended up doing mostly drafting at my last job."

Roan's demeanor softened, a sense of camaraderie replacing his earlier nervousness. He pulled a chair closer to the table and engaged Kev in a lively discussion about their shared experiences in the world of design and engineering. Kev found that even in this conversation he felt a bit lost, Roan's mention of new materials and equipment reminding him how out of place he really was. 

The waitress returned with their drinks, placing a double whiskey in front of Fang and a glass of water for Kev. Fang downed his drink in one swift motion and immediately signaled for another.

"Would you like something to eat?" the waitress asked, her gaze flitting between Fang and Kev.

"Steak, rare," Fang ordered without hesitation.

Kev glanced up from his conversation with Roan. "Grilled chicken and asparagus, please," he requested, his voice polite.

The waitress nodded and disappeared, leaving Kev and Roan to continue their conversation. Kev, despite the lingering tension between Fang and the architect, found himself enjoying the exchange. It was a welcome distraction from the complexities of his new life, a reminder of the skills and passions he'd brought with him from his old world.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Fang's face after watching Kev engrossed in conversation with Roan for so long. He cleared his throat, drawing Kev's attention back to him. "Enjoying yourself, Kev?" he asked, his tone a bit sharper than intended.

Kev, startled by the sudden shift in Fang's demeanor, quickly turned to face him. "Yes, very much," he replied, a nervous smile playing on his lips. "Roan is fascinating. I didn't realize architects could be so... passionate about their work."

Ralph, ever the astute observer, picked up on the subtle tension in the air. "And how about you, are you enjoying yourself, Fang?" he inquired, his voice laced with concern. "It's a surprise to see you out and about. You're usually so busy at the club."

Fang sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I wanted to introduce Kev to you," he admitted, his gaze momentarily lingering on Roan and Kev. "But it seems Roan has stolen the spotlight tonight."

Ralph chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that echoed through the private room. "It's hard to compete with a star architect," he said, his tone light. "But regardless, I've heard the club's been doing well."

Fang nodded, a hint of weariness in his eyes. "As well as it can, considering the circumstances," he replied. "You know the city doesn't sleep."

Roan, sensing the shift in Fang's mood, quickly interjected. "My apologies, Fang," he said, his voice sincere. "I didn't mean to overstep. When the council asked me to propose another block building, I thought they would put it further out or demolish an older block to accommodate it, not encroach on your property." He paused, his gaze nervously gauging Fang's reaction. "I've read the old blueprints for your mansion. It's a beautiful building, a true testament to architectural history."

Fang's tense shoulders relaxed slightly, his ego momentarily soothed by Roan's compliment. A flicker of pride returned to his eyes. "I made that deal with the city years ago," he explained, his voice regaining its usual confidence. "By preserving half the property as a city park, they were supposed to allow me to use the rest as I saw fit, without altering the allowances or codes."

He sighed, a hint of frustration returning to his voice. "But the newer city council members want to renege on that agreement. They want to build, expand, modernize... and they see my property as prime real estate."

Ralph, who had been listening intently, chimed in with a concerned quack. "I hope the city doesn't decide to remove the park," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "I love taking my morning walks through those woods. It has been a daily ritual since I moved here."

Roan nodded in agreement. "They'd be fools to try," he added. "The people love that park. It's one of the few green spaces left in this concrete jungle."

Just then, the waitress returned, balancing a tray laden with their orders. Fang's steak, cooked to a perfect rare, sizzled on the plate, while Kev's grilled chicken and asparagus looked equally appetizing. The aroma of roasted garlic and herbs filled the air, stimulating their appetites.

As they began to eat, Ralph cleared his throat, drawing their attention. "Roan," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "I have some private business to discuss Fang. Would you mind stepping out for a few moments?" 

He turned to Roan with a charming smile. "The lovely waitress here can give you a tour of the kitchen if you'd like," he offered. "I'm sure you'd appreciate the culinary artistry on display."

Roan, eager to escape the awkward tension between Fang and himself, readily agreed. "That sounds delightful," he said, rising from his seat. He bowed slightly to Fang. "Farewell, gentlemen. It was a pleasure meeting you, Kev." He offered a polite nod to Kev, a genuine smile replacing his earlier nervousness.

With that, Roan exited the private room with the waitress, leaving Kev and Fang alone with Ralph and the lingering scent of anticipation. 

As soon as Roan was out of earshot, Fang's façade crumbled. He slumped back in his chair, a frustrated growl rumbling in his chest. "That was mean, Ralph," he muttered, his voice low and accusatory. "Bringing that beaver in here, knowing full well how it would get me worked up."

Kev, who had initially thought Fang was overreacting, felt a chill run down his spine as Ralph burst into laughter. The mallard man wheezed, clutching his sides. "I thought you were going to gut him right there on the spot!" he gasped, tears of mirth streaming down his face.

Fang glared at him, his jaw clenched. He stabbed a piece of steak with his fork, a silent display of his displeasure. "You really almost got me to make a scene, you foul fowl," he growled, his voice thick with annoyance.

The tension hung heavy in the air for a moment, but then, surprisingly, Fang's lips twitched into a reluctant smile. Ralph, catching the shift in his friend's expression, let out another hearty laugh. Soon, both of them were roaring with laughter, the earlier animosity replaced by a shared amusement.

Chapter Text

Kev, bewildered by their sudden change in mood, focused on his food, his appetite momentarily diminished by the unsettling display. He couldn't quite grasp the complex dynamics between Fang and Ralph, their friendship seemingly built on a foundation of playful antagonism and unspoken understanding. He decided to keep his observations to himself, content to be a silent observer for now.

Once the laughter subsided, Fang's expression turned serious once more. "I've got a VIP group coming in next week," he said, his voice low once again composed. "Some foreigners. Warlock's people. They'll be expecting the best of the best, and I might need some supplies on short notice."

Ralph leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Anything specific in mind?" he inquired, his tone businesslike.

"Not yet," Fang admitted. "But my people will contact you with any new information as soon as it becomes available."

Ralph raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in his gaze. "If that's the case, why discuss it now?" he asked.

Fang met his gaze, his own eyes unwavering. "I'm trying to make sure these VIPs are happy, Ralph," he explained. "Their satisfaction is crucial to the club's future. I need to know that I can rely on you to provide whatever we need. Whenever we need it."

Ralph nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. "I'll keep it in mind, Fang," he assured him. "But without any specific directions, there's not much I can do to prepare."

The business conversation trailed off as Fang and Kev finished their meal. The chicken and asparagus was delicious, grilled and light. The simple small portion was a perfect size, even with just a few bites of a sandwich for lunch, he was full after.

Ralph, sensing the lull, smoothly changed the subject. "So, Kev," he began, his voice taking on a more casual tone, "how's working for the old dog been so far? Bet he's got you doing a lot more than drafting. Tell me; playing fetch, keeping him from chewing on chicken bones, smacking him when he's sniffing butts? What does the assistant do?"

Fang growled playfully, nudging Ralph with his elbow. "Watch it, duck," he warned, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Kev smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through him. "It's been fine so far," he replied. "A lot of names to remember, and the club is a bit overwhelming, but everyone's been very welcoming."

Ralph raised an eyebrow, a surprised chuckle escaping his beak. "Fang hasn't tried to bite your head off yet?" he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Not yet," Kev said, returning the smile. "He's actually been great. I just think he needs to get a real night's sleep now and then."

Ralph's gaze shifted to Fang, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "Aww, is the puppy sleepy?" he asked, his voice laced with playful mockery.

Fang barked a laugh, a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the private room. "Enough, Ralph," he warned, though his tone was light. He stood up, draining the last of his drink. "One more thing before we leave," he said, turning to Ralph.

"What is it?" Ralph asked, his curiosity piqued.

"On your next delivery," Fang instructed, his voice firm, "make sure to include a bag of your very finest flowers. My new assistant here is fond of the grass just like Horns."

A small smile spread across Kev's face. He hadn't expected Fang to be so accommodating, but he certainly wasn't complaining.

"That's easy enough," Ralph replied with a shrug. "Consider it done."

Fang stood up, extending a hand towards Ralph. "It was good to see you, old friend," he said warmly. "You should come visit the club sometime. It's been too long."

Ralph's smile faltered slightly. "It was terrifying to see you again, to be honest," he admitted with a nervous chuckle. "Didn't know what brought you out of your Den so suddenly. I'll have to think about visiting the club."

Fang's grin widened, and he clapped a hand on Ralph's shoulder. "Don't be a stranger," he said, his voice filled with genuine affection. He handed Ralph the cigar box from inside his suit jacket. "A pleasure doing business, as always."

With a final nod, Fang strode towards the door, Kev trailing behind him.

As they were about to leave, Ralph's voice stopped Kev in his tracks. "Kev," the duck man called out, his tone thoughtful. "You seem to be good for the old wolf."

Kev turned back, a surprised smile on his face. "Thank you, Ralph," he replied sincerely. "And thank you for the delicious meal."

He hurried to catch up with Fang, who was already waiting by the elevator. As they descended back into the bustling mall, Kev couldn't help but ponder Ralph's words. It wasn't the first time someone had commented on his calming influence on Fang. Horns had said something similar earlier that day, and even Reepia had hinted at it.

He wondered what it was about him that seemed to ease Fang's usual tension and anxiety. Was it his quiet demeanor, his willingness to listen, or simply his presence as a reminder of a world beyond the club's walls? Whatever the reason, Kev couldn't deny a sense of satisfaction at the thought of being a positive influence on Fang's life.

The city lights blurred past the car windows as the owl-man sped back to the club. The streets were still alive with activity, a testament to Dala'Bon's vibrant nightlife. Kev, nestled comfortably against Fang, watched the ever-changing scenery with a sense of wonder.

Fang, his arm wrapped securely around Kev's shoulders, leaned closer, his voice a low rumble in the quiet confines of the car. "Thank you for coming out with me tonight, Kev," he said, his tone sincere. "It was... refreshing to step away from the club for a while."

Kev felt a warmth spread through him at Fang's words. He was touched by the wolfman's vulnerability, his willingness to let his guard down and share a glimpse of his personal life. "Thank you for bringing me," he replied, his voice soft. "I really enjoyed it. And all the new clothes and the watch... it's all very generous."

Fang chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through Kev's body. "I want you to stick around, Kev," he said, his gaze meeting Kev's. "I know the club doesn't have the same luxuries as the city, but I can provide an exciting life for you here. New experiences, new opportunities..."

Kev leaned into Fang's embrace, a sense of contentment settling over him. "Don't worry so much, Fang," he said, his voice reassuring. "You haven't given me a reason to quit yet."

A relieved smile spread across Fang's face. He tightened his grip on Kev, drawing him closer. As they approached the security checkpoint, a familiar figure stepped out of the guardhouse. Rex, his muscular frame silhouetted against the moonlight, raised a hand in greeting.

Rex, his voice a low growl, informed the driver, "Standard procedure, fellas. The boss man doesn't get special treatment."

The owl man nodded and stepped out of the vehicle, his movements swift and efficient. Kev and Fang followed suit, a hint of annoyance in Fang's eyes as he observed the security protocol.

A team of security personnel, armed with high-tech scanners and detection equipment, swarmed the car, their movements precise and coordinated. They meticulously examined every inch of the vehicle, their scanners sweeping over the exterior and interior, searching for any signs of tampering or hidden devices.

Fang shifted impatiently, his tail twitching with barely contained impatience. "They're taking their sweet time," he grumbled under his breath.

Kev, sensing Fang's growing frustration, reached out and gently rubbed his back. "It's for our safety," he whispered, his voice soothing. "Better to be thorough than sorry."

Fang relaxed slightly under Kev's touch, a grateful smile playing on his lips. He watched as the owl man, having removed his shoes and any metallic accessories, was ushered through a metal detector, his wings momentarily ruffled by the breeze from the security checkpoint's fans.

Fang followed, passing through the metal detector without a beep. Kev, feeling a bit nervous, removed his shoes and belt and stepped through the archway. A shrill alarm pierced the night air, causing Kev to jump in surprise.

Rex, a predatory grin on his face, sauntered over. "Looks like someone's been naughty," he purred, his voice a low rumble.

"Rex, cut it out," Fang snapped.

Ignoring Fang's protest, Rex began patting Kev down, his hands moving slowly and deliberately over Kev's legs, lingering a bit too long on his thighs. He leaned in close, his hot breath tickling Kev's ear. "Relax, little human," he whispered, his voice laced with a suggestive undertone. "I just need to make sure you're not hiding anything dangerous. Got anything hard hiding in those pockets?"

His hands moved upwards as he spoke, tracing the contours of Kev's chest, his fingers brushing against Kev's pecs. A shiver ran down Kev's spine, a mix of fear and a strange, forbidden thrill.

"Aha!" Rex exclaimed triumphantly, pulling the silver cigarette case from Kev's pocket. "Got you."

Kev's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's new, and I completely forgot about it." He quickly stepped back through the metal detector, this time passing without incident.

Rex, a smug grin on his face, handed Kev his belongings but held the cigarette case up to the moonlight, its silver surface glinting in the darkness. "I could get you something real nice," he purred, his voice a low rumble, "if you wanted to come out with me sometime."

He placed the case back in Kev's outstretched hand, his fingers brushing against Kev's palm, sending a shiver down his spine.

Kev, finally starting to get used to the unabashed advances of the beastmen, met Rex's gaze with a neutral look. "That's cute," he said, his voice flat and dry.

Rex's grin faltered, his confidence momentarily shaken. He blinked, his predatory eyes wide with surprise. "Cute?" he echoed, his voice a bewildered growl. He was a tiger, an alpha, the epitome of strength and dominance. Cute was the furthest thing from his usual image.

Kev, amused by Rex's flustered reaction, chuckled softly. He turned and walked back to the car, leaving the bewildered tigerman standing in the moonlight.

Fang, who had been observing the exchange with a mixture of amusement and possessiveness, opened the car door for Kev. As they settled into the backseat, he couldn't help but grin. "You handled Rex quite well," he commented, his voice laced with a hint of pride. "Not many people can fluster him like that."

Kev shrugged, a shy smile playing on his lips. "I'm just being myself," he replied.

Fang's grin widened. "And that's exactly what I like about you," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver of anticipation though Kev.

 The car pulled back into the familiar wooded driveway, the towering mansion emerging from the darkness like a slumbering beast. Stepping out into the cool night air, Kev was greeted by the familiar cacophony of the club in full swing. The windows blazed with light, and the rhythmic pulse of music throbbed through the walls. It was well past midnight, and the revelry was at its peak.

"Would you like a nightcap before bed?" Fang asked, his voice a low rumble in Kev's ear.

Kev nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "Sure," he replied, his curiosity piqued. "Let's check on Dale and catch some of Asmodeus's performance."

Fang's arm draped casually over Kev's shoulders, a gesture that felt both comforting and possessive. Together, they navigated the bustling crowd, Fang's presence parting the sea of patrons like a bow through waves. They reached their familiar spot in the VIP section, the table cleared of remnants of their earlier drinks.

As they settle into the plush booth, the feline waitress, Rebecca, appeared with a graceful stride. Her emerald eyes sparkled in the dim light as she inquired, "Can I get you gentlemen anything to drink?"

"Gin, tonight," Fang grunted.

Kev, still mesmerized by the music, smiled up at Rebecca. "I'll have a Cape Cod, please."

A flicker of confusion crossed Rebecca's face. "A Cape Cod?" she echoed, her brow furrowing slightly. "I'm not familiar with that one."

"Dale will know how to make it," Kev assured her. "Thanks, Rebecca."

Her face lit up at the mention of her name, a shy smile gracing her lips. "Of course, Kev," she replied, her voice soft and melodious. She quickly disappeared into the crowd, leaving Kev and Fang to enjoy the ambiance.

The music swelled, filling the room with a vibrant energy. Asmodeus, tonight leading a small orchestra, conducted the musicians with a flourish, his flamboyant movements mirroring the passion in his music. Kev closes his eyes, letting the melodies wash over him. The blend of wind instruments, strings, and horns created a rich, almost big band sound that set his heart racing. It was a far cry from the melancholic piano solos of the previous night, but no less captivating.

Dale, a tray balanced expertly on one hand, approached their table with a knowing smirk. "Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice a mix of amusement and gentle mockery. "It's been three years, eight months, and fifteen days since you last took some time off, Fang. What's the big occasion?"

Kev's eyes widened in surprise. At first, he thought Dale was joking, pulling numbers out of thin air for dramatic effect. But then he remembered the bartender's uncanny ability to recall every customer's drink order, even after years.

Fang snatched his gin from the tray, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. "I have a social life, Dale," he grumbled, his voice a low growl. "I don't tell you everything."

Dale's smirk widened. "As your reluctant personal journal, I think I'd know," he countered playfully. He placed Kev's Cape Cod on the table with a wink. "Enjoy, Kev. And good luck keeping up with this one." He nodded towards Fang before turning and heading back to the bustling bar.

Another slipped away in a comfortable haze of conversation and shared laughter. Kev, buoyed by the alcohol and Fang's undivided attention, found himself drawn to the wolfman in a way he hadn't been with anyone before. However, as the night deepened, and the crowd began to thin, disappearing down the side hallways to the private areas, Fang glanced at the clock on the wall. "It's getting late, Kev," he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice. "You should probably head to bed."

Kev, who had been dreading this moment, took a deep breath. He'd been thinking about it all night, the stolen kisses in the car, the lingering touches, the undeniable attraction that crackled between them. He knew he couldn't let this opportunity slip away.

"Or," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "you could come up to my room."

Fang's amber eyes widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat. The invitation hung in the air, heavy with unspoken desires and unspoken fears. He wanted nothing more than to accept, to spend the rest of the night wrapped in Kev's embrace, exploring the depths of their connection. But the club, his life's work, called to him. He couldn't simply abandon it, not when there were still patrons enjoying themselves, not when there were potential problems lurking in the shadows.

"I... I don't know, Kev," he stammered, his voice betraying his inner conflict. "I should really stay here, make sure everything runs smoothly."

Kev reached onto the table, his hand gently covering Fang's. "I understand," he said, his voice soft but firm. "But I also know you need to rest. You've been working nonstop, and it's taking a toll on you."

He paused, his gaze meeting Fang's. "Please, come with me," he pleaded, his voice filled with a longing that mirrored Fang's own. "Just for a few hours. Let me take care of you."

A blush crept onto Fang's cheeks, a rare sight that betrayed his inner turmoil. He abruptly stood up, his chair scraping against the floor with a jarring sound. "I... I should check on the back of the house," he mumbled, his voice a mix of embarrassment and reluctance. "Make sure everything's running smoothly."

Kev watched him go, a wave of disappointment washing over him. He'd hoped Fang would accept his invitation, that they could finally explore the connection that had been simmering between them. But it seemed the wolfman's dedication to his club, his sense of duty, outweighed his personal desires.

Kev sighed, a heavy weight settling in his chest. He was beginning to understand why everyone kept telling him to keep Fang calm, to help him relax. The wolfman was clearly driven, a workaholic who pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion. Kev worried that if Fang didn't learn to take a break, to prioritize his own well-being, he might eventually burn out.

With a heavy heart, Kev made his way back to his apartment. He lit a cigarette, the familiar ritual offering a small comfort in the face of his disappointment. As he inhaled the smoke, he couldn't help but think about Fang, about the warmth of his touch and the longing in his eyes.

He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray, the silver case gleaming in the moonlight. He took off his watch and climbed into bed, the soft sheets a welcome embrace. But sleep didn't come easily. The image of Fang, alone in the bustling club, haunted his thoughts. He knew he had to find a way to help the wolfman, to break through his self-imposed isolation and show him that there was more to life than just work.

Chapter Text

The first rays of dawn painted the sky with streaks of pink and orange, signaling the start of a new day. Kev, his internal clock now attuned to the club's rhythm, woke with a sense of purpose. He completed his usual morning rituals, a comforting routine that helped distract him from Fang's rejection the night before. Clasping his new watch around his wrist he stepped into the kitchen and soon the tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air.

Yesterday's lesson with Horns had paid off in a big way. Kev had successfully navigated the stovetop and the makeshift filter, producing a steaming mug of dark, fragrant coffee. He settled at the small kitchen table, a book, 'A Brief History of Dala'Bon', propped open beside him, and lit a cigarette. The combination of caffeine, nicotine, and the quiet solitude of the morning was surprisingly satisfying.

He took a sip of his coffee, then turned his attention to the book, eager to delve deeper into the history of this world. The pages revealed a fascinating tapestry of four distinct continents, each inhabited by a different type of beastmen. There was a land of avian creatures, their feathers shimmering in the sunlight; a realm of mammals, their fur thick and luxurious; a continent teeming with reptiles, their scales glistening in the humid air; and finally, a land where all three species coexisted, their cultures and traditions intermingling in a vibrant tapestry of diversity.

Kev was just getting engrossed in the descriptions of ancient civilizations and epic battles when a knock at the door interrupted his reading. He reluctantly set the book aside and went to answer it. 

"Morning, Kev," Horns mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He shuffled into the apartment, his massive frame drooping with exhaustion. With a weary sigh, he collapsed onto the couch, his usual perch.

"Rough night?" Kev asked sympathetically, offering Horns a cup of coffee.

Horns shook his head, a tired smile playing on his lips. "Just water, please," he requested. "I'm heading to bed soon."

Kev fetched a glass of water from the kitchen and handed it to Horns. "How did the night go?" he inquired, curious about what he might have missed while Fang showed him around the city.

"It was alright," Horns replied, taking a long sip of water. "No major incidents, thankfully. But the real magic was having Fang out and about for the first bit. It made a world of difference."

Kev nodded, remembering Fang's relaxed demeanor the night before, yet underneath all the interactions and introductions was the unspoken understanding that it was for the club, not a date. "He doesn't seem to know what to do with himself when he's not working," he observed.

Horns chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the couch cushions. "That's the understatement of the century," he said. "The wolf's practically married to this club."

Kev lit a cigarette, offering one to Horns, who accepted with a grateful nod. As they smoked in companionable silence, Kev's thoughts drifted back to Fang.

"Has he ever had any serious relationships?" Kev asked. "I mean, in the past..."

Horns exhaled a cloud of smoke, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "Not that I know of," he replied. "He's always been dedicated to the club, first and foremost. There have been flings, of course, but nothing long-term."

Kev nodded slowly, a pang of empathy stirring within him. "Maybe he's just... afraid of getting hurt," he mused, his gaze fixed on the swirling smoke. "Maybe he's covering up a broken heart."

 Horns burst into laughter, a deep, booming sound that startled Kev. "Afraid of getting hurt?" he echoed, wiping a tear from his eye. "Fang? Please. That wolf attracts attention like a chest of cursed treasure, but he scares them off just as fast."

He took a long drag from his joint, exhaling slowly. "He's got a reputation, Kev. A reputation for being... demanding, controlling, a workaholic. Not exactly the ideal partner for most."

He paused, his gaze meeting Kev's. "But whatever you're doing, Kev, don't let up," he advised, his voice sincere. "You've got a good influence on him. He's more relaxed, more... tame, when you're around."

Kev sighed, a troubled expression on his face. "I feel guilty, though," he admitted. "I'm supposed to be helping him with work, but I haven't actually lifted a finger. I thought I'd be helping with the books, or making appointments for him, but it feels like I'm just... here to stand behind him."

Horns shrugged. "Is that so bad?" he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Your presence alone has prevented at least three major outbursts in the past day alone, I'd bet. That's got to count for something." 

"I still want to be a more... quantifiable help," Kev insisted, a hint of frustration in his voice. "If I upset him, and I can't do anything else around here, he'll fire me."

Horns considered this, nodding slowly. "Yeah, that does suck," he admitted. "But I wouldn't worry too much about it, Kev. Unless you do something truly crazy, someone like Fang will forgive a few missteps. Especially if you're keeping him sane."

He leaned back, a reassuring smile on his face. "And if he tries to fire you over something petty, I'll have to remind him of all the bat-shit crazy stuff he's done over the years. Trust me, he owes me a few favors." 

Horns, having finished his joint and water, heaved himself up from the couch with a groan. "Well, I'm off to bed," he announced, stretching his arms above his head, nearly scraping the tall ceiling. "Anything you need before I go?"

Kev thought for a moment, then remembered the expertly styled hair from the previous night. "Actually, could you bring me some hair gel?" he asked, a sheepish grin on his face. "I'd like to try recreating that look Valen gave me."

Horns chuckled. "No problem, Kev," he replied, even when tired his voice boomed. "I'll see what I can find."

As he headed towards the door, he paused and turned back to Kev. "Oh, and your new clothes should be arriving at some point," he added. "Marybelle said she'd send them over as soon as they're finished."

Kev's face lit up with excitement. "That's great news!" he exclaimed. "Thanks, Horns."

"You're welcome, Kev," Horns replied with a warm smile. "I'll see you around opening time."

Kev waved goodbye as Horns closed the door behind him. He couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the mooseman's kindness and support. With the usual morning rituals complete he picked up his guitar and began to strum a few chords. The familiar melodies flowed through his fingertips, a comforting connection to his past life. He lost himself in the music, his worries and anxieties fading away as he focused on the rhythm and the feel of the instrument in his hands.

After a while, he decided to take a break and head outside for a smoke. The afternoon sun bathed the backyard in a warm glow, casting long shadows across the manicured lawn. Kev found a quiet spot near the pool and lit a cigarette, savoring the familiar ritual.

Still feeling restless and the time still well before lunch, he decided to explore a bit more of the mansion. He wandered through the maze of corridors, his footsteps echoing in the quiet halls. He stumbled upon a hidden door tucked away in a dimly lit corner. Curiosity piqued, he pushed it open, revealing a spacious garage.

The garage housed an eclectic collection of vehicles. There was the wide and comfortable black car from the previous night, its polished paint gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Beside it sat a vintage motorcycle, its engine polished to a mirror shine. A classic convertible, its top down and its leather seats inviting, occupied another corner. A few others were parked further down, the two large bay doors wide enough for the plethora of styles. All the vehicles shared a common theme: they were distinctly old-fashioned and painted black, a far cry from the futuristic hovercars and streamlined pods he'd seen in the city. It was yet another reminder of the club's unique blend of tradition and modernity.

Kev, his curiosity satisfied, returned to his apartment and prepared a simple lunch. The supplies Horns had gotten previously were already beginning to dwindle, an unfortunate consequence of not having a fridge. As he was washing up, a knock sounded at the door.

Kev wondered who it could be, it was far too early for Fang or Horns to be awake. He crossed the apartment and turned the knob, a wave of anticipation washing over him. Standing on the threshold was the same foxman cleaner who had led him to Asmodeus the day before.

"Delivery for you," the fox-man grunted, his voice gruff but not unkind. He thrust two large garment bags into Kev's arms, their weight surprising him.

"Thank you," Kev replied, a smile spreading across his face. As the fox-man turned to leave, Kev called out, "Wait!"

The fox paused and turned, a questioning look in his eyes.

"What's your name?" Kev asked, genuinely curious.

The fox-man seemed surprised by the question, but he answered nonetheless. "Max," he said, his voice a bit softer this time.

"I'm Kev," Kev introduced himself, extending a hand.

Max hesitated for a moment, then shook Kev's hand with a firm grip. "See ya around," he said with a nod, before disappearing down the hallway. His fluffy tail was the last thing Kev could see as he rounded the corner.

Kev closed the door and eagerly opened the garment bags. Inside, he found an array of beautifully tailored suits, each one more exquisite than the last. Marybelle had clearly outdone herself, crafting a wardrobe fit for a king, or in this case, a personal assistant to a powerful nightclub owner. And in less than 24 hours… did she keep those tailors there all night?

Kev spent the next hour meticulously organizing his closet, carefully hanging each new suit and arranging the accessories Fang had chosen for him. He finally had a wardrobe worthy of his position, a collection of clothes that made him feel confident and empowered. As he admired his reflection in the mirror, a sense of satisfaction washed over him. He was no longer the out-of-place human in rumpled clothes; he was Fang's assistant, and he looked the part.

A thought nagged at him, however: how did laundry work in this world without electricity? He made a mental note to ask Horns or find Cindy later for clarification.

Checking his new watch, a gift from Fang, Kev realized it was only three o'clock. The club wouldn't open for hours, leaving him with another significant chunk of time to fill. He glanced around his apartment, a sigh escaping his lips. Despite the luxurious surroundings and the newfound sense of purpose, he couldn't shake the feeling of isolation. He missed his friends, his family, the familiar rhythms of his old life.

He wandered over to the window, gazing out at the sprawling backyard. The sun was shining brightly, casting dappled shadows on the manicured lawn. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers. It was a beautiful day, but Kev felt a pang of despair. He longed for companionship, for someone to share this new world with.

He turned away from the window, his gaze falling on the stack of books Horns had brought him. Perhaps they held the key to understanding this strange new reality, to finding his place in it. Or maybe they could simply offer a temporary escape, a chance to lose himself in the pages of a story and forget his worries for a while.

With a sigh, Kev picked up one of the books and settled onto the couch. It was once again time to start exploring the world of Dala'Bon, one page at a time.

Chapter Text

Despite his initial enthusiasm, Kev still found the history book to be a bit of a slog. The narrative was dense, filled with references to ancient kingdoms, mythical creatures, and complex political machinations that he couldn't quite grasp. It was like trying to piece together a puzzle without knowing what the final picture was supposed to look like. He longed for context, for a familiar framework to help him make sense of it all.

Perhaps, he thought, his coworkers could provide some insights. They'd lived in this world their entire lives, their understanding of its history and culture ingrained in their very being. Maybe a casual conversation over a drink at the bar could shed some light on the mysteries that plagued him. But how would they react to him asking such basic questions? It's not like he would arouse suspicion by asking what year it is… what could he do, blame it on the christmas ghosts?

Kev caught himself thinking, is this real. He quickly shook his head and laughed, of course this couldn't be really real. Yes it was a very complex and strangely heartwarming coma dream but that's all it was… right? He frowned and picked the book back up, forcing himself to read the words on the page even without knowing what they meant. It was a total waste of time, but it did help to distract him from the dread that bubbled deep in his gut. 

As the afternoon wore on, Kev's thoughts drifted back to Fang. He wondered what the wolfman was doing, if he was still asleep, or if he was already immersed in the chaos of preparing the club for another night of revelry. A pang of longing tugged at his heart. He missed Fang's presence, the warmth of his touch, the reassuring rumble of his voice. Maybe he was a bit rough around the edges but kev could care less, fang put his mind at ease, stopped that burning magma of existential dread that had been growing in him ever since arriving in this place. 

Just as the clock struck six, a familiar knock echoed through the apartment. Kev opened the door to find Horns, looking considerably more refreshed than he had been in the morning

"Evening, Kev," Horns greeted him with a cheerful smile. "Ready for another night of excitement?"

"Here's that hair gel you asked for," Horns said, tossing a tube onto the counter as he entered Kev's apartment. He settled comfortably onto the couch, a familiar routine already forming between them. With a practiced motion, he rolled a joint, the pungent scent of the herb filling the air.

Kev smiled gratefully and disappeared into the bathroom. The steam from the hot shower fogged up the mirror as he washed away the day's anxieties and uncertainties. He emerged a few minutes later, his hair damp and his skin glowing. He styled his hair with the gel, attempting to replicate Valen's expert touch. The result, while not quite as polished, was still a marked improvement from his usual hairdo.

Returning to the living room, he found Horns had thoughtfully rolled a few additional joints, neatly arranged on the coffee table beside his new silver cigarette case.

"For your fancy new case," Horns explained with a wink, gesturing towards the gleaming silver container.

"Thanks, Horns," Kev said sincerely, carefully placing the joints in the case. "I really mean it. You've been so kind to me since I got here."

Horns chuckled, a deep rumble that vibrated through the couch cushions. "Well, someone's gotta look out for the new guy," he replied, taking a long drag from his joint. "Besides," he added with a mischievous grin, "the first time we met... I thought you'd get killed by Fang in that room."

He paused, a more serious expression crossing his face. "I'm glad you weren't," he said softly, his gaze meeting Kev's. "You're a good addition to the team, Kev. We need more people like you around here."

Horns, glancing at his watch, abruptly stood up. "Duty calls," he announced with a sigh. "I need to go do a roll call. The club will be opening soon."

He paused at the door, turning back to Kev with a reassuring smile. "Fang's getting ready too," he said. "He'll be over to get you soon."

Kev nodded, a sense of anticipation building within him. "We'll probably be at the VIP table if you want to come over and take a break later," he offered.

Horns grinned. "Thanks, Kev. I might just take you up on that." With a final wave, he left the apartment, the sound of his heavy footsteps fading down the hallway.

Kev, now alone once more, settled back onto the couch, a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling within him. He couldn't help but wonder what the night held in store, what new experiences and challenges awaited him in the heart of the club. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the unknown, and waited for Fang's arrival.

Barely ten minutes had passed when a firm knock echoed through Kev's apartment. He rose from the couch, a flutter in his chest, and opened the door.

Fang stood on the threshold, impeccably dressed as always, his gaze sweeping over Kev's form. A look of genuine admiration crossed his face. Kev, freshly showered and dressed in one of his new suits, looked remarkably polished and confident. The silver accents of his shirt and accessories shimmered subtly in the soft light, highlighting his delicate features and drawing attention to his bright blue eyes.

Fang couldn't help but marvel at Marybelle's skill. The tailor had truly outdone herself, creating an ensemble that perfectly complemented Kev's unique beauty. He was momentarily speechless, his thoughts momentarily scattered by the sight of Kev looking so utterly captivating. Was this really the same scared creature he first met just nights ago?

Kev, sensing Fang's distraction, stepped forward and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I hope you slept well," he said, his voice soft and reassuring.

The touch, light as it was, snapped Fang back to reality. A warmth spread through him, a reminder of their intimate connection. He cleared his throat, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "Yes, thank you," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "A bed really is much better than the couch." He paused, trying to recall what he'd come to say. "I, uh..."

"Breakfast?" Kev prompted, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

"Yes, breakfast," Fang echoed, the warmth in his eyes mirroring Kev's smile. He extended his arm, and Kev, without hesitation, looped his own through it. Together, they descended the stairs, their footsteps echoing in the still-quiet halls of the club.

They reached the bar just as the last rays of the setting began to fade from the windows, casting long shadows across the empty dance floor. Dale, already behind the bar polishing glasses, greeted them with a knowing grin.

"Evening, lovebirds," he drawled, his voice a husky whisper. "What can I get you?"

"Watch it Horse. Coffee, black," Fang ordered, his voice still carrying a hint of sleepiness.

"Cape Cod for me, please," Kev added, a smile playing on his lips.

Dale raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Going out again tonight?" he inquired, his gaze flickering between Fang and Kev.

Fang shook his head. "Not tonight," he replied, his arm tightening around Kev's shoulders. "I'm going to show Kev some of the nightly entertainment. There's still a lot he needs to learn."

Dale chuckled, a low, winneying sound that echoed through the empty barroom. "Well, I'll pray that you don't crush the lad," he quipped, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Some of those acts can get a bit... wild."

Fang scowled playfully. "He'll be fine. Just get our drinks, Dale," he retorted, his voice a low growl.

Dale laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "Right away, boss," he said, turning to prepare their orders.

As they waited for their drinks they moved to the VIP table. Sitting next to the big wolf-man, Kev's curiosity got the better of him. The veil of mystery surrounding Fang intrigued him, and he longed to learn more about the man behind the imposing facade. If there was anyone in this world he could ask a question to, it was him.

"Fang," he began, his voice hesitant, "can I ask you something personal?"

Fang raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "Of course, Kev," he replied, his tone softening. "What's on your mind?"

Kev took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "I'm curious about your family, about this mansion," he said, his gaze sweeping across the empty barroom. "It's such a beautiful building, filled with history. I'd love to hear more about it."

Fang's expression turned wistful, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "This building has belonged to my family for ages," he began, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the quiet space. "Generations of my ancestors have walked these halls, their laughter and their sorrows echoing through the walls. It's more than just a building to me, Kev. It's a legacy, a connection to my past."

He paused, his gaze drifting towards the grand staircase, his mind filled with memories of his childhood. "But times have changed," he continued, his voice taking on a more somber tone. "The city has grown, and with it, the pressures to modernize, to expand. This property is prime real estate, and the city council has been relentless in their attempts to acquire it."

He clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white. "But I won't let them have it," he declared, his voice filled with a quiet determination. "This club, this mansion, it's my way of fighting back. It's my way of making enough money to keep them at bay, to preserve my family's legacy. I'd like to see them try to close me down now that we're getting the mafia's legal team."

Kev nodded slowly, a newfound understanding dawning on him. "That's a good reason," he said softly, his gaze meeting Fang's. "A noble one."

He'd initially assumed Fang was simply a shrewd businessman, a visionary entrepreneur who had stumbled upon a brilliant concept for a club. But learning that his motivations ran deeper, that he was driven by a desire to preserve his family's history, added a layer of depth to the wolfman that Kev hadn't anticipated.

It made Fang seem more human, more relatable. It painted a picture of a man who, despite his intimidating exterior and his often ruthless business tactics, was deeply connected to his roots, fiercely protective of his heritage. It was a side of Fang that Kev found both admirable and endearing, a glimpse into the heart of the wolf beneath the tailored suit.

Dale, ever the efficient bartender, appeared with their drinks, a Cape Cod for Kev and a steaming cup of coffee for Fang. The rich aroma of the coffee mingled with the sweet scent of the cocktail, creating a heady blend that filled the air.

"So, let me guess what you want to eat. Steak and…," Dale began.

"Steak and eggs," Fang barked his order, completing Dale's sentence, his voice echoing through the quiet barroom.

Kev, still savoring the warmth of Fang's earlier confession, smiled shyly. "Just a cup of chowder and some bread for me, please," he requested.

Dale rolled his eyes at Fang and retreated to the kitchen. Fang's gaze lingered on Kev, a warmth in his amber eyes that sent a shiver down Kev's spine. He reached across the table, his large hand gently brushing against Kev's cheek.

"You look good tonight, Kev," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Kev's body.

Kev's cheeks flushed, a shy smile playing on his lips. "You look good every night, Fang," he replied, his gaze meeting Fang's with a newfound confidence.

Fang's tail, usually still, gave a subtle wag, betraying his pleasure at the compliment. He cleared his throat, his expression turning slightly hesitant. "I was thinking about your offer last night," he began, his voice a bit strained.

Kev's heart skipped a beat. He knew exactly what Fang was referring to, the invitation to his room, the unspoken promise of intimacy.

"I... I really did want to take you up on it," Fang continued, his gaze dropping to the table. "But... I couldn't. The club..." He trailed off, his words hanging heavy in the air.

He looked up, his eyes meeting Kev's with a mixture of longing and regret. "I hope I didn't offend you," he said, his voice soft.

 Kev reached across the table, his hand gently covering Fang's. "I like you, Fang," he said, his voice soft but firm. "And I'm glad we're not rushing into anything."

He paused, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "To be honest, when I really think about it, I'm a bit scared," he confessed, his gaze dropping to their intertwined hands. "You're so... big and strong. I'd be very… vulnerable with you."

Fang's tail wagged gently under the table, a sign of his growing excitement. He appreciated Kev's honesty, his willingness to express his fears and concerns. It showed a level of trust that he hadn't expected so soon.

"I would never hurt you, Kev," he said, his voice a low rumble filled with sincerity. "I promise."

He squeezed Kev's hand reassuringly. "And besides," he added with a playful grin, "it's not like it would be against rules."

Kev chuckled, his heart lightening at Fang's playful tone. "True," he agreed. "But it's still a bit unconventional, don't you think?"

Fang shrugged, his grin widening. "Unconventional is my specialty," he declared, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Besides, who needs convention when you have a connection like ours?"

Their meals arrived promptly, a testament to the efficiency of Reepia's kitchen. Fang, true to form, attacked his steak with gusto, the savory aroma of grilled meat filling the air. Kev, on the other hand, savored his creamy chowder, the warmth spreading through him with each spoonful. The accompanying bread, crusty on the outside and soft within, tasted like it had just come out of the oven.

Chapter Text

As they ate, the club continued to fill up, the energy in the room steadily rising. Kev watched Dale in action behind the bar, his movements a blur as he expertly mixed cocktails, poured drinks, and engaged in playful banter with the patrons. The bartender's photographic memory was on full display, as he effortlessly recalled each customer's preferred drink, even those he hadn't seen in months.

Kev, having finished his chowder, passed his empty bowl to Rebecca as she placed Fang's fresh Bloody Mary on the table. "Do you work every night?" he asked her, curious about the staff's schedule.

Rebecca smiled and raised an eyebrow, a touch of weariness in her eyes. "Yeah," she replied, "same as you, it seems." She then gracefully moved on to take orders from other patrons.

Kev turned back to Fang, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "Do most of the staff work non-stop like this?" he inquired.

Fang looked at him, genuinely confused. "Wouldn't it be weird if they didn't?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "The club is open every night. Someone has to be here to run it."

"That's too much," Kev protested, his voice laced with concern. "How do they have time for a life? For their families? For themselves?"

Fang looked at Kev, genuinely puzzled. "What do you mean?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

Kev, realizing the cultural disconnect, tried to explain. "If they work a full shift every day, then when do they have time to get chores done, or go to the doctor, or just... relax and spend time with their loved ones?"

Fang leaned back in his seat, a thoughtful expression on his face. He'd never really considered the staff's lives outside of the club, their personal needs and responsibilities. He'd always assumed that working at Club Fang was a privilege, an opportunity that many would kill for. Its not like anyone that had a job had days off, he wasn't asking them to work any more than any other employer.

"There are so many people and so few jobs," Fang finally said, his voice low and contemplative. "Having one, especially a well-paying one like this, means you can provide for a lot of people. Extended family, friends, even neighbors."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the bustling club. "We'll never be hurting for workers, Kev. The opportunity to make some money and lift yourself out of government housing is a strong motivator."

Kev shook his head, a hint of determination in his eyes. "But they might be even more productive if they had a chance to rest, to recharge," he countered. He nudged Fang playfully. "Just like someone I know."

Fang chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the booth. "That's a... unconventional idea, Kev," he admitted, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow.

"You're the king of unconventional, Fang," Kev reminded him with a sly grin. "Besides, wouldn't you rather have a well-rested, happy staff than a bunch of overworked, grumpy employees?"

Fang pondered this for a moment. "Perhaps you're right," he conceded, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "But what would that even look like? How would we manage the club with a reduced staff?"

Kev's smile widened. "We could start by giving everyone at least one day off a week," he suggested. "That would give them time to rest, spend time with their families, and come back refreshed and ready to work."

"Of course," Kev continued, his enthusiasm growing, "we'd need to hire a few more people to cover the shifts. It might seem like a headache at first, but once the schedule is set, you'll have plenty of extra staff who can be called in to fill gaps when people are sick or injured."

He leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "And think about the long-term benefits. If we're the only club in the city that offers this kind of perk to its employees, we'll attract higher-quality candidates without having to pay them more. People will be lining up to work here!"

Fang's brow furrowed in contemplation as he considered Kev's proposal. The idea of giving his staff regular days off was certainly unconventional, but the potential benefits were intriguing. He'd always prided himself on running a tight ship, maximizing efficiency and minimizing downtime. But perhaps Kev was right. Perhaps a well-rested, happier staff would ultimately lead to a more successful club.

He raised a hand, signaling to the kangaroo bouncer who was patrolling the VIP section. "Skippy," he called out, his voice a low rumble, "could you fetch Horns for me?"

"Yes, boss," Skippy replied with a respectful nod, his powerful legs propelling him swiftly through the crowd.

Fang turned back to Kev, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It's an interesting idea, Kev," he admitted. "I'll have to give it some serious thought."

"Are there really so few jobs in this city?" Kev asked, his curiosity piqued.

Fang nodded. "Unfortunately, yes," he replied. "Overpopulation and automation are major issues. Many people struggle to find stable employment, and the competition for even menial jobs is fierce."

Kev's heart ached at the thought of so many people struggling to make ends meet. "I still think it's a good idea," he insisted, his voice filled with conviction. "It's the right thing to do."

Moments later, Horns arrived, his large frame casting shadows over the VIP booth. "You called, boss?" he inquired, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Indeed I did, Horns," Fang replied, gesturing for him to take a seat. "Kev here has proposed something rather... interesting."

Horns grinned at Kev, his eyes bright with curiosity. "Oh?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"

Kev, feeling a bit nervous under the scrutiny of both Fang and Horns, pulled out a joint and offered it to the mooseman. "Here," he said, "have a smoke while I explain."

Horns accepted the joint with a grateful smile, expertly lighting it with a flick of his wrist. He took a long, slow drag, exhaling a cloud of fragrant smoke. "Alright, Kev," he said, his voice mellowed by the herb. "Lay it on me."

Kev proceeded to outline his proposal for implementing a regular day off for the club's staff. He explained the potential benefits, from increased productivity and morale to attracting higher-quality employees. He also addressed Fang's concerns about managing the club with a reduced staff, suggesting they hire additional workers to cover the gaps.

Fang listened intently, his expression thoughtful. When Kev finished, he turned to Horns. "What are your thoughts?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty.

Horns took a moment to ponder Kev's suggestion, his brow furrowed in concentration. "It would be a bit of upfront work," he admitted, his voice thoughtful. "We'd need to adjust schedules, hire additional staff, and make sure everything runs smoothly even with a rotating roster."

He paused, doing some quick mental calculations. "But if it cuts down on employee turnover by even thirty percent, it could be worth it in the long run," he concluded. "Training new staff takes time and resources. Keeping our experienced employees happy and motivated is crucial."

Kev nodded eagerly. "And think about it from the employees' perspective," he added. "Doesn't it seem like a great benefit? To have a guaranteed day off every week, a chance to rest and recharge, spend time with family, or just catch up on life?"

Horns's lips curled into a wistful smile. "It does sound nice," he admitted. "I know a lot of the staff complain about being tired all the time, having to run errands and do chores after their shifts. A day off would give them a chance to catch their breath."

Fang, who had been listening intently to the conversation, finally spoke up. "Horns," he said, his voice carrying a note of authority, "I want you to get the opinions of the other managers on this. See what they think about implementing a regular day off for the staff."

Horns's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you serious, boss?" he asked, a flicker of hope in his voice. "Once I start asking around, the whole staff will know about it. Expectations will be high."

Fang's gaze shifted to Kev, a warm smile playing on his lips. "If the majority of the managers are in favor of it, we'll do it," he declared. "Let's let democracy decide."

Horns nodded, a determined glint in his eyes. "It's a risk, but I'll do it for you, boss," he said, rising from his seat. "I'll get back to you as soon as I have everyone's feedback." With a final nod, he headed towards the kitchen, leaving Fang and Kev alone once more.

Kev, sensing an opportunity to further their connection, seized the moment. "Would you like to go for a walk outside?" he suggested, his voice soft but hopeful. "Just while we wait. The night air might do you some good."

Fang hesitated, his gaze sweeping across the club. The energy was still high, the dance floor packed, and the bar buzzing with activity. But everything seemed to be running smoothly, the staff handling their duties with their usual efficiency.

He turned back to Kev, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Alright," he agreed, a hint of relief in his voice. "A walk sounds lovely."

They made their way through the crowd, Fang's presence parting the sea of patrons as they headed towards a side door that led to the backyard. Kev made a mental note of its location, it was much easier to get to than the door he had found on his first trip outside. The cool night air washed over them as they stepped outside, a welcome contrast to the warmth and noise of the club.

Kev led the way to the secluded bench beneath the sprawling oak tree, its leaves rustling softly in the night breeze. Fang followed, settling beside him with a contented sigh. The air was filled with the sounds of the night - the chirping of crickets, the distant hooting of an owl, and the faint murmur of music drifting from the open windows of the club. A few other couples strolled through the moonlit garden, their laughter and whispered conversations adding to the tranquil ambiance.

"Sometimes, in the colder months, we build a big bonfire back here," Fang remarked, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames of the torches that lined the patio. "I always loved it as a kid, and it seems like it's still quite popular."

Kev smiled, imagining the scene - a roaring fire, a circle of revelers gathered around it, their faces illuminated by the dancing flames. "That sounds amazing," he said, his voice filled with a quiet wonder.

Just then, a flash of movement caught his eye. A naked couple, their giggles and laughter echoing through the night, burst from a nearby thicket of bushes and sprinted across the lawn, disappearing into the shadows.

Fang chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the bench. "The allure of nature is strong for some," he observed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Even in the heart of the city."

"Finish your smoke," Fang said, a playful glint in his eyes. "I'll be right back. Nature calls." With a wink and a mischievous grin, he disappeared back into the club, leaving Kev alone on the bench.

Kev took a final drag from his cigarette, savoring the moment of solitude. He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke dissipate into the night air. Although the naked couple was a bit of a shock, their laughter and general good mood let the memory pass quickly. He tossed the butt into a nearby barrel and leaned back, his gaze drawn to the moonlit trees that surrounded the backyard. It was hard to believe that a bustling metropolis lay just beyond those silent sentinels, a world of neon lights and futuristic technology hidden beneath a cloak of natural beauty.

As Kev lost himself in contemplation, a figure emerged from the shadows, stumbling slightly as he approached the bench. It was a birdman, his feathers ruffled and his eyes glazed with alcohol.

"Hey there, little thing," he slurred, leaning heavily on the back of the bench. "All alone out here? Feeling lonely?"

Kev's heart skipped a beat. He recognized the predatory glint in the birdman's eyes, a familiar look that sent a shiver down his spine. He instinctively scooted away, creating some distance between them.

"I'm fine, thanks," he replied, his voice carefully neutral.

The birdman chuckled, a raspy sound that grated on Kev's nerves. "Don't be shy," he urged, leaning closer. "You're a pretty little… thing. I'm sure we could find something to... entertain ourselves with."

Just as the birdman's hand reached out towards Kev, a low growl echoed through the night. Fang, his eyes blazing with anger, emerged from the shadows, his imposing figure towering over the drunken birdman.

"Get your filthy hands off him," Fang snarled, his voice a menacing rumble. His hackles were raised, his lips curled back, he was angry.

The birdman, startled by Fang's sudden appearance and the raw fury in his voice, stumbled backward, his drunken bravado evaporating instantly. He mumbled a hasty apology and scurried away, disappearing into the darkness.

Kev's heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of fear and relief washing over him. He hadn't expected Fang to react so aggressively, but he couldn't deny a thrill of excitement at the wolfman's protective instincts.

Without a word, Fang took Kev's hand and led him back inside, his grip firm but reassuring. They returned to the VIP table, the bustling energy of the club a stark contrast to the quiet tension of the encounter outside.

As they settled back into the familiar comfort of the VIP booth, Fang's arm instinctively draped around Kev's shoulders, pulling him close. The warmth of Fang's body, the subtle scent of his cologne, and the reassuring strength of his presence created a sense of safety and belonging that Kev found comforting. With Fang around Kev felt at ease regardless of the 8 foot tall elephant-person sauntering by.

Together, they watched the dancers sway and twirl on the floor, their movements a mesmerizing ballet of passion and abandon. The music, provided tonight by a violin duo led by Asmodeus, filled the air with a haunting melody that tugged at Kev's heartstrings. The intertwining notes of the two violins created a tapestry of sound that was both beautiful and melancholic.

Kev's gaze was drawn to Asmodeus, his blue fingers dancing across the strings with a grace and precision that belied the instrument's complexity. The toucan's flamboyant stage presence, his colorful feathers shimmering under the spotlight, added a touch of theatricality to the performance. Kev found himself completely enchanted, lost in the music and the mesmerizing movements of the dancers.

Fang, noticing Kev's rapt attention, leaned closer, his voice a low rumble in his ear. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured, his gaze following Kev's to the stage. "Asmodeus has a way of weaving magic with his music."

Kev nodded, his eyes still fixed on the performers. "It's incredible," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "I've never heard anything like it."

Fang chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through Kev's body. "That's the beauty of this place, Kev," he said, his arm tightening around Kev's shoulders. "It's a world of its own, a place where the impossible becomes possible, where dreams and desires intertwine."

He paused, his gaze meeting Kev's. "And you, my dear assistant," he continued, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "you're a part of that magic now."

Kev's heart skipped a beat, a warmth spreading through him at Fang's words. He turned to face the wolfman, their eyes locking in the dimly lit booth. The music swelled around them, a passionate crescendo that mirrored the unspoken desires simmering beneath the surface. At that moment, Kev knew that his life had irrevocably changed. However, that moment passed when a familiar giant cut through the crowd.

Chapter Text

Horns lumbered back into the VIP booth, a sheen of sweat on his brow and his chest heaving slightly. He plopped down onto the plush seating, clearly winded from his trek around the club.

"Well, boss," he began, his voice a touch breathless, "the answers came back deadlocked."

Fang raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. "Explain," he prompted, his tone calm but expectant.

"Half the managers are all for the idea of regular days off," Horns elaborated, "while the other half are vehemently against it. They're worried about staffing shortages, decreased productivity, and potential disruptions to the club's operations."

He paused, taking a deep breath to catch his breath. "It's up to you to break the tie, boss. You need to make a decision."

Fang's frustration simmers beneath the surface, his voice a low growl. "Who thought it was a bad idea?" he demanded, his amber eyes scanning the faces of his companions.

Horns shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the table. "Reepia, Asmodeus, and Rex were all against it," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

Fang's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Rex and Reepia, I understand," he mused, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "But Asmodeus? He was against it?"

Horns nodded. "He squawked up a storm," he explained, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Said a day off of practice would devastate his musicians, ruin their rhythm, and lead to a cacophony of missed notes and sour melodies."

Kev, who had been listening intently, couldn't help but interject. "But just because they're off work doesn't mean they can't practice at home, on their own time," he pointed out, his voice filled with conviction.

Horns shruged, his massive shoulders rising and falling in a gesture of helplessness. "That's what I told him," he admitted, "but you know Asmodeus. He's a bit... dramatic."

He turned to Fang, his expression serious. "The decision is yours, boss," he says. "You have to make the call."

Fang drummed his fingers on the table, his expression thoughtful. "This is bigger than just my opinion," he said, his voice carrying a weight of responsibility. "I don't want to create a divide among the staff, giving some employees this benefit and withholding it from others." He looked at Horns, his gaze firm. "We need to have a meeting with all the managers. Let everyone voice their concerns and opinions. We'll make a decision together, as a team."

Horns nodded, a determined glint in his eyes. "Consider it done, boss," he said, rising from his seat. "I'll set up a meeting for tomorrow afternoon, before the club opens."

Fang stood and reached across the table, clapping a hand on Horns' shoulder. "Thank you, Horns," he said, his voice sincere. "I appreciate your hard work."

Horns chuckled, a tired but genuine smile spreading across his face. "Don't mention it, boss. Just be prepared for a lot of gossip in the meantime. Once word gets out about this meeting, the rumor mill will be working overtime."

Fang waved a dismissive hand. "Gossip isn't against the rules," he retorted with a shrug. "Let them talk. It'll build anticipation for the meeting."

Horns smiled and gave a weary "Yes, boss," before turning to leave. "I'll see you tomorrow, Kev," he said with a friendly nod. "Try to keep the boss out of trouble until then."

With a final wave, Horns disappeared back into the crowd, leaving Fang and Kev alone in the VIP booth once more.

A playful smile tugged at the corner of Fang's lips. "The work never ends," he sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. "See what you've done, Kev? You've stirred the pot, and now I have to deal with the consequences."

Kev's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You could have said no if you thought it was a bad idea," he countered, his tone light and teasing.

Fang's gaze softened as he looked at Kev. "True," he admitted, a warmth spreading through his chest. "But ideas don't sound bad coming from you, even if they are a bit... unconventional."

He checked his watch, a frown creasing his brow. "I'll be right back," he said, rising from his seat. "I want to check out the entertainment lineup for the evening. Make sure everything's in order."

He paused, his gaze lingering on Kev's face. "Stay here," he instructed, his voice firm but gentle. "I don't want you wandering off and getting lost in the crowd."

With a final reassuring smile, Fang made his way towards the stage, his powerful presence parting the sea of patrons as he went. He stopped briefly to speak to the closest bouncer, a burly grizzly bear-man. The bouncer nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling on Kev.

Kev, feeling a bit self-conscious under the bouncer's scrutiny, offered a tentative wave. The bearman's expression softened slightly, and he gave a curt nod in return before resuming his watchful surveillance of the room.

Kev leaned back in the booth, a sense of contentment washing over him. He was starting to feel more at ease in this strange new world, his initial anxieties replaced by a growing sense of belonging. The club, once a daunting and unfamiliar place, was slowly becoming a second home, its vibrant energy and diverse cast of characters a constant source of fascination.

Kev settled back into the plush booth, his gaze drawn to the dance floor where a mesmerizing spectacle unfolded. Couples swayed and twirled to the rhythm of the music, their bodies moving in perfect synchronicity, a testament to Asmodeus's masterful orchestration. The energy in the room was palpable, a heady mix of excitement, anticipation, and uninhibited desire.

He reached into his new cigarette case and pulled out one of the joints Horns had rolled for him. He lit it, inhaling deeply, the familiar scent of the herb calming his nerves and heightening his senses. As he exhaled, a cloud of smoke curled lazily upwards, blending with the hazy atmosphere of the club.

Kev's thoughts drifted to Fang's earlier promise to show him the nightly entertainment. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of acts the club hosted. He doubted it would be anything Asmodeus would allow to upstage his own performances. The toucan's ego was as grand as his musical talent, and Kev couldn't imagine him sharing the spotlight with anyone else.

He knew there were private rooms and play areas throughout the club, spaces where beastmen and beastwomen could explore their more primal desires. But he highly doubted that was what Fang had in mind. The wolfman had been nothing but a gentleman so far, his every action and word conveying a respect and consideration that Kev hadn't experienced in his previous relationships.

Kev's mind wandered back to the men he'd dated on Earth, their fleeting connections and shallow promises a stark contrast to the depth and sincerity he felt from Fang. Regardless of Fang being his boss, his patron, the wolf's chivalry and old-world charm were qualities that Kev found undeniably attractive. He hadn't realized how much he craved that kind of respect and attentiveness until he'd experienced it firsthand.

Kev's contemplation was interrupted by a sudden commotion on the dance floor. Two hulking beastmen, their faces flushed with anger and alcohol, were locked in a heated argument. Their voices, raised in a torrent of insults and threats, cut through the music, drawing the attention of nearby patrons.

The crowd parted, forming a circle around the escalating confrontation. Kev watched with a mix of fascination and apprehension as the two men began shoving each other, their aggression threatening to boil over into violence. The bearman bouncer, his gaze briefly meeting Kev's, sprang into action, his powerful strides carrying him swiftly across the room. With a roar that silenced the music, he intervened, his massive arms separating the combatants, trying to restore order.

Kev took a nervous drag from his joint, his heart pounding in his chest. The sudden burst of violence, though quickly quelled, served as a stark reminder of the primal nature that lurked beneath the club's polished facade.

Just as he was exhaling a cloud of smoke, a voice from behind him startled him. "Mind if I have a hit?"

Kev turned, surprised to find a rabbit man perched on the velvet rope, his back to him. The rabbit man's ears twitched nervously as he waited for Kev's response.

Kev hesitated for a moment, considering the request. He'd never shared a joint with a stranger before, let alone a beastman in a nightclub. But something about the rabbit man's demeanor, his quiet presence amidst the chaos, intrigued him.

He stood up, carefully maneuvering around the table and approaching the velvet rope that separated them. The rabbit man turned, his gaze meeting Kev's. His fur was a pristine white, a stark contrast to the dimly lit surroundings, and he wore a tweed suit that seemed oddly out of place in the club's atmosphere.

"You're quite an odd one, ain't ya?" the rabbit man remarked, his voice a soft, raspy whisper.

Kev shrugged, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Who isn't odd in a place like this?" he countered.

The rabbit man chuckled, a quiet sound that barely registered above the din of the club. He turned back to watch the bouncer, who was now expertly escorting the two brawlers out of the club. "Hope they'll be alright," he mused, his voice tinged with a hint of concern. "Probably a fight over something stupid."

Kev took a drag from his joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air. "It's the first fight I've seen here," he admitted.

The rabbit man's ears twitched, and he turned back to Kev, a curious glint in his eyes. "Guess you haven't been here for very long then," he observed.

"You guessed correctly," Kev confirmed with a smile. "I'm Kev, by the way. And you are...?" He paused, his gaze lingering on the rabbit man's unusual attire. "Are you an employee here?"

The rabbit man's ears twitched, and he turned back to face Kev fully. "Hello, Kev," he said, his voice still a soft whisper. "And about that hit..." He gestured towards the joint still clutched in Kev's hand.

Kev hesitated, a flicker of unease crossing his face. "I'm not big on sharing with strangers," he replied, his tone polite but firm. "Who are you, exactly?"

The rabbit man's demeanor changed in an instant. He lunged forward, his movements surprisingly swift for someone of his small stature, and grabbed Kev's arm in a vice-like grip. Kev yelped in surprise, the joint tumbling from his hand and falling to the ground.

"VIP or not," the rabbit man hissed, his voice now a menacing growl, "I'm not gonna let some punk smoke that shit in my city."

"Where's your ID?" the rabbit man demanded, his grip tightening painfully on Kev's arm.

Kev winced, trying to pull away, but the rabbit's claws had dug into his shirt, leaving painful scratches on his skin. "Are you a cop?" he asked, his voice laced with fear and confusion.

"Not a damn cop," the rabbit snarled. He flashed a badge, a silver insignia emblazoned with the city's emblem. "City Enforcement," he hissed. "And you're in violation of ordinance 32-B, possession of a controlled substance."

Kev's heart pounded in his chest. He looked around frantically, hoping to catch someone's attention. Dale was behind the bar, but he was swamped with customers, his back turned to the commotion. Fang was nowhere to be seen.

The rabbit man, his grip unrelenting, began dragging Kev towards the exit. Just as they reached the door, a raccoon man, his fur a mix of gray and black, rushed up to them, his voice a hushed whisper.

"Bryan, what the fuck are you doing?" he hissed, his eyes wide with alarm.

"This punk was smoking that shit right in front of me," Bryan retorted, jerking his head towards Kev. "Caught him red-handed."

The raccoon man's eyes widened in terror, his voice a panicked whisper. "Bryan, you idiot! You can't do that! You're gonna get us all killed!"

The rabbit, undeterred, continued to drag Kev towards the exit, his grip tightening painfully on Kev's arm. Kev's heart hammered in his chest, his gaze darting around the room, desperate for a familiar face, a lifeline in this sea of chaos.

The raccoon man, his voice rising in desperation, pleaded with Bryan. "Please, let him go! He's with Fang! You don't want to mess with Fang! Don't you know anything!"

Bryan scoffed, his grip on Kev unrelenting. "I was hired to clean up this cesspit," he snarled, his voice filled with righteous indignation. "This is just the first of many."

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Kev's eyes locked with the owl man valet driver. The owl's eyes widened in alarm, and without a word, he turned and sprinted back into the club.

Kev's stomach churned with fear. He was being dragged across the courtyard, his protests falling on deaf ears. The rabbit man's grip was like iron, his claws digging into Kev's skin, leaving bloody trails in their wake. He felt a sense of helplessness wash over him, a realization that he was utterly at the mercy of this deranged enforcer.

The raccoon man, Abe, trailed behind them, his voice a desperate plea. "Bryan, this is a bad idea. You're going to regret this, I swear."

But Bryan, his face set in a grim mask of determination, refused to listen. "Abe," he snapped, his voice sharp and unforgiving, "if you're not cut out for the job, then quit. But don't slow me down."

They reached the edge of the courtyard, and a vast parking lot stretched out before them, illuminated by the harsh glare of security lights. Rows of gleaming cars, a mix of sleek modern vehicles and vintage classics, lined the asphalt.

Abe's gaze met Kev's, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and apology. He seemed to want to say something, to offer some reassurance, but the words died on his lips.

With a final shove, Bryan pushed Kev into the backseat of a nondescript sedan. The car's interior was dark and smelled faintly of stale cigarettes. Kev's heart hammered in his chest, his mind racing, desperately searching for a way out of this nightmare. The door slammed shut, trapping him.

Chapter Text

"Can I at least tell someone where I'm going before you take me away?" Kev's voice trembled, a desperate plea in the face of the unknown.

Bryan scoffed, sitting in the driver's seat. "You'll be allowed a phone call after you're booked," he retorted, his tone dismissive.

"The club doesn't have phones," Kev countered, his anxiety mounting.

"Should have thought about that before getting yourself involved with that place," Bryan sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.

Kev's heart pounded in his chest. He was trapped, at the mercy of this sadistic rabbit and his silent accomplice. He glanced towards Abe, who sat in the passenger seat, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery, a mask of guilt and helplessness etched on his face.

The car pulled onto the main road, heading towards the city's exit. Kev watched the familiar landmarks disappear in the rearview mirror, a sense of dread washing over him. He was being taken away from the only place he knew in this strange new world, dragged into an uncertain future filled with fear and uncertainty. Beastmen prisons probably were not as hospitable as the hedonistic club.

As they drove through the moonlit streets, a sleek black car roared past them, its engine growling like a hungry beast. Kev recognized it instantly as Fang's car. A surge of hope coursed through him. Bryan swerved slightly as the vehicle roared past.

"Shit!" Bryan cursed, slamming his fist against the dashboard. "That damn club turns people into animals. I'd have their license if I wasn't already busy."

His frustration was short-lived, however. As they approached the security checkpoint, they were forced to come to an abrupt halt. The small building's door was open and a few security team members were standing around in the swatch of light. Fang's car was parked sideways across the road, blocking the road. Rex, his muscular frame silhouetted against the headlights, strode towards them, a predatory grin on his face.

Rex's claw tapped on the window, a sharp, insistent sound that echoed through the tense silence of the car. Bryan, his face pale, reluctantly rolled the window down, his hand trembling slightly as he flashed his badge.

"City Enforcement," he declared, his voice a strained attempt at authority. "Get out of my way. I'm not someone you want to fight."

Rex leaned down, his face inches from Bryan's, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. The tigerman's grin widened, revealing a set of sharp, predatory teeth. "You're right," he purred, his voice a low rumble. "I don't wanna fight a little guy like you. Would be boring."

His gaze shifted to Kev in the backseat, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Unfortunately," he continued, his voice laced with a hint of menace, "you have something that belongs to my boss."

Kev's heart leaped in his chest. He'd never thought he could be so happy to see the lustful tiger. Rex, despite his intimidating presence and questionable motives, represented a lifeline, a chance to escape this nightmare.

Bryan, his voice dripping with arrogance, leaned closer to the window. "Is your boss in that car in front of us?" he sneered. "I'd love to have a chat with him about the illicit substances being consumed in his establishment."

The tinted windows of Fang's car remained a dark barrier, preventing any glimpse inside. Kev's heart pounded in his chest. The sight of Fang, even just a silhouette through the darkened glass, would offer a sliver of comfort in this terrifying situation.

Abe, sensing the escalating tension, leaned towards Rex, his voice a nervous whisper. "Hey there, Rex. Sorry about all this. Bryan's new, doesn't quite know the ropes yet."

Rex's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing through Abe's facade of nonchalance. "Abe," he growled, his voice low and menacing, "I didn't think you'd be this fucking stupid."

"Easy there, Rex," Abe pleaded, his voice strained. "Bryan was elected by the city council. He has authority here."

Rex let out a low hiss, his claws flexing involuntarily. "I don't give a damn about the council," he snarled. "Release the human."

Bryan's face hardened. "Is there going to be a problem?" he challenged, glaring at the tigerman.

Rex's lips curled into a predatory grin. He turned his head towards the other security team members who had gathered to witness the unfolding drama. "Hey, boys!" he roared, his voice booming through the night. "These enforcers want to know if there's going to be a problem tonight!"

A chorus of laughter erupted from the security team, their amusement echoing through the tense standoff.

Kev, his heart pounding in his chest, desperately wanted to prevent a full-blown conflict from erupting over his foolish mistake. He leaned forward, his voice a strained whisper, "Abe, maybe I can just get off with a warning? Call it a first offense. It's not worth all this..." He gestured towards the growing tension between Rex and Bryan, the potential for violence hanging heavy in the air.

Abe glanced back at him, his eyes narrowed in confusion. "Who are you, anyway?" he asked, his voice hushed. "I've never even heard of a 'human' before, and yet you seem pretty important. What's the deal?"

"I'm Fang's new assistant," Kev replied, his voice a mix of nervousness and defiance. "I just started this week."

Abe's brow furrowed in disbelief. "That doesn't make any sense," he muttered, shaking his head. "Assistant?"

Bryan, his arrogance returning, sneered. "This hooligan was in the VIP section," he spat. "He's obviously an escort or a dealer, trying to peddle himself to the rich and powerful."

Rex's patience snapped. With a lightning-fast movement, he reached through the open window, grabbed Bryan's shirt, and yanked the rabbit man halfway out of the car. "Watch your mouth, bunny," he growled, his voice a menacing rumble. "You're treading on thin ice."

Bryan struggled in Rex's grip, his eyes wide with fear. "Is there going to be a problem?" he squeaked, his voice barely audible.

Rex leaned in close, his hot breath brushing against Bryan's face. "Only if you make one."

With a swift motion, Rex reached into the car and hit a button that unlocked the rear doors. Kev, sensing his opportunity, scrambled out of the car and stood beside Rex, his heart pounding in his chest.

"This is madness!" Bryan shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. "The city council will be getting a full report on this!"

Rex chuckled darkly, bringing a single claw up to Bryan's face, its sharp tip hovering just millimeters from his eye. "You better tell the council to send someone bigger next time," he warned, his voice a chilling whisper.

With a final shove, Rex pushed Bryan back into the car.

Kev wasted no time, rushing towards Fang's car with a newfound sense of urgency. His legs felt like jello from the stress of that small drive from the club. Just as he reached the door, he heard a furious shout from behind him.

Bryan, his face contorted with rage, had emerged from the car, his badge clutched tightly in his hand. "You!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the parking lot. "You're under arrest for assaulting a city enforcer!"

Abe, his face pale with fear, frantically tried to intervene. "Bryan, get back in the car!" he pleaded. "You can't fight Rex. He'll tear you apart!"

But Bryan, blinded by his anger and humiliation, ignored Abe's warnings. He rolled up his sleeves, his small frame quivering with adrenaline.

Rex, a predatory grin spreading across his face, watched the rabbit's futile display of bravado with amusement. "Which one of you wants to play with the bunny?" he called out to the assembled security team, his voice booming through the night.

A chorus of eager growls and snarls erupted from the group, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Bryan's eyes darted around the growing crowd, his bravado crumbling in the face of their overwhelming enthusiasm. "Are you all insane?" he squeaked, his voice barely audible above the chorus of growls and snarls.

"You look tasty, bunny!" one of the security members, a dangerous looking snapping turtle man, shouted, clicking his beak.

"Or maybe a fun lay," another one, a sleek panther woman, purred, her eyes gleaming with predatory intent.

The color drained from Bryan's already pale face. He scrambled back into the car, slamming the door shut behind him.

Rex threw back his head and roared with laughter, the sound echoing through the parking lot. "Run along, little bunny," he taunted, waving a dismissive hand. "And don't come back unless you've got someone fun for me to fight."

Kev, his heart still pounding from the near-confrontation, quickly climbed into Fang's car. He settled into the backseat, expecting to find Fang waiting for him. But to his surprise, it was Horns who greeted him, a relieved smile on his face.

"Thank goodness you're alright, Kev," Horns said, his voice a gentle rumble. "That was a close one."

"Get us back to the mansion, now, Perry," Horns barked, his voice laced with urgency.

The owl man nodded, his eyes wide with alarm. Without another word, he threw the car into gear and sped away, leaving Rex, the security team, and the stunned city enforcement officers in their dust.

Horns turned to Kev, his massive frame filling the backseat. "You nearly gave me a heart attack, kid," he said, his voice a mix of relief and exasperation.

"I'm so sorry, Horns," Kev replied, his voice trembling slightly. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

Horns patted his shoulder reassuringly. "It's not your fault, Kev," he said, his voice softening. "That rabbit was way out of line. But you gotta be more careful, alright?"

Kev nodded, his gaze fixed on the rapidly receding cityscape outside the window. He'd been so caught up in the excitement of his new life, the thrill of the unknown, that he'd forgotten the dangers that lurked beneath the surface. He'd been naive, foolish even, and it had nearly cost him dearly.

"I'll try," he promised, his voice quiet. 

Horns smiled, a warmth returning to his eyes. "That's all I can ask, Kev," he said. "Now, let's get you back to the club, safe and sound."

The rest of the ride was filled with a comfortable silence, each man lost in his own thoughts. Kev couldn't help but wonder where Fang was, what he was doing, and how he would react to the news of his near-arrest. A sense of anxiety gnawed at him, a fear that he'd jeopardized his position at the club, and perhaps even his relationship with Fang. Would fang be disgusted with his weakness?

The car glided to a stop in the familiar driveway, the towering mansion casting an imposing shadow in the moonlight. Horns turned to Kev, his expression serious. "Listen, Kev," he said, his voice low, "things are a bit... tense right now. Why don't you wait upstairs in Fang's office until I come get you?"

Kev nodded, a sense of unease settling in his stomach..

Horns exchanged a few hushed words with Perry, the owl man driver, before escorting Kev to the grand staircase. "Just stay put, and I'll be back for you soon," he assured Kev with a pat on the shoulder.

Kev climbed the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. He reached Fang's office and let himself in, the familiar scent of sandalwood and citrus washing over him. He sat down on the plush couch, the same one Fang had fallen asleep on a few nights ago, and tried to calm his racing heart.

The anxiety was gnawing at him, so he rose from the couch and paced the room, lighting a cigarette to steady his nerves. He stood by the window, watching the moonlit garden below, his thoughts swirling with worry and uncertainty.

Chapter Text

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Fang stormed in, his face flushed with anger. He was yelling at Horns, who followed close behind, his expression grim.

"I told you, Asmodeus is the only one who can handle that crowd!" Fang's voice boomed through the office, his frustration palpable. "The backup band is a disaster! They're off-key, they're out of sync, and they're ruining the entire atmosphere!"

He turned, his gaze landing on Kev standing by the window. His anger seemed to dissipate instantly, replaced by a look of concern. "Kev," he said, his voice softening, "where did you go earlier?"

Kev glanced at Horns, realizing that the mooseman hadn't had a chance to inform Fang about the incident at the security checkpoint. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. "I had a little... encounter with some city enforcers," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Fang's eyebrows shot up in surprise, a disbelieving laugh escaping his lips. He turned to Horns, expecting a shared amusement. But the moose-man's expression remained grave, his silence speaking volumes.

Fang's laughter died in his throat, replaced by a cold dread that settled in the pit of his stomach. He turned back to Kev, his eyes searching the human's face for any sign of deception. "This isn't some kind of weird joke, is it, Kev?" he asked, his voice strained.

Kev shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Fang's waist, burying his face in the wolfman's chest. "They almost took me away," he choked out, his voice muffled by Fang's suit jacket.

Fang's tail shot straight out, stiff and rigid, a clear sign of his alarm. He gently placed his hands on Kev's back, his touch comforting and protective. He turned to Horns, his voice a low growl. "How the fuck did this happen?"

Horns, recognizing the dangerous glint in Fang's eyes, knew the wolfman was on the verge of losing control. He quickly stepped in, his voice calm but firm, attempting to diffuse the situation. "Boss, let me explain," he began, his tone measured.

"Kev was approached by two city enforcers, Bryan and Abe," Horns continued, his gaze shifting between Fang and Kev. "Bryan accused Kev of possessing a controlled substance and attempted to arrest him."

He paused, gauging Fang's reaction. The wolfman's jaw was clenched, his fists balled at his sides, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. Horns knew he had to tread carefully.

"Rex intervened," he continued, "and there was a bit of a... confrontation. But Rex handled it. The enforcers left, and Kev is safe."

Fang's eyes narrowed, his voice a low growl. "That rabbit will regret this," he muttered, his anger barely contained.

Horns nodded slowly. "His behavior was... unusual. He seemed more interested in causing trouble than enforcing the law."

"A hotshot new enforcer trying to make a name for himself?" Fang speculated, his lips curling into a sneer.

Horns shrugged. "Possibly," he admitted. "But there's something else... something doesn't add up." He paused, his gaze meeting Kev's. "I think Bryan started that fight on the dance floor, the one that distracted the bouncer. He might have been targeting Kev from the start."

Kev, his heart still pounding from the earlier ordeal, sat down on the couch, his legs feeling weak. "They made it sound like they didn't know who I was," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Horns shook his head. "We'll need to investigate further. But for now, the important thing is that you're safe."

Fang's gaze softened as he looked at Kev. "If I had known this was happening," he said, his voice filled with a quiet rage, "that rabbit would have never left the club grounds."

Horns, sensing the danger in Fang's tone, quickly intervened. "The situation has been handled, boss," he assured him. "Kev's safe, and Rex made it clear that we won't tolerate any more interference from those enforcers."

Fang's anger flared, his voice rising in volume. "Rex may have handled it," he growled, "but I specifically told that bouncer to keep an eye on Kev! He failed in his duty, and someone's going to pay for that."

He turned on his heel, his movements sharp and decisive, clearly intent on finding the hapless bouncer and delivering a swift reprimand.

"Boss, wait," Horns interjected, his voice calm but firm. "Barry had to stop a fight. You know fighting is against the rules."

Kev's heart sank. He remembered the burly bearman, his kind eyes and gentle demeanor. He didn't want the bouncer to get in trouble because of his own mistake. "Fang," he said, his voice soft but determined, "the bouncer did what he was supposed to do. He stopped a fight. It was my mistake. I shouldn't have talked with Bryan."

Fang paused, his back still turned to them. His fur bristled, and his tail lashed back and forth, clear signs of his simmering rage. "Someone's got to be punished for this," he growled, his voice still low and menacing. "How dare someone come in here and target my people."

He turned back to face them, his eyes blazing with fury. Kev had never seen Fang look so ferocious, so utterly terrifying. It was a stark reminder of the wolfman's primal nature, the raw power that lurked beneath his polished exterior.

"Fang," Kev said, his voice trembling slightly, "the bouncer is your man too. He did what he was supposed to do. Don't take your anger out on him. It was my mistake."

Fang's gaze bore down on Kev, his eyes still blazing with a feral intensity. "No! This isn't just my business, Kev," he growled, his voice thick with barely contained rage. "It's my home. My sanctuary. If you can't feel safe in your own home, then what do you have?"

He paced the room, his movements restless and agitated. "The city has just declared war," he declared, his voice rising in volume. "And that rabbit is going to be the first casualty!"

Kev looked away, unable to meet Fang's gaze. The wolfman's fury was terrifying, his usual composure shattered, replaced by a feral rage that threatened to consume him. Kev had never seen him like this, so unhinged, so consumed by anger. He looked more like a rabid coyote than the sophisticated businessman Kev had come to know.

"Fang," Kev said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached out, his hand tentatively touching Fang's arm. The wolfman flinched at the contact, but didn't pull away.

Kev met Fang's gaze, his own eyes filled with a quiet determination. "If they were targeting me," he said, his voice steady, "it's obvious they were trying to provoke you. I have no money, no connections, I'm nobody in this city. Unless they wanted to put me in a zoo, I don't see what reason Bryan would have for singling me out."

Horns nodded in agreement, his voice firm. "Kev's right, boss. They're too scared to come at you directly, so they're resorting to underhanded tactics. First, they try to bury you in legal battles, and now they're targeting your people, your..." He paused, his gaze flickering towards Kev. "...your assistant."

Fang let out a guttural howl, his anger erupting like a volcano. "Those bastards!" he roared, his voice echoing through the office. "They're afraid of me, afraid of what we're building here. So they try to fight me with lawyers and petty regulations, and now they stoop to this... this cowardly attack on my..." His voice faltered, his shoulders slumping as the rage drained from him, leaving behind a hollow emptiness. "...my assistant," he finished weakly, his gaze falling on Kev.

He turned to face the human, his eyes filled with a mix of remorse and protectiveness. "Kev, this is not your fault," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're caught in the crossfire of a war you didn't start."

Horns, sensing the shift in Fang's demeanor, snapped his fingers, a spark of realization igniting in his eyes. "Boss," he said, his voice urgent, "could this be a desperation move? A retaliation for our deal with the mafia?"

Fang's growl deepened, his anger reigniting. "I'm going to find out," he vowed, his voice laced with a chilling determination. "And when I do, those responsible will pay dearly."

Before he could say more, a knock at the door interrupted the tense atmosphere. Rex, his usual swagger replaced by a respectful demeanor, entered the office. He took in the scene, Fang's simmering rage and Kev's worried expression, and quickly assessed the situation

"Boss," Rex greeted, his voice a low rumble, "you wanted to see me?"

Fang's lips curled into a wry smile, a flicker of amusement was quickly covered by the seriousness of the situation. "Getting smarter, are we?" he remarked, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm.

Horns, ever practical, interjected, "Close the door, Rex."

Rex nodded in acknowledgement, shutting the door firmly behind him. He glanced at Kev, his predatory gaze softening slightly. He could sense Fang's volatile mood and wisely chose to keep his usual flirtatious remarks to himself.

"What happened, Rex?" Fang demanded, his voice a low growl.

Rex, his posture rigid with respect, recounted the events at the security checkpoint. "Horns arrived in a hurry with Perry," he began, his voice steady and professional. "I gathered the security team, and we intercepted Bryan's car. I had a little... chat with the bunny, and Kev got out of the car. We sent Bryan and Abe on their way."

Fang's eyes narrowed. "Abe?" he questioned, his voice sharp. "Who's Abe?"

"He's an old city enforcer," Rex explained. "He comes around relatively often, but he's never caused a scene before. Some of the guys on the security team used to be on the city force, and I've heard a few of them used to work with him."

"If Abe shows up again," Fang growled, his voice laced with menace, "I'd like to have a chat with him."

Rex's lips curled into a predatory grin. "I can always get the boys to pay him a visit," he offered, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous glint.

"No," Fang snapped, his tone firm. "Don't go looking for trouble, Rex. Only deal with it when it finds you. Understand?"

Rex bristled slightly, his pride wounded. "My job is looking for trouble, boss," he retorted, his voice a low rumble.

"Shut it, cat," Fang barked, his patience wearing thin. "One of your bouncers needs some more training. He let that little white rodent snatch Kev right out of the VIP section."

Rex's grin faded, replaced by a look of grim determination. "I'll have a chat with Barry," he said, his voice clipped.

"Barry is going to be on perimeter duty from now on," Fang declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I want him as far away from the VIPs as possible."

"Now get out of my sight," Fang growled, his voice echoing through the office, "and make sure there are no more fuck-ups tonight. If I hear about anything else, I'm going to lose it."

Rex, his tail tucked between his legs, quickly exited the room, leaving a palpable tension in his wake. Horns, settled back onto the couch and lit a joint, offering it to Kev with a sympathetic smile.

Kev hesitated, his gaze flickering between the joint and Fang's agitated form. "I almost just got arrested for that," he pointed out, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips.

Horns shrugged, taking a long drag. "I smoke every day," he replied nonchalantly. "And besides, if they grabbed you when you were smoking, that means you didn't finish your smoke." He winked at Kev, a playful glint in his eyes.

The lighthearted banter, though brief, managed to lift Kev's spirits slightly. He took the joint from Horns and inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of the herb calming his nerves.

Fang, meanwhile, continued to pace the office, his frustration evident in his every movement. Kev watched him, a wave of concern washing over him. He wanted to help Fang, to ease the tension that seemed to be consuming him. But how?

An idea sparked in his mind, a memory of the night before, of Fang's relaxed demeanor and contented sighs as Kev leaned against him in the VIP booth. Perhaps a simple touch, a gesture of comfort, could help to soothe the wolfman's troubled spirit.

Chapter Text

"I could go for a drink," Kev offered, his voice carefully neutral. "All this excitement has got me a bit anxious." He glanced at Fang, gauging his reaction.

Fang's gaze softened as he looked at Kev, the fierce intensity in his eyes slowly fading. "Horns," he said, turning to his manager, "you dealt with the situation admirably. You've proven yourself once again."

Horns stood up, a relieved smile spreading across his face. "Glad to see you've calmed down a bit, boss," he said, patting Fang's shoulder reassuringly. "I'll get back to work now. Make sure the staff is informed that the white rabbit is not allowed on the premises. And if he's spotted, they should inform you directly."

Fang's eyes flashed with a renewed determination. "Good," he growled, his voice still carrying a hint of menace.

Then, his gaze softened as he turned back to Kev. "Kev," he said, his voice a low rumble, "let's get you that drink."

Fang's arm remained draped protectively over Kev's shoulders as they navigated the bustling club. Kev felt the wolfman's muscles tense beneath his touch, a subtle reminder of the simmering anger that still lurked beneath the surface. Every so often, Fang would shoot a warning growl at a patron who dared to brush too close or stare too long at Kev. It was clear that the incident with the city enforcers had left him on edge, his protective instincts heightened.

Kev couldn't blame him. Though he still had limited knowledge of Fang's ongoing battles with the city, this latest incident seemed to have crossed a line. The attempt to arrest Kev, a blatant act of intimidation and aggression, had struck a nerve, a violation of Fang's sanctuary and a threat to someone he cared about.

As they reached the bar, Kev felt a surge of empathy for Fang. The weight of responsibility, the constant struggle to protect his club and his people, must be immense. He silently vowed to do whatever he could to help Fang navigate these troubled waters, to offer a haven of peace amidst the storm.

Dale, ever the attentive bartender, appeared at their side with two fresh drinks. He placed them on the table with a practiced flourish, his keen eyes taking in the tension that still lingered in Fang's posture.

"Heard a bit of what happened out there," Dale remarked, his voice low and gravelly. "Sounds like those city boys are getting bolder."

Fang nodded grimly, taking a long swig of his drink. He settled into the plush booth beside Kev, his arm instinctively draping over the human's shoulders. "Dale," he began, his voice a low rumble, "we've known each other a long time."

Dale met his gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. He nodded slowly, his expression serious. "We have, boss," he acknowledged, pulling up a chair and sitting across from them.

Dale, despite his age, was a formidable figure, his broad shoulders and muscular build rivaling even Horns' impressive stature. His keen eyes, honed by years of observing the club's clientele, scanned Fang's face, waiting for the wolfman to elaborate.

Fang drained his glass in one swift motion, the amber liquid disappearing down his throat with a satisfying burn. He slammed the empty tumbler onto the table, his gaze fixed on Dale.

"You were right there," he accused, pointing towards the bar with his now-empty glass. "Did you see Kev get taken?"

Dale held Fang's gaze, his expression unwavering. "No, boss," he replied calmly. "Just after that fight broke out, I had three women come up and order drinks all at once. The first one wanted a Manhattan, the second a double shot of tequila with lime, and the third ordered a Fuzzy Navel. They even gave me a hard time about not writing their orders down, and said they wouldn't pay if I messed them up."

Fang cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I don't need the details, Dale," he said, his voice a low growl. "The point is, you were distracted."

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "You're my most powerful weapon in this establishment, Dale. And I need my weapons to remain sharp." He paused, his gaze piercing. "If you'd gotten a good look at that rabbit, we'd have a nice, clear picture of him right now."

Dale's jaw tightened, a flicker of defiance crossing his face. "I'm not your camera, Fang," he retorted, his voice firm but respectful.

"Yes, you are," Fang insisted, his tone brooking no argument.

Dale sighed, a weary resignation settling over him. He turned to Kev, his expression softening. "Mind if I bum a smoke, kid?" he asked, his voice gruff but gentle.

Kev, happy to offer a peace offering, slid his new cigarette case across the table. Dale selected a cigarette, its slender form dwarfed by his large, calloused hand. He lit it with a practiced flick of his lighter, inhaling deeply.

"This is the first time there's been an attempted arrest since I started working here," Dale remarked, his gaze fixed on the swirling smoke. "Things are usually kept... discreet."

Fang nodded grimly. "That's why I need you sharp, Dale," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Things are escalating, and I don't want any more mishaps. Regardless of who that rabbit was, or what his motives were, we need to seal the deal with the mafia. Their protection is more important now than ever."

"We have a few more days until those VIPs arrive," Dale reminded Fang, a hint of concern in his voice. "And then it'll be another few days or weeks before everything's said and done. That's a lot of time for things to go wrong."

Fang chewed on a piece of ice, the crunching sound echoing in the quiet booth. "Which is why you're going to be vital in the coming days, Dale," he said, his gaze intense. "I need you to be extra vigilant, to report anything suspicious, no matter how small."

Dale chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through the booth. "Now you're just trying to flatter me, boss," he said, a playful grin spreading across his face.

Fang's lips twitched into a half-smile, but his eyes remained serious. "I'm not in the mood for jokes tonight, Dale," he warned, his voice a low growl.

Dale's grin faded, replaced by a look of understanding. "You rarely are," he admitted, his tone softening. "That's why I have to bring some levity to the conversation. Keeps you from brooding too much."

Fang took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Just... keep an eye on Kev, will you?" he asked, his gaze shifting to the human beside him. "I don't want him getting caught in the crossfire."

Dale stubbed out his cigarette, a serious expression on his face. "Of course, boss," he replied. "I've been keeping an eye on him, and I'll try even harder now that he's been targeted."

He stood up, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the table. "I'll send over another drink for you, Fang," he offered. "Something to help you unwind."

"Get back to work, Dale," Fang said with a grateful nod.

Dale grinned and headed back to the bar, leaving Fang and Kev alone once more.

Kev, sensing the lingering tension in Fang's posture, decided to try and shift his focus. "Do you still want to show me the nightly entertainment?" he asked, hoping to distract Fang and offer a brief respite from his worries.

Fang's gaze remained fixed on the bustling crowd, his eyes scanning the room with a predatory intensity. "Not tonight, Kev," he replied, his voice a low growl. "I need to... think."

Kev watched as Fang continued to observe the patrons, his jaw clenched, his muscles coiled tight. It was clear that the incident with Bryan had shaken him, leaving him on edge and wary. Kev couldn't blame him. The threat to his club, to his sanctuary, was a serious one, and the attempted abduction of Kev had only heightened his sense of vulnerability.

After a few minutes of tense silence, a familiar figure emerged from the kitchen. Reepia, her apron still stained with the remnants of her culinary creations, strode purposefully towards their table. She slid into the seat across from them, her sharp eyes fixed on Kev.

"You're causing too many issues, human," she declared, her voice a raspy growl. She lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around her face like a veil of disapproval.

"Reepia, not tonight," Fang said, his voice a warning growl.

But the head chef wasn't deterred. "I'm not talking to you, Fang," she retorted, her gaze burning into Kev. "I'm talking to him."

She took a long, angry drag from her cigarette, her eyes narrowing. "First, you want to mess with my staff's schedule, and now you cause a scene with the enforcers." Smoke billowed from her nostrils as she spoke, her frustration palpable.

"There are a lot of words I'd like to say to you right now, boy," she continued, her voice rising in volume, "but that sappy dog over there would probably get upset." She shot a pointed look at Fang, who remained silent, his jaw clenched.

Kev, though intimidated by Reepia's outburst, couldn't help but retort with a hint of defiance, "Looks like you forgot your kitchen knives, Chef."

Her glare intensified. "Watch it, boy," she warned, her voice low and menacing. "They're not far away."

Kev held her gaze, his own resolve hardening. "I won't apologize for either the schedule change or the incident with the enforcers," he said, his voice steady. "Not to you. I've already discussed both with Fang."

Reepia hissed at Kev.

Fang, who had been watching the exchange with a mixture of amusement and concern, finally spoke up. "Reepia," he said, his voice calm but firm, "if one of your cooks got dragged off for having a drink or smoking weed, what would you do?"

Reepia's scowl deepened as she turned to face Fang, her eyes narrowing. "What the hell happened, Fang?" she demanded, her voice sharp with concern.

Fang's expression hardened. "We'll find out," he said, his voice a low growl. "But if I had been there, you'd be grilling rabbit tonight."

A flicker of amusement crossed Reepia's face. "Good thing you weren't then," she retorted with a wry smile. "Rabbit's best in a stew, slow-cooked with plenty of herbs and spices."

Fang chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that reverberated through the booth. "Make sure you keep those knives sharp, Reepia," he said, his tone playful but with an underlying edge. "We might need them."

Reepia stubbed out her cigarette, a determined glint in her eyes. "I'm not looking forward to that meeting tomorrow," she muttered, her voice a low grumble. "But I'll be there, ready to fight for my kitchen."

With a final nod to Fang and Kev, she turned and marched back towards the kitchen, her apron flapping behind her like a battle flag.

Kev drained the last of his Cape Cod, the tart sweetness a welcome contrast to the smoky atmosphere of the club. He glanced at his watch, its silver face gleaming faintly in the torchlight. It was one in the morning, the club still buzzing with energy, but a sense of weariness had settled over him.

He looked up at Fang, who seemed lost in thought, his gaze fixed on the dancers swirling on the floor. "It's getting late," Kev said softly, his voice barely audible above the music. "Would you like to come up to my room tonight?"

Fang's body stiffened, his muscles tensing beneath Kev's touch. He turned to face the human, his amber eyes filled with a mixture of longing and conflict.

"Kev," he began, his voice a low rumble, "I want to. More than anything. But I'm... I'm too tense right now. I can't relax, not with everything that's happened. I need to go down to the security check point and talk to Lanon to figure out how Bryan got on the invite list"

Kev reached out, his hand gently resting on Fang's arm. "I understand," he said, his voice soothing. "I'm a bit on edge myself... But it would be nice to have some company up there. It's usually so quiet."

Fang's gaze softened, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. He looked around the club, the familiar sights and sounds a comforting distraction from his troubled thoughts. But the weight of responsibility, the lingering anger from the earlier incident, still clung to him like a heavy cloak.

"I'll walk you up to your room, at least," he offered, his voice a low rumble. "Make sure you're safe."

Fang's hand rested lightly on Kev's lower back as they ascended the grand staircase, a silent gesture of protection and affection. The club's energy throbbed beneath their feet, a stark contrast to the hushed stillness of the upper floors.

At Kev's door, the human turned, a hopeful glint in his eyes. "Come in," he invited, his voice soft. "Have a glass of water before you head back to work."

Fang hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob. The desire to accept Kev's invitation warred with his sense of duty, his need to be present for his club, his people. He took a deep breath, a silent struggle playing out on his face.

Then, with a suddenness that surprised even himself, he pulled Kev close, his arms encircling the human's waist. "Kev," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper, "come here."

Their lips met in a passionate kiss, the world outside the door fading away. Kev melted into Fang's embrace, his hands finding their way to the wolfman's fur, his fingers tangling in the soft strands. Fang deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring Kev's mouth with a hunger that had been simmering all night.

But just as quickly as it had begun, the kiss ended. Fang pulled away, his gaze searching Kev's face. "If I lost you tonight I… I don't know what I would have done," he said, his voice a low rumble filled with both desire and regret. "Good night my… assistant… Make sure to lock your door, so I don't worry."

He gave Kev one last, lingering look, his eyes filled with a wistful longing, before turning and heading back down the stairs.

Kev closed the door behind him, a sigh escaping his lips. He leaned against the cool wood, his heart still pounding from the unexpected kiss. He was turned down again, but that embrace had been everything, passionate, fierce, uninhibited. Not a single doubt or fear existed in that moment, just Fang.

As Kev climbed into bed, the soft sheets a welcome embrace, he couldn't help but replay the events of the night in his mind. The new clothes, learning the workers don't have days off, the near-arrest, the tense confrontation with the city enforcers, the unexpected intimacy with Fang... it had been a rollercoaster of emotions. But despite the challenges, Kev felt a sense of hope. He was starting to understand this new world, to find his place in it. And most importantly, he was beginning to understand the enigmatic wolfman who had captured his heart.

Chapter Text

Kev's eyes fluttered open as the first rays of dawn painted the sky with hues of orange and gold. He stretched, his muscles still slightly sore from the previous day's exertions, and made his way to the bathroom for a refreshing shower. The hot water cascaded over his skin, washing away the remnants of sleep and the lingering excitement of the night before

Back in the kitchen, he expertly navigated the coffee-making process, a skill he'd mastered under Horns' tutelage. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the apartment, a comforting scent that promised a sense of normalcy amidst the extraordinary circumstances of his new life.

He settled onto the couch, a mug of coffee in one hand and his guitar in the other. The gentle strumming of the strings filled the quiet space, a soothing melody that mirrored the tranquility of the morning.

Just as he was getting lost in the music, a familiar knock echoed through the apartment. He opened the door to find Horns, his usual cheerful demeanor tinged with a hint of exhaustion.

"Morning, Kev," Horns greeted him with a weary smile. He lumbered into the apartment and plopped down on the couch, his massive frame sinking into the cushions with a sigh of relief.

Kev, ever the attentive host, quickly fetched a glass of water from the kitchen and offered it to Horns.

 "Thanks," Horns mumbled, taking a long gulp. "Needed that."

Kev sat down beside him, curiosity piqued. "How was the night?" he asked, his gaze meeting Horns'. "You know, after I went to bed, I mean."

"Fang was in rare form last night," Horns revealed, reaching into his suit. "Once you left, he was like a man possessed."

"Any serious issues?" Kev inquired, a hint of concern in his voice.

Horns lit a joint, leaning back into the couch with a sigh. "Nothing major," he replied, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Just... intimidation, mostly. He made some poor bartender cry." Horns shook his head, a frown creasing his brow. "And he's increasing security measures, so I'm sure I'll be helping Rex hire some more muscle soon."

Kev's eyebrows furrowed. "Depending on the results of the meeting tonight, you might all be hiring new people," he pointed out, referring to the upcoming discussion about implementing a day off for the staff.

Horns' ears perked up. "Oh yeah, that," he said, taking another drag from his joint. "What inspired that idea, anyway?"

Kev shrugged. "Most humans have at least one day off a week," he explained. "Many have two. It's considered normal, even essential." He paused, a thoughtful look on his face. "Of course, we don't have the same population or automation issues."

"Still, it's a fine idea," Horns said, nodding in agreement. "A day off to get my car fixed would be awesome." He chuckled. "Or maybe just a day to sleep in and watch some movies."

Kev smiled. "I hope I can convince the others," he said, a determined glint in his eyes. "It would be a good thing for everyone, including Fang."

"We can even push him to take a day off too, if everyone else is doing it," Horns suggested with a mischievous grin. "Maybe then he'll finally relax and enjoy life a little."

"Well," Horns announced, after finishing the joint, "I'm gonna swing by the market before heading home. Need anything?"

Kev glanced around his kitchen, taking stock of his supplies. "Some sugar would be nice," he said. "And maybe some fruit. Oh, and bagels, if they have them."

Horns nodded. "Easy enough," he replied with a grin. "Anything else?"

Kev shook his head. "That's all for now. Thanks, Horns."

"Have a good day, Kev," Horns said, heading towards the door.

"You too, Horns. And get some good sleep!" Kev called after him.

Once Horns had left, Kev finished his coffee and decided to enjoy a cigarette in the backyard. He stepped out onto the patio, the warm morning sun greeting him like an old friend. The air was fresh and clean, a stark contrast to the smoky atmosphere of the club.

He found a quiet spot near the pool, lit a cigarette, and inhaled deeply. The familiar ritual calmed his nerves, allowing him to fully appreciate the tranquility of the morning. He closed his eyes, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves overhead, the birds chirping merrily in the distance. It was hard to believe that just a few hours earlier, he'd been dragged out of the club. 

He rubbed his arm. Was it strange that he still had scratches, even though this was a dream?

As Kev attempted to dispel the sobering thought, he noticed a familiar figure approaching from the direction of the mansion. It was Max, the fox-man cleaner who had delivered his new clothes.

"Hey, Max," Kev greeted him with a friendly smile.

Max seemed surprised that Kev remembered his name. A flicker of warmth crossed his usually stoic features. "Kev," he acknowledged with a nod. "Cindy sent me to fetch you."

Kev raised an eyebrow. "Cindy?" he echoed. "What does she need?"

"Didn't ask," Max replied with a shrug. "Just said to bring you to her. Let's go."

Kev quickly extinguished his cigarette in a nearby barrel and followed Max back inside. The fox-man led Kev to a small book case not far from where they entered, their footsteps echoing in the quiet mansion. Pulling on one of the shelves, Max revealed an unassuming staircase leading down.

"Basement?" Kev asked, surprised. He hadn't realized the mansion had one.

Max nodded, descending the stairs without another word. Kev followed cautiously, his hand trailing along the cool stone wall.

The basement was a sprawling labyrinth of rooms and storage areas, its dimly lit corridors illuminated by flickering lanterns and scattered candles. It was a stark contrast to the opulence and grandeur of the upper floors, a sign of the mansion's utilitarian past.

As they walked, Kev's eyes scanned the shelves and storage areas. He saw stacks of candles and oil lamps, cleaning supplies, pillows and blankets, gardening tools, spare glasses and plates, even paint cans and construction materials. Chairs and stool, pots and pans, napkins and soap. It was a treasure trove of practical necessities, a testament to the club's self-sufficiency in a world without modern conveniences.

The air was cool and damp, the scent of mildew mingling with the faint aroma of cleaning supplies. The lack of natural light and the oppressive silence created an almost dungeon-like atmosphere, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the club above.

 As they navigated the maze-like basement, Kev noticed a steady stream of cleaners moving up and down numerous staircases, their arms laden with supplies. He hadn't realized there were so many of them, staircases and cleaners, their silent efficiency a stark contrast to the boisterous energy of the club's patrons. A mental note formed in Kev's mind - he needed to explore this hidden world beneath the mansion, to understand the intricate workings that kept the club running smoothly… he didn't even know there was a basement and he had passed at least ten staircases! How many of them were there?

Max, sensing Kev's distraction, pointed down a dimly lit corridor. "She's in her office, straight ahead," he said, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. "See ya." Without another word, he turned and disappeared up one of the staircases, leaving Kev alone in the dimly lit basement.

Kev took a deep breath, steeling himself for his encounter with Cindy. He walked towards the office, his footsteps echoing on the cold stone floor. The door, a simple wooden slab with a worn brass nameplate that read "Cindy - Housekeeping," stood slightly ajar, inviting him in.

Kev pushed the door open and stepped into Cindy's office, a surprising contrast to the utilitarian basement. The room was a burst of color, its walls painted a cheerful pink and adorned with framed pictures of flowers and landscapes. A delicate lace curtain covered the small window, filtering the dim light and casting a soft glow on the space.

Cindy sat at a small table in the corner, a dainty teacup in her hand. She wore a simple cleaning apron over her modest clothes, her auburn hair still neatly pulled back in a bun.

"Kev, come in," she greeted him with a warm smile, her voice a gentle melody in the quiet office. "Please, have a seat. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Thank you," Kev replied, taking a seat across from Cindy. He accepted the offered teacup, the delicate porcelain a stark contrast to the rough, utilitarian surroundings of the basement. He took a few sips, the warmth spreading through him, and glanced around the office.

"It's very... cheerful," he remarked, gesturing towards the floral decorations and the bright pink walls. "Quite different from the rest of the club."

Cindy smiled, a soft blush coloring her cheeks. "Thank you," she said, taking a sip of her own tea. "I like to have a little bit of home with me, even down here."

Kev nodded and looked around again. The pink walls, the doily covered side tables, the comfy over stuffed arm chairs and the delicate tea set gave him a solid idea of what her home might be like. Kev smiled, it really was calming down here, and it was quite a bit cooler too, in a place without air conditioning or fans the chance to escape from the heat was valuable. 

"What can I do for you today," he asked.

Cindy set her cup down and leaned forward, her expression turning serious. "I heard you had a bit of a scary night," she said, her voice laced with concern.

Kev nodded, a shiver running down his spine as he recalled the encounter with Bryan. "Horns and Rex saved me. I really didn't mean to cause any trouble," he explained, his voice still a bit shaky.

"That's good," she said, her voice reassuring. "Perry, that reckless owl, almost went straight to Fang when he saw you being dragged off. It's a good thing he spotted Horns first."

Kev took a sip of his tea, his mind racing. He hadn't realized how close he'd come to being taken away, to disappearing into the city's underbelly. He shuddered at the thought. If the city was really so overcrowded that jobs were a luxury, then he could only imagine the prisons and jails were similar. What would even happen if the city took him? It's not like his finger prints would be in any data bases… maybe he really would just get off with a warning.

Cindy's gaze lingered on Kev's face, her expression thoughtful. "You're important to Fang," she finally said, her voice soft but firm. "More important than you might realize."

"If Perry had told Fang you'd been kidnapped," Cindy continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "I think the club would have been shut down by now."

Kev's eyes widened in surprise. "Surely Fang wouldn't have done anything that rash," he protested, his voice laced with disbelief. "Rex handled the situation without even throwing a punch."

Cindy poured herself another cup of tea, her movements precise and deliberate. "You don't know Fang like I do, Kev," she said, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "He wouldn't hesitate to unleash hell on anyone who dared to harm someone important to him."

Kev smiled and looked away saying, "I'm just his assistant Cindy, we haven't even known each other for a week."

"He's asked me to keep an eye out for you," Cindy confessed, her voice softening. "Make sure you're safe."

Kev sighed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Sounds like he's told every staff member to do that," he remarked. "I appreciate it, but if this was the first time something like this has happened, maybe it was just a fluke."

"He even wanted to get a bouncer to shadow you during the day," Cindy revealed, a playful glint in her eyes.

Kev couldn't help but chuckle. "A babysitter, too?" he joked.

Cindy giggled, her laughter a soft melody in the quiet office. "That's exactly what I told him," she said, her smile widening. "I assured him that the cleaners would make sure no one tries to come and get you." Her grin turned a bit more mischievous. "The security team only lets in deliveries during the day, and we know all the delivery people. They're rarely even allowed to leave their trucks. I see no reason to restrict you like that."

"Thank you, Cindy," Kev said sincerely, finishing his tea. "I appreciate you looking out for me."

Cindy glanced at the clock on her desk, a hint of urgency in her eyes. "I need to go soon," she said, rising from her chair. "Inspections before the evening rush." She paused, a warm smile gracing her lips. "I'll see you at the meeting tonight, Kev. And good luck convincing those stubborn old goats to give us a day off." She sighed wistfully. "I'd love to spend a day at home with my knitting and the radio."

Kev chuckled, he would have bet money that Cindy was the type to knit. "I'll do my best," he promised.

"Goodbye, Cindy," he said, waving as she hurried out of the office

Alone in the basement after leaving Cindy's pink room, Kev's curiosity got the better of him. He spotted the closest staircase and decided to see where it led. He climbed the steps, his footsteps echoing in the quiet mansion.

Chapter Text

The staircase spiraled upwards, more than a single floor, eventually leading Kev to a small landing overlooking the grand entrance of the mansion. Through a set of ornate glass doors, he could see the front courtyard bathed in the afternoon sunlight. Off to the side was the edge of the customer parking lot, and the main entrance road cut a straight and narrow path though the surrounding trees. Kev would have never guessed that just beyond the canopy was a futuristic city straight out of a cyber punk novel.

He turned away from the window and headed back to his apartment. It was time for lunch, and he was determined to make the most of the remaining daylight hours before the club's transformation.

Back in his kitchen, Kev assembled a simple but satisfying meal, his culinary skills improving with each attempt. He settled at the table, a book propped open beside him, and enjoyed his lunch in the quiet solitude of his apartment.

As he finished eating, he reached for his cigarette case, the smooth silver a comforting weight in his hand. He lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply, the smoke curling lazily towards the ceiling.

Kev glanced at his new watch, its silver face gleaming in the afternoon light. It was still early, probably another four or five hours until Horns returned. He decided to make the most of the time by tidying up his apartment. As he cleared away the remnants of his lunch, he noticed the trash bin was nearly overflowing. A pang of annoyance struck him - he'd forgotten to ask Cindy about trash collection. He added it to his growing mental list of questions.

The afternoon heat was stifling, even within the confines of the club. The cool evening breezes that had graced the previous nights were nowhere to be found, replaced by a stagnant warmth that clung to Kev's skin. He imagined the dance floor, packed with sweaty bodies and fueled by the heat of a thousand desires. There must be quite a few customers who overheat and pass out.

Longing for a respite from the stuffy interior, Kev decided to take another walk around the grounds. He ventured out the front door this time, stepping onto the wide, circular driveway that usually bustled with arriving and departing guests. Now, in the harsh light of day, it lay deserted, save for a few diligent cleaners tending to the meticulously manicured lawns and flowerbeds.

The silence was a stark contrast to the club's usual cacophony, the only sounds the chirping of birds and the ghost of a hum of traffic from the city beyond, and the rhythmic swish of the cleaners' brooms and sheers. Kev took a deep breath, savoring the fresh air and the feeling of the sun on his face. 

Kev meandered along the mansion's perimeter, his eyes tracing the elegant lines of its architecture. He marveled at the sheer size of the building, realizing he had only explored a fraction of its countless rooms and hidden passageways. It was like a sprawling castle plucked from the French countryside, its weathered stone façade and ornate detailing whispering tales of a bygone era. A sense of wonder filled him as he imagined the lives that had unfolded within these walls, the secrets they held, the stories they could tell.

His musings were interrupted by the rumble of a delivery truck rounding the corner of the mansion. Kev watched with curiosity as the vehicle pulled up to a side entrance, its sliding rear door opening to reveal a glimpse of crates and boxes stacked neatly inside. He wondered what supplies were being delivered, what hidden treasures were about to be unveiled.

Intrigued, Kev strolled towards the truck, his footsteps crunching on the gravel road that led around the side of the mansion. A cleaner, an odd looking mammal woman, perhaps a ground hog, perched precariously on a ladder while washing the windows, spotted him and called out, her voice echoing in the crisp morning air. "Hey, you!" she shouted, his tone friendly but firm. "Don't wander too far! The boss wouldn't be happy if you got lost."

Kev felt a pang of frustration. He appreciated the concern, but the surveillance was starting to wear on him. He longed for a sense of freedom, a chance to explore this new world without feeling like he was being watched at every turn. Still, he knew it wasn't the cleaner's fault. She was just following orders, trying to keep Kev safe.

"Thanks for the heads up," Kev called back, plastering a smile on his face. "What's the delivery for, do you know?"

The cleaner paused, her brow furrowing in thought. "Not for us cleaners," she replied after a moment. "Beyond that, I have no idea."

"I'm going to go check it out," Kev announced, a sense of adventure stirring within him.

The cleaner shook her head, a worried expression on her face. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," she advised. "Best to stay out of the way and let the delivery guys do their job."

Kev shrugged. "Thanks for the advice," he said, "but I'm curious."

With a final wave, he continued towards the delivery truck, leaving the cleaner to resume her window-washing duties.

Rounding the corner, Kev found himself facing a large delivery bay, its wide doors thrown open to accommodate the truck. He recognized the area; it was the rear side of the concert hall, behind the stage, near where Asmodeus's dressing room was located. Kev could almost hear the colorful toucan-man pounding away at the piano.

A small group of workers bustled around the truck, unloading crates and boxes with practiced efficiency. Amidst the activity, Kev spotted a familiar figure: Lanon, the manager of... personal relations... was engaged in a conversation with the delivery drivers.

Kev was surprised to see Lanon at the club at this hour. He'd assumed the iguana man's duties were primarily nocturnal, catering to the desires of the club's clientele under the cover of darkness. His presence here, in the harsh light of day, suggested a different side to his role, one that Kev hadn't yet encountered.

Lanon, his conversation with the driver concluded, turned to head back inside when his sharp eyes spotted Kev standing near the delivery bay. The iguana-man was wearing another sensual outfit, bright blue pants that matched a long blue jacket that was open, showing off his smooth blue-and-green scales. Kev, feeling a bit like a child caught snooping, offered an awkward wave.

Lanon's lips curled into a knowing smile as he approached Kev, his movements relaxed and casual. "Well, hello there, Kev," he purred, his voice a low, seductive rumble. He glanced back at the truck, then returned his gaze to Kev, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "What brings you out here at this hour?" he inquired, his tone light but laced with a subtle curiosity. "Shouldn't you be upstairs, readying yourself for Fang?"

"Just trying to explore a bit," Kev replied, his voice a touch defensive. "Learn the layout of the place."

"You should be exploring the inside of the place," Lanon suggested, his eyes gleaming with a predatory glint. "I hear you had quite an exciting night. Dragged around and confined by a city enforcer." His tail twitched with amusement. "What did you think of the experience?"

Kev's cheeks flushed, a strange mix of shame and anxiety flooding him. "It was awful," he quickly said, his voice sharp. "I wasn't even sure if they were real enforcers."

Lanon smiled, revealing a set of sharp, reptilian teeth. "Did the ambiguity make it… exciting?" he purred, his gaze lingering on Kev's face.

"I'd rather not go through that again," Kev said firmly, his voice laced with a hint of defiance.

Lanon shrugged, his tail flicking. "Ah, not one for the spontaneous, then," he observed, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

Kev raised an eyebrow, a puzzled expression on his face. "Are we talking about the same thing?" he asked, his tone incredulous.

"Of course," Lanon purred, a sly grin spreading across his face. He turned and began walking back towards the main entrance, giving a small gesture for Kev to follow. "I'll let Fang know you're not a fan of restraints."

Kev followed, a sense of unease settling in his stomach. He realized, with a growing sense of discomfort, that Lanon's questions had a double meaning, a subtle probing of his boundaries and preferences. 

He cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory. "Have there ever been any issues with your workers getting arrested?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Lanon chuckled, his tail flicking playfully. "Of course not," he replied, a hint of arrogance in his tone. "This is Club Fang. We have our ways of... handling things."

Kev pressed on, his curiosity outweighing his discomfort. "Do you think those enforcers just used my smoking as an excuse to... grab me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lanon's grin widened, revealing a row of sharp teeth. "You are a very grabbable little thing," he purred, his gaze lingering on Kev's form.

"I'm serious, Lanon," Kev insisted, his voice firm.

Lanon's smile faded, replaced by a more thoughtful expression. "I heard the enforcer brought a badge in," he said, his tone contemplative. "He definitely came with an agenda..." He paused, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "I didn't even know the city made plastic cop badges that could sneak past our metal detectors."

"I appreciate the information, Lanon," Kev said, his voice sincere. The iguana-man's insights, though delivered with suggestive undertones, were valuable nonetheless. It seemed that the incident with the enforcers was more than just a random act of harassment. There was a deeper agenda at play, one that Kev was determined to uncover.

Lanon nodded, his smile returning. "Same here, Kev, I'm always fascinated to learn what makes my coworkers tick." He paused, his gaze lingering on Kev's face. "So, why are you here and not with Mr. Fang?" he inquired, his voice a low purr.

Kev shrugged. "I'm still figuring that out," he admitted. "Fang doesn't want me staying up all night."

Lanon chuckled, his tail flicking playfully. "Ah, yes, the boss's nocturnal tendencies," he said, a knowing glint in his eyes. "They can be quite challenging, can't they?"

Sighing Kev nods, "He's so overworked… I know his job is demanding…"

"My job is very demanding too, Kev," Lanon confided. "Especially with these new developments with the VIP clients. I'll be quite invested in the meeting tonight. When Horns mentioned it I knew it must have been your idea."

"If I remember correctly," Kev said, trying to recall the conversation from the previous night, "you're in favor of having a day off per week, right?"

Lanon nodded, his smile widening. "Indeed," he replied, his voice a smooth purr. "My workers are professionals, Kev. A day a week to groom themselves, visit the local clinic, or simply relax and recharge will only make my department more valuable to the club."

Lanon, with a graceful flourish, walked Kev back up the large stone steps to the mansion's grand entrance. As they reached the front door, he paused, his gaze lingering on Kev. "Be careful out there, little human," he said, his voice a low, seductive purr. "The boss would be devastated if his... pet were to be accosted again."

Kev bristled." "I'm not his pet," he retorted, his voice firm.

Lanon chuckled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "My apologies," he said, bowing his head slightly. "I meant no offense." He took Kev's hand and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on his knuckles. "I shall see you at the meeting later, darling. Be good."

With a final wink, Lanon turned and headed back towards the delivery truck, his movements fluid and graceful.

Kev watched him go, a mix of confusion and annoyance swirling within him. Lanon's suggestive comments and patronizing tone had left a sour taste in his mouth. He felt like a child being coddled and protected, not a capable adult who could handle himself. First the cleaner, now Lanon - everyone seemed to be treating him like a fragile doll.

He sighed, shaking his head in frustration. He needed to prove to them, and to himself, that he wasn't some helpless creature in need of constant supervision. He was Fang's… assistant, not his pet, and he was determined to earn their respect.

Chapter Text

Kev headed back to his apartment, he had a few more hours to kill before the meeting, and he intended to use them wisely. He would read, he would practice his guitar, and he would prepare himself for the challenges that lay ahead. He was ready to prove his worth, to show everyone that he was more than just a pretty face or a "grabbable little thing."

However, the allure of the history books quickly faded as Kev struggled to make sense of the complex narratives and unfamiliar references. He longed for a simpler distraction, something to occupy his mind and ease the growing restlessness that plagued him. A documentary, a movie, a tv show… even a radio show would be easier to digest. With a sigh of resignation, he set the book aside and reached for his stash of herbs.

He rolled a joint, the familiar scent of the dried greens filling the air. He lit it, inhaling deeply, and let the soothing smoke wash over him. As the gentle buzz settled in, his anxieties began to melt away, replaced by a sense of peaceful contentment.

He wandered aimlessly around his apartment, wishing for anything to fill the silence. The absence of modern technology, once a novelty, was now starting to feel like a burden. He missed the mindless entertainment, the background noise that had always been a part of his life back on Earth.

He rolled another joint, seeking solace in the familiar ritual. As he exhaled a cloud of smoke, a knock at the door startled him. He glanced at his watch, surprised to see that it was already nearly 4pm.

He quickly stubbed out the joint and opened the door, revealing Horns standing on the threshold. The massive moose-man was in another of his seemingly identical suits, a stack of papers clutched in his massive hand. In his other hand was a plastic shopping bag filled with fruits and a stack of bagels.

"Ready for the meeting tonight?" Horns asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Kev nodded, a nervous excitement fluttering in his chest. "As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, taking the groceries.

Horns settled onto the couch, placing the stack of papers on the coffee table with a thud. "You should probably get dressed, Kev," he advised, his voice carrying a hint of urgency. "Fang's already awake."

"Oh, right," Kev replied, snapping out of his daydream. "Thanks for reminding me." He disappeared into the bedroom, emerging a few minutes later in a striking red suit. It fit him like a second skin, the vibrant color accentuating his fair complexion and blue eyes.

"Marybelle's a real pro," Kev commented, admiring his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he fixed his hair.

He joined Horns in the living room, taking a seat on the couch. "How was your night?" he asked, remembering his earlier request.

"Oh, you know, I dreamt about something cool… but I forgot what it was," he replied. "Now, tell me, how was your day?"

Kev recounted his explorations of the mansion and the backyard, his encounter with Cindy, and his conversation with Lanon. He shared his observations about the club's unique atmosphere and the dedication of its staff. Horns listened intently, occasionally interjecting with his own insights and anecdotes.

As the conversation flowed, Kev couldn't help but bring up the earlier incident with the city enforcers. "Was Fang really going to have someone be my bodyguard?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Horns chuckled, a deep rumble that vibrated through the couch cushions. "He was dead serious about it," he admitted. "But Cindy managed to talk him out of it."

"She seems to have a lot of sway with him," Kev observed, remembering the respect and affection in Fang's voice when he spoke of the head of housekeeping.

"Cindy's been working for Fang's family since he was little," Horns explained. "She practically raised him. He trusts her implicitly."

"I didn't realize," Kev replied, a thoughtful expression on his face. "She looks great for her age."

Horns chuckled. "She gets to work downstairs and doesn't have to deal with Fang directly too often anymore," he explained. "Saves her a lot of stress."

Kev's curiosity shifted to another manager. "What about Lanon?" he asked. "He seems like a… unique kind of guy. I was surprised to see him here during the day."

"Lanon was brought on a few years back," Horns explained, taking a thoughtful drag from his joint. "The club's been evolving, adding different services to stay afloat amidst the attacks the city's been instigating."

He paused, a hint of admiration in his voice. "He's a real good manager. His workers have some of the hardest jobs in the place, and he makes sure they're well taken care of." Horns exhaled a plume of smoke. "I'm glad he handles his own staffing too. Saves me a lot of time and headaches."

Horns, stubbing out his joint in the ashtray, heaved himself up from the couch. "Well, I better go check on a few things before the meeting," he announced, collecting his papers. "Fang should be over to pick you up soon." 

Kev settled back onto the couch, lit a cigarette, and inhaled deeply, savoring the familiar ritual. As he exhaled, a gentle knock echoed through the apartment. He smiled, knowing exactly who it was.

"Come in," he called out, his voice filled with a newfound warmth.

The door opened, and Fang stepped in, his presence filling the room with a subtle energy. He was dressed impeccably, as always, in an angular white suit accentuating his broad shoulders and powerful build. His amber eyes sparkled with a mix of anticipation and affection as he took in Kev's appearance.

Fang's gaze lingered on Kev, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the heat of the summer day. The red suit, tailored to perfection, accentuated Kev's slender frame and brought out the color in his cheeks. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words he'd carefully prepared vanished from his mind, replaced by a simple, heartfelt compliment.

"Red looks good on you," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down Kev's spine.

Kev's smile widened, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Thank you," he replied, gesturing towards the couch. "Come sit with me while I finish my smoke."

Fang, his usual composure momentarily forgotten, eagerly accepted the invitation. He settled beside Kev, the plush cushions sinking beneath his weight. He draped his arm over the small human and leaned close. As Kev took a drag from his cigarette, Fang reached into his pocket and produced a small, velvet-lined box.

"I have something for you," he said, his voice a soft purr.

Kev's eyes widened as he opened the box, revealing a large, tightly sealed bag filled with a vibrant green herb. Its pungent aroma, a skunky mix of earthy musk and sweet citrus, filled the air, instantly captivating his senses.

"It's the special delivery I asked Ralph for," Fang explained, his voice laced with a hint of pride. "Supposedly some of the finest in the entire city."

Kev's heart skipped a beat. He'd enjoyed the casual smoke Horns had provided, but this... this was something else entirely. The sheer potency of the herb was evident just from its scent. He couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation, mixed with a touch of apprehension.

"Thank you, Fang," he said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. "This is... very generous."

Fang's grin widened. "Try some," he urged. "It'll help you relax."

Kev hesitated, glancing at his watch. "I'd love to," he admitted, "but I want to be sharp for the meeting. I don't want to make a fool of myself in front of the managers."

Fang chuckled. "Don't worry about that," he assured Kev. "You'll do fine. Besides," he added with a wink, "a little bit of this might even help you have even better ideas."

Kev still hesitated. "I don't want Reepia to stab me," he said, a nervous laugh escaping his lips.

Fang's laughter boomed through the apartment. "That's a valid concern," he agreed, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Kev carefully placed the bag of herb in his kitchen cabinet, a smile playing on his lips. He was touched by Fang's thoughtfulness, his willingness to indulge Kev's newfound appreciation for the finer things in life.

"I'm ready to head to the meeting," he announced, turning back to Fang with a determined glint in his eyes.

Out in the hallway, as Kev carefully locked his apartment door, a sense of anticipation mingled with a touch of nervousness settled in his stomach. He turned to Fang, his brow furrowed slightly.

"Where are we meeting?" he inquired, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.

"The VIP table," Fang replied, his tone matter-of-fact.

Kev couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Is that really the best place for such an important meeting?" he questioned. "It seems a bit... informal."

Fang chuckled, a low rumble that reverberated through the hallway. "That's where I do all my meetings, Kev," he explained, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "It's comfortable, and it's got a great view of the action."

He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at Kev. "Besides," he added, "I introduced you to everyone there last night. It's only fitting that we hold the meeting in a place where you already feel somewhat comfortable."

Fang led Kev through the dimly lit corridors of the club, their footsteps echoing. The placid quiet of the day was absent, replaced by the hurried sounds of preparation. Workers scurried about, their movements efficient and practiced, as they put the finishing touches on the club's transformation from sunny slumber to moonlit spectacle.

As they approached the bar, Kev noticed the VIP section had been rearranged. The usual plush booths had been replaced by a single, large table, its polished surface gleaming in the soft light of the chandeliers. The managers, a motley assortment of beastmen and beastwomen, were already gathered around it, engaged in animated conversations.

Kev also observed a subtle change in the security presence. Instead of a single bouncer guarding the velvet rope, there were now two: Twitch, the ferret man, and Skippy, the imposing kangaroo, stood side-by-side, their vigilant gazes scanning the room.

As Fang and Kev approached the VIP table, a palpable tension filled the air. The managers, who had been engrossed in discussion moments before, fell silent, their postures stiffening as they acknowledged their boss's presence. Twitch and Skippy, their eyes locked on Fang, stood at attention, their bodies radiating a nervous energy. It was clear that news of the previous night's incident had spread through the security ranks, and no one wanted to find themselves reassigned to perimeter duty with the hapless Barry.

Fang, his demeanor a mix of authority and restrained power, took his seat at the head of the table, Kev and Horns flanking him on either side. The other six managers, their faces a mixture of apprehension and curiosity, watched him expectantly. The silence stretched, broken only by the soft clinking of glasses and the distant crackling of torches.

Chapter Text

Fang's gaze swept across the table, acknowledging each manager with a nod and a curt greeting. "Reepia. Dale. Rex. Cindy. Lanon. Asmodeus." His voice, though calm, carried an undercurrent of tension that hung heavy in the air.

"As you all know," he began, his tone businesslike, "we're here tonight to discuss a proposed change to our work schedule. A change that could have a significant impact on the club's operations and the lives of our employees." He paused, his eyes meeting each manager in turn. "I want to hear everyone's thoughts on this matter, openly and honestly. No holding back."

Reepia, ever the pragmatist, was the first to speak up. "It's a shit idea," she declared, her voice gruff and unwavering. "This club runs on a 24/7 schedule. We can't afford to have people taking days off willy-nilly. It'll disrupt the flow of the kitchen, create staffing shortages, and ultimately impact the quality of our food."

She forcefully stubbed out the last of the cigarette she had been smoking, her eyes narrowed in determination. "The kitchen is the stomach of the club," she continued, her voice rising slightly. "If it doesn't eat some days, the club will suffer."

She lit another cigarette and took a long drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke that momentarily obscured her face. "We're not a charity, Fang," she concluded, her tone firm. "We're a business. And businesses need to prioritize productivity and efficiency. This idea is a recipe for disaster."

Dale, surprisingly, was the next to speak. "I'm actually in favor of it," he announced, his voice a calm counterpoint to Reepia's passionate outburst. "A day off might do us all some good."

He leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I've been bartending here for over a decade," he continued, his voice laced with a hint of weariness. "And I've seen firsthand the toll this job can take on people. The long hours, the late nights, the constant exposure to... well, you know." He gestured vaguely around.

"A day off would give us a chance to recharge, to spend time with our families, to pursue our own interests," he explained. "It might even make us better at our jobs in the long run. A happy bartender makes for happy customers, after all."

Lanon, ever the advocate for his staff, chimed in next. "I'm also in favor of this proposal," he declared, his voice smooth and persuasive. "My team, in particular, could benefit greatly from a regular day off."

He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a passionate intensity. "The work they do is emotionally and physically demanding," he explained. "They cater to the deepest desires of our clientele, often pushing their own boundaries in the process. A day off would give them a chance to recover, to reconnect with themselves, and to return to their duties with renewed energy and enthusiasm."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the table. "And let's not forget the potential benefits for the club's reputation," he added. "Offering our employees a better work-life balance would truly show what a progressive establishment we are… I know some of the staff here do not fully appreciate the progress we have made here."

Rex, the head of security, shifted in his seat, his expression growing increasingly impatient. When Lanon finally paused for breath, he seized the opportunity to interject.

"I'm against this whole idea," he declared, his voice a low growl that echoed through the room. "It's a recipe for disaster."

He leaned forward, his muscular arms resting on the table, his presence radiating an intimidating aura. "The security team needs to be on the same page. Always," he argued. "We can't afford to have people taking days off, especially not now, with the city breathing down our necks and the mafia sniffing around. Do you think this place will be safer if I'm not here every day?"

He gestured towards Kev, his eyes narrowing. "We just had a major security incident," he reminded them, his voice laced with a hint of accusation. 

Asmodeus, his colorful feathers ruffled in agitation, chimed in with a dramatic flourish. "Hear, hear!" he exclaimed, his voice a melodic trill. "I, too, am against this paltry preposterous proposal!"

He stood dramatically, his beak clicking in disapproval. "A day off would disrupt the delicate balance of my musicians' schedules," he declared, his voice rising in pitch. "Their art requires constant practice, unwavering dedication. A single day away from their instruments would lead to a catastrophic decline in their performance. The very soul of the club would suffer!"

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the table. "Imagine the horror," he continued, his voice laced with theatrical despair, "a night at Club Fang without the sublime melodies that simulate the senses and provoke the passions. It would be a travesty, a desecration of all that we hold dear!"

Finally, Cindy, the head of housekeeping, spoke up, her voice a quiet but firm counterpoint to the passionate outbursts of her colleagues. "I'm in favor of the idea," she said simply.

She paused, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. "I've been working for a long time," she continued, her voice soft but carrying a weight of experience. "Longer than any of you, I daresay." She looked up, her eyes meeting each of theirs in turn. "The chance to spend an entire day at my own home, to see my family, to tend to my garden... it would be a revelation."

Her voice grew stronger, her posture straightening. "And I know I'm not alone," she added. "Many of my long-term cleaners feel the same way. We're loyal to this club, to you, Fang. But we also have lives outside these walls, lives that could flourish with attention."

Cindy's words, though quiet and measured, seemed to carry a surprising weight. The other managers, even the initially resistant ones, fell silent, their expressions thoughtful. It was clear that Cindy's opinion held sway, her decades of service and unwavering dedication earning her a respect that transcended her position.

Fang leaned back in his chair, a contemplative frown creasing his brow. "You've all made compelling arguments. Thank you," he acknowledged, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the room. He paused, his gaze lingering on Rex. "The potential impact on security is a particularly valid concern," he conceded, acknowledging the tiger-man's earlier point.

He then turned to Horns, a hint of challenge in his eyes. "And it seems our esteemed Chief of Staff doesn't want to weigh in with his own opinion on this matter," he observed, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

Horns shrugged, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I'm happy to let democracy decide, boss," he replied. 

Fang chuckled, his gaze returning to the assembled managers. "Very well then," he declared, his voice firm and decisive. "The final decision falls on me."

Fang's gaze softened as he turned to Kev. "Before I make my decision," he said, his voice a gentle rumble, "would you like to add anything to the discussion, Kev? It was your idea after all."

Kev took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping across the table, meeting the eyes of each manager in turn. "I apologize if any of you are upset with me for suggesting this change," he began, his voice sincere. "I understand it's a big ask, and it might disrupt the way things have always been done here."

He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I come from a different place," he continued, his voice gaining confidence, "a place where a job isn't a luxury, but a necessity. The human government doesn't readily provide housing or basic income for its people. For a human, a job means they won't starve or sleep in the rain."

He looked at each manager in turn, his gaze unwavering. "I didn't want to rock the boat," he admitted, "but I feel passionate about this. Humans fought and died for their basic work rights, and it feels... cruel and unusual to me if your employees… you, work without days off."

He took a deep breath, his voice filled with conviction. "It might be a big cultural change for the club, I know," he acknowledged. "But after the initial growing pains, I believe it will make us even better. The staff will be happier, healthier, and more motivated. And that will translate into a better experience for your customers."

Kev's gaze shifted to Horns. "The next time Fang fires a waitress," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice, "you'll have someone trained and ready to step in. No more asking others to cover a missing position."

He turned to Reepia, his voice calm and steady. "Your chefs will have a chance to visit other restaurants in the city, to learn new techniques, to expand their culinary horizons. Imagine the creativity and innovation that will bring to the kitchen!"

He looked at Asmodeus, a smile forming on his face. "Your musicians will be able to go to concerts, participate in community bands, or simply enjoy the silence for a change. They'll come back refreshed, their passion for music reignited."

Finally, his gaze settled on Rex. "And your security team," he said, his voice firm, "they'll be able to hit the gym, spend time with their loved ones, or even... find a mate." He winked playfully at the tiger-man.

Rex, unable to resist the opportunity to flirt, leaned forward with a mischievous grin. "What day are you going to take off, human?" he purred, his voice a low rumble. "I'll take the same day off, and we can... find a mate together."

Fang's growl cut through the room like a whip crack. "Silence, cat!" he barked, his eyes flashing with a warning glint.

Rex, momentarily cowed, leaned back in his chair, a smirk still playing on his lips.

Fang took a deep breath, his composure returning. "Does anyone else have anything to add?" he asked, his gaze sweeping across the table, his tone inviting further discussion.

Reepia puffed on her cigarette, her frustration evident in the rapid succession of exhales. "Just agree with your human and make it so," she grumbled, her voice thick with smoke. She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor, and marched towards the kitchen, her apron flapping behind her like a banner of defiance.

"Please, everyone," Fang said, his voice laced with a hint of desperation. "Don't hold back. This is the time to make your opinions known."

Rex, his initial resistance seemingly waning, leaned back in his chair, a contemplative look on his face. "I'll do whatever the boss says," he finally conceded, his voice a low rumble. "But I still think it's a risky move."

Asmodeus, his feathers ruffled in agitation, tapped his beak thoughtfully. "I hadn't considered the possibility of attending other performances," he mused, a flicker of interest in his eyes. "Perhaps there is some merit to this idea after all."

Fang's gaze swept across the table once more, taking in the varied expressions of his managers. The decision was still far from unanimous, but it was made.

Fang cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "If there are no further objections," he announced, his voice carrying a note of finality, "we will move forward with this on a trial run basis. However, I don't want it implemented until after the auditors from the mafia visit. We need all hands on deck for that event."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the table once more. "After that, we'll give this a month-long probationary period. We'll monitor productivity, staff morale, and overall club performance. Then, we'll have another meeting to decide whether or not to continue with the new schedule."

Dale, a surprised smile playing on his lips, raised his glass in a mock toast. "That sounds strangely well-reasoned, Fang," he quipped. "Kev's been rubbing off on you, I see."

Cindy patted Dale's shoulder affectionately. "Sounds like you might not need to be as worried for the pup anymore," she said, her voice filled with warmth.

Asmodeus, his feathers rustling with impatience, stood up abruptly. "Horns," he declared, his voice a melodic trill, "you can handle the audition arrangements for my department. I must get ready for the stage." He turned to Kev with a dramatic flourish. "Farewell, my human friend. I eagerly await our next musical encounter." With that, he swept out of the VIP section, leaving a trail of exotic scents in his wake.

Rex, his predatory gaze lingering on Kev, couldn't resist one last flirtatious remark. "Let me know what day you take off, Kev. I'll make sure to clear my schedule."

He winked, then sauntered away, his muscular frame disappearing into the crowd.

Dale, shaking his head in amusement, rose from his seat. "A whole day off," he mused, a wistful smile on his face. "A day where I don't have to see drunken, horny beasts stumbling around and spilling their drinks on my bar. It sounds too good to be true."

He patted Kev's shoulder gently. "Good job with the boss, kid," he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. "You're doing fine."

With a final nod, he returned to his post behind the bar, leaving Kev and Fang alone with Cindy.

Cindy, her expression softened by a grateful smile, reached across the table to take Kev's hand. "Thank you, Kev," she said, her voice sincere. "I think you're right, this will be a wonderful thing, for everyone."

Kev returned her smile, his heart warmed by her approval. "I haven't done much yet," he protested modestly.

"Oh, but you have," Cindy insisted. "You're already making a difference, Kev. Don't underestimate yourself."

With a final squeeze of Kev's hand, Cindy rose from her seat and headed back to the kitchen, leaving Kev and Fang alone in the quiet booth.

Kev looked at Fang, a surprised smile playing on his lips. "That was quick," he remarked, his voice laced with a hint of admiration. "I thought the meeting might take longer."

There's no reason to drag it out," Fang replied, his gaze meeting Kev's. "We've heard everyone's opinions, weighed the pros and cons, and made a decision. The nice thing about having a tight-knit team is that we can move quickly when we need to."

"Now," he said, rising from his seat and extending a hand towards Kev, "let's go get those herbs you left in your room. Now that the meeting's over, you can finally indulge in a bit of relaxation."

Chapter Text

Kev's heart skipped a beat as he took Fang's hand, a warmth spreading through him at the wolfman's touch. He followed Fang out of the VIP booth, their intertwined fingers a silent declaration of their growing connection.

As they made their way through the bar room, Kev turned to see some of the staff quickly rearranging the furniture, transforming the VIP section back into its usual configuration of plush booths. The club was still relatively quiet, the lull before the storm of opening.

"They should have enough time to get everything back to normal before the customers start arriving," Fang remarked, his voice a low rumble above the muted sounds of preparation.

He led Kev up the grand staircase, their footsteps muted on the carpets of the mansion's upper floors. They reached Kev's apartment, and Fang took the keys from Kev's hand, unlocking the door.

"After you," he said, gesturing for Kev to enter.

Kev stepped into his apartment, a sense of anticipation tingling in his veins. He retrieved the bag of herbs from the kitchen cabinet, its pungent aroma filling the air as he unsealed it. Fang, meanwhile, had made himself comfortable on the couch, his gaze drawn to the stack of books on the coffee table.

Kev joined him, carefully rolling a joint with practiced hands. He lit it, taking a deep inhale, and savored the smooth, earthy flavor. The herb was indeed potent, a gentle wave of relaxation washing over him almost instantly.

Fang watched him with a soft smile. "You look relaxed," he observed, his voice a low rumble.

Kev nodded, his eyelids drooping slightly. "It's good stuff," he mumbled, offering the joint to Fang.

Fang declined with a shake of his head. "Not right now," he said. "I need to stay sharp for a bit longer." He leaned in, capturing Kev's lips in a tender kiss. "But later," he whispered, his voice husky with promise, "later we can indulge."

He stood up, stretching his arms above his head and shook the human's scent out of his nose. "Let's take a little walk around the mansion before dinner," he suggested, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "I want to show you where the entertainment is tonight."

Kev, eager to explore more of the sprawling building, quickly finished the joint and followed Fang out the door. "It's massive," he remarked as they walked down the hallway. "I haven't even seen half of it yet… Until earlier today, I didn't even know there was a basement."

Fang laughed, a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the quiet corridors. "Even I forget about some of the rooms sometimes," he admitted. "This place has a way of keeping its secrets."

Fang's pace quickened, a hint of excitement in his voice. "The entertainment tonight should be particularly good," he said, his tail wagging slightly behind him. "I think you'll enjoy it."

He led Kev down the stairs and past the now-bustling bar, its customers already starting to fill the space with their laughter and chatter. The anticipation for the night's festivities was palpable, the air thrumming with a vibrant energy. A few stray tuning notes coming from the stage told kev that the music was just about to start too.

They continued down a dimly lit corridor, their footsteps echoing on the polished stone floor. Fang pushed open a heavy wooden door, revealing a room unlike any Kev had seen before.

It was a large, open space, its high ceilings adorned with intricate chandeliers that cast a warm, flickering light on the scene below. It was nearly empty and the walls were barren other than a small pass-through window, connecting to the room next door, that was covered over with wooden shutters. The most striking feature, however, was a massive circular area in the center of the room, cut out from the floor, revealing a glimpse of the basement level. A sturdy cast-iron fence surrounded the pit, preventing any accidental falls from above.

Kev's curiosity was piqued. "What is this room?" he asked, his gaze sweeping across the unusual space.

"This," Fang declared with a dramatic flourish, "is where tonight's entertainment will take place. We're in for a real treat."

A mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes. "Trust me, Kev," he whispered, leaning closer, "you're going to love it."

After teasing the human's curiosity Fang ushered Kev out of the room, his arm draped possessively over his shoulders. They made their way back to the bar, the sounds of laughter and music growing louder with each step.

The VIP section had been restored to its usual configuration of plush booths, a testament to the efficiency of the club's staff. Skippy and Twitch, their postures rigid with attention, nodded respectfully as Fang and Kev approached. They lifted the velvet rope, allowing them to pass.

Two drinks, a Bloody Mary for Fang and a Cape Cod for Kev, already awaited them on the table. Rebecca, her feline grace accentuated by the dim lighting, appeared moments later.

"Anything else I can get for you gentlemen?" she inquired, her voice a soft purr.

"Rabbit stew," Fang barked, a predatory grin spreading across his face.

Kev winced, a shiver running down his spine. "What kind of fish do you serve?" he asked, his voice a bit hesitant.

Rebecca rattled off a few fish options, her voice a soothing melody in the bustling bar. Kev pondered the choices for a moment, his mind still reeling from Fang's earlier order.

"Reepia makes Fang's and my food, right?" Kev asked, his voice tinged with a hint of apprehension.

"Of course," Rebecca replied, her smile unwavering. "The head chef always prepares the boss's meals personally."

Kev nodded slowly. "Maybe I'll just stick with a salad tonight," he decided, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. "I feel like she's probably upset about the meeting…"

Rebecca's smile softened. "Don't you worry about it, Kev," she said, her voice reassuring. "I know a lot of those cooks were hoping for a day off but didn't want to say anything in front of her."

Fang's eyebrow arched, his attention suddenly drawn to the waitress. He'd barely registered her presence before, but now he observed her with a newfound scrutiny. "The kitchen is Reepia's domain," he said, his voice a low rumble. "If she hears you talking about her cooks like that, she'll be furious."

Rebecca's eyes widened in alarm. "I'm sorry, Mr. Fang," she stammered, her voice trembling slightly. "I didn't mean any harm."

Kev intervened, placing a reassuring hand on Rebecca's arm. "It's okay, Rebecca," he said gently. "Don't worry about it."

Fang's gaze softened as he looked at Kev, but he turned back to Rebecca with a stern expression. "Just be careful what you say," he warned. "You never know who might be listening."

Rebecca nodded quickly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'll put your orders in right away," she said, hurrying off to the kitchen.

Fang turned to Kev, a questioning look in his eyes. "What was that about?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

Kev sighed. "I think she thought you were threatening her," he explained. "She was just trying to help me."

Fang scoffed, a dismissive wave of his hand. "That's ridiculous," he retorted. "I would never threaten my staff."

Kev leaned closer to Fang, a playful glint in his eyes. "You do know you're a big bad wolf, Fang," he teased, his voice a soft murmur against the wolfman's ear.

Fang's grin widened, his sharp teeth flashing in the dim light. "I like the sound of that," he purred.

He took a leisurely sip of his Bloody Mary, his gaze sweeping across the barroom as the first wave of customers began to trickle in. The energy in the club was building, a palpable anticipation hanging in the air.

"Another night begins," Fang remarked, his voice laced with a hint of satisfaction. 

The bar rapidly transformed into a bustling hub of activity as the crowd swelled, eager to partake in the night's revelry. Dale, a maestro behind the counter, orchestrated a symphony of clinking glasses and pouring liquids, his hands a blur as he fulfilled a seemingly endless stream of orders. The air buzzed with laughter, conversation, and the anticipation of the evening's entertainment.

Amidst the controlled chaos, Rebecca gracefully navigated the throng, delivering their meals with a practiced ease. Kev's salad, a vibrant medley of fresh greens, crisp vegetables, and a tangy vinaigrette dressing, was a refreshing contrast to the heavier fare. He savored each bite, appreciating the subtle flavors and textures.

As he ate, a thought flickered through his mind. He would need to seek out Reepia tomorrow, perhaps offer a sincere apology for his earlier defiance. He knew the head chef's outburst stemmed from a place of genuine concern, even if her methods were a bit... abrasive. He was determined to mend fences, to show her that he valued her opinion and respected her authority. It's not like he had never met passionate women before.

After finishing eating, Kev reached into his silver cigarette case, now a cherished possession, and retrieved one of the joints Horns had rolled for him. "Don't let them snatch me away again," he joked, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips as he lit it.

Fang's laughter boomed through the booth, a deep, resonant sound that momentarily drowned out the surrounding noise. But beneath the amusement, Kev felt Fang's grip on his shoulder tighten, a subtle but unmistakable gesture of protectiveness. The wolfman's playful demeanor masked a fierce determination to keep Kev safe, a resolve that warmed Kev's heart despite the lingering anxiety from the earlier incident.

Fang excused himself, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he squeezed Kev's shoulder once more. "Nature calls," he said with a wink. "Be right back."

Kev watched as Fang made his way through the crowd, his imposing figure drawing glances and whispers from the patrons. He stopped briefly to chat with Twitch and Skippy, the two bouncers guarding the VIP section. Kev felt a twinge of anxiety, wondering if they were discussing the earlier incident with the city enforcers. But he quickly dismissed the thought, reminding himself that Fang had assured him everything was under control.

He took a sip of his Cape Cod, the tart sweetness a welcome distraction from his worries. He noticed Dale glancing over from the bar, a knowing smile playing on his lips. Kev raised his glass in a silent toast, and Dale nodded in acknowledgement, a silent camaraderie passing between them.

Kev turned his attention back to the dance floor, where the energy was reaching a fever pitch. The dancers moved with abandon, their bodies swaying and twirling to the rhythm of the music, their faces flushed with pleasure. Kev couldn't help but be drawn in by the spectacle, the raw sensuality and uninhibited joy infectious. He found himself tapping his foot to the beat, a smile playing on his lips.

A hush fell over the club as Asmodeus and his string ensemble struck up a new tune. The familiar melody of Kev's song, transformed by Asmodeus's masterful arrangement, filled the air. The once melancholic tune now pulsed with a vibrant energy, the strings soaring and dipping, weaving a tapestry of sound that was both hauntingly beautiful and undeniably seductive.

Kev's heart quickened as he recognized the song, a thrill of excitement mixed with a touch of nervous anticipation. Asmodeus had truly captured the essence of the melody, infusing it with his own unique flair, transforming it into something altogether new and captivating.

The dancers on the floor, initially hesitant, soon succumbed to the song's infectious rhythm. Their movements shifted, mirroring the music's intricate patterns and unexpected shifts. The usual languid swaying gave way to a more energetic, almost primal dance, their bodies responding to the music's call with a newfound freedom and abandon.

Kev watched, mesmerized, as the crowd surrendered to the music's spell. He felt a surge of pride, a sense of ownership over the melody that now pulsed through the very heart of the club. It was a powerful reminder of his own creativity, his ability to contribute to this vibrant world, even in a small way.

Fang returned to the booth, his face alight with a satisfied grin. "The first show's about to start," he announced, his voice a low rumble above the music.

Kev, still buzzing from the thrill of hearing his song performed, nodded eagerly. "Let's go," he said, rising from his seat.

Fang chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. "Hold on a minute, eager beaver," he teased. "Let me grab a quick drink first." He waved at Dale.

Rebecca, a minute later, appeared at their table with the fresh concoctions. "Enjoy," she said with a warm smile, her gaze lingering on Kev for a moment before she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

"Alright, let's go," Fang said, taking Kev's hand and leading him back to the strange room with the pit.

As they walked, Kev noticed Twitch, the ferret bouncer, discreetly trailing behind them. It seemed Fang wasn't taking any chances with Kev's safety, even within the confines of his own club.

They reached the door to the room with the hole to the basement finding it filled with club goers. The anticipation in the air was palpable, a buzz of excitement rippling through the crowd as they gathered around the iron fence that surrounded the sunken area.

Fang led Kev to a prime viewing spot, a small, open area near the edge of the pit. The crowd pressed in from all sides, their eager bodies radiating a palpable excitement. The air crackled with anticipation, a symphony of whispers and excited murmurs rising above the background music.

Rex, ever vigilant, materialized beside them, his imposing presence a silent deterrent to any potential troublemakers.

"Lets hope it's a good show," Fang remarked to Rex, his voice a low rumble above the din.

Rex smirked, his eyes scanning the crowd. "Might be a quick one," he replied, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. "He knows you're watching."

"That's why we have a second act lined up," Fang said, his voice flat. "I expect nothing less from him."

Kev, intrigued by their cryptic exchange, wondered who they were talking about. But he was content to be surprised, his curiosity piqued by the anticipation hanging heavy in the air. He leaned against the iron railing, his gaze fixed on the empty pit, eager to witness the spectacle that was about to unfold.

Chapter Text

An announcer's booming voice sliced through the din, and the lights dimmed, silencing the crowd instantly. "Ladies and gentlemen, beasts of all shapes and sizes," the voice echoed, emanating from an unseen speaker, "welcome to the main event!"

A spotlight pierced the darkness, illuminating a figure standing at the center of the pit. A pelican man, his beak gleaming under the harsh lime-light, spread his wings wide in a dramatic gesture.

"Tonight's first fight," he declared, his voice a theatrical crescendo, "will be a clash of titans! A battle between a ferocious rhino-man and a grizzly bear-man!"

The crowd erupted in a frenzy of cheers and whistles, their excitement palpable. The pelican man, clearly a seasoned showman, reveled in the attention, his every move calculated to build anticipation. He paced the pit, his voice rising and falling in a rhythmic cadence as he described the fighters' strengths and weaknesses, their past victories and their burning desire for dominance.

Kev, initially taken aback by the announcement, quickly realized the true nature of the entertainment Fang had promised. This wasn't a performance or a theatrical act; it was a real fight, a raw and visceral display of strength and aggression. He glanced around the room, his eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. Upon closer inspection, he noticed the subtle details that transformed this space into a miniature coliseum – the reinforced walls, the fence to hold back enthusiastic viewers, the faint red stains that marred the sunken walls of the pit.

A wave of unease washed over him. He wasn't sure he was ready for this, for the brutality and violence that was about to unfold before his eyes. But a part of him, the part that had been drawn to the club's primal energy, couldn't deny a flicker of morbid curiosity.

With a flourish, the pelican man introduced the first contender. "In this corner, weighing in at an impressive four hundred and forty pounds, the unstoppable juggernaut, the rhino-man, Crusher!"

A spotlight followed the pelican's gesture, illuminating a hulking figure emerging from one side of the pit. The rhino-man was a behemoth, his muscles rippling beneath his thick, gray skin. His single horn, a formidable weapon honed to a deadly point, protruded from his snout, casting an ominous shadow on his face. He wore nothing but a pair of tight-fitting shorts, his massive physique on full display for the eager crowd.

A collective gasp echoed through the room as Crusher stepped into the pit, his every movement radiating raw power and unbridled aggression. He pounded his chest with a meaty fist, letting out a roar that shook the room. The crowd went wild, their cheers and whistles reaching a deafening crescendo.

The pelican man, his voice barely audible above the din, continued his introductions. "And in the other corner, weighing in at a lean and mean three hundred pounds, the ferocious grizzly bear man, Barry!"

A collective groan rippled through the crowd, a mixture of disappointment and disbelief. Barry, the bouncer who had failed to protect Kev earlier that night, stepped into the pit, his expression a mask of grim determination. He, too, wore only a pair of tight shorts, his muscular physique a testament to countless hours spent in the gym.

The pelican man, sensing the shift in the crowd's mood, quickly regained control of the narrative. "This is a fight to the finish, folks!" he declared, his voice booming through the speakers. "No holds barred, no mercy. The battle will continue until one man surrenders or is unable to fight!"

Kev's stomach churned with unease. "Is this... a punishment?" he asked Fang, his voice barely above a whisper.

Rex snorted derisively. "Barry asked to fight," he scoffed. "The human doesn't understand how a real man thinks."

Fang remained silent, his gaze fixed on the pit below. The anticipation in the room was palpable, the crowd buzzing with excitement as the two fighters circled each other, their muscles coiled and ready to strike.

Kev, despite his reservations, couldn't look away. He turned his attention to the unfolding spectacle, his heart pounding in his chest as the fight began.

The fight was a fast brutal, visceral display of raw power and primal aggression. Crusher, the rhino man, charged forward with the force of a battering ram, his massive horn aimed at Barry's chest. But Barry, despite his smaller stature, was surprisingly strong. He sidestepped the charge, his powerful arms wrapping around Crusher's neck in a chokehold.

The two behemoths grappled and fell to the ground, their grunts and roars echoing through the room. Crusher, fueled by rage, attempted to throw Barry off, but the bear man's grip was like iron. He squeezed tighter, his muscles bulging as he constricted Crusher's airway.

The rhino man struggled, his face turning a deep shade of purple. He flailed his arms, his legs pounding against the sand-covered floor. His elbows struck at Barry's sides and rolled him against the hard floor trying to scrape the bear off of himself but he couldn't break free from Barry's relentless hold. Finally, with a desperate gasp, Crusher passed out, his massive body relaxing suddenly in the bear's arms.

Barry released his grip, standing over his fallen opponent with a triumphant roar. The crowd erupted in cheers, their excitement reaching a fever pitch. The pelican man, his voice booming through the speakers, declared Barry the winner.

As the adrenaline subsided, Kev noticed the toll the fight had taken on Barry. His fur was matted with blood and sweat, his once-pristine shorts ripped and torn. Deep scratches marred his back and arms, and a nasty gash oozed blood from his shoulder. He looked exhausted, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Kev's heart ached for the bear man. "Is he alright?" Kev asked, his voice filled with concern.

Rex, ever the critic, scoffed. "He could have won faster," he remarked, seemingly unimpressed. 

Fang shook his head, a hint of disapproval in his eyes. "He did fine, Rex," he countered. 

Kev's gaze followed Rex's as he noticed Barry, the bear bouncer, looking up at Fang from the pit. The bearman's expression was a mix of hope and trepidation, clearly seeking his boss's approval. Fang, however, seemed just as interested in Barry, his eyes lingering on the victorious fighter as he was led out of the pit by the announcer.

Rex, sensing Fang's distraction, leaned closer. "Did you want a stronger opponent, boss?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "I can arrange something for next week."

Fang shook his head. "No, that's enough," he replied, his tone dismissive.

Rex nodded, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He turned to Kev, his eyes gleaming with a suggestive glint. "Hey, human," he purred, "if you ever want to see me fight, just let me know. I'll even let you give me a massage afterward."

Kev's cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and a strange thrill coursing through him. He managed a weak smile. "Maybe some other time," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Rex chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed through the booth. "Anytime you want it, little guy," he said with a wink, before sauntering away, his muscular frame disappearing into the crowd.

The announcer's voice boomed through the room once more, cutting through the lingering excitement of Barry's victory. "One more cheer for Barry, folks! A decisive victory for the grizzly bear!"

The crowd roared its approval, their cheers and whistles echoing through the cavernous space.

"And now," the announcer continued, his voice rising in a dramatic crescendo, "prepare yourselves for the next thrilling matchup! A battle of aerial agility versus brute strength! In this corner, soaring high above the competition, the magnificent eagleman, Talon!"

A spotlight illuminated a figure, much smaller than Barry or Crusher, standing in the pit. The eagleman, his feathers gleaming like polished bronze, spread his wings wide, his sharp eyes surveying the crowd with a regal air.

"And his opponent," the announcer bellowed, "weighing in at a monstrous five hundred pounds, the unyielding force of nature, the ox man, Ox!"

Another wave of cheers erupted from the crowd, their excitement palpable. The ox man, a mountain of muscle and fur, lumbered into the pit, his massive horns lowered in a gesture of challenge.

Fang leaned closer to Kev, a thoughtful expression on his face. "This will be an much interesting fight," he remarked, his voice a low rumble.

Kev, still a bit unsettled by the earlier display of brutality, frowned. "Why?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"There's even more of a weight difference between these two," Fang explained. "And… Barry chose to fight Crusher to redeem his failure yesterday. This eagleman, however, is choosing to fight the ox for a measly sum of prize money. I'm curious to see how far his desperation will get him."

The fight began with a blur of motion. Talon, with a powerful flap of his wings, launched himself from the ground. He was on eye level with the spectators, hovering for a moment before diving down towards his opponent. Ox, his massive frame rooted to the ground, bellowed a challenge, his horns poised for a counterattack.

Talon's agility was mesmerizing. He darted in and out of Ox's reach, his sharp talons raking across the ox man's exposed flesh, leaving bloody trails in their wake. Ox, though powerful, was slow and cumbersome, his attempts to land a blow proving futile against the eagleman's aerial assault.

The crowd roared with each successful strike, their bloodlust fueled by the spectacle of violence. The air crackled with a primal energy, the scent of blood and sweat mingling with the smoky haze that hung over the pit. In and out, the eagle's wings flapped and tucked giving him a nearly unreadable reach. Every time Ox thought he would get the bird in his grip he would slip away, dodging by inches with a gust of air.

Talon, sensing his opponent's weakening resolve, pressed his advantage. He landed on Ox's back, his talons digging deep into the thick flesh, his beak tearing at the ox man's neck. Ox's bellows of rage turned into pained grunts as he stumbled, his massive body finally succumbing to the relentless onslaught.

With a final, triumphant cry, Talon ripped his talons free, sending a spray of blood across the sand. The ox man collapsed, his body a broken, bloody heap on the floor of the pit. The crowd erupted in a frenzy of cheers and applause, their excitement reaching a fever pitch.

The pelican announcer, his voice booming through the speakers, declared Talon the victor. But the eagleman wasn't finished. He strutted over to the fallen Ox, his chest puffed out in a display of dominance. He raised a foot, his talons glinting in the dim light, and drove them into Ox's back, eliciting a pained groan from the defeated fighter.

The crowd went wild, their cheers reaching a deafening crescendo. Fang, his eyes narrowed, leaned closer to Kev. "A magnificent fight," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Commanding. Efficient."

Kev, his stomach churning, forced a smile. "It was... something, to say the least," he replied, his voice strained.

As the medics rushed in to tend to the fallen Ox, Kev's gaze drifted back to the pit. He caught Talon's eye, the eagleman staring at him with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.

Fang's gaze followed Kev's, landing on Talon, who stood triumphantly amidst the chaos of the pit. A flicker of disapproval crossed Fang's face, his lips tightening into a thin line. He turned to Twitch, his voice a low growl. "Go," he instructed, "tell Rex to bring that eagle up for a drink."

Twitch nodded, his ears twitching nervously. "Yes, sir," he replied, his quiet voice barely above a whisper. "I'll tell Rex to meet you at the VIP table right away." He quickly disappeared into the crowd, his small frame weaving through the throng of excited patrons.

With the main event concluded, the crowd began to disperse, their adrenaline-fueled excitement slowly dissipating. The pelican announcer's voice boomed through the speakers once more. "Winners, please proceed to the counter to collect your prize! The odds were 10 to 1 on Ox. There will be some happy gamblers tonight!"

Kev overheard snippets of conversation as the crowd filtered out of the room. Some expressed their admiration for Talon's skill and ruthlessness, while others grumbled about the ox-man's apparent lack of effort, suggesting he'd thrown the fight. Kev shuddered, his gaze drawn to the bloodstained sand in the pit. If the Ox man had thrown the fight… he deserved an Oscar.

Chapter Text

Fang's arm draped over Kev's shoulders, pulling him close as they navigated the thinning crowd back towards the bar. "A good fight always gets my blood pumping," Fang remarked, a satisfied grin playing on his lips.

Kev, still a bit shaken by the violence he'd witnessed, offered a hesitant smile. "I haven't seen many fights," he admitted, "but that… definitely caught my attention. Barry's really strong."

Fang's grin widened, a hint of pride in his voice. "He didn't disappoint. Not tonight," he said, his tone laced with a touch of satisfaction. "But he still needs to be held accountable for his earlier lapse in judgment. Rex will put him on perimeter duty for a while, and that will be that."

Kev's brow furrowed. "I thought the fight was a way for him to apologize, to avoid punishment," he said, his voice soft.

Fang's gaze softened as he looked at Kev. "You're very kind-hearted, Kev," he observed, a warmth in his eyes. "But actions have consequences. Barry made a mistake, and he needs to learn from it."

As they approached the VIP table, Fang nodded at Skippy, who stood guard with his usual stoic expression. The kangaroo bouncer, sensing Fang's approval, relaxed slightly, a subtle shift in his posture that Kev couldn't help but notice.

"Wait here," Fang instructed, squeezing Kev's shoulder gently. "I need to talk to Dale for a second." He then strode purposefully towards the bar, his presence parting the crowd like a shark gliding through a school of fish.

Kev watched as Fang reached the bar, leaning in close to Dale and engaging in a hushed conversation. The bartender nodded intently, his expression serious.

Kev took a drag from his cigarette and sat at the booth, his gaze drifting across the bustling club. He noticed Rex approaching Skippy, the imposing kangaroo bouncer guarding the VIP section. Talon, the victorious eagleman, trailed behind Rex, his sharp eyes scanning, his head turning quickly as he tried to take in and process all the sights.

"Let us in," Rex demanded, his voice a low growl.

Skippy, his posture unwavering, held his ground. "No," he replied firmly, his voice a deep rumble.

Rex, clearly unaccustomed to being denied, attempted to push past Skippy. The kangaroo, however, stood his ground, his powerful arms easily blocking Rex's advance. For a tense moment, Kev thought another fight was about to erupt. But then, Rex's expression shifted, a sly grin spreading across his face.

"Good job, Skippy," he said, clapping a hand on the kangaroo's shoulder. "No one gets in, not even me. The boss would be proud."

Kev realized this must be a new security measure, implemented in response to the incident with the city enforcers. Fang was clearly taking no chances, ensuring the safety and privacy of his VIP guests. Or rather, he was taking no chances with Kev's safety.

A few minutes later, Fang returned, walking past Skippy and followed by Rex and Talon. The three of them settled into the booth, their presence radiating an aura of power and authority.

"Apologies for the delay, Kev," Fang said, his voice low. "Just had to get Dale's opinion on something."

Fang extended a hand towards Talon, his demeanor a mix of cordiality and calculated dominance. "Welcome, Talon," he said, his voice a deep rumble that resonated through the booth. "I am Fang, the owner of this establishment." He gestured towards Kev, a warm smile gracing his lips. "And this is Kev, my new personal assistant."

"You've already met Rex, I believe," Fang continued, nodding towards the tiger-man who sat beside him, a predatory grin on his face.

Talon's sharp eyes darted between the faces at the table, taking in every detail. He bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. "Hello, Mr. Fang," he said, his voice a surprisingly soft rasp. "It is a pleasure. I will not lie; I've heard rumors about you."

Fang chuckled."Sometimes," he replied, "rumors are understated."

Just then, Dale approached their table. "Can I get you gentlemen anything?" he inquired, his voice a cheerful baritone that cut through the ambient noise of the club.

"Whiskey, neat," Fang ordered, his tone casual yet commanding.

Kev, still a bit overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation, opted for something familiar. "Another Cape Cod, please," he said, offering a polite smile to the bartender.

Talon hesitated for a moment, his gaze flitting between the various bottles on display behind the bar. "I'll have the whiskey too," he finally decided, his voice a raspy whisper.

Dale nodded, his memory already committing their orders to his mental catalog. "Coming right up," he said with a wink, disappearing back into the throng of patrons clamoring for his attention.

"Hey! You hay-brain… What about me…," Rex scowled but Dale was already gone.

As they waited for their drinks, Fang turned to Talon with a genuine smile. "You put on a wonderful demonstration earlier, Talon," he complimented, his voice carrying a note of respect. "Ox didn't stand a chance."

Talon nodded, a flicker of something in his eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Fang," he replied, his voice a soft rasp. "I understand that the fights are for ... entertainment."

Fang reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick wad of bills. He tossed it casually onto the table in front of Talon. "The prize pool for the fight didn't quite match the performance," he explained, his tone nonchalant. "Consider this a bonus."

Talon's eyes widened slightly as he glanced between the money and Fang. He hesitated for a moment, then reached out and scooped up the bills, a grateful smile spreading across his face. "You're too kind, sir," he said, tucking the money away in his pocket.

Fang leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Tell me, Talon," he inquired, his gaze intense, "do you have a boss?"

Talon's gaze flickered towards Rex, a silent communication passing between them. Before he could respond, Dale arrived with their drinks, expertly balancing the tray on one hand. After serving everyone else he placed a tall glass of milk in front of Rex, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The tiger-man roared in protest. "What the hell is this, Dale?!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing through the booth.

Dale chuckled, his laughter a deep rumble. "Don't drink it too fast," he warned, a playful smirk on his face. "Might give you a tummy ache."

Rex hissed and said, "I'll give you a stomach ache that Vlad will have to sew back up."

However Dale did not seem to be affected by the imposing tiger, he was already turned and walking back to the bar, his whinnying laugh loud and confident.

Kev and Fang burst into laughter too, the tension in the room momentarily dissipating. Talon, initially surprised by the outburst, joined in with a soft chuckle, his sharp features relaxing slightly. Rex grumbled, grabbing the milk and downing it in a single sip.

Kev, emboldened by the lighthearted atmosphere, turned to Talon. "You were quite, uh, enthusiastic during the fight," he remarked, his voice a mix of admiration and apprehension.

Talon's gaze met his, steel in his eyes. "When you're smaller, you need to be decisive," he replied, his voice a raspy whisper. "You should know this already."

Fang nodded in agreement. "He's right, Kev," he said, his voice a low rumble. "They won't pick a fight with you again if you show them the consequences."

Fang's tone shifted, becoming more assertive. "Talon," he said, leaning forward slightly, "someone as talented as you has no reason to be fighting for measly prize money. Tell me, who do you work for?"

There was an edge to Fang's voice, a hint of the commanding alpha he was known to be. The casual atmosphere of the conversation evaporated, replaced by a palpable tension.

Talon's feathers ruffled slightly, a sign of his growing unease. "I'm not talented," he retorted, looking down. "The ox was simply sloppy. Anyone could have won that fight."

Fang's growl deepened, his patience wearing thin. "Show some respect to the boss of this establishment, bird," he warned, his eyes flashing with a dangerous glint.

Talon's gaze hardened. "I'm not employable," he stated, his voice surprisingly firm. "I cannot commit every day. I need to… to care for my sick sister."

Fang, his anger momentarily tempered by Talon's revelation, leaned forward, his tone softening. "Why not send her to a hospital?" he suggested. "Someone with your skills could easily earn enough money to have her put up in a five-star resort."

Talon's gaze dropped back to the table, his feathers drooping slightly. "Thank you for the drink, Mr. Fang," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I must be going."

Before he could rise from his seat, Rex's hand shot out, grabbing Talon's arm in a vice-like grip. "The boss isn't done talking to you yet, Talon," he growled, his voice a low rumble.

Talon glared at Rex, his eyes blazing with defiance. With a swift movement, he wrenched his arm free, his feathers bristling in agitation.

"Relax, Rex," Fang commanded, his voice firm but calm. He turned back to Talon, his expression softening. "I understand your situation, Talon," he said, his tone sincere. "And I admire your dedication to your sister. But you don't have to fight in my pit to make ends meet. There are other ways to earn money, more... honorable ways."

He paused, a thoughtful look on his face. "I have a proposition for you, Talon," he continued. "Join my staff. I'll pay you a generous salary, enough to cover your sister's medical expenses and provide a comfortable life for both of you. And in return, I will get your talent."

Talon's eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of hope replacing the defiance in his gaze. "You'd... hire me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Fang nodded, his look serious. He said. "Your talent is undeniable. It would be a waste to see it squandered in the fighting pit."

He extended a hand towards the eagleman. "What do you say, Talon?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine warmth. "Will you join the Club Fang family?"

Talon's eyes grew red, the emotion hiding behind his stoic facade peeking though. "Thank you, Mr. Fang," he said, voice hitching. "But... I can't."

Fang leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concern. "Make me understand, Talon," he urged, his voice gentle but firm. "Why can't you work for me? I'm offering you a way out, a chance to provide for your sister and yourself without risking yourself for spectacle."

Kev watched the exchange with a mix of sympathy and admiration. Despite Talon's fearsome introduction in the fighting pit, he was clearly a man of honor, torn between his loyalty to his sister and the tempting offer Fang had presented.

"My sister... her injuries," Talon stammered, his voice choked with emotion. "She's... she's depressed. I'm the only one who can care for her. I can't leave her alone, not in her condition."

Fang sat back, his expression thoughtful. He took a sip of his drink, the silence in the booth heavy with unspoken emotions. Kev, too, felt a pang of sadness for Talon's predicament. In a world where work was all or nothing, the burden of caring for a loved one must be immense.

"I understand," Fang finally said, his voice soft. "Family comes first. Always."

A glimmer of an idea sparked in Fang's eyes. He leaned forward, his voice a low rumble that commanded attention. "What if I let you move in here?" he proposed, his gaze unwavering.

Talon's beak dropped, his eyes wide with disbelief. Even Rex, usually unflappable, looked surprised.

"You could live upstairs," Fang continued, his voice gaining momentum. "Your sister would be right there, and you could be close by to care for her. I need someone with your skills here during the daytime, someone to help with security and... other matters."

Talon sputtered, his feathers ruffling in agitation. "Mr. Fang, that's... too generous. I couldn't possibly accept."

Fang swirled his drink, a thoughtful expression on his face. "This would be a full-time arrangement, Talon," he clarified. "A steady income, a safe place to live, and access to the best medical care for your sister. But you must also remember," his voice hardened, "the skills you displayed in the pit... those are what I'm truly after."

Talon instinctively flexed his talons, their sharp points glinting in the dim light.

"Think about it, Talon," Fang urged, his voice a mix of command and invitation. "It's an opportunity you won't find anywhere else."

Fang raised his glass in a toast. "Take a few hours, drinks are on the house," he said with a final nod.

Rex stood up, a predatory grin on his face. He clapped Talon on the shoulder, a gesture that seemed both friendly and slightly menacing. "Come on, birdy," he growled playfully. "Let's see if you can handle your liquor."

They left the booth, Rex's laugh echoing through the dimly lit barroom.

Kev turned to Fang, his eyes filled with admiration. "That was very generous of you, Fang," he said softly. "Offering Talon a job, a place to live... It was really kind."

Fang pulled Kev closer, his arm tightening around his shoulders. "That eagle is a gem, Kev," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "Fierce, incredibly skilled, and surprisingly aware. Even I would have a hard time handling that bird in a fight."

Kev chuckled, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "That's impressive," he admitted. "He's not that much bigger than me."

Fang's grin widened. "Don't let his size fool you, Kev," he warned. "I can tell that bird's been in more fights than you can count. I bet he's a hell of a lot of fun when he loosens up." He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "And mark my words, he'll be back. That offer was too good to refuse."

Kev glanced at his watch, the silver hands indicating it was nearing midnight. He was about to ask Fang if he'd like to escort him upstairs when he noticed a familiar figure approaching their booth. It was Barry, the bear bouncer, his usually imposing frame slightly hunched, bandages peeking out from beneath his shirt.

Barry exchanged a few hushed words with Twitch and Skippy, who, after a moment of hesitation, stepped aside to let him pass. A tense silence fell over the VIP section as Barry approached the table, his gaze fixed on the floor.

"I'm sorry, boss," he mumbled, his voice barely audible above the din of the club. "Thank you for letting me stay on... in perimeter duty."

Fang remained silent, his expression unreadable. Kev, feeling a surge of empathy for the bear man, spoke up. "I don't blame you for anything, Barry," he said, his voice gentle. "It wasn't your fault."

Fang's head snapped up, his eyes locking with Kev's. "Quiet, Kev," he growled, his voice laced with a warning. He turned his attention back to Barry, his gaze cold and unforgiving.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the booth.

Barry reluctantly raised his head, his eyes meeting Fang's with a mixture of shame and defiance.

"If you ever fuck up like that again," Fang continued, his voice a chilling whisper, "you'll be gone. Do you understand?"

Barry swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. "Yes, sir," he replied, his voice barely a croak.

Without another word, he turned and quickly left, disappearing into the crowd.

Kev watched Barry's retreating figure, a wave of sympathy washing over him. He turned to Fang, his brow furrowed in concern. "That was a bit harsh, don't you think?" he ventured, his voice soft but firm. "It was a mistake. No, it wasn't even a mistake. He was doing his job, stopping a fight."

Fang's jaw clenched, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "He was the one in charge of the room, Kev," he retorted, his voice a low growl. "It happened on his watch. Should I punish Rex instead, for hiring Barry in the first place?"

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Barry still has a job," he continued, his tone softening slightly. "His pay wasn't cut. But I… I don't want to see him around, not for a while. It'll just remind me that I… wasn't able to protect you."

His gaze met Kev's, a vulnerability flickering in his amber eyes. "I failed you, Kev," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "And that's something I can't forgive myself for."

Kev, feeling a surge of warmth towards the remorseful wolfman, leaned into Fang and whispered, "It's getting late. Would you like to walk me to my room, big guy?"

Fang's expression softened, a tender smile gracing his lips. "Of course, Kev," he replied, his voice a low rumble. He rose from the booth, his hand gently guiding Kev through the thinning crowd.

As they reached the second floor apartment, Kev paused, turning to face Fang. "Would you keep me company while I have a smoke before bed?" he asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Fang hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering back towards the stairs leading down to the club. Then, he nodded. "Alright," he agreed, stepping into Kev's apartment.

Kev's smile widened as he closed the door behind them. He poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the counter and offered it to Fang. "Want some?" he asked.

Fang shook his head. "No, thank you," he replied, his gaze sweeping across the neatly arranged room. "You've done a wonderful job with this place, Kev. Cindy informed me that you've taken on the cleaning yourself."

Kev blushed slightly, pleased by the compliment. He lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply as he settled onto the couch. 

"You know," Fang said, breaking the comfortable silence, "we should take you out to get some paintings or something. Liven up these walls a bit."

"That would be nice," Kev agreed, exhaling a plume of smoke. "But what I'd really like is a radio, or... what do you call it? A crank phonograph." He snapped his fingers, trying to recall the term. "Do they even have albums here?"

Fang chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through the room. "A crank phonograph?" he echoed, a puzzled expression on his face. "I haven't heard of that one before. But I can ask around, see if anyone knows where to find one."

Fang sat down on the couch and moved the ash-tray closer to Kev. "Did you have a good night?"

Kev's smile softened, his eyes meeting Fang's with a warmth that spoke volumes. "There's only one thing that would make it better," he replied, echoing Fang's own words from their encounter in the car just days ago, their first kiss.

Fang's tail wagged excitedly, a blush warming his cheeks. He remembered that moment vividly, the stolen kisses, the unspoken desires, the promise of something more, of something soon. He scooted closer to Kev on the couch, their bodies brushing against each other.

Their lips met in a passionate embrace, the pent-up longing of the past few days igniting into a fiery passion. Kev's hands found their way to Fang's fur, his fingers tangling in the soft strands, while Fang's strong arms pulled Kev closer, their bodies molding together on the couch. The world outside the apartment faded away, replaced by the intoxicating rhythm of their shared breaths and the warmth of their entwined bodies.

Kev, emboldened by the intimacy of the moment, whispered against Fang's lips, "You can stay the night, if you want."

Fang's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with a mix of desire and amusement. "Maybe I won't stay the whole night," he purred, his voice a low rumble, "but I can certainly spend a little time up here."

Kev's heart fluttered with excitement. "Go lay down on the bed, big guy," he said, his voice husky with anticipation. "I just need to use the bathroom real quick."

Fang leaned in for another kiss, his lips lingering on Kev's. "Alright," he murmured, his voice a soft growl. "But don't keep me waiting too long."

They both stood up, their bodies still pressed close together. Fang, his tail wagging excitedly, disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Kev to quickly freshen up in the bathroom.

Kev splashed cold water on his face, his reflection in the mirror a flushed, eager image. He couldn't believe this was happening. He was about to be intimate with Fang, the powerful, enigmatic wolfman who had captured his heart. A mix of nerves and exhilaration coursed through him, making his hands tremble slightly. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the unknown, then stepped out of the bathroom and towards the bedroom, ready to embrace the night and all its possibilities.

As Kev entered the bedroom, a soft smile played on his lips. Fang lay sprawled across the bed, his massive form taking up most of the space. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, punctuated by soft snores that echoed through the quiet room. The sight of the usually stoic wolfman, so vulnerable and unguarded in sleep, filled Kev with a warmth he couldn't quite explain.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. The wolfman had clearly been more exhausted than he'd let on. Kev quietly removed his shoes and belt, then carefully climbed into bed beside Fang. The wolfman's fur was surprisingly soft against his skin, a comforting warmth radiating from his body.

Kev snuggled closer, his head resting on Fang's broad chest. He inhaled deeply, the scent of sandalwood and musk a heady mix that filled his senses. A sense of peace settled over him, a feeling of belonging he hadn't experienced in a long time.

Maybe this wasn't what he expected, not the passionate encounter he had been hoping for… but it was nice. He wasn't feeling like a lost lonely human in the wrong world or a weak defenseless creature surrounded by predators. Just like that very first night, Fang put Kev's mind at ease, silencing his doubts and fears. 

With a contented sigh, Kev closed his eyes, the warmth of Fang's body a soothing balm to his weary soul. Maybe he didn't want this to be some strange coma dream. Sleep claimed him quickly, his dreams filled with images of moonlight, laughter, and the promise of a future filled with unexpected joy.

Chapter Text

Kev woke with the first light of dawn, his senses still hazy from sleep. Beside him, Fang still lay sprawled across the bed, his deep breaths echoing through the quiet room. The wolf-man's fur was tousled, his features softened in slumber, a stark contrast to the commanding presence he exuded while awake. Kev smiled softly, a warmth spreading through him as he gazed at the sleeping giant.

Careful not to disturb Fang, Kev quietly slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the window. He drew the curtains shut, blocking out the intrusive sunlight that threatened to disrupt Fang's much-needed rest. He then selected a fresh outfit from his mismatched day clothes, a shirt that was a bit too big and pants with a tail hole cut in them.

With a final glance at the sleeping wolfman, Kev closed the bedroom door softly and retreated to the bathroom. The hot shower invigorated him, washing away the last vestiges of sleep and leaving him feeling refreshed and ready to face the day.

Back in the kitchen, he expertly brewed a pot of coffee, the rich aroma filling the apartment with a comforting warmth. He poured himself a cup, added a spoon full of sugar, and settled onto the couch with 'A Brief History of Dala'bon', the book Horns had brought him.

As he sipped his coffee and delved into the pages of the book, a sense of peace settled over him. The quiet solitude of the morning, the warmth of the coffee, the gentle hum of the mansion coming to life downstairs - it all felt strangely familiar, a comforting routine in this unfamiliar world. However, this morning, unlike the previous ones, Kev felt content, just sleeping next to Fang the night before saved him from the relentless doubts and nightmares that dogged his mind.

A sharp rap on the door startled Kev from his peaceful reading. He set his coffee down and went to answer it, finding Horns on the other side, a look of panic etched on his face.

"Kev!" Horns yelled, his voice emanating panic. "Fang's missing!"

Kev's heart skipped a beat. "Be quiet," he urged, his voice a loud wisper. "He's sleeping."

Horns's eyes widened in disbelief. "What? What do you mean he's sleeping?"

Kev pointed towards the closed bedroom door. "He's in there," he explained, his voice still low. "He came up here last night and crashed on my bed."

Horns's jaw dropped, a mixture of shock and relief washing over him. He stumbled into the apartment and collapsed onto the couch, his massive frame sinking into the cushions with a sigh. "We thought he'd lost it," he confessed, lighting a joint with trembling hands. "We thought he'd gone out to find Bryan and... well, you know."

Kev sat down beside him, a wave of concern washing over him. "Isn't this a good thing?" he asked, his voice tentative. "I mean, he finally got some sleep."

Horns nodded, taking a long drag from his joint. "It is," he agreed, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I need to let the others know, tell them to stop looking for him." He paused, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "But this... this is unprecedented. Fang rarely even sleeps in his own bed, let alone someone else's."

"Well, technically it is his bed," Kev pointed out with a playful grin. "This is his house, remember?"

Horns chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't be a smartass, Kev," he retorted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You know what I mean." He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "So, was the old wolf... fun?"

Kev's cheeks flushed a deep crimson. It took him a moment to process the question, his mind still in a state of contentment from the previous night. "What?" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Horns's grin widened. "You know what I mean," he repeated, nudging Kev playfully with his elbow.

Kev, flustered, shook his head. "Nothing happened," he insisted, his voice a bit too high-pitched. "He was just... tired."

Horns raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Sure, sure," he said, his tone teasing. "Lucky dog."

Kev, eager to change the subject, cleared his throat. "Really, nothing happened." looking around for anything else to talk about kev continued, "do you want a bagel or something? You bought them anyways, sounds like you've been running around a lot this morning."

Horns's grin softened. "If getting you bagels will make Fang start sleeping, I'll buy them every day," he declared, his voice filled with genuine affection for his boss.

Horns, his wolf-hunting mission accomplished, rose from the couch with a satisfied sigh. "Well, I'd better go spread the good news," he announced, a wide grin on his face. "The staff will be relieved to know the boss isn't on the warpath."

He paused at the door, turning back to Kev with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And I'll be sure to let them know that you two were fully clothed and both remain pure," he added, his voice laced with playful teasing.

Kev's cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and amusement warming his face. "Horns!" he protested, but the mooseman was already out the door, his laughter echoing down the hallway.

Kev shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. He couldn't help but appreciate Horns' lighthearted approach to the situation. It was a welcome reminder that even in the midst of chaos and uncertainty, there was still room for laughter and joy.

Kev finished the last of his coffee, the warmth of the mug lingering in his hands. Not wanting to disturb Fang's much-needed sleep, he carefully gathered his guitar and headed downstairs and outside. The afternoon sun cast a shimmering glow on the pool, its inviting waters a tempting distraction. He settled onto his usual bench, the large oak tree shading him from the morning sun.

He lit a joint, the familiar scent of the herb mingling with the fragrance of blooming flowers. As he inhaled, a sense of calm washed over him, easing the lingering tension from the previous night's events. He strummed a few chords on his guitar, the mellow sound blending with the peaceful ambiance of the garden.

Lost in the music, Kev practiced a few familiar songs, his fingers dancing across the strings with a practiced ease. The melodies echoed through the quiet backyard, a soothing counterpoint to the bustling city beyond the mansion walls.

As Kev finished one of his songs, a soft clap echoed through the garden. He looked up, startled, to find one of the cleaners, a gentle looking anteater, standing a few feet away, a gentle smile on their face.

"That was lovely," the cleaner said, their voice a soft murmur, before returning to their gardening duties.

Kev blushed, a shy smile spreading across his face. "Thank you," he replied, a bit embarrassed. He hadn't even noticed the cleaner's presence; they moved with such quiet efficiency, blending seamlessly into the background.

Fang's words from the previous night came back to him: "The walls may not have ears, but the cleaners do." It seemed the head of housekeeping's network of informants extended even outside of the club's walls.

Kev cleared his throat, his fingers returning to the guitar strings. He began to play another piece, a more upbeat melody that echoed the newfound confidence he was starting to feel in this strange new world.

As he played, he caught another movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up to see Reepia, the head chef, striding purposefully towards him. She had a scowl on her face and a steady stream of smoke puffed behind her.

She had seemed so upset after the meeting last night, storming away before the final decision was even made. Kev braced himself, expecting a torrent of angry words and perhaps even a brandished kitchen knife. But instead, Reepia held out a steaming mug of coffee and ground her teeth.

"I thought you were still mad at me," Kev said, cautiously accepting the offered beverage.

Reepia took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I am," she spat, her voice gruff. "You're a fool, human. But… Horns told me Fang is asleep."

Kev took a grateful sip of the coffee, its warmth spreading through him. "He's had a stressful few days," Kev offered in Fang's defense. "It's not surprising he needed some extra rest."

Reepia scoffed, smoke curling from her nostrils. "He's had a few stressful lifetimes, boy," she retorted. "That doesn't mean he ever rests." She rose to her feet, her gaze lingering on Kev for a moment. "Leave the cup at the bar when you're done," she instructed. "And if you're drugging the wolf to slow him down, just don't overdo it."

With a final, cryptic grin (or just showing her sharp teeth again), Reepia turned and headed back to the kitchen, leaving Kev to ponder her words.

Feeling a mix of confusion and amusement at Reepia's parting words, Kev finished his coffee and headed back inside the mansion. He deposited the empty cup on the bar, his eyes scanning the dimly lit space. To his surprise, he spotted Asmodeus behind the counter, his colorful feathers a vibrant splash amidst the muted tones of the bar.

The toucan-man, his blue-hands expertly maneuvering a cocktail shaker, glanced up and spotted Kev and his guitar case. A wide smile spread across his beak. "Welcome, my friend!" he exclaimed, his voice a melodic trill that echoed through the barroom. "And you said you were not a true musician! Trying to fool me, plebeians don't carry their instruments around with them."

Kev slid onto a barstool, placing the guitar case carefully on the counter. "I'm just a hobbyist," he said, running a hand over the polished wood. "But this has been so great, thank you, Asmodeus."

Asmodeus took a sip of his own concoction, his beak clacking in satisfaction. "Don't be shy, my dear," he urged, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. "Let me hear it sing."

Kev, feeling a surge of confidence, lifted the guitar from its case and settled it comfortably on his lap. He took a deep breath, his fingers finding their familiar places on the strings. The memory of the cleaner's appreciative clap echoed in his mind, a small but significant boost to his self-assurance.

With a resolute strum, he launched into the tune that had earned him that unexpected praise. This piece, unlike the melancholic ballad he'd shared with Asmodeus earlier, was more upbeat, its rhythm driven by a steady strumming pattern rather than intricate fingerpicking. The chord changes were more frequent, demanding a certain level of dexterity and coordination. The song, however, remained captivating, its journey through a major key, a minor chorus, and a dissonant bridge before returning to the triumphant resolution of the major key, telling a story of emotional complexity and resilience.

Kev played with a newfound confidence, his fingers moving effortlessly across the fretboard. He'd shed the initial nervousness that had plagued him during his first performance for Asmodeus, replaced by a sense of ownership and pride in his creation.

Asmodeus's head bobbed in time with the music, his beak clicking in approval. "This one is good, very good," he declared, his voice a melodic trill.

Without warning, he snatched the guitar from Kev's hands, his movements swift and precise. He settled the instrument on his lap, his long, nimble fingers dancing across the strings. Instead of strumming, he employed a combination of plucking and hammering, adding intricate melodies and harmonies to Kev's already complex chord changes. The song transformed under his touch, the raw emotion of Kev's original composition now interwoven with a vibrant, almost orchestral tapestry of sound. A bass line, counter -point, harmonies, all blossomed from his skilled fingers.

Kev watched in awe, his jaw agape. The song, once a solitary expression of his own feelings, had been elevated to a whole new level, a testament to Asmodeus's extraordinary talent and boundless creativity. It felt as if it was not even his song, the masterful interpretation flowing around him filled him with both awe and self-consciousness.

But, as Asmodeus reached the dissonant bridge, his fingers stumbled, the melody faltering for a brief, jarring moment. A frustrated squawk escaped his beak, and he abruptly dropped the guitar onto the counter, its strings vibrating in protest.

"Again!" he shouted, his voice a mix of frustration and determination. "Play the bridge!"

Kev, caught off guard by Asmodeus's outburst, quickly retrieved the guitar and began playing the minor chorus, leading into the challenging dissonant bridge. He played slowly, deliberately, each note ringing clear and true. He exaggerated the dissonance, emphasizing the contrast between the melancholic chorus and the jarring, almost chaotic bridge.

Before Kev could finish the song, Asmodeus's voice cut through the air. "Enough!" he exclaimed, his tone sharp. "Give it here."

Asmodeus snatched the guitar back, his movements a blur of feathers and flashing fingers. He expertly positioned the instrument, his long beak hovering close to the strings as he meticulously replicated the notes Kev had just played.

Kev watched in awe, his earlier embarrassment replaced by a sense of wonder. The toucan's memory was uncanny. He hadn't missed a single note, a single nuance of Kev's performance. It dawned on Kev that Asmodeus hadn't been improvising earlier; he'd been carefully analyzing the song, mapping out its structure and harmonies in his mind.

With renewed confidence, Asmodeus launched into the bridge, his fingers dancing across the fretboard with breathtaking speed and precision. The dissonant chords, once a stumbling block, now flowed seamlessly, their jarring edges smoothed into a hauntingly beautiful melody. He finished the piece with a flourish, a final strum that resonated through the barroom, leaving a lingering echo in the air.

Chapter Text

Kev, unable to contain his admiration, burst into applause. "That was incredible, Asmodeus!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. "You're a true maestro."

Asmodeus, his feathers ruffled in a mix of satisfaction and frustration, muttered under his breath, "Child's instrument."

He turned to Kev, his gaze intense. "Kev," he demanded, his voice a melodic trill, "what is going on with that song? Explain."

Kev, a bit taken aback by Asmodeus's sudden intensity, cleared his throat. "It's a song about a mythical creature called a siren," he explained, his voice soft. "It's... a bit sad. Her wings were cut off, and she had to settle for someone she didn't love. But despite her circumstances, she stays positive and sings."

Asmodeus nodded slowly, his beak clicking thoughtfully. "I understand now," he said, a flicker of empathy in his eyes. "The dissonance, the melancholic undertones... it all makes sense."

Asmodeus's expression turned thoughtful. "It will take my band a while to learn this one," he mused, tapping his beak with a long, elegant finger. "The rhythm is... unconventional, and the chord progressions are quite… unique."

He drained his drink in one swift motion. "I must write it down," he declared, rising from his seat with a flourish. "Capture its essence before it fades from my memory."

He turned to Kev, a grateful smile on his face. "Thank you for sharing your music with me, Kev," he said, his voice a melodic trill. "It has been an inspiration."

With a final bow, Asmodeus gathered his belongings and left the bar, leaving Kev to ponder the unexpected turn of events.

Kev, feeling a surge of creative energy after his encounter with Asmodeus, decided to head back to his apartment to jot down some new song ideas. As he made his way towards the staircase, a familiar figure stepped out from the shadows, blocking his path. It was Max, the foxman cleaner, his bushy tail twitching nervously.

"Kev," Max said, his foxy face filled with amusement, "Cindy's asked for you again."

Kev raised an eyebrow, a curious smile playing on his lips. "Again?" he echoed. "What does she need this time?"

"Didn't say," Max replied with a shrug. "Just told me to find you and bring you to her office."

Kev hesitated for a moment, then nodded. He had nothing else to do, and besides, he genuinely enjoyed Cindy's company. "Lead the way, Max," he said, following the foxman deeper into the labyrinthine corridors of the mansion.

As they walked, Max couldn't resist a playful jab. "You've been here for a few days now," he remarked, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Shouldn't you have learned the layout of this place by now?"

Kev chuckled sheepishly. "Honestly, I feel a bit awkward poking around," he admitted. "My job is a bit... unorthodox, if you want to call it that, and I don't want to get in anyone's way."

Max nodded, his bushy tail swishing playfully. "Well, you're getting in my way right now, having to show you the way," he retorted with a lighthearted chuckle.

He pointed towards a discreet door tucked away on the side of the grand staircase. "That's a staircase leading downstairs," he explained. "Can you find your way from there?"

Kev nodded. "Thanks, Max," he said with a grateful smile. "If anyone yells at me for going into a random room, I'll tell them you approved it."

Max laughed, a warm, inviting sound that echoed through the hallway. "The day crew won't bother you, Kev," he assured him. "Unless you try to wander off the grounds, of course." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "Oh, and the loading dock is off-limits too. That's Lanon's territory."

Kev opened his mouth to inquire further about the loading dock, but Max had already disappeared down a side corridor, leaving Kev to his own devices.

With a shrug, Kev turned and descended the hidden staircase, his footsteps echoing in the dimly lit basement. He navigated the maze of shelves and storage areas, his eyes caught by the glimpses of the club's inner workings.

He passed by cleaners sorting linens, polishing silverware, and restocking supplies. The air hummed with quiet activity, a stark contrast to the raucous energy that would soon fill the mansion's upper levels. They just nodded at him as if they were long time acquaintances that had little to say because they had known each other for so long, slightly unsettling but Kev knew he was easy to pick out from the crowd here. 

As he ventured deeper into the basement, he stumbled upon the lower level of the fighting pit, now eerily silent and bathed in the flickering glow of overhead lights. A team of cleaners was diligently working to remove the bloodstained sand, their shovels and rakes scraping against the floor with a rhythmic monotony. The sight sent a shiver down Kev's spine, a reminder of the brutal reality that coexisted with the club's glamorous facade.

Shaking off the unsettling image, Kev continued his journey, following the dimly lit corridor until he reached Cindy's office. The cheerful pink door, a beacon of warmth in the otherwise drab basement, stood slightly ajar, inviting him in.

Kev gently knocked on the door as he pushed it open. "Cindy?" he called out softly.

The head of housekeeping, her back to him, was carefully lifting a kettle from the small woodstove in the corner. "Welcome, Kev," she said, her voice a gentle melody in the quiet office. "Tea will be ready in a minute. Please, sit."

Kev settled into a chair across from her, placing his guitar case on the floor beside him. The familiar scent of lavender and chamomile filled the air, a calming contrast to the lingering smell of smoke and sweat and… other things from the club above.

Cindy turned, two steaming cups of tea in her hands. She placed one in front of Kev and sat down, her posture relaxed and inviting. "You had some wonderful words during the meeting last night," she said, a warm smile gracing her lips. "I wish more people would learn to speak instead of using their claws."

Kev took a sip of the tea, its warmth spreading through him. "Thank you," he replied, a shy smile playing on his lips. "I just said what I felt was right."

Cindy's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Rumor also has it that you're quite the musician," she continued, her gaze shifting to the guitar case. "It would absolutely tickle me if you'd play a tune for an old deer like myself."

"It would be my pleasure, Cindy," Kev replied, his smile widening. He carefully lifted his guitar from its case, the polished wood gleaming in the soft light of the office.

As he settled the guitar onto his lap he couldn't help but ask, "Do you ever ask Asmodeus to play for you? He's incredibly talented."

Cindy chuckled, a soft, melodic sound. "Oh, the toucan is a touch too flamboyant for my taste," she admitted, shaking her head. "Besides, he gives the cleaners a rough time. Leaves his dressing room a complete mess after every performance."

She sighed, a hint of exasperation on her tongue. "Feathers everywhere, sheet music scattered about, and don't even get me started on the state of his teacups. We don't even give him the good sets anymore."

Kev's fingers hovered over the strings, a moment of contemplation passing over his face. He realized that the cleaner who had complimented his playing earlier, the anteater in the backyard, must have already told Cindy about his guitar playing. A warmth spread through him at the thought of his music being appreciated in this strange new world.

With a deep breath, he began to strum the familiar chords of the upbeat tune he'd played for Asmodeus the night before. The melody filled the small office, its cheerful rhythm a stark contrast to the usual quietude of the space. Cindy closed her eyes, a serene smile gracing her lips as she swayed gently to the music.

When Kev reached the final chord, a silence hung in the air for a moment. Then, Cindy opened her eyes and offered a soft clap, her expression filled with genuine appreciation.

"Thank you, Kev," Cindy said, her voice soft and sincere. "I don't get to hear live music much, and that was a lovely song."

Kev smiled with a touch of irony. "They play music up in the club every night," he pointed out.

Cindy shook her head gently. "My place is down here," she reminded him. "This house was built well. I can't hear the music unless I go all the way up to the first floor." She took another sip of her tea, a contemplative look in her eyes. "It really is such a treat to hear some music down here. And now I'm sure, on my day off," she announced, "I've decided to go to the opera."

Kev carefully placed his guitar back in its case, a sense of satisfaction lingering from his impromptu performance. He rejoined Cindy at the table, taking another sip of his tea. The warmth of the beverage and the quiet intimacy of the office created a comforting atmosphere, a welcome respite from the club's usual chaos.

Cindy, her gaze fixed on Kev, broke the silence with a directness that caught him off guard. "So," she began, her voice a gentle murmur, "I've heard you and Fang are... lovers now. Congratulations."

Kev sputtered, a mouthful of tea spraying across the table. "I-I'm so sorry!" he stammered, his face flushing a deep crimson.

Cindy's laughter filled the small office, a warm, melodic sound that eased Kev's embarrassment. She reached across the table and handed him a napkin. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about, dear," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "It's wonderful news, actually."

Kev dabbed at the spilled tea, his cheeks still burning. "I... I like him," he admitted, his voice just above a whisper. "And he seems to like me too, but... he was just… tired last night."

Cindy's smile softened, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes. "He needs someone to take care of him, Kev," she said, her voice gentle. "He has for a long time. I've known him since he was just a pup, and in many ways, he's still that same boy I remember. Headstrong, stubborn, but his heart is in the right place."

She reached across the table, her hand gently resting on Kev's. "Please, take care of him," she urged, her voice filled with a motherly warmth. "He deserves to be happy."

Kev's heart swelled with a mixture of affection and determination. "He's been so good to me, Cindy," he replied, his voice sincere. "But I've only known him for a few days. So, please, don't start planning the wedding just yet." He laughed nervously, trying to lighten the mood.

Cindy chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "You're welcome to stay and finish your tea, Kev," she said, rising from her chair. "But I need to get going. Inspections before I head home, you know."

She paused at the door, a warm smile on her face. "I hope we can make a habit of visiting in the mornings," she added. "It would be lovely to hear a song or two before I head home to sleep."

Kev returned her smile. "I'll try my best, Cindy," he promised.

With a final wave, Cindy left her office, her footsteps fading into the background noise of the bustling basement.

Kev finished his tea and left the delicate cup on the small table. He grabbed his guitar and made his way back upstairs, his mind buzzing with thoughts of Fang, Cindy's words, and the unexpected intimacy of the past few days.

As he entered his apartment, a sense of peace washed over him. It was a sanctuary, a place where he could be himself, away from the prying eyes and judgmental whispers of the club's patrons. He closed the door behind him, a smile playing on his lips. He was starting to feel at home in this strange new world, and he couldn't wait to see what the future held.

Kev quietly peeked into his bedroom, careful not to disturb Fang. The wolfman was still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. A sense of tenderness washed over Kev as he watched Fang sleep, his features softened and vulnerable in the daylight. He couldn't help but smile.

Tiptoeing back to the kitchen, Kev grabbed a bagel, needing something to eat after his coffees and tea. With a final glance back at his closed bedroom door, Kev slipped out of the apartment. He didn't want to risk waking Fang, not when the wolfman so desperately needed rest.

Kev wandered down the hallway, bagel in hand, his curiosity leading him deeper into the mansion's labyrinthine interior. He passed by closed doors, each one a mystery waiting to be unveiled. The silence of the mansion, broken only by the occasional creak of floorboards or the distant thud of a door being closed somewhere, amplified his sense of isolation. He longed for companionship, for someone to share this journey with.

He found a quiet corner near the window overlooking the front courtyard and settled down to enjoy his breakfast. The warm bagel provided a much-needed energy boost, fueling his desire to explore further. As he ate, his gaze drifted across the manicured lawns and the empty driveway, his mind filled with questions about this strange new world and his place in it.

The tranquility of the morning lulled Kev into a light doze, the warmth of the sun and the gentle breeze lulling him into a peaceful slumber. He awoke with a start, the sound of a delivery truck giving a quick honk pulling him from his nap. Checking his watch, he realized it was already nearing two.

Stretching his limbs, Kev headed downstairs to the bar, his stomach rumbling with hunger. The club was still relatively quiet, the afternoon light casting short shadows across the empty dance floor. He made his way to the kitchen, hoping to find something else to eat. A few cleaners were bustling about, their movements efficient and silent, but the cooks were nowhere to be seen. Kev grabbed an orange from a bowl on the counter and retreated back outside.

He settled, once again, onto his favorite bench by the pool, peeling the orange and savoring its sweet, tangy flavor. The afternoon sun beat down on him, the heat intensifying with each passing minute. He glanced longingly at the shimmering pool, its cool waters a tempting oasis in the sweltering heat.

"I should ask Horns about a swimsuit," he thought to himself, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

He finished his orange and wandered back inside. He did not want to go back to his room and potentially wake Fang before it was time for work, however, he didn't know what else to do other than wander aimlessly.. He missed the wolfman's presence, the warmth of his touch, the reassuring rumble of his voice. He hoped Fang was getting the rest he so desperately needed.

Kev's exploration led him down a winding corridor, past a series of doors, each one hinting at the mansion's hidden depths. A dining room, a drawing room, a smoking room, a conservatory, even a room with a large wall mirror and a balancing pole. Finally, he stumbled upon an open doorway that revealed a sight that made his heart skip a beat.

Chapter Text

The room was a game enthusiast's paradise, its walls painted a deep, hunter green and adorned with vintage sporting memorabilia. Two pristine pool tables, their felt a vibrant green, occupied the center of the space, their polished surfaces reflecting the warm glow of the chandeliers hanging overhead. A dartboard, its target worn but still inviting, hung on one wall, while a full-sized shuffleboard table, its polished wood gleaming in the dim light, stretched along another. Two grand fireplaces, one at each end of the room, filled with wood, awaiting the night's activities, creating an atmosphere of cozy intimacy despite the room's spaciousness. Comfortable looking leather armchairs and a well-stocked bar completed the scene, offering a perfect setting for a night of friendly competition and camaraderie.

Kev, unable to resist the temptation, grabbed a cue and began practicing his shots on one of the pool tables. He was a bit rusty, his aim a little off and his technique a bit sloppy, but the familiar feel of the cue in his hand and the satisfying click of the balls colliding brought a smile to his face. He spent a good hour honing his skills, his competitive spirit slowly reawakening.

He then moved on to the dartboard, his throws erratic at first but gradually improving with each attempt. He even tried his hand at shuffleboard, the smooth glide of the pucks across the polished wood a surprisingly satisfying sensation.

As the afternoon wore on, Kev glanced at his watch. It was already four o'clock. He realized it was time to wake Fang.

With a final, lingering look at the inviting game room, Kev headed back to his apartment, it was time.

Back in his apartment Kev pushed open his bedroom door, his voice soft but insistent. "Fang, wake up."

Fang's eyes snapped open, his body jolting upright with a startled gasp. "Shit!" he exclaimed, his voice a panicked growl. "What time is it? I'm going to miss closing!"

Kev chuckled, a reassuring hand resting on Fang's arm. "Relax, big guy," he said, his voice soothing. "The club closed down just fine. It's time to wake up and get ready for opening. It's four in the afternoon. You've got plenty of time to shower and change."

Fang groaned, sinking back into the pillows. "My head hurts," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "It's four? I usually wake up at five."

Kev chuckled softly, handing him a glass of water from the nightstand. "You also usually go to bed at eleven in the morning," he reminded him gently. "You needed the sleep, Fang."

Fang took a long sip of water, his eyes still heavy-lidded. "I need to go check with the staff, see what I missed," he said, his voice laced with a hint of anxiety.

"Most of them won't be in for another hour at least," Kev assured him. "Just relax for a bit. You deserve it."

Nodding, Fang laid back down and said, "maybe just until my usual time…"

Kev, relieved to see Fang finally listening to his own exhausted body, quietly left the bedroom and returned to the living room. He picked up his book, settling back onto the couch with a contented sigh. The quiet of the apartment, broken only by the soft sounds of Fang's breathing, was a welcome respite from the usual hustle and bustle of the club.

Time slipped away unnoticed as Kev struggled to get into the book. He occasionally glanced at his watch, the silver hands ticking steadily towards the appointed hour. Finally, at five o'clock sharp, he reluctantly closed the book and headed back to the bedroom.

Fang was still asleep, his breathing deep and even. Kev gently shook his shoulder, his voice soft but insistent. "Fang," he whispered, "it's five, time to get ready."

Fang's eyes fluttered open, blinking against the sudden intrusion of light. He groaned, his head pounding with a dull ache. Kev, ever attentive, was already at his side, a glass of water in hand.

"Here," Kev offered softly, his voice laced with concern. "Drink this."

Fang gratefully accepted the glass, gulping down the cool water in one swift motion. He lay back against the pillows, his eyes closing briefly. "Thanks," he mumbled, his voice raspy with sleep.

"It's time for work, Fang," Kev reminded him gently. "I know you must be hungry too."

Fang pushed himself up onto his elbows, his movements sluggish. "Just... give me a moment," he pleaded, his voice thick with exhaustion.

Kev, understanding the wolfman's need for a few more minutes of rest, walked over to the window and pulled open the curtains. The afternoon sun bathed the room in a warm, golden light, casting long shadows across the floor. He selected a crisp suit, dark blue with a black shirt and pants, another of Marybell's masterpieces. 

"I'm going to get dressed," he announced, turning back to Fang with a smile. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Fang's cheek. "Come grab me when you're ready."

Kev spent some time in the bathroom, showering and styling his hair. He wished he could shave, his stubble peaking though from his week working at the club, but he didn't have a razor. Just another thing he needed to ask about. He changed into a well-fitting suit and stepped out into his kitchen. .

He waited on the couch, flipping through the book in the diming light. A knock interrupted his thoughts. It was Horns.

"Morning, Kev!" Horns boomed, stepping into the apartment with a wide grin. "Brought you a little something." He placed a frothy milkshake on the kitchen counter, its scent a tantalizing mix of chocolate and vanilla.

Horns settled onto the couch, his large frame dwarfing the furniture. "When did Fang get up?" he asked, curiosity twinkling in his eyes.

Kev glanced at his watch. "About twenty minutes ago," he replied, taking a sip of the delicious shake.

"You've got to be shitting me," Horns exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Did he panic when he woke up?"

"Only a little," Kev admitted. 

Horns grinned. "That's good," he said, leaning back with a contented sigh. "So, you two got any big plans for tonight?"

Kev shrugged. "You know I'm fine with Fang calling the shots," he replied, a hint of anticipation in his voice.

"Yeah," Horns said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "So, how was the fight last night? Sounds like it was quite the show."

Kev's face lit up. "Berry was amazing," he exclaimed. "And there was this eagleman, Talon. He was incredible too… but he was a bit… enthusiastic."

"Talon, huh?" Horns mused, a thoughtful look on his face. "Must be pretty skilled to take down Ox… Birds don't got the same heft as big mammals." Horns emphasized his point by stretching his arms wide, making the couch he was on look small. 

Kev nodded. "Fang even offered him a job at the club," he revealed, taking another sip of his milkshake.

Horns's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "He did what?!" he exclaimed, his voice booming through the apartment. "That wolf needs to include me in those kinds of decisions! I'm the Chief of Staff, for crying out loud!"

Horns huffed, settling back onto the couch with a resigned sigh. "I guess he hasn't had much of a chance to rope me in, seeing as he slept for nearly seventeen hours straight."

Kev chuckled. "I think he's probably a bit frazzled from sleeping so long," he observed. "Maybe just remind him when you see him tonight, jog his memory a bit."

"Will do," Horns replied with a grin. "I'll come find you when he's got some food in him. He's always a bit more agreeable after a good meal." He paused, a thoughtful look on his face. "And maybe a bit less... bitey."

Horns groaned as he stood, "well, I'll see you down there. Later." With a final wave, Horns headed out the door, leaving Kev to enjoy the rest of his milkshake in peace.

Ten minutes later, a knock echoed through the apartment. Kev opened the door to find Fang standing on the threshold, a sheepish expression on his face. Fang looked refreshed, wearing a bright orange suit. His fur was combed back and everything about the wolf looked suave and put together, kev would never guess that Fang had slept the entire day. 

"Sorry about last night, Kev," Fang mumbled, his voice a low rumble. "I didn't expect... that to happen… You could have woken me up, you know."

Kev smiled reassuringly. "You needed the sleep, Fang," he said.

Fang nodded, a grateful look in his eyes. "Still," he insisted, "I should have…." He paused, his stomach growling audibly. ".... I should eat."

He extended a hand towards Kev. "Come on," he said, a playful glint returning to his eyes. "Let's go see what Reepia has whipped up for us tonight."

Kev took Fang's hand, his heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and anticipation. Together, they descended the stairs to the bar, the familiar sounds of the club's awakening filling the air.

As they entered the dimly lit barroom, the familiar sounds of clinking glasses and lively chatter washed over them. The club was slowly coming alive, its patrons trickling in, eager to embrace the night's allure. Furry figures moved to and fro, claiming tables and spots at the bar.

Fang led Kev to their usual spot at the VIP table, where Skippy the kangaroo, and Twitch the ferret, the ever-vigilant bouncers, greeted them with respectful nods. Fang waved Dale over, a silent request for their customary drinks.

It was not long before Dale approached with a wide grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He placed a Bloody Mary in front of Fang and a Cape Cod before Kev, his movements practiced and efficient. He shot Kev a friendly wink before turning to Fang.

"How was your night, boss?" Dale inquired, his voice a playful drawl. "Managed to catch up on some much-needed sleep, I see."

Fang grumbled, taking a long sip of his drink. "Must have just been feeling off," he muttered, avoiding Dale's knowing gaze.

Dale chuckled, his laughter a deep rumble that echoed through the barroom. "I hope you weren't too rough on your new assistant," he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Fang growled playfully, his ears flattening against his head. "Get back to work, Dale," he retorted, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

Dale's grin widened. "Well, I'm glad to see Kev's still here," he observed, "so you must not have bitten him too hard." He turned to Kev, his expression softening. "Just teasing the old dog, son," he assured him. "Hope you have a wonderful evening."

With a final laugh, Dale returned to his post behind the bar, leaving Kev and Fang to enjoy their drinks in the relative quiet of the VIP section.

Rebecca, her feline grace undisturbed by the growing crowd, took their food order with a practiced smile. The once quiet bar room was already nearly full, the energy in the room building with each new arrival. Some well dressed customers were already milling around the dance floor, eagerly awaiting for Asmodeus to begin performing.

"Ah, the madness of the weekend begins," Fang remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Kev, still adjusting to the club's unique rhythm, raised an eyebrow. "How much busier do weekends get in a place where people work seven days a week?" he inquired, genuinely curious.

"Just a bit," Fang admitted, taking a sip of his Bloody Mary. "There are many shops and businesses that have different hours on weekends, so some people have a bit more free time to indulge. Plus," he added with a sly grin, "many of our clients aren't traditional workers. They're business owners, entrepreneurs, or people with family wealth. They have the luxury of leisure, even on weekdays."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the bustling barroom. "And in a city of five hundred million people, even the top one percent of the wealthy represents a very sizable number of potential customers."

"That's... a lot of people," Kev said, a hint of awe in his voice. He couldn't even begin to fathom the logistics of managing a city with such a massive population. No wonder there weren't enough jobs to go around.

Their food arrived, a steaming plate of steak and eggs for Fang and a colorful salad and steaming soup for Kev. Fang, true to form, devoured his meal in record time, barely pausing to savor the flavors. He finished with a satisfied sigh and gestured to Rebecca for a cup of coffee. His ability to keep any drips or crumbs from soiling his immaculate suits was still amazing.

Kev, enjoying the slower pace of his own meal, watched as the club continued to fill up. The dance floor, once spars, was now a swirling mass of bodies, their movements a hypnotic blend of grace and abandon. Asmodeus, perched on a platform above the stage, was playing his first song of the night, his fingers dancing across the piano keys with breathtaking speed and precision.

Drawn to the music, Kev leaned into Fang, his head resting on the wolfman's shoulder. Fang, his earlier tension seemingly forgotten, wrapped an arm around Kev, pulling him closer. Together, they watched the spectacle unfold, the energy of the club pulsating around them, a symphony of light, sound, and desire.

Chapter Text

Some time later, after Rebecca had cleared their plates, Horns lumbered over to their table, a relieved smile spreading across his face. He slid into the seat opposite Kev and Fang, his massive frame dwarfing the plush booth.

"Evening, boss," Horns greeted Fang with a cheerful nod. He then turned to Kev, his smile widening. "Kev, my friend, good to see you're keeping him on a tight leash."

He pulled out his trusty pouch and quickly rolled a joint, the familiar scent of the herb mingling with the smoky atmosphere of the club. He lit it, taking a long, satisfying drag.

"You really gave us a good scare last night, Fang," Horns remarked, his voice a low rumble. "We thought you'd lost it and gone after those city enforcers."

Fang let out a hearty laugh, his chest rumbling with amusement. "I wouldn't do something crazy like that, Horns," he said, his voice filled with mock indignation.

Horns took a long drag from his joint, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Of course you wouldn't, boss," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Except for that time when..."

Fang's laughter abruptly ceased, replaced by a low growl. "Totally different situation, Horns," he interrupted, his voice sharp. "Don't bring up the past."

Kev's curiosity was piqued. "What happened?" he asked, his eyes wide with intrigue.

Horns just laughed, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Guess Fang will have to tell you himself," he said, a playful smirk on his face.

Fang shot Horns a warning glare, his ears flattening against his head. "Drop it, Horns," he growled, his voice low and menacing.

He turned to Kev, his expression softening slightly. "It's nothing to worry about, Kev," he assured him. "Just an old story, best left forgotten."

He cleared his throat, steering the conversation back on track. "So, Horns," he said, his tone businesslike, "how did the night go? Any issues I should know about?"

Horns leaned back into the plush booth, a relieved smile spreading across his face. "The night itself was smooth sailing, boss," he reported, a hint of amusement in his voice. "No major incidents, no unruly guests, no unexpected surprises. Just the usual hustle and bustle of a busy night."

He paused, his smile fading slightly. "However," he continued, his tone turning more serious, "things got a bit chaotic after closing time. When you didn't show up for your usual rounds, we started to worry. We ended up searching the entire club, top to bottom, but there was no sign of you."

He took a long drag from his joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "A lot of the staff stayed an extra hour, searching every nook and cranny. We were all worried sick…."

He paused, his gaze meeting Fang's. "It wasn't until Kev mentioned you were sleeping in his room that we finally breathed a sigh of relief." He chuckled softly. "You really had us going there for a while, boss."

A flicker of embarrassment crossed Fang's face, but he quickly masked it with a nonchalant shrug. "Well," he said, his voice a low rumble, "it seems my absence caused a bit of a stir."

He cleared his throat, his gaze shifting to the bustling crowd. "We should treat everyone who stayed late last night to a free meal," he declared, his tone decisive. "Go tell Reepia… And apologize for dumping this on her at the last minute."

Horns, a relieved smile spreading across his face, nodded eagerly. "Will do, boss," he replied, rising from his seat. "I'm sure she'll appreciate the gesture." He turned to Kev with a wink. "See? The wolf is always in a good mood after a drink and a meal."

With a final chuckle, Horns headed towards the kitchen, leaving Kev and Fang alone once more.

"That was nice of you, Fang," Kev remarked, his voice filled with admiration. "I hope Reepia doesn't mind. It sounds like it's already going to be a busy night."

Fang's lips curled into a fond smile. "Reepia is a true chef, Kev," he said, his voice softening. "She shows her love by making food for people. It's her way of expressing care and appreciation."

Kev nodded, recalling the unexpected cup of coffee Reepia had brought him that morning. "She's... unique," he admitted. "But I think she's nice, once you get past the gruff exterior."

"How long have you known her?" Kev asked, curious about the history between Fang and the head chef.

Fang's gaze drifted towards the kitchen, a wistful look in his eyes. "Since I was a young man," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "She's been a part of my family for as long as I can remember."

An hour passed in comfortable silence, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses and the murmur of conversation from the surrounding booths. Rebecca, her feline grace unwavering even in the bustling bar, placed fresh drinks on their table, a polite smile on her face. Fang, a toothpick removing the remnants of his meal, leaned back in his seat, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

Horns reappeared, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. "The staff has been notified, boss," he announced, his voice booming through the VIP section. "There will be a free meal at the end of their shifts." He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. "Reepia cussed me out for a good five minutes before finally asking what the menu should be."

Fang laughed, a warmth in his eyes. "That's Reepia for you," he said, shaking his head in amusement. "Leave the menu to her. She'll make sure to use our supplies well."

Horns leaned back, his gaze shifting between Fang and Kev. "So, boss," he inquired, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "any plans for the night?"

Fang's arm tightened around Kev's shoulders, pulling him closer. "I was thinking of taking Kev out shopping again," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "But perhaps that can wait for another night.."

He turned to Kev, his gaze filled with a gentle warmth. "Is there anything you'd like to do tonight, Kev?" he asked, his voice soft and inviting.

Kev's eyes lit up, a spark of excitement igniting within him. "I found a game room earlier," he said, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "The one with the pool tables. Would you like to play a round or two?"

Fang shifted in his seat, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. He hadn't played pool in years, and the thought of potentially embarrassing himself in front of Kev made him uneasy.

Horns, ever the instigator, seized the opportunity to tease his boss. "Come on, boss," he urged, a wide grin spreading across his face. "It's the perfect chance to come out of retirement. Show the kid how it's done."

"Shut it, moose," Fang grumbled, though a hint of amusement played on his lips. He turned to Kev. "If you want to play, Kev, I'll come watch. Maybe even offer a few pointers."

Kev's smile widened. "Sure I'd like that."

As they stood up, Horns chuckled. "Have fun, you two," he said, a knowing glint in his eyes. "And don't break anything."

Fang nodded at Twitch and Skippy, the bouncers stationed at the entrance to the VIP section. "Keep an eye on things," he instructed, his voice a low rumble. "We'll be back in a bit."

With a final glance at the bustling barroom, Kev followed Fang towards the game room, a sense of anticipation building within him. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed the simple pleasures of a friendly competition, the thrill of the game, the camaraderie of shared laughter. And with Fang by his side, the experience promised to be even more enjoyable.

The pool hall, a stark contrast to the raucous barroom, was bathed in a serene quietude, broken only by the rhythmic click-clack of billiard balls and the occasional murmur of conversation. The soft glow of the chandeliers cast long shadows across the green felt of the tables, creating an intimate and inviting atmosphere.

A handful of patrons, perhaps fifteen or so, were scattered throughout the room, some engrossed in intense matches, others nursing drinks and observing the games with quiet interest. Small groups of onlookers huddled around the tables, their whispers and hushed laughter creating a subtle buzz of excitement. Kev could hear snippets of their conversations, bets being placed and strategies debated, adding an extra layer of tension to the already competitive atmosphere.

As Fang and Kev entered the pool hall, a few of the beastmen, recognizing the club's owner, quickly excused themselves and vacated the room. It was a testament to Fang's authority, his presence commanding respect and a hint of apprehension, even in this seemingly relaxed setting.

Kev wandered over to the unoccupied table and leaned against it, observing the ongoing game. A meerkat, surprisingly agile despite his small stature, was systematically dismantling a lanky llama at a game of eight-ball. The llama, his long neck craning awkwardly over the table, seemed flustered and outmatched, his shots growing increasingly erratic with each missed pocket.

The meerkat sank the final eight ball with a triumphant flourish, a smug grin spreading across his face. The llama, defeated and dejected, reluctantly handed over a small stack of bills, his ears drooping in disappointment.

Glancing up, the llama noticed Fang and Kev standing nearby. The meerkat, sensing the shift in atmosphere, followed his gaze and quickly excused himself, disappearing out to the club with his winnings.

The llama man, his demeanor a mix of nervousness and curiosity, approached Fang and Kev. "Good evening, you must be Mr. Fang," he greeted, bowing his head respectfully. "And wha…who is this?" He gestured towards Kev, his eyes filled with a curious glint.

Kev, growing weary of the constant questioning about his species, sighed. "Human," he replied, his voice a bit flat. "My name's Kev."

The llama blinked, his long eyelashes fluttering. "Human?" he echoed, tilting his head slightly. "Never heard of it." He paused, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Would either of you care for a game?"

"I'm a bit rusty," Kev admitted with a sheepish grin, "but I'll give it a shot."

Fang, sensing Kev's hesitation, offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Kev," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Just have fun."

He moved to a nearby table, leaning against it with a casual air, but his eyes remained fixed on the llama, a subtle intensity in his gaze.

The llama, seemingly oblivious to Fang's scrutiny, chuckled good-naturedly. "I'm not very good either," he claimed, his long neck bobbing slightly. "My name's Pedro, by the way."

He expertly racked the balls, his slender fingers moving with surprising dexterity. "Ready when you are," he said, offering Kev the first break.

Kev took a deep breath, chalked his cue, and lined up his shot. The balls scattered across the felt with a satisfying crack, the game officially underway.

The game progressed at a leisurely pace, Kev and Pedro trading shots, their skills evenly matched. Despite his initial self-deprecation, Kev found himself sinking balls with surprising accuracy, his earlier rustiness fading with each successful pocket. Pedro, though seemingly less skilled, was a gracious opponent, his good-natured laughter filling the quiet pool hall.

After a series of close calls and near-misses, Kev finally sank the eight ball, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. He glanced over at Fang, who returned his smile with a proud nod.

Pedro, unfazed by his defeat, quickly racked the balls again. "Another game?" he asked, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

Kev, enjoying the friendly competition and the distraction from his worries, readily agreed. "Sure," he replied. "Its been a while since I've been able to play pool."

Pedro's smile widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Want to make it a bit more... interesting?" he suggested, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "A little wager, perhaps? Let's say... twenty dollars?"

Kev hesitated, unsure if he wanted to introduce stakes into their friendly game. "Let's just play for fun," he suggested, glancing at Fang for support.

But Fang interjected. "Twenty dollars it is," his voice a confident rumble. "That's not very much, is it?"

Pedro shrugged, his long neck swaying slightly. "It's just a friendly game," he agreed, "enough to buy a drink afterward."

Fang grinned, a predatory glint in his eyes. "I'll take that bet," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crisp twenty-dollar bill.

Feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension, Kev took his position at the table. He felt Fang watching him, his expectations high. Kev took a deep breath, chalked his cue, and focused on the game.

The second game was even closer than the first, with both Kev and Pedro displaying impressive shots and strategic maneuvers. Kev, determined to prove his worth to Fang, pushed himself to his limits, his focus unwavering. Finally, after a tense final shot, he sank the eight ball, a triumphant smile spreading across his face.

Pedro, though disappointed, handed Kev the twenty-dollar bill with a good-natured smile. "Good game," he said, extending a hand for a friendly shake. "One more?"

Kev, feeling a surge of confidence after his consecutive wins, readily agreed. "Sure," he replied, his grin mirroring Pedro's. "I'm having a good time."

Chapter Text

As Pedro racked the balls for the third game, he leaned closer to Kev, his voice low. "Let's raise the stakes a bit," he suggested, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Make it a good show for Mr. Fang. Fifty dollars this time."

Fang, who had been observing the exchange with amusement, snorted. "Fifty dollars?" he echoed, his voice laced with a hint of disdain. "That's hardly a challenge. Why not make it a bit richer?"

Pedro's smile faltered slightly and his ears twitched. "I... I don't have much more than fifty on me," he admitted, his voice a touch hesitant. "Perhaps we could wager something else?"

Fang's eyes narrowed, a predatory glint flashing in their depths. He leaned forward, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down Kev's spine. "What do you have that's worth betting, Pedro?" he inquired, his tone laced with a hint of menace.

Pedro fidgeted, his long neck craning nervously. "Not much," he mumbled, spreading his arms wide in a gesture of helplessness.

Fang's gaze raked over Pedro's form, lingering on the tailored suit that clung to his slender frame. "Your clothes," he finally declared, his voice a soft purr.

Pedro gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. "My... clothes?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Fang nodded, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "What would you like in return?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Pedro, after a moment of hesitation, regained his composure. A sly grin spread across his face. "I'll tell you what I want," he said, his voice regaining its usual confidence, "right before I sink the eight ball."

Fang's growl reverberated through the room, a low, menacing sound that sent a shiver down Kev's spine. "Are you a llama or a shark, Pedro?" he growled, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Trying to pull a fast one on me in my own club?"

Pedro's tone changed and he held his ground. "Will you accept the bet, Fang?" he challenged, his voice surprisingly steady. "The human wins, you get my clothes. I win, I'll let you know what I want."

Fang's lips curled, showing his teeth. "Alright, Pedro," he said, his gowl displaying his displeasure. "Let's do it."

The tension in the room was palpable as Kev stepped up to the table, his cue chalked and ready. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. The stakes had suddenly risen, and he knew that Fang's pride, and perhaps even his own future at the club, rested on his ability to win this game.

With a determined thrust, Kev broke the balls, sending them scattering across the green felt. The game had begun. After sinking three striped balls in a row he felt confident, this was his best start so far, he stepped back and let his opponent take the table.

Pedro, a mischievous glint in his eyes, stepped up, his long neck gracefully arching over the green felt. "If I win," he declared, his voice a confident purr, "I want a dance with the human."

Fang's bark echoed through the room, a primal sound that sent a shiver down Kev's spine. "Don't you dare make a fool of me in my own establishment, Pedro," he warned, his voice laced with barely contained fury.

But Pedro, seemingly unfazed by Fang's threat, calmly lined up his shot and sank the first ball with a satisfying click. A wave of nervous laughter rippled through the onlookers, their eyes darting between Fang and the increasingly confident llama. Another and another went in, displaying much higher levels of precision and skill than in either of the previous games. 

"A bet's a bet, Fang," Pedro retorted, his gaze never leaving the table. He sank another ball, his movements smooth and precise.

Kev's heart pounded in his chest. He could see the anger building in Fang, his fur bristling, his tail stiffening. The wolfman was on the verge of losing control, and Kev feared the consequences for Pedro if he dared to win this game.

The tension in the room was so thick it was almost palpable. One of the onlookers, a timid-looking deer woman, scurried out, unable to bear the mounting pressure.

Pedro, oblivious to the escalating situation, focused on his final shot. The eight ball sat tantalizingly close to the corner pocket. "Corner pocket," he called out, his voice steady, and with a swift stroke, sent the cue ball flying.

But before the eight ball could disappear into the pocket, a large, furry hand snatched it from the air. Fang, his face contorted in a snarl, held the ball aloft, his amber eyes blazing with fury.

"Don't be a poor loser, Mr. Fang," Pedro challenged, his voice surprisingly calm despite the situation. "That was my shot. I won."

Fang growled, his grip on the eight ball tightening. He stalked towards Pedro, his movements predatory, and grabbed the llama by the front of his shirt, lifting him slightly off the ground.

"Have your dance," Fang hissed, his voice a low rumble, "a bet's a bet."

He released Pedro, shoving him back onto the pool table with enough force to send the remaining balls scattering across the felt.

Pedro, though visibly shaken, straightened his suit with a practiced air of nonchalance. He turned to Kev, extending a hand with a forced smile. "This way," he said, forcing himself to appear composed.

Kev hesitated, his gaze darting between Fang and Pedro. "I... I just wanted to play some pool tonight," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Dancing wasn't really part of my plan."

Fang's growl echoed through the room, silencing the few remaining onlookers. "Kev," he commanded, his voice firm, "go dance with him."

Kev's eyes widened in surprise. "But... I thought dancing was against the rules," he protested, his gaze pleading with Fang.

Fang's ears flattened against his head, a clear sign of his displeasure. "And bet is a bet, Kev," he retorted, his voice cold and unforgiving. "Pedro won." He looked around at the remaining patrons, his eyes daring anyone to challenge his authority.

"I don't back out of a bet," he declared, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room. He turned back to Pedro, his gaze piercing. "But don't get any ideas, llama," he warned. "This dance is all you're getting."

An awkward silence hung in the air as Pedro led Kev back towards the bar. Fang trailed behind them, his gaze fixed on Pedro's back, a silent threat simmering in his eyes. Kev felt a pang of sympathy for the llama, who seemed oblivious to the weight of Fang's unspoken disapproval.

The barroom throbbed with life, a sea of bodies swaying and grinding to the infectious music. The stage now held a small jazz ensemble, Asmodeus still leading from the piano. The air crackled with energy, a heady mix of sweat, booze, and the intoxicating scent of desire. Kev, despite his initial reluctance, couldn't help but be drawn in by the vibrant atmosphere.

Pedro navigated the crowd with surprising ease, his slender frame weaving through the throng of dancers. He stopped near the center of the dance floor, a space miraculously cleared amidst the chaos, and pulled Kev close, their bodies brushing against each other.

Kev glanced back over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of Fang engaged in an intense conversation with Twitch and Skippy. The wolfman's anger was palpable, his gestures sharp and animated. Kev felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was the cause of Fang's distress, he shouldn't have agreed to play that game.

As the music shifted to a slower, more sensual rhythm, Pedro swayed gently, pulling Kev closer. The llama's height advantage was evident, his head towering over Kev's. Kev, feeling a mix of awkwardness and amusement, allowed him to lead, movements mirroring Pedro's.

"This was a bad idea, Pedro," Kev whispered, his voice barely audible above the music.

Pedro looked down at him, a surprised expression on his face. "Why would you say that?" he asked, his voice soft. "I won this dance fair and square."

Kev blushed, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I think Fang would say you stole this dance with me," he mumbled.

Pedro chuckled, a low, throaty sound that vibrated through Kev's chest. "That's the price you pay for gambling," he retorted, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Kev looked up, meeting Pedro's gaze. "I didn't gamble," he pointed out, a hint of defiance in his voice. "And I'm paying the price now too."

Pedro laughed, his body swaying to the music. "That's ridiculous," he said, his voice filled with amusement. "You're a natural. Light on your feet, graceful movements… Your boss will be begging me to join him at that VIP table after we finish dancing, you'll see."

Pedro's gaze shifted towards the VIP section, and Kev followed his line of sight. Fang was sitting alone in the booth, his posture rigid, his eyes fixed on them with an intensity that sent a shiver down Kev's spine. The wolfman's expression was a mask of barely contained fury, his jaw clenched, his muscles coiled tight. He looked ready to pounce, a predator guarding his territory.

"I hope Fang isn't too rough with you for this," Kev said, a genuine concern in his voice.

Pedro chuckled, but there was a hint of nervousness in the sound. "He might try to scare me a bit," he admitted, "but I've done nothing wrong… A bet's a bet."

"I hope you're right," Kev replied, a worried frown creasing his brow. He couldn't bear the thought of Fang hurting this oblivious llama, even if the dance made him uncomfortable.

The song ended, and Kev gently disengaged from Pedro's arms. "Good luck," he said with a small smile. "I'll see you over there soon, I guess."

He made his way back to the VIP booth, Twitch holding the velvet rope open for him with a quiet nod. As Kev slid into his seat, Fang's gaze locked onto his, a mixture of possessiveness and relief in his amber eyes.

"Sit," Fang growled, his voice a low rumble that brooked no argument.

Kev slid into the seat beside Fang, the wolfman's presence felt so safe, so much more secure than the swirling mass of beastly bodies on the dance floor. Fang's arm immediately snaked around Kev's shoulders, pulling him close.

"What did he say to you?" Fang demanded, his voice a low growl that vibrated through Kev's body.

Kev leaned into Fang's embrace, his voice a soothing whisper. "Leave it alone, Fang," he urged. "He's probably just a thrill-seeker. Let's get another drink and forget about it."

"What did he say to you?" Fang repeated, his grip tightening slightly on Kev's shoulder.

Kev, a bit startled by Fang's insistence, looked up at him. "He... he said you would invite him to come talk with us in the VIP booth," Kev admitted, his voice hesitant. "He didn't really say much else."

A dark chuckle rumbled in Fang's chest. "That llama's right," he said, a predatory glint in his eyes. "I do want to have a little chat with him."

He raised a hand, signaling to Skippy, who was standing guard nearby. The kangaroo bouncer approached, his posture alert.

"Skippy," Fang instructed, his voice a low growl, "go get him."

"Yes, boss," Skippy replied, his voice a deep rumble. He turned and disappeared into the crowd, his powerful legs carrying him swiftly through the throng of dancers.

Skippy returned moments later, Pedro trailing behind him with a sheepish grin. The llama man entered the booth, his demeanor a careful balance of confidence and deference.

"What a surprise to see you again, Mr. Fang," Pedro began, his voice a smooth purr.

Fang's response was swift and cutting. "What," he growled, his eyes blazing with barely contained fury, "is so important that you'd risk your fucking life to mess with me?"

Kev straightened, his body tensing at the raw anger in Fang's voice. He hadn't realized the depth of Fang's rage until this moment. Pedro, on the other hand, seemed unfazed, his smile unwavering.

"It was a way for me to prove my skill to you, Mr. Fang," Pedro explained, his voice calm and collected. "I'm the best pool shark in the entire city. I wanted to show you what I'm capable of."

Fang scoffed, his lip curling in disdain. "Is that it?" he sneered. "The best pool shark in the city? That's all you have to offer?"

Fang leaned in, his voice dropping to a menacing growl. "So what's your big idea, Pedro?" he hissed. "Split the profits? You get to use my establishment to hustle my very own customers, and you pay me some measly rent money?"

Pedro shuffled uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the booth. "No, I..."

Fang cut him off, his voice rising in anger. "Or maybe you want me to run tournaments that you can enter, attract some high-rollers, and then fix the outcome?"

Pedro tried to interject, but Fang's words tumbled out in a torrent of accusations.

"Or maybe you're going to teach lessons here, start a pool club, build your own little empire under my roof?" Fang snarled. "I think your a fucking sneek, Pedro. Not playing with your full skill is a coward's tactic."

Pedro's face paled, his usual confidence replaced by a look of genuine fear. He fidgeted in his seat, his long neck craning awkwardly as he tried to avoid Fang's piercing gaze.

"Tell me, Pedro," Fang's voice was a low, menacing growl, "why should I let some deceptive little grass-chewer come in here and make a fool of me in front of my own guests?"

Pedro's resolve seemed to crumble under the weight of Fang's anger. "If you don't want to be business partners, that's fine," he stammered, his voice trembling slightly. "But it's not my fault you took the bet. I could have asked for a million dollars, or even ownership of the club. I could have asked for something important."

Fang's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You did ask for that, you fool," he hissed. "You asked for something worth much more than that cheap suit."

He nodded towards Twitch and Skippy, who had been silently observing the exchange. The two bouncers moved forward, their imposing figures casting long shadows over Pedro.

Pedro's eyes widened in alarm as they approached. "Wait, Mr. Fang," he pleaded, his voice a desperate whisper. "Please, reconsider. I'll do anything..."

But Fang was unmoved. "You won the bet, Pedro," he said, his voice cold and final. "Now live with the consequences."

Skippy and Twitch, their expressions impassive, grabbed Pedro's arms and began to escort him out of the bar. Pedro struggled, his voice rising in protest. "I won fair and square!" he shouted, his cries echoing through the now-silent barroom. "This isn't fair!"

Kev watched in stunned silence as Pedro was dragged away, his heart pounding in his chest. He'd never seen Fang so ruthless, so unforgiving. It was a side of the wolfman he hadn't witnessed before, a glimpse into the darkness that lurked beneath his charming exterior.

Fang, sensing Kev's unease, turned to him with a forced smile. "Now, where were we?" he asked, his voice a strained attempt at normalcy. "How about those drinks?"

Kev sat in silence, trying to process what had just happened, he didn't even notice the big horse-man bartender walking over.

Dale, holding a small tray with two drinks, his usual smirk replaced by a curious frown. "What was all that fuss about, Fang?" he inquired, setting the glasses down on the table.

Fang snatched his drink, downing half of it in one gulp. "Just another punk who thinks they can use this place as their own personal stomping ground," he grumbled, his voice a low rumble. He reached over and rubbed Kev's shoulder reassuringly. "We got rid of that little issue, didn't we, Kev?"

Kev, still a bit shaken by the encounter, nodded and took a sip of his Cape Cod. "Mmhmm," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the swirling liquid in his glass.

Dale leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "What did he do, Fang?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"He insulted the club," Fang growled, his eyes flashing with a lingering anger.

"The llama man was a pool shark," Kev interjected, his voice soft. "He just won a dance with me… it could have been worse."

Dale's eyebrows shot up, a look of disbelief on his face. He turned to Fang, his expression a mix of exasperation and concern. "Fang," he said, his voice gentle but firm, "this can't happen every week. You can't go around throwing people around for winning bets, no matter how ridiculous they are."

Fang's jaw clenched, his anger reigniting. "It'll stop happening when the world stops putting brave idiots in front of me," he retorted, his voice a low growl.

Dale sighed, shaking his head. "That's not going to happen anytime soon, boss," he said, his tone resigned. "You're a magnet for trouble, always have been."

Fang took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I know, Dale," he admitted, his voice softening slightly. "But I won't let anyone threaten what I've built here. Not the city, not the enforcers, and certainly not some two-bit hustler."

Dale chuckled, shaking his head. "Maybe you should stop taking bets with customers, Fang," he suggested, a playful glint in his eyes.

Fang scoffed, a dismissive wave of his hand. "Stop trying to take away my fun, horse," he retorted.

Dale grinned. "Find a hobby you're better at, then," he quipped, before turning and heading back to the bustling bar.

After finishing their drinks Fang turned to Kev. "It's getting late again, my dear," he said, a hint of concern in his voice. "You should head to bed."

Fang stood up, offering Kev his hand. "Let's get you back to your room." 

Kev took his hand, a warmth spreading through him at the familiar touch. As they reached the bottom of the grand staircase, Kev paused, turning to face Fang. "Will you come in for a glass of water?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

Fang leaned down, capturing Kev's lips in a tender kiss. "I apologize, but there are things I need to catch up on from last night," he murmured against Kev's lips, his voice a husky whisper. "But I'll try to come by in the morning before I go to bed."

He pulled away, his gaze lingering on Kev's face. "Sleep well, my assistant… my dear," he said, a soft smile playing on his lips.

With a final squeeze of Kev's hand, Fang turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Kev to make his way upstairs alone.

The apartment felt both familiar and foreign as Kev closed the door behind him. He lit a cigarette, the familiar ritual grounding him in the present moment. He sat on the couch, his thoughts drifting back to the day's events. Fang sleeping peacefully in his bed, Horns' panicked arrival, Reepia's unexpected coffee, Asmodeus's musical brilliance, Cindy's maternal concern, the pool hall's tense atmosphere... It had been a whirlwind of emotions, a kaleidoscope of experiences that left him feeling exhausted.

He didn't even bother lighting the lantern, content to let the moonlight filtering through the curtains illuminate the room. He savored the quiet solitude, the gentle breeze that drifted in through the open window, the distant sounds of the city humming in the background.

After a while, he stubbed out his cigarette and made his way to the bathroom. The cool water on his face washed away the lingering scent of smoke and the day's accumulated stress. He climbed into bed, the soft sheets a welcome embrace. As he drifted off to sleep he dreamt of wolves chasing llamas.

Chapter Text

Kev, his internal clock slowly growing attuned to the club's rhythm, woke with a yawn. He completed his usual morning rituals, a comforting routine, clearing his head of the dream where Fang hunted llamas like old royalty hunted foxes. The hot shower invigorated him, washing away the remnants of sleep and leaving him feeling refreshed and ready to face the day.

Back in the kitchen, he expertly brewed a pot of coffee, the rich aroma filling the apartment with a comforting warmth. He poured himself a cup, added a generous spoon of sugar, and stood by the window, watching the sunrise over the quiet grounds.

Just as he was about to refresh his cup, a familiar knock echoed through the apartment. He opened the door to find Horns, looking surprisingly chipper despite the hour.

"Morning, Kev!" Horns greeted him with a wide grin, balancing two plates of food in his massive hands. "Brought you some breakfast."

He lumbered into the apartment and plopped down on the couch, setting the plates on the coffee table. The enticing smell of bacon and eggs filled the air, making Kev's stomach rumble.

"How was the night?" Kev asked, sitting down.

Horns, already shoveling food into his mouth, gestured towards the second plate. "It was... eventful," he mumbled between bites.

Kev chuckled, grabbing a piece of toast from the plate. "Eventful how?" he inquired, taking a bite.

"Well," Horns began, swallowing a mouthful of eggs, "for starters, please don't let Fang gamble anymore." He chuckled. "He has a tendency to bet big, and sometimes his pride gets the better of him."

He gestured towards the second plate. "You gonna have anything else off this?"

Kev shook his head. "Have at it," he said, pushing the plate towards Horns.

Horns wasted no time, devouring the remaining food with gusto. "Those stakes really weren't that high," Kev remarked, recalling the previous night's events. "Pedro said it himself, he could have asked for a million dollars. A dance was no big deal."

Horns finished the last of the food and lit a joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Humans are so strange," he mused, a thoughtful look on his face.

"What do you mean?" Kev asked, genuinely curious.

Horns took a long drag from his joint, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Fang asked for the clothes off Pedro's back, that's just some stuff. But a dance, in front of everyone?" he explained, emphasizing the word with a dramatic flourish. "You may see that as reasonable, but for Fang, it was an insult."

Kev frowned, trying to understand the nuances of beastmen culture. "Well, what happened after I left?" he inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Horns leaned back on the couch, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Fang had a little 'chat' with Pedro," he said, his voice laced with a hint of dark humor. "And then... Well, let's just say Fang did what Fang does."

Kev shuddered, a chill running down his spine. "I think I'll skip pool games from now on," he said, his voice a bit shaky.

Horns chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through the apartment. "Better skip darts too," he advised. "And maybe stay away from the shuffleboard table."

Kev sighed, a hint of frustration in his voice. "I just thought it might be fun, you know? Get Fang away from the bar for a bit too…" he lamented. "Seems like I cause trouble even when I'm just trying to play a game."

Horns, pondered for a moment. "Tell you what," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I can pull some strings and get you a private pool room set up somewhere in the mansion. If we don't let anyone else in, then no one can make bets with you."

Kev's face lit up. "That would be amazing!" he exclaimed. "But... playing against other people is one of the best parts of pool."

"Well, you can at least practice a bit each night," Horns suggested. "And if you get good enough, maybe you can venture back into the public room and show those sharks what you're made of."

Kev nodded, a determined glint in his eyes. "It's better than nothing," he agreed.

"I'll talk to Cindy and see what we can arrange," Horns promised, rising from the couch. "In the meantime, try to stay out of trouble, alright?"

Kev chuckled. "I'll do my best," he replied, a newfound sense of optimism filling him.

"Anything else I can get for you when I come back for opening?" Horns asked, gathering the empty plates from the coffee table.

Kev paused, considering his needs. "A razor, actually," he said. "I'm starting to get a bit scruffy."

Horns' brow furrowed. "Razor… like a blade? You'll need to ask Lanon about that," he replied, his tone serious.

Kev was puzzled. "Why?" he asked. "It's just a razor."

"Any sort of blade needs to be licensed and tracked," Horns explained. "I thought it was a thing everywhere… Just find Lanon at some point and ask him. He should be able to get you what you need."

"Weird," Kev muttered, shaking his head. "But whatever. If it's not out of your way, could you also grab me some more coffee? I'm running low, and Reepia is kind of intense to talk to first thing in the morning." He chuckled nervously, remembering the head chef's fiery temper.

Horns grinned. "No worries, Kev," he said, his voice reassuring. "I'll do a food run before I head home. Anything else you need?"

Kev shook his head. "I think I'm good for now. Thanks, Horns."

"Get some good sleep," Kev reminded him as Horns headed towards the door.

"Later, buddy," Horns replied with a wave, disappearing down the hallway.

Kev had barely settled back onto the couch when another knock sounded at the door. He opened it to find Fang, looking disheveled and wild-eyed. His sleeves were rolled up, his shirt half-buttoned, and his hair tousled. In his hands, he held a plate piled high with steaming food.

"Good morning, Kev," Fang greeted him, a sheepish grin on his face as he glanced between his plate and his precious assistant. "I completely forgot to bring you a plate..."

Kev chuckled, waving a piece of toast in the air. "Horns beat you to it," he replied.

Fang's tail wagged. "I really don't pay that moose enough," he muttered, settling onto the couch beside Kev. He dug into the food with gusto, the savory aroma filling the small apartment.

"How was your night?" he asked between bites, his gaze finally meeting Kev's.

"Oh, I got a little sleep…" Kev admitted. He wanted to ask about Pedro but it didn't seem like the right time, Fang looked so tired. It could wait . "Knowing you are down there, protecting me, helps."

Fang's tail gave an involuntary wag, a blush warming his cheeks. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Kev,"

"How was the rest of your night?" Kev inquired.

Fang swallowed a mouthful of food, a satisfied grin on his face. "Good," he replied. "The free meal was a big success. Everyone seemed to appreciate it." He gestured towards his now empty plate. "As you can see."

Kev laughed. "yes indeed," he said, shaking his head in amusement. "So… what's on the agenda for tonight?"

Fang's eyes lit up. "I'm bringing you out," he said, his voice filled with excitement. "There's going to be an auction and I think you'll have a good time."

Kev's eyebrows rose in surprise. "An auction?" he echoed. "What kind of auction?"

"All sorts of things," Fang replied with a mischievous grin. "Art, jewelry, rare artifacts... even experiences."

"That does sound like it could be fun," Kev said, imagining what beastmen antiques looked like.

Fang's smile widened. "Wonderful," he said, leaning closer to Kev. "It's a date then."

Kev, emboldened by Fang's declaration, leaned in and kissed him softly. Fang's tail wagged in delight, a happy sigh escaping his chest. Kev pulled back,, and lit a cigarette. Kev wanted to push this conversation off, he had even just resolved not to bring it up, but he couldn't help it. There were still so many things he didn't know and Pedro's fate kept flickering in his mind, even during their brief kiss…

"Fang," he began, his voice laced with curiosity, "I heard you had a chat with Pedro last night after I went to bed. I thought you had him kicked out."

Fang's tail stopped wagging, and a shadow crossed his face. He leaned back on the couch, his expression unreadable. "Don't worry about that, Kev," he said, his voice a low rumble.

"But what happened?" Kev pressed, his concern growing. "He was a bit sneaky, but he didn't hurt anyone."

Fang stood up abruptly, his movements stiff and deliberate. He walked to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, his back turned to Kev. "It's not a problem anymore. You shouldn't worry yourself," he said, his voice clipped.

He turned back to face Kev, his expression carefully neutral. "Talon and I came to an agreement," he revealed. "He's going to be working tonight. A trial run of sorts to see how things go, before he decides whether to move here with his sister."

"That's good," Kev said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "I bet Rex will be happy to have him around."

"He's not working for Rex," Fang corrected, his voice firm. "I hired him personally."

"What do you want him to do, then?" 

Fang finished his water, placing the empty glass on the counter with a decisive clink. "He'll be... a bodyguard," he explained, his gaze meeting Kev's. "Someone to keep an eye on you, make sure you're safe."

Kev's smile faltered. "I don't want a babysitter, Fang," he protested, a hint of defiance in his voice.

Fang's expression softened, a hint of concern in his eyes. "He won't be following you around day and night, Kev," he assured him, his voice a low rumble. "Just... when the situation calls for it. After the Berry incident, I realized the security team isn't equipped to handle your specific... security needs."

Kev scoffed, a wry smile playing on his lips. "My security needs?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow. 

Fang nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Yes," he confirmed, his voice firm. "Remember what you said? They tried to abduct you to get to me. If I had known you were taken, there would have been hell to pay." He paused, his jaw clenching slightly. "I'm hoping Talon will be able to act in my stead, to protect you when I can't be there."

Kev's expression softened, a hint of relief in his eyes. "I'm glad you're able to help Talon and his sister," he said sincerely. "But I hope it doesn't feel like he's... stalking me."

Fang's growl deepened, a possessive edge to his voice. "If that eagle steps out of line, even for a second, he'll be out on his ass," he declared, his eyes flashing with a warning glint. "I won't have anyone making you uncomfortable, Kev. Not in this house."

Kev reached out, his hand gently resting on Fang's arm. "I trust you, Fang," he said softly. "We'll see how the trial period goes. If it doesn't work out, we can always reconsider."

Fang nodded, his gaze softening as he met Kev's. "Talon's first night is tonight. He'll be discreet, I promise. But if you feel uncomfortable at any point, just let me know."

Fang stood up, stretching his powerful frame. "I have to go," he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice. "The staff is leaving, and I need to meet with Dale, Lanon, and Reepia to go over the night's numbers."

"Before you go," Kev interjected, "could you tell Lanon I need to talk to him if he's not too busy?"

Fang raised an eyebrow. "What for?" he asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

"Horns said he could help me get some grooming supplies," Kev explained. 

"Sure thing," Fang replied with a smile. "I'll let him know." He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Kev's forehead. "I'll be back tonight, so we can eat before the auction."

With a final squeeze of Kev's hand, Fang left the apartment, the door closing softly behind him.

Kev settled back onto the couch, a sense of calm washing over him. He rolled a joint, lit it, and inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill his lungs and ease the lingering tension from the night before. As he exhaled, his thoughts drifted to Pedro. He hoped the llama man was okay, despite his earlier bravado. Fang's anger had been palpable, and Kev couldn't help but worry about the consequences of Pedro's actions.

He also pondered Talon's new role as his bodyguard. While he appreciated Fang's concern for his safety, he wasn't entirely thrilled about the idea of having someone constantly watching over him. He hoped Talon would be discreet, as Fang had promised, and not make him feel like he was being monitored every moment of the day.

Kev, feeling the familiar restlessness creep in, dumped the remnants of his cold coffee into the sink. He grabbed his silver cigarette case and headed outside, seeking solace in the fresh air and the calming ritual of a smoke.

Stepping onto the patio, he was greeted by the familiar warmth of the morning sun. The air hung heavy with the scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass, a stark contrast to the smoky atmosphere of the club's interior. The pool shimmered invitingly, its turquoise waters beckoning him to take a refreshing dip.

Kev settled onto a lounge chair, basking in the warmth of the morning sun. He closed his eyes, letting the gentle breeze and the sounds of nature wash over him. It was a rare moment of peace, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the club.

Chapter Text

Just as he was starting to doze off, a familiar voice interrupted his reverie. "Kev!"

He opened his eyes to find Max, the foxman cleaner, standing beside him, a friendly smile on his face. "Cindy's asked for you again," Max announced.

Kev sat up, a curious frown creasing his brow. "Again?" he echoed. "What does she need this time?"

"Didn't say," Max replied with a shrug. "Just told me to find you and tell you to bring your guitar."

Kev nodded, a sense of intrigue mingling with his apprehension. He finished his cigarette, extinguished it in a nearby ashtray, and headed back inside.

"See you later, Max," he called out as he entered the mansion.

Max waved goodbye, a knowing smile on his face.

Kev made his way back to his apartment, his footsteps echoing in the quiet hallways. He grabbed his guitar case and headed back downstairs, no longer needing Max to guide him.

Kev descended the stairs to the basement, the familiar scent of lavender and chamomile guiding him towards Cindy's office. He knocked gently on the pink door, and Cindy's cheerful voice called out, "Come in!"

He stepped inside, finding Cindy bustling around her cozy office. The kettle was already whistling on the small stove, its steam filling the air with a comforting warmth.

"Kev, so glad you could make it," Cindy greeted him with a warm smile. "Please, have a seat. Tea will be ready in a moment." She gestured towards the chair across from her desk, her eyes twinkling with anticipation. "Would you mind playing me a song while I finish up here?"

Kev smiled, happy to oblige. He carefully removed his guitar from its case and settled into the chair, his fingers finding their familiar places on the strings. This time, he chose a more upbeat tune, a joyful sea shanty he'd written years ago during a sailing trip with his friends. The lively melody filled the small office, its cheerful rhythm a stark contrast to the usual quietude of the space.

Cindy hummed along softly as she poured the tea, her movements graceful and efficient. When Kev reached the final chord, she placed a steaming cup in front of him, a grateful smile on her face.

"Thank you, Kev," she said, her voice a gentle melody. "That was lovely. Just what I needed to brighten my day."

Cindy stirred her tea thoughtfully, the clinking of the spoon against the porcelain cup the only sound in the otherwise quiet office.

"Would you like to hear another song?" Kev offered, his fingers hovering over the guitar strings.

Cindy shook her head gently. "No, dear," she replied, her voice soft but firm. "Let's talk."

Kev took a sip of his tea, a curious frown creasing his brow. Cindy remained silent, her gaze fixed on the swirling liquid in her cup.

"What would you like to talk about, Cindy?" Kev finally asked, breaking the silence.

Cindy took a deliberate sip of her tea before answering. "Horns came to see me not too long ago," she began, her voice a hushed whisper.

Kev's curiosity piqued. "Is this about the private pool table room?" he asked, "Or Pedro?"

Cindy nodded slowly. "Both," she admitted, her gaze meeting Kev's. "But most importantly... don't let Fang gamble."

Kev sighed, a hint of remorse in his eyes. "I didn't realize it would be an issue," he admitted. "I know better now."

Cindy nodded, a faint smile playing on her lips. "It's good to learn from your mistakes, Kev," she said, her voice gentle. "Much easier to stop Fang than to try and teach every customer."

Kev winced. "What happened to him?... to Pedro," he asked, a note of concern in his voice.

Cindy's smile faded, replaced by a steely glint in her eyes. "Whatever happened to Pedro shouldn't be your concern, Kev," she said, her tone firm. "The important thing is that Fang took care of the situation."

Kev shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his curiosity unsatisfied. "I still don't understand why the dance was such a big deal," he persisted. "It seemed like a harmless wager."

Cindy chuckled softly, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Don't be silly, Kev," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "The moment Pedro asked for you and saw Fang's reaction, he made his decision. You're one of his most precious workers, and Pedro compared your worth to that of a suit."

She took a deliberate sip of her tea, her demeanor calm and collected.

Kev leaned forward, his brow furrowed in thought. "But Fang could have just talked it out with Pedro," he argued, his voice earnest. "Didn't you say more people should learn to use their words?"

Cindy's smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful frown. She took another sip of her tea, her gaze distant.

"That's just a wish, Kev," Cindy finally replied, her voice a touch melancholic. "A nice sentiment, but not always practical in this world."

She set her teacup down, her gaze meeting Kev's with a newfound intensity. "If someone sees you with something they want, what stops them from taking it from you?" she asked, her voice firm. "What stops someone from using their strength, their power, to take whatever they desire?"

Kev remained silent, the weight of her words sinking in. He knew she was making a point, a harsh reality of the world he now inhabited.

Cindy continued, her voice unwavering. "If Fang were to let an insult stand, the word would spread like wildfire. Others would come, nipping at his heels, trying to take a bite out of his belongings, his authority. It's a constant struggle, Kev, a never-ending battle for dominance."

She sighed, a hint of weariness in her voice. "I wish people would use their words," she admitted, "but that's just a wish. The only reason I am able to stand tall in this club, to command respect, is because I know that pup will eviscerate anyone who dares to mess with me."

Her gaze softened as she looked at Kev. "Fang's strength, his willingness to fight for what's his, is what keeps this place running," she explained. "It's what protects us all."

"I'll do my best to keep him from gambling again," Kev said, a determined glint in his eyes.

Cindy chuckled, a warm sound that filled the small office. "Don't worry too much if it happens," she advised. "Fang is a glutton for punishment sometimes and won't get out of his own way."

Just then, Max poked his head in, interrupting their conversation. "Cindy," he said, his voice a bit hesitant, "it's time for morning inspection."

Cindy sighed, rising from her chair. "Duty calls," she said with a resigned smile. She turned to Kev. "You've met Max, correct?" she asked, gesturing towards the foxman. "He's the daytime manager here. Makes sure things run smoothly while I'm clocked out."

Max rolled his eyes playfully. "Of course he knows me," he retorted. "You've sent me to him five times already."

"Who's counting?" Cindy quipped, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Well, I must be off," Cindy said, turning towards the door. "Thank you again for the song, Kev. It was a lovely end to my day." She paused, a thoughtful look on her face. "Oh, and I've already informed Max about the private pool room. He'll make sure it's set up for you."

With a final smile and a wave, Cindy left the office, Max following closely behind.

Kev carefully placed his guitar back in its case, a sense of accomplishment settling over him. He felt a newfound confidence as he navigated the maze-like corridors of the mansion, his earlier trepidation replaced by a growing sense of familiarity. Back in his apartment, he glanced at his watch, surprised to see it was already eleven o'clock. The morning had flown by, a testament to the engaging conversations and the lingering effects of the potent herb he'd shared with Horns.

Feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over him, Kev decided to take a quick nap on the couch. He curled up on the plush cushions, the soft fabric a comforting embrace. Sleep claimed him quickly, his dreams filled with images of howling wolves, bleating llamas, and Fang's sharp teeth.

A persistent knocking at the door jolted him awake. He blinked, disoriented, and glanced at his watch. It was two o'clock, the afternoon sun streaming through the windows, casting a warm glow on the room. He stretched, his muscles protesting the impromptu nap, and made his way to the door, curiosity piqued.

Kev swung open the door, surprised to find Lanon standing on the threshold. The iguana-man exuded an air of authority, his posture straight and his movements precise. He wore a large bright green coat hanging open over his bare lean stomach. A pair of tight black leather pants that covered his legs were adorned with an unreasonably large and flashy belt buckle. He strode into the apartment without waiting for an invitation, his sharp eyes inspecting the room with a detached curiosity.

"Fetch me a water, darling," Lanon commanded, settling onto the couch as if he owned the place.

Kev bristled at the imperious tone, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes. But he held his tongue, reminding himself that Lanon was one of Fang's trusted managers, even Horns had talked highly of the sensual lizard. He dutifully retrieved a glass of water from the kitchen and handed it to Lanon, his expression carefully neutral.

Lanon took the glass, his long fingers wrapped around its cool surface. He drank the water in one long, slow gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He then leaned back against the cushions, his gaze settling on Kev.

"I hear you're looking for a blade," Lanon purred, a sly grin spreading across his reptilian face. "A wise decision, considering recent events."

He paused, his gaze lingering on Kev's face. "But do you think that's wise, darling?" he continued, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "Fang seems to get off on protecting you. Why steal his thunder?"

Kev's face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and annoyance coloring his cheeks. "What? No!" he exclaimed, his voice a bit higher than usual. "I need a razor to shave with, not to hurt people."

Lanon's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his tail twitching with curiosity. "Shave?" he echoed, tilting his head slightly. "What do you mean?"

Kev sighed, gesturing towards his face. "I want to shave off my facial hair," he explained, a hint of self-consciousness in his voice. "It doesn't really grow into a beard..."

Lanon crossed his legs and stretched his arms over the back of the couch. "Why not go to the salon?" he inquired, his voice a smooth purr. "I'm sure Master Valen could take care of it for you quickly."

"It's a bit of a hassle," Kev replied, running a hand over his stubble. "I like to shave every other day or so. It would be more convenient to do it myself."

Lanon's gaze intensified, his reptilian eyes fixated on Kev's face. He leaned forward slightly, his voice a low, hypnotic hiss. "What size would this... razor be?" he inquired. "Similar to a surgical scalpel used to shear away fur?"

A sudden excitement entered Lanon's eyes as he continued, "Imagine, Kev. Your neck, clean and exposed, vulnerable. Your mouth, smaller and less intimidating. Your skin, pale and luminous, glowing in the darkness of the club." A slow smile spread across his face, revealing his sharp teeth. "You'd be even more... desirable. A truly exquisite pet for Fang."

Kev recoiled, a shiver running down his spine. Lanon's words, though spoken with a seductive purr, carried an undercurrent of menace that made his skin crawl. He felt like a prey animal being sized up by a predator, his every instinct screaming at him to flee.

"I'm not a pet, how many times do I have to say it," Kev retorted, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hands.

Lanon merely tilted his head. "Apologies, darling," he purred. "But… you certainly are a clever one. Fang has chosen well."

Lanon's smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful frown. "It might be difficult to get you a razor, Kev," he admitted, his voice a low rumble. "Blades are heavily regulated in the city. But I have a subordinate who is quite skilled with a scalpel. I'll have him come and take care of you," he purred, his tail flicking playfully. "Just don't tease him too much, darling. He can be... Encouragable."

Lanon rose to his feet, a distant look on his face. "Well thank you for this visit, as always it was enlightening. You've given me a wonderful idea, Kev," he said, his voice laced with a hint of mischief.

"What's that?" Kev asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Shaving," Lanon replied with a wink, before turning and disappearing out the door.

Kev, feeling a bit unsettled by Lanon's parting words, decided to distract himself with a simple lunch. He prepared a sandwich and a cup of tea, savoring the quiet solitude of his apartment. As he ate, his thoughts drifted to the upcoming meeting with the managers, the potential changes to the club's schedule, and the lingering tension from the previous night's events.

Chapter Text

Just as he was finishing his meal, a new knock echoed through the apartment. He opened the door to find a tired-looking bat-man standing on the threshold. The newcomer's dark wings were folded neatly against his back, and his eyes, though weary, held a sharp intelligence.

"Good day, Kev," the bat-man greeted him, his voice a soft, raspy whisper. "My name is Vlad. Lanon asked me to come up and talk with you." He held up a large leather duffel bag, its contents bulging mysteriously.

Kev's first reaction was to slam the door, the looming bat man was terrifying, the nose, the ears, the teeth all sent primal signals from Kev's brain down to his arms and legs begging them to run. It was with considerable effort that he held strong and smiled. "Come in, Vlad," he invited, stepping aside to let the bat man enter.

Vlad, without a word, strode past Kev and into the bathroom. He set the leather bag down on the edge of the sink and began rummaging through it, pulling out a bottle of bleach and a roll of paper towels. With methodical precision, he started cleaning the surfaces, his movements efficient and thorough.

"I don't think that's necessary, Vlad," Kev protested, a hint of amusement in his voice. "The bathroom's already clean."

Vlad ignored him, his focus unwavering. "It's part of the routine," he replied, his voice a low, raspy whisper. "Anytime I take my blades out, it needs to be in a sterile environment."

Kev, a bit taken aback by Vlad's intensity, clarified, "I just want a shave, Vlad. My neck and face are getting scruffy."

Vlad paused, his bleach-soaked rag momentarily suspended in mid-air. He turned to face Kev, a puzzled expression on his terrifying face. "A shave?" he echoed, his voice a hushed whisper. "You mean... just… remove the hair?"

Kev nodded, a sheepish smile on his face. "Yeah, just a simple shave. Nothing fancy."

Vlad's expression shifted, a hint of disappointment flickering in his eyes. "I'm not a barber, Kev," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I'm a surgeon."

"Lanon couldn't get me a razor," Kev explained, a hint of frustration in his voice. "So, this was his idea."

Vlad sighed, shaking his head in disapproval. "That lizard," he muttered under his breath. "Always coming up with... unconventional solutions."

He wadded up the paper towels, tossed them in the trash, then turned to Kev. "Alright, then. Hop up on the counter."

Kev complied, his legs dangling over the edge as Vlad rummaged through his leather bag. It felt like he was sitting on the edge of a vast drop as he watched Vlad pull out a collection of gleaming surgical instruments, their sharp edges glinting in the bathroom light.

"Stay still," Vlad instructed. He dipped a few clean rags into hot water from the sink, then gently placed them on Kev's face. The warmth penetrated Kev's skin, a soothing contrast to the cool metal of the scalpel that Vlad now held in his hand.

Despite the unusual setting and the intimidating tool, Vlad's hands were steady and precise. He shaved Kev's face with a surgeon's precision, each stroke of the scalpel removing the stubble with effortless ease. His gaze, however, remained fixed on Kev's exposed neck, a hungry intensity in his eyes that made Kev increasingly uncomfortable.

Kev tried to ignore the unsettling sensation, focusing instead on the soothing warmth of the hot towels and the gentle scraping of the blade against his skin. He remained perfectly still, his body tense but obedient, trusting in Vlad's skill despite his reservations.

Once finished, Vlad replaced the scalpel with another hot towel, pressing it gently against Kev's freshly shaved face. The warmth was a welcome relief, easing the slight sting from the blade.

"Thank you, Vlad," Kev said, his voice a grateful murmur.

Vlad nodded, but his task wasn't quite finished. He produced a small bottle of antiseptic lotion from his bag and began applying it to Kev's face, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the boney fingers.

"Be still," he instructed. "This will prevent any infections."

A few moments later, he stepped back, admiring his work. "All done," he declared, a satisfied smile playing on his thin lips. "I need to clean up now."

Kev stepped outside and Vlad closed the bathroom door behind him. "Coffee or tea?" Kev called out, hearing the shower start.

"Coffee," Vlad's muffled voice responded a moment later.

Kev, his heart still pounding from the intense experience, quickly brewed a fresh pot, using the last of his coffee beans. Vlad using his shower was a bit odd but he didn't care, it was nice to be able to have a mental reset before seeing the bat-man out. Kev felt so rude, judging the surgeon, but he couldn't help it, maybe it would just take a bit of time.

Kev waited patiently, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the small apartment. A few minutes later, Vlad emerged from the bathroom, his fur damp and his wings slightly ruffled from the shower. His long white gown stuck to him in a few places as he hefted his duffle bag onto the coffee table.

"Here you go," Kev said, offering the steaming mug to Vlad.

Vlad gratefully accepted the cup and sank into the cushions with a contented sigh. "Ah, that's the stuff," he murmured, taking a long sip.

Vlad took another sip of his coffee, a thoughtful expression on his face. "How often will you need this... grooming?" he inquired, his voice a soft whisper. He stretched out a wing, flexing its leathery membrane.

Kev considered for a moment. "Twice a week would probably be fine," he replied.

Vlad nodded slowly. "I don't charge low rates," he said, a sly grin spreading across his face. "But considering your... unique circumstances," he paused, his gaze lingering on Kev's freshly shaved face, "I'm willing to offer you a discount. And… To save time, it would be better if you came down to my office," he suggested. "No need to sterilize your entire bathroom again."

"You have an office here? What exactly do you do for Lanon?" Kev asked.

Vlad shifted in his seat, his wings rustling softly. "I'm basically the on-staff vet," he explained. "A lot of our workers and clients have... specific medical needs." He grinned, revealing a set of sharp teeth. "Teeth extractions, skin grafts, the occasional... excision."

His gaze met Kev's, a predatory glint in his eyes. "If you ever need anything, Kev," he purred, "just let me know. I've never worked on a human before."

"Lucky I'm feeling healthy and fit, then," Kev replied, trying to keep his tone light despite the unsettling undertones of Vlad's words.

"I'll make sure you stay that way," Vlad assured him, a cryptic smile playing on his lips. "The boss has been so much more... reasonable since you arrived. If I can keep you up and running, he'll hopefully stay that way too."

Kev still wasn't sure how to respond to such statements. He felt a strange mix of gratitude and unease at the implication that his own status was directly tied to some ethereal control he supposedly had over Fang's emotional instability.

"Where's your office?" Kev asked, changing the subject. "So I won't have to ask around for you next time."

"The east wing," Vlad replied. "Every few days, unless there are other patients in need. Even though you're the boss's assistant, I won't let mere grooming trump a medical necessity."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Kev said, relieved by Vlad's professionalism, despite his earlier unsettling comments.

Vlad rose from the couch, extending a hand towards Kev. "Until next time, then."

Kev shook his hand, a sense of cautious optimism replacing his earlier apprehension. Vlad, despite his unsettling demeanor, seemed competent and dedicated to his work. Perhaps he wasn't so bad after all.

With a final nod, Vlad left the apartment, leaving Kev to ponder the complexities of his new life and the increasingly blurred lines between his professional and personal relationships.

Kev studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror, the lingering scent of bleach a reminder of Vlad's meticulous cleaning. His freshly shaved face felt smooth and exposed, a stark contrast to the stubble that had grown over the past week. He ran a hand over his jawline, appreciating the clean lines and the subtle definition of his cheekbones. Vlad had done a good job, Kev had to admit, even if his bedside manner left something to be desired.

He returned to the living room, settling back onto the couch with his book. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on the pages. He lost himself in the stories of Dala'Bon's history, the unfamiliar names and places slowly becoming more tangible in his mind.

Another knock at the door interrupted his reading. He glanced at his watch - it was four o'clock already. He rose from the couch and opened the door, finding Max standing on the threshold, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Afternoon, Kev," Max greeted him with a coy smile. "Seems like you are going to be a difficult one. Forcing me to put together a little private billiards room in less than a shift."

Kev's face lit up with excitement. "It's ready already? Really?" he asked, a wide grin spreading across his face. "That's awesome! Where is it?"

"Follow me," Max instructed, turning on his heel and heading down the hallway.

Kev quickly followed Max, eager to see the space that had been prepared for him. They descended the grand staircase and ventured deeper into the mansion's labyrinthine interior.

Max led Kev through a series of winding corridors, their footsteps echoing in the quiet mansion. They eventually reached a secluded wing on the west end of the building, far removed from the bustling activity of the main bar and dance floor.

"We wanted to get it closer to the bar," Max explained as they walked, "but the closer to the bar the more valuable the real estate. Anyways, this is a good room that's been waiting for some use."

They stopped in front of a heavy wooden door, its surface freshly painted a deep forest green. A bronze placard hangs from a short gold chain with the word PRIVATE, stamped on it. Max swung it open, revealing a spacious, dimly lit room.

"We got you a brand-new table," Max announced proudly, gesturing towards the centerpiece of the room. "And a fresh coat of paint on the walls. The floors aren't in the best condition, but we can work on that tomorrow."

Kev stepped inside, his eyes widening in awe. The room was everything he could have hoped for and more. The new pool table, its felt a vibrant green, gleamed under the soft light of a double chandelier hanging overhead. A cozy fireplace crackled in one corner, casting dancing shadows on the walls. And in the far wall, a set of French doors led out to a private patio, offering a secluded escape from the club's interior.

Kev was speechless. He'd expected a simple, functional space, not this luxurious haven. It was a testament to Fang's generosity, his willingness to go above and beyond to make Kev feel welcome and appreciated.

Max continued his tour, his enthusiasm growing with each step. "Some large lounge sofas and tables will be here in the next half hour," he said, pointing to an empty corner of the room. "Cues will go there," he indicated a wall with a series of hooks, "and a dartboard over there." He gestured towards another wall, already marked with a faint outline.

"You'll also need to know that behind this bookshelf," Max revealed, approaching a seemingly ordinary bookcase, "is a staircase down to the basement. Hopefully, you'll never need to use it, but if you want to go down and say hi to Cindy, I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

He looked around the room, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Not bad, eh?" he asked, clearly proud of the transformation.

Max then produced a ring of keys, carefully selecting one and handing it to Kev. "This is for the main door and the patio door," he explained. "Keep it safe. You don't want to get locked out."

Kev took the key, a sense of gratitude washing over him. "Max, this is really great," he said sincerely. "Thank you so much for setting this up." He paused, a sheepish look on his face. "And I'm sorry for making more work for you."

Max chuckled, his bushy tail swishing playfully. "I can tell it's going to be a bad habit of yours, boy," he teased, a twinkle in his eyes. "Always causing trouble, but somehow managing to charm your way out of it."

He gestured towards the room. "Anyway, everything here will be ready for you tonight if you care to use it. By tomorrow, we should be completely done, and then you can enjoy it anytime you like."

Kev nodded, his smile widening. "Thanks again, Max, it looks great. I really appreciate it." He didn't want to get in the way of the workers any longer, so he turned to leave.

"Oh, and Kev," Max called out as he reached the door. "Don't forget to lock up when you're done. Wouldn't want any unwanted guests stumbling in."

Kev chuckled. "Will do, Max," he replied, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind him. He added the new key to his apartment key ring, a tangible symbol of his growing sense of belonging in this extraordinary place.

Chapter Text

Back in his apartment, Kev glanced at his watch. It was nearing 5 pm, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the room. The anticipation for the evening's events, the auction. What kind of auction would interest Fang? It couldn't be something simple like old cars and nick-nacks, could it?

He decided to take a quick shower and change into one of his outfits. He selected a sleek black suit with subtle silver pinstripes, a perfect amount of elegance without over shadowing Fang's usual flair. He carefully styled his hair with the gel Horns had provided, achieving a polished look that complemented his new attire. As a final touch, he fastened the silver watch around his wrist, its intricate gears and hands a testament to Fang's thoughtfulness.

He reheated the leftover coffee, knowing Horns would appreciate a cup after his long day of preparations. He then retrieved the bag of premium herbs Ralph had sent over, its pungent aroma filling the air with a sweet, earthy scent. He carefully ground a small amount and rolled a joint, his movements practiced and efficient.

Just as he was lighting the joint, a knock echoed through the apartment. He opened the door to find Horns, a weary smile on his face.

"Evening, Kev," Horns greeted him, stepping into the apartment and collapsing onto the couch with a sigh of relief.

"Here you go," Kev said, handing Horns a steaming mug of coffee.

Horns gratefully accepted the cup, exchanging it for the bag of coffee beans he'd brought. "Thanks, Kev," he mumbled, taking a long sip. He then handed Kev a small bag of groceries. "Mostly fruits, deli meat, and some more bagels, like you asked," he explained.

"Thanks, Horns," Kev replied, placing the bag on the counter.

Horns's keen nose caught the scent of the premium herb Kev had been preparing. "That's Ralph's shit, right," he remarked, his eyes widening slightly. 

"Yeah," Kev confirmed, a smile playing on his lips. "Want some?"

Horns nodded eagerly, and Kev gestured towards the counter where he'd been rolling the joint. Horns, with surprising dexterity for his large hands, quickly took over the task, expertly crafting a perfect cone.

"So," Horns asked, lighting the joint and taking a deep drag, "how was your day?"

"No big drama," Kev replied, settling onto the couch beside Horns. "Just... still feeling a bit bad about Pedro."

"Pedro?" Horns echoed, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Oh, the llama. Don't worry too much about him, Kev. That sort of thing isn't exactly rare around here."

He paused, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Talon's starting tonight," he added, changing the subject.

"Yeah," Kev said, a hint of apprehension in his voice. "I hope I get along with him."

Horns shrugged. "No need to get along with the bird," he replied, his tone nonchalant. "He works for the boss, and that's the most important thing at the end of the day."

He took another drag from the joint, his gaze fixed on the swirling smoke. "Besides," he added with a chuckle, "he's not exactly the social type."

"Did you meet him?" Kev asked, curious about Horns's interaction with the enigmatic eagleman.

"He came around last night after you left," Horns explained, taking another puff of the joint. "Accepted Fang's offer. I had to give him the lowdown on his job requirements, make sure he understood what he was getting into. Paperwork, signatures… the dull stuff. He just stared mostly."

Kev's brow furrowed with a hint of worry. "Is he going to be following me around all day?" he questioned, picturing the intimidating figure of Talon lurking in the shadows.

"Uhhh, I guess you'd have to ask Fang," Horns replied.

"I know he's doing a trial run," Kev persisted, "but what will he actually be doing if he's hired on?"

Horns expertly rolled a couple more joints, his large hands moving with surprising dexterity. He passed one to Kev, who accepted it with a grateful smile.

"He'll be daytime security, essentially," Horns explained, lighting his now second joint and taking a deep drag. "Fang's paranoid about daytime security. He wants Talon to make sure there are no... issues while he's asleep."

"It seems pretty peaceful here during the day," Kev observed, taking a drag from the joint.

Horns finished rolling the remaining joints, pushing the extras toward Kev. "it is," he agreed, a thoughtful look on his face. "But I'm sure Talon will want to keep it that way. His sister will be living here too, after all."

Kev carefully placed the additional joints in his cigarette case, a smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks for the weed, Kev," Horns said, his voice a low rumble. "I gotta go do roll call now. The club's about to wake up."

He stood up, stretching his massive frame. "See you later, buddy," he said with a wave, heading towards the door.

Kev savored the remaining puffs of the joint, letting the mellow high wash over him as he relaxed on the couch. Anticipation simmered beneath his calm exterior. He couldn't deny the thrill of excitement that coursed through him at the thought of spending the evening with Fang.

The apartment was quiet, the only sounds were the ticking of the clock on the wall and the faintest hint of sound from the floors below. As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the room, Kev found himself glancing at his watch more and more frequently.

Just as he was contemplating heading downstairs to find Fang, a soft knock echoed through the apartment. He jumped up, a smile spreading across his face. "That must be him," he thought, his heart fluttering with anticipation. He quickly crossed the room and opened the door.

Talon stood in the doorway, his sharp blue eyes piercing the dim light of the hallway. He was dressed in the standard security team uniform, a crisp white shirt contrasting sharply against the flat-black tailored suit. Despite his imposing presence, there was a hint of awkwardness in his demeanor, a subtle twitching of his wings that betrayed his nervousness.

"Mr. Fang has requested you join him for dinner," Talon announced, his voice a raspy whisper that echoed in the quiet hallway.

Kev smiled, wanting to put the eagle at ease, if they were going to be spending a lot of time together it was best to try to establish an easy going rapport. "Hello, Talon," he greeted, his voice friendly. "It's good to see you again."

Talon seemed taken aback by Kev's casual greeting. A brief ruffle of his feathers, and he quickly averted his gaze. "Mr. Fang is waiting for you downstairs, Mr. Kev," he said, his voice a bit stiff.

Kev chuckled, sensing Talon's discomfort. "I know that, Talon," he replied, his tone light and teasing. "No need to be so formal with me. I'm just the assistant."

Talon's frown deepened. "The assistant… Right…" he said. "Let's get you down to see Mr. Fang."

Kev glanced back at his apartment, a fleeting sense of regret washing over him. He'd been enjoying the solitude, the chance to relax and gather his thoughts before the evening's festivities but duty called, and he was eager to see Fang again. He grabbed his cigarette case, once again filled with Horn's artisan joints, and he felt as prepared as he could be for whatever the night threw at him.

"Alright, let's go, Talon," Kev said, stepping out into the hallway.

It only took a few steps for Kev to feel uncomfortable. Talon walked behind him and some ancient part of Kev's brain could feel the bird-of-prey's eyes locked on the back of his neck. And yet, it was a bit silly, he had yet to encounter a single customer on the second floor, they seemed to know that this area was for employees only. 

Looking over his shoulder Kev saw Talon, who was walking with his arms and legs both looking so stiff he might as well be doing the robot. Was it nerves? Kev remembered his first few days, he didn't leave his room, barely said a word and had no idea how to navigate. It was probably the same for this eagle, even if he was a deadly fighter, trying to navigate your first day at work is always strange.

"You can walk beside me, Talon," Kev offered, gesturing towards the empty space beside him. "Fang won't mind. Just… don't try to dance with me."

Talon's frown deepened, his brow furrowed in concentration. "If I'm next to you," he explained, his voice a raspy whisper, "and someone is behind you, then they are behind me too."

Kev sighed, realizing the logic behind Talon's positioning. "I guess that makes sense," he conceded, though a part of him still longed for a more casual, friendly interaction.

The rest of the walk passed in silence, Kev acutely aware of Talon's unwavering gaze on his back. It was an unsettling feeling, a constant reminder of his vulnerability and the ever-present threat of danger. Down the stairs and through the crowd, it was like having a tail.

They finally reached the VIP table in the barroom, where Fang was waiting, a warm smile on his face. He had on a dark green tuxedo with a subtle pattern of leaves, embossed in soft gold flakes, that caught the light. 

Kev slid into the booth beside Fang, a sense of relief washing over him as he escaped Talon's watchful gaze. He watched as the eagleman exchanged a few hushed words with Twitch, the ferret bouncer. Twitch glanced towards Fang, a silent question in his eyes, and Fang nodded subtly in response. Twitch then disappeared into the crowd, leaving Talon standing guard at the velvet rope, his sharp eyes scanning the room.

Just then, Rebecca arrived with their food, a steaming plate of grilled chicken and asparagus for Kev and, as usual, the steak and eggs for Fang.

"Enjoy," she said with a warm smile, placing the dishes on the table.

"Eat," Fang commanded, his voice a gentle growl. 

Kev and Fang dug into their meals, the savory aromas mingling in the air. Kev savored the tender chicken and the crisp asparagus, while Fang devoured his stew with gusto. The comfortable silence between them was punctuated only by the clinking of silverware and the occasional satisfied sigh.

Fang finished his drink in one swift gulp, setting the empty glass down with a decisive clink. "Come on, Kev," he urged, a hint of excitement in his voice. "We don't want to be late."

Kev, still savoring his meal, reluctantly put down his fork. "Alright, alright," he said with a chuckle, rising from his seat.

As they walked against the stream of bodies, towards the entrance, Kev couldn't help but be thankful for Fang's affection. Without his protective aura the small human would probably be lost in the stampede. Even the smallest of them, like Reepia, the rat-woman chef, were just as big as Kev. But, these things didn't matter, nor did Kev's slow acceptance that this was not a coma dream, when Fang was near. 

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Perry, the owl man driver, was already waiting by the car, its engine purring softly. He held the door open for them. Talon strode past and, after a quick few words, took Perry's place. The driver didn't seem to mind and just nodded towards Fang as he twirled the keys and walked to the driver's seat.

As Fang settled into the back seat next to Kev he said, "I do hope there is something you like tonight. This auction house gets quite interesting pieces."

"Do they auction historical artifacts," Talon asked, trying to get into the back seat next to Fang. 

Kev felt second hand embarrassment for the poor eagle man. Even if it was his first day, the idea that the three of them would sit in the back seat together for any car ride was a bit laughable. Fang himself looked shocked that someone would dare enter his private space so boldly. 

"You sit in the front," he barked quickly.

Talon blinked a few times and said, "but… Mr. Fang. What if something happens while we are driving?"

"Then you'll deal with it from the front seat," Fang said, slamming the door shut. 

The car glided smoothly down the long, wooded driveway, its headlights cutting through the darkness like twin beams of light. A steady stream of vehicles, their occupants eager to partake in the club's nocturnal delights, flowed in the opposite direction, their headlights creating a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow.

As they approached the security checkpoint, the car slowed to a crawl. Rex, his muscular frame silhouetted against the brightly lit guardhouse, stepped forward and leaned down to the driver's window.

"Evening, boys," Rex greeted, his voice a rocky purr that echoed through the still night air. He peered into the backseat, his predatory gaze settling on Fang. "Where are you off to tonight, boss?"

Fang leaned forward, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "An auction," he replied simply.

"If you see anything that would make a good punching bag, mind grabbing it?" Rex grinned, and kneaded his hands together, his sharp claws extending and retracting. "The guys broke the last one we had so we need something new to scratch."

Then, his attention turned to Talon, who sat silently in the passenger seat, his sharp eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Hey, Talon," Rex purred, his voice laced with a playful challenge, "if you fuck up tonight, I can always take over as the human's personal bodyguard."

Talon glanced at Rex, his jaw clenched.

Rex chuckled, enjoying the eagleman's discomfort. "Cat got your tongue?" he taunted.

Fang's patience snapped. "Will that be all, Rex?" he growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble.

Rex, sensing the shift in Fang's demeanor, raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Just making sure you're all safe, boss," he said, patting the hood of the car playfully. "We'll be waiting for your return."

With a final nod, Rex stepped back, allowing the car to pass through the checkpoint. As they drove away, Kev couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The tension between Rex and Talon was palpable, a simmering rivalry that threatened to boil over at any moment. He wondered if Fang was aware of the underlying animosity between his two most trusted employees, or if he chose to ignore it, trusting in their professionalism to keep things under control.

The car sped through the moonlit streets, the city's vibrant energy pulsating around them. Kev, his eyes wide with wonder, watched as the towering skyscrapers and dazzling neon lights whizzed past. The city seemed even more expansive and luminous tonight, its energy amplified by the anticipation of the upcoming auction. Flashing video screens, traffic lights that had too many colors, blaring horns, steaming food stalls, blaring music… It was overwhelming.

"Anything you need before we get there, Kev?" Fang inquired, his voice a low rumble in the quiet confines of the car.

Kev hesitated, then admitted, "I'm running a bit low on cigarettes, but I can ask Horns for some tomorrow."

Fang chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Perry," he called out to the driver, "pull over at the next corner."

The owl man nodded, expertly maneuvering the car to the curb. Fang leaned forward, handing Talon a bill. "A pack of smokes," he instructed, "and whatever else you might want with the change."

Talon, his expression impassive, took the money and stepped out of the car. He disappeared into a nearby convenience store, emerging moments later with a pack of cigarettes and a small bag of sour candies. He popped a few into his mouth, a rare display of indulgence, before returning to the car.

"Getting close, boss," Perry announced, his voice a soft hoot as he merged back into traffic. The anticipation in the car was palpable, a mix of excitement and nervous energy. Kev couldn't help but wonder what awaited them at the auction, what secrets and treasures would be revealed in the heart of the night.

Chapter Text

The car slowed to a stop in front of a quaint, two-story building, its brick facade and arched windows a stark contrast to the towering skyscrapers that surrounded it. It seemed almost out of place in this modern metropolis, a relic of a bygone era.

Fang, his movements swift and purposeful, stepped out of the car and offered his hand to Kev. "Here we are," he announced, a hint of excitement in his voice.

Kev took Fang's hand, a warmth spreading through him at the familiar touch. He followed the wolfman inside, Talon trailing silently behind them.

The interior of the building was surprisingly spacious, its high ceilings and polished marble floors giving it an air of grandeur. Kev's eyes scanned the walls, adorned with a collection of vibrant, abstract paintings that seemed to pulse with life. It felt more like a fine art museum than a typical auction house, its atmosphere refined and sophisticated.

Fang, his hand still clasped around Kev's, led him towards the rear of the building, where a discreet staircase descended into the lower levels. The basement, shrouded in a dim, atmospheric light, exuded a speakeasy vibe. Groups of well-dressed beastmen and beastwomen mingled, their conversations hushed and their laughter subdued. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and fine tobacco, a heady mix that hinted at the exclusivity of the gathering.

Fang paused at the entrance, his keen eyes scanning the room, taking in the scene with a practiced ease. Suddenly, his expression hardened, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He stalked purposefully towards a group huddled in a dimly lit corner, his presence casting a palpable shadow over their conversation.

The group, a mix of finely dressed beastmen and beastwomen, fell silent as Fang approached. Their eyes widened in apprehension, and they quickly dispersed, leaving a solitary cheetah-man standing awkwardly in Fang's path.

Fang's hand clamped down on the cheetah-man's shoulder, spinning him around to face his imposing figure. "Maffa," Fang growled, his voice a harsh, menacing rumble, "fancy running into you here."

Maffa's spotted fur bristled, his confident demeanor faltering under Fang's intense scrutiny. He forced a smile, but his eyes betrayed his unease. "Fang," he greeted, his voice a strained purr. "What a... pleasant surprise."

Fang's growl intensified, his grip on Maffa's shoulder tightening. "The city's getting a bit too comfortable around me and mine," he hissed, his amber eyes burning with barely contained fury. "That rabbit was a stupid move, cat. A very stupid move."

Maffa's forced smile vanished, replaced by a mask of cold indifference. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he retorted, his voice a clipped purr. "But please, step back, dog. Your breath reeks of cheap whiskey."

Fang leaned in closer, his face inches from Maffa's. He burped loudly, a pungent wave of alcohol washing over the cheetahman. "Do something about it, then," he challenged, his voice a low growl.

Maffa's eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger crossing his face. But he quickly regained his composure, a resigned sigh escaping his lips. He shrugged off Fang's hand and stepped back, his movements deliberate and controlled. "Enjoy your evening, Fang," he said, his voice laced with thinly veiled contempt. "And try not to cause too much trouble. It would be a shame if you ruined the evening for everyone involved."

With that, Maffa turned and walked away, his sleek form disappearing into the crowd.

Kev, still a bit shaken by the tense encounter, approached to Fang with a questioning look. "Who was that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Fang's expression remained grim. "One of the city councilmen," he replied, his tone laced with a hint of disgust. "Maffa. A slimy bastard if there ever was one."

Kev's eyes widened in surprise. "Should we be worried about the city enforcers showing up?" he asked, a nervous flutter in his stomach.

Fang shook his head, a confident smirk returning to his lips. "Not tonight," he assured Kev. "As a councilman, Maffa has a lot to lose from being spotted here. He won't risk his reputation by calling in the authorities."

"Why not?" Kev pressed, his curiosity piqued.

"This is a black market auction, Kev," Fang explained, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Things you can't normally get your hands on. Rare artifacts, exotic ingredients, even... certain services."

Kev's gaze swept across the room, taking in the diverse crowd of patrons. Were they all criminals, he wondered, drawn to this underground world of forbidden pleasures and illicit dealings? He reminded himself that he'd narrowly escaped arrest just the night before, his own actions blurring the lines between law-abiding citizen and rule-breaker. Yet, he felt like the jewelry, clothes and wallets that were in this room had been earned though things more consequential than selling a bit of weed.

Fang, his attention momentarily diverted from Kev, caught sight of Talon standing guard by the entrance. "Drinks," he barked, his voice a commanding growl.

The eagleman nodded silently and disappeared into the throng, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd as he went.

Fang turned back to Kev, a gentle smile softening his features. "Let's find you a seat," he said, leading Kev towards a cozy corner by the fireplace. Two burly beastmen, engrossed in their conversation, occupied the plush armchairs. Fang's presence, however, commanded immediate attention. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and the two men quickly vacated their seats, their eyes wide with apprehension.

Fang gestured towards the now-empty chairs. "Sit," he said to Kev, his voice a soft purr.

As Kev settled into the comfortable armchair, the warmth of the fireplace radiating against his skin, he turned to Fang with a curious smile. "Are you looking for anything specific tonight?" he asked, his gaze sweeping across the room, taking in the eclectic mix of patrons and the hushed anticipation that hung in the air.

Fang leaned back, a relaxed smile playing on his lips. "I have a few collections I'm always adding to," he admitted, "but I'm not expecting anything particularly exciting tonight. This is more for you, Kev. A chance to acquire some unique pieces for your apartment, perhaps a conversation starter or two."

Kev's eyes widened slightly. "I'll try not to spend too much," he said, a hint of concern in his voice. He was still adjusting to the concept of Fang's seemingly limitless wealth and generosity.

"Don't worry about it, Kev," he assured him, his voice a comforting purr. "I'll cut you off if the pot gets too rich."

Moments later, Talon reappeared, two crystal tumblers clutched in his talons. He placed them on the small table with a soft clink, his gaze briefly meeting Kev's before returning to his stoic surveillance of the room.

Kev lifted his glass, surprised to find it filled with a double whiskey, neat. He took a tentative sip, the fiery liquid burning a trail down his throat. He wasn't a fan of straight liquor, preferring the sweetness of his usual Cape Cod. He made a mental note to talk to Talon about it later. It seemed like a small thing, but he didn't want to risk bringing it up in front of Fang… it was Talon's first day after all. Talon, meanwhile, had positioned himself behind their chairs, his back to them, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd.

Across the fireplace, an avian couple sat nestled in a plush velvet loveseat, their presence exuding an air of wealth and sophistication. The woman, a puffin with vibrant orange and black feathers, adorned herself with a dazzling array of jewels that sparkled in the soft light. The man, a cardinal with feathers of crimson red, was equally resplendent in a silk suit that shimmered with every movement.

The puffin woman cleared her throat, drawing attention to herself. "You must be Mr. Fang," she said, her voice a refined trill that carried across the room. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting yet."

"I'm Ophelia, and this is my partner, Jasper," she continued, gesturing towards the cardinal man beside her. "We own a small jewelry outfit in the city."

Fang's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of their profession. "Yes, I am Fang. I own a small club in the city," he replied, his voice a low rumble laced with a hint of sarcasm.

Ophelia laughed, a musical sound that echoed through the dimly lit room. "Of course, Mr. Fang," she said, her smile widening. "A small club with a big reputation."

Fang's lips curled into a pleased grin. He turned to Kev, his arm tightening slightly around the human's shoulders. "And this," he announced, his voice filled with pride, "is Kev, my personal assistant."

Kev, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the attention, offered a polite smile. "How do you do?" he responded, his voice a bit hesitant.

Jasper, his curiosity piqued, leaned forward slightly. "If you don't mind me asking, what..." He trailed off, searching for the right words to delicately inquire about Kev's species.

Kev, anticipating the question, interjected smoothly, "I'm a human."

Jasper's eyes widened in disbelief, his feathers ruffling in surprise. "Surely you jest!" he exclaimed, his voice a sharp chirp. "A human? But they're… in Dala'Bon?!"

He leaned closer, his gaze intense. "How do you even know what a human is, boy?" he demanded, his tone a mix of incredulity and suspicion.

Fang's growl cut through the air, a low, menacing rumble that silenced the room. "Are you implying my assistant is lying, Jasper?" he asked, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.

Jasper sputtered, his feathers fluffing up in alarm. He could feel the weight of Fang's presence bearing down on him, the predatory intensity in the wolfman's eyes sending a shiver down his spine.

"No, no, of course not!" he stammered, his voice a nervous chirp. "I... I just meant... it's a rare occurrence to… meet a human. A truly remarkable…. opportunity."

Ophelia, sensing the escalating tension, quickly intervened. "Jasper here is just a bit of a history buff," she explained, her voice smooth and soothing. "I believe he meant to say that it's such a pleasure to finally meet a human in person." She shot Jasper a warning glance, her eyes narrowed in disapproval.

Jasper, catching her cue, nodded eagerly. "Yes, dear," he mumbled, his feathers still ruffled. "Absolutely correct."

Fang's gaze shifted to Ophelia, a calculating glint in his eyes. "The jewelry business is a tough one, Ms. Ophelia," he remarked, his tone casual but laced with a subtle undercurrent of challenge. "Lots of red tape, regulations, permits..."

Ophelia delicately lifted her glass, her manicured fingers tracing its rim. She took a small, measured sip, her gaze never leaving Fang's. "I'm sure it's nothing compared to what the city is doing to you," she replied, her voice a cool, calculated purr.

Fang leaned forward. "And what exactly have you heard the city is doing to me?" he inquired, his tone a mix of curiosity and challenge.

Ophelia placed her drink back on the table and crossed her legs, a subtle display of confidence. She pulled out a cigarette from a jeweled case, her movements elegant and deliberate. "It's all public record, Mr. Fang," she said, lighting the cigarette with a flourish. "Building permits denied, zoning restrictions tightened, noise complaints filed at the slightest provocation..." She exhaled a plume of smoke, her eyes narrowing. "It seems like everything is public record these days, except, of course, what goes on inside your... intriguing club."

Fang leaned back in his seat, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "You seem quite interested in my business, Ms. Ophelia," he observed, his voice a low rumble.

Ophelia met his gaze. "You're a local legend, Mr. Fang," she purred, swirling the contents of her glass. "The enigmatic wolfman who built an empire of… pleasure. The rumors surrounding you and your club are so very salacious."

She paused, taking a sip of her drink. "Though not all of them are true, it seems," she continued, her gaze flicking towards the door through which Fang had entered. "They say you never leave the mansion, and yet here you are, out on the town with a handsome young human."

Fang chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that vibrated through the room. "I guess rumors aren't part of the public record either," he retorted, his smile widening.

Ophelia grinned, her sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. "It's a difficult gray area we must all navigate, Mr. Fang," she said, her voice a soft purr. "A delicate balance between truth and fiction, between reputation and reality."

Jasper, who had been silently observing Kev throughout the conversation, finally interjected, his voice sharp and accusatory. "If you're truly a human," he challenged, his gaze fixated on Kev, "then prove it."

Fang's growl reverberated through the room, a warning rumble that silenced even the nearby conversations. His protective instincts flared, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Kev, sensing the tension, gently placed a hand on Fang's shoulder, a silent plea for calm. He turned to Jasper, a bemused smile playing on his lips. "And how exactly can I do that, Mr. Jasper?" he inquired, his voice a mix of amusement and challenge.

Jasper, caught off guard by Kev's composure, sputtered, his feathers ruffling in agitation. He grasped for a suitable test, his mind racing, but came up empty. "Humans... they're just a myth," he finally blurted out, his voice a weak chirp.

Ophelia's hand shot out, striking Jasper across the face with a resounding slap. "Silence, fool!" she hissed, her voice sharp and commanding.

Jasper recoiled, his hand instinctively covering his cheek. He looked down, his feathers ruffled in embarrassment.

Ophelia turned to Fang, her expression apologetic. "Forgive my partner's outburst, Mr. Fang," she said, her voice a smooth purr. "He can be a bit... overzealous at times."

She then turned her attention to Kev, her eyes sparkling with a predatory glint. "But if anyone in this city has the resources to find such a unique assistant, it would be you, Fang," she purred. "And I must say," she added, her gaze lingering on Kev's form, "he does look quite good with all that silver. Perhaps a jewel or two would further enhance his... allure."

Kev's gaze instinctively sought Fang's, silently trying to tell him to refuse. He'd never considered himself the type to adorn himself with jewelry, always preferring a more understated, grounded look. Jewels were for people who had more money than they knew what to do with and less personality than the rocks themselves. But he couldn't deny, the thought of Fang selecting something special for him, a symbol of their connection, sent a flutter of excitement through his chest.

Fang, misinterpreting Kev's glance, turned back to Ophelia with a smile. "Are you inviting us to visit your small shop, Ms. Ophelia?" he inquired

"Anytime you want to visit, Mr. Fang," she replied. "The door will always be open."

She turned to Jasper, her gaze firm. "Give him a card, dear."

Jasper, his cheeks still flushed from the earlier slap, fumbled in his pocket and produced a sleek, black card. But before he could hand it to Fang, Talon's hand shot out, snatching the card from his grasp. Without a word, the eagleman returned to his post by the velvet rope, the card tucked safely in his pocket.

"Excuse you!" Jasper squawked, his feathers ruffling in indignation. He sat back in his chair, trying to compose himself after being startled by Talon's sudden move.

A bell chimed softly, signaling the start of the auction. Ophelia rose gracefully from her seat, her silks shimmering in the dim light. "I'm sure we will see each other again soon, Mr. Fang," she said.

"Enjoy the auction, madam," he replied, his voice a low rumble.

"I intend to," she purred, before turning and joining the crowd as they filed into the auction hall, jasper following her closely.

Fang led Kev through a set of double doors into the auction hall, a spacious chamber buzzing with anticipation. The room was dimly lit, creating an air of mystery and exclusivity. Plush velvet chairs and luxurious leather couches were arranged in a semi-circle, facing a small, elevated stage where a spotlight illuminated a podium. The walls were adorned with tapestries and paintings, their rich colors and intricate details adding a touch of opulence to the otherwise understated decor. A faint scent of sandalwood and incense hung in the air, creating a calming, almost meditative atmosphere.

Chapter Text

Fang guided Kev to a pair of seats near the front of the auction hall, their proximity to the stage offering an unobstructed view of the proceedings. Talon, ever vigilant, remained standing behind them, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble.

As they settled in, Talon discreetly handed Fang a numbered paddle. Fang, with a mischievous grin, passed it to Kev. "Here you go, my dear assistant," he said. "Your weapon for tonight's conquest."

Kev looked at the paddle, a puzzled expression on his face. "I've never been to an auction before," he confessed, his voice a bit hesitant.

Fang chuckled, his amusement evident in his eyes. "Just wave that paddle when there's something you like," he explained. "They'll bring it to you eventually. And don't worry about the price," he added with a wink. "Tonight, the sky's the limit."

"I'll try to keep things reasonable," Kev whispered to Fang.

A hush fell over the room as a bullman, his voice a deep, resonant bellow, stepped onto the stage. "Welcome, distinguished guests," he announced, his presence commanding attention. "Tonight, we have a truly exceptional collection of rare oddities and ancient masterpieces. Prepare to be amazed, to be enchanted, to be tempted beyond your wildest dreams. So, let's get started!"

A hush fell over the crowd as a velvet-draped cart was wheeled onto the stage. The bullman pulled back the cloth with a flourish, revealing a large canvas bathed in a soft spotlight.

"Behold," he proclaimed, his voice filled with reverence, "a Hosterman original from his coveted 'Green Sky' period. A masterpiece of color and texture, a testament to the artist's unparalleled vision."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the eager faces in the audience. "Bidding will start at eight-hundred thousand," he announced, his voice echoing through the hall. "Do we have any takers?"

Paddles shot up around the room, a flurry of eager bids driving the price higher and higher. Kev, his jaw agape, watched in disbelief as the numbers climbed, each bid a testament to the immense wealth and insatiable desire of the club's clientele.

The auctioneer's voice rose in excitement, fueling the frenzy. "One million! One million five hundred thousand! Two million!"

Kev's grip on the paddle loosened, his fingers numb with shock. The paddle slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor with a jarring sound that momentarily broke the spell.

He quickly snatched it back up, his face flushed with embarrassment. He leaned towards Fang, his voice a hushed whisper. "Did you hear how much that was?" he asked, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Fang's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "I did," he growled softly, his arm tightening around Kev's shoulders. "But don't worry, my dear. They usually save the really good stuff for the second half."

Kev's voice was a mix of awe and disbelief. "The most expensive thing I've ever bought was a used car, and it was the oldest, most scratched-up one on the lot," he confessed, his eyes still wide with shock. "You need to give me a budget. I don't want to bankrupt you."

Fang chuckled, his deep rumble a comforting vibration against Kev's back. He leaned in, his warm breath tickling Kev's ear. "I told you, Kev," he purred, his voice laced with a playful indulgence, "get what you want. Tonight, the sky's the limit."

Kev's brow furrowed in contemplation. He'd been tasked with keeping Fang away from gambling, but wasn't this auction just another form of high-stakes betting? A pang of anxiety gnawed at him. He didn't want to overstep his boundaries, but he also didn't want to see Fang get carried away and make a reckless purchase.

Just as Kev was debating whether to voice his concerns, the next item was unveiled. A hush fell over the crowd as a velvet cloth was lifted, revealing a magnificent sapphire-encrusted urn, its intricate carvings and shimmering gems catching the light with every subtle movement.

The auctioneer's voice, a deep, resonant baritone, filled the room. "Behold, a relic of a bygone era," he proclaimed, his words laced with reverence. "A sapphire-encrusted urn, said to have once belonged to the legendary Queen of the Night. Bidding will start at six-hundred and fifty thousand."

Fang leaned closer to Kev, his voice a low rumble in his ear. "Do you like it?" he asked, his gaze fixed on the exquisite urn.

Kev admired the craftsmanship, the sheer beauty of the piece. But he couldn't shake the feeling that it was far beyond his reach, a treasure meant for a world of unimaginable wealth and luxury.

"It's beautiful," he admitted, his voice a soft whisper, "but I'd be terrified of breaking it."

He leaned into Fang, seeking comfort in his warmth and strength. "Let's just watch," he suggested, his gaze returning to the stage.

The bidding war commenced, paddles flashing in the air as the price climbed steadily higher. Kev's heart pounded in his chest, the sheer extravagance of the scene both exhilarating and overwhelming. He couldn't help but wonder what other treasures awaited them, what secrets would be revealed in this clandestine world of luxury and desire.

The first half of the auction flew by in a blur of dazzling displays and astronomical bids. Kev's eyes watered at the sheer amount of money being tossed around so casually, his mind reeling from the realization of the vast wealth concentrated in this room. It was a world he'd never known existed, a realm of luxury and excess that seemed both alluring and terrifying.

Fang, sensing Kev's growing discomfort, leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "Another drink?"

Kev nodded gratefully, his throat parched from the smoky atmosphere and the sheer intensity of the auction.

"Talon," Fang called out, his voice a low rumble that cut through the hushed conversations, "two more, please."

The eagleman nodded silently and disappeared into the crowd before Kev could request something a bit sweeter this time.

Fang, his gaze sweeping across the room, absently played with Kev's ear, his touch gentle and reassuring. Kev leaned into the touch, a warmth spreading through him despite the lingering sting of the whiskey.

Talon returned with their drinks, placing them on the table with a practiced efficiency. Kev grimaced slightly at the sight of the amber liquid, but he took a sip nonetheless, the burn of the alcohol not all that refreshing.

The auctioneer's voice boomed through the hall once more, signaling the start of the second half. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, his tone filled with a renewed energy, "prepare yourselves for the truly extraordinary. The items in this next half are not simply objects of beauty or historical significance; they are experiences, opportunities, chances to fulfill your wildest dreams."

The crowd leaned forward in anticipation, their eyes gleaming with a mix of greed and excitement. Kev, his curiosity piqued, straightened in his seat, eager to see what wonders awaited them in this second act.

"For our next item," the bullman's voice boomed, a theatrical pause heightening the anticipation, "we have a real treat for the discerning collector."

With a dramatic flourish, he unveiled a magnificent sword, its hilt and scabbard adorned with intricate gold and silver filigree. The blade itself, forged from a dark, shimmering metal, seemed to hum with an ancient power.

"This, ladies and gentlemen," the bullman declared, his voice filled with reverence, "is an artifact of unparalleled beauty and historical significance. A blade forged in the fires of a forgotten era, imbued with the essence of legendary warriors."

He lifted the sword, its weight surprisingly light in his massive hand. "This ancient weapon was crafted before the days of blade tracking, folks," he continued, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And it's still as sharp as the day it was forged."

To demonstrate, he effortlessly sliced through a sheet of paper held aloft by an assistant, the blade cleaving through it with a whisper-quiet precision. A collective gasp echoed through the room, the audience captivated by the display of power and craftsmanship.

"Bidding will start at two and a half million," the bullman announced, his voice booming through the hall.

Fang's tail wagged excitedly, his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger. He leaned closer to Kev, his voice a low rumble. "I heard you wanted a blade, Kev," he purred. "What do you think of this one?"

Kev, remembering the unsettling encounter with Vlad, shook his head. "I've figured out a way around needing one," he replied, his voice soft but firm. He leaned into Fang, his head resting on the wolfman's shoulder. "And besides, I have you to protect me," he whispered, remembering Lanon's teasing words from earlier.

Fang's tail wagged even more vigorously, his chest swelling with pride. "Damn right you do," he growled, his voice filled with a possessive tenderness.

The bidding war for the ancient sword reached a fever pitch, the price climbing steadily higher with each frantic raise of a paddle. Finally, the gavel fell, and the sword was sold for a staggering five million dollars, a testament to the deep pockets and insatiable desires of the club's clientele.

The next item, unveiled with a flourish, was a beautifully crafted player piano, its polished wood gleaming under the spotlight. Kev's eyes lit up at the sight of the instrument, his fingers itching to touch the keys.

The bullman, his voice booming through the hall, described the piano's unique features. "This magnificent instrument," he proclaimed, "is a marvel of engineering, capable of playing a wide variety of melodies without the need for a human performer. It comes with several different music scrolls, each one containing a carefully curated selection of tunes to suit any mood or occasion."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the eager faces in the audience. "Bidding will start at 800,000," he announced.

Kev turned to Fang, his excitement bubbling over. "What do you think?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Fang shrugged, a nonchalant expression on his face. "If you want to hear music, you can always ask Asmodeus," he replied.

"But it would be nice for my apartment," Kev persisted, his voice soft but determined. "I could have some background noise during the day, something to break the silence."

Fang's expression softened as he looked at Kev, his heart melting at the human's enthusiasm. He reached across the table and took Kev's hand, raising the paddle with a confident smile.

The bull man's eyes flicked to the raised paddle, then down to his list of registered bidders. A wide smile spread across his face. "The first bid from… Mr. Fang!" he announced, his voice booming through the hall.

The room fell silent, the other patrons seemingly stunned by Fang's immediate and decisive bid. Kev's heart pounded in his chest as he looked around, his gaze sweeping across the sea of faces. No one else raised a paddle, no one dared to challenge Fang's claim on the piano.

The auctioneer, sensing the finality of the moment, raised his gavel. "Going once," he declared, his voice echoing through the hushed hall. "Going twice... Sold!"

The gavel slammed down, its sound a final punctuation to the transaction. Kev couldn't believe it. He was now the owner of a piano player, a luxurious addition to his already impressive apartment. He turned to Fang, his eyes wide with gratitude.

"Thank you, Fang," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of joy and disbelief.

Fang merely smiled, squeezing Kev's hand reassuringly. "Anything for you, my dear assistant," he purred, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down Kev's spine.

The auction continued, a parade of exotic items and extravagant experiences passing before Kev's eyes. There were rare gemstones, ancient artifacts, even a private concert with Asmodeus himself. But nothing quite captured Kev's interest like the player piano had. He was content to simply observe, his hand resting comfortably in Fang's, enjoying the spectacle and the thrill of being a part of this exclusive world.

Finally, the auctioneer's voice boomed through the hall once more, signaling the final item of the night. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, his tone filled with a dramatic flair, "I hope you've saved some money for this one, because it's a truly unique opportunity."

With a flourish, he pulled back a curtain, revealing a figure bound and gagged on a platform. The man's head was covered by a black cloth blindfold, his wrists and ankles shackled with heavy chains. Large tufts of fur had been shaved away, leaving his bruised arms and legs visible to the crowd. Kev gasped as he recognized the familiar silhouette. It was Pedro, the llama man from the pool hall.

Chapter Text

A wave of revulsion washed over Kev. The sight of Pedro, bound and helpless, his dignity stripped away, turned his stomach. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing. This wasn't an auction of objects or experiences; it was a trade in human lives.

The bullman's voice, devoid of any empathy, droned on. "This one is your choice, folks," he declared, his tone casual and detached. "A hunting partner, an organ bank, a lover... Your wish is his command. With a patented taser surgically implanted in him, he'll be easy to train, even if you just want some help around the house."

A collective gasp echoed through the room, the audience a mix of disgust and morbid fascination.

"Bidding will start at three million," the bullman announced, his voice echoing through the hall.

Kev's eyes widened in horror, his gaze darting between Pedro and Fang. "What is this?" he whispered, his voice filled with disbelief and disgust. "Why is he up there?" He reached for the bidding paddle, but Fang's hand clamped down on his, preventing him from raising it.

Fang's expression was a chilling mix of satisfaction and cold fury. "I want you to know that you're safe, Kev," he said, his voice a low growl. "If anyone dares to touch you without my permission, now they know, this is what will happen."

Kev recoiled, his stomach churning. "That's... crazy," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Fang shrugged, his gaze unwavering. "Pedro is still alive, isn't he?" he countered. "This is just a demonstration, a reminder to everyone in this room that I will not tolerate any threats to my people."

He stood up abruptly, pulling Kev to his feet. "Let's go," he said, his voice curt. "Theres nothing left to see."

They made their way towards the exit, the auctioneer's voice fading into the background as they left the hall. Kev's legs moved automatically as he tried to process what just happened. Now, what was even worse was that the bids were getting higher and higher, the audience were fighting over the shackled llama. It wasn't something that the others found abhorrent, they were feeding like priannas. Kev didn't understand, this wasn't earth, he had started to accept that, but was this normal? Was the reality of this world so brutal? Just as they reached the door, a smartly dressed stoat man intercepted them.

"Mr. Fang," he said, bowing respectfully, "the piano will be delivered tomorrow morning."

Fang nodded, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He turned to Talon, who was standing guard nearby. "Talon," he instructed, "go get the case from the car."

Talon disappeared outside for a moment, then returned carrying a sleek black suitcase. Fang handed it to the stoat man. "An even million," he said. "Sorry no one wanted to bid me up tonight."

The stoat man's eyes widened in surprise. "Thank you, Mr. Fang," he said, bowing deeply. "It's a pleasure doing business with you."

Fang, Kev, and Talon stepped out into the cool night air, the sounds of the city a welcome contrast to the tense atmosphere of the auction house. Perry, the owl man driver, was waiting patiently by the car, its engine purring softly.

The ride back to the club was a stark contrast to the earlier journey. The silence in the car was heavy, Kev's thoughts consumed by the unsettling image of Pedro bound and helpless on the auction block. His stomach churned with a mixture of disgust and pity. He glanced at Fang, who had his head out the window, tongue lolling out in the wind, seemingly oblivious to Kev's inner turmoil.

Kev lit a cigarette, the familiar ritual offering a small comfort amidst his unease. He watched the city lights blur past, a mesmerizing dance of color and movement that momentarily distracted him from his troubled thoughts. He couldn't shake the feeling that what he glimpsed wasn't even the true dark side of this world, but just another day in the lives of many.

The car slowed to a stop at the familiar security checkpoint, its headlights illuminating Rex's imposing figure. The tigerman approached the window with a knowing grin.

"You know the drill," he said, slapping the car's hood. "Everyone out, and let's get this show on the road."

Fang and Kev stepped out, Talon following close behind. The security team, their movements efficient and practiced, immediately swarmed the vehicle, their scanners sweeping over every inch of its exterior and interior.

Kev, remembering his previous mishap, carefully removed his cigarette case from his pocket before approaching the metal detector. This time, he passed through without incident, a small victory amidst the lingering unease.

As they waited for the security team to finish their inspection, Rex and Talon stood side-by-side, their postures radiating a quiet power. Kev, observing them from a distance, couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at their contrasting yet equally intimidating presences. Rex, with his muscular build, exuded a raw, animalistic energy, while Talon's lean frame and sharp gaze hinted at a more calculated, controlled approach.

Rex leaned towards Talon, his voice a low rumble. "Anything exciting happened while you were gone?" he inquired, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Talon shook his head, his expression impassive. "No," he replied curtly.

Rex's grin widened. "You get to see Pedro off?" he purred, his voice laced with a knowing tone.

Talon's frown deepened, but he remained silent, his gaze fixed on the security team as they completed their inspection of the car.

Rex chuckled, enjoying the eagleman's discomfort. "Seems like you're tired, Talon," he said, clapping a heavy hand on the birdman's back. "If you ever need a break from watching the human, I'm always happy to help... keep him pinned down for a few hours."

Kev's cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and anger rising within him. He glared at Rex, his eyes blazing with defiance.

Fang, sensing the escalating tension, stepped forward, his voice a low growl. "That's enough, Rex," he warned. "One more comment like that, and you'll be joining Berry on perimeter duty."

Rex flicked his tail, a challenge in his eyes. "Teasing isn't against the rules, boss," he retorted, his voice a playful rumble.

Fang's growl deepened. "I make the rules," he countered, his stance unwavering.

Rex's grin turned predatory. "Besides," he purred, his gaze shifting to Kev, "you already know I can protect the human better than this scrawny bird."

Talon's feathers ruffled, and a sharp caw escaped his beak. He stepped forward, his talons flexing menacingly. "Watch what you say, Mr. Rex," he hissed, his voice a low, dangerous rasp.

Rex's claws extended, his eyes gleaming with a feral hunger. "Let's do it right here, feathers," he challenged, his muscles coiling beneath his suit jacket.

"Stop!" Fang's voice boomed through the night, silencing the brewing confrontation.

Rex and Talon, startled by the intensity of Fang's command, immediately dropped their aggressive postures. They stood side by side, their heads bowed slightly, a mixture of shame and defiance etched on their faces.

Fang's gaze swept over them, his eyes burning with a cold fury. "Rex," he said, his voice a low growl, "Talon's not a full employee yet but you better treat him like one and if I find out this is how you treat other employees I'm going to be very upset."

Rex nodded, his tail tucked between his legs. "Yes, boss," he mumbled.

Fang turned to Talon. "And you," he continued, his voice softening slightly, "remember your priorities. Your first duty is to guard, not engage in petty squabbles."

Talon bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Understood, Mr. Fang."

Fang sighed, his anger slowly dissipating. He opened the car door and gestured for Kev to enter. "Let's go," he said, his voice weary..

The car rolled to a stop in front of the club, its engine rumbling to a halt. Perry, the owl man driver, held the door open with a practiced flourish. Fang stepped out, his hand reaching back to help Kev out of the car. Talon followed silently, his presence a watchful shadow in the moonlit night.

He pushed open the heavy wooden doors, the sounds of the bustling club washing over them like a tidal wave. The barroom was packed, a sea of bodies swaying and grinding to the infectious rhythm of Asmodeus's music. The air crackled with energy, a heady mix of laughter, conversation, and the intoxicating scent of desire.

Fang's eyes narrowed as he spotted a figure occupying their usual spot at the VIP table. "Who the fuck is in my seat?" he growled, his voice a low rumble that cut through the din.

Fang stalked toward the VIP table, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. Talon, ever vigilant, moved closer to Kev, ushering him quickly along past the now loud and raucous customers.

As they got closer, however, Fang's fury dissipated, replaced by a surprised smile. Sitting at the table, a delicate teacup in her hand, was the modestly dressed head of housekeeping.

"Cindy?" Fang's voice softened, the growl fading from his tone.

"Welcome back," Cindy greeted, her voice a gentle melody amidst the club's cacophony. She turned to Kev, her eyes full of amusement. "Good to see you brought him on a walk." A soft giggle escaped her lips, the sound surprisingly light and carefree for the usually stern head of housekeeping.

Kev and Fang slid into the booth. Kev couldn't help but feel a sense of incongruity seeing Cindy in this setting. Her presence, so calm and collected, seemed at odds with the club's pulsating energy. He couldn't shake the feeling that her pink, flower-filled office was a far more fitting environment for the gentle deer woman.

"Cindy," Fang began, his voice laced with a hint of surprise, "what brings you up here? Shouldn't you be downstairs, making sure everything's spotless for our guests?"

Cindy chuckled, a soft, melodic sound that cut through the surrounding noise. "I can spare a few minutes for my favorite pup," she replied, her gaze shifting affectionately to Fang. "Besides," she added, her eyes twinkling with curiosity, "I want to hear all about the auction. Did everything go smoothly?"

"No issues at all," Fang replied with a satisfied grin. "Everything went according to plan."

Cindy's eyes narrowed slightly. "And who ended up with the... llama?" she inquired, her voice a gentle but pointed question.

Kev's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn't expected Cindy to show any interest in the more... unsavory aspects of the auction. He had suspected she knew about it, but to ask personally?

Fang chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the booth. "I don't know," he admitted, his tone nonchalant. "Hope they have fun." He waved at Dale, signaling for another round of drinks.

"Be a bit smarter, pup," Cindy chided, her voice laced with a hint of maternal concern. "You should always gather as much information as possible. It's better to know who ends up with your little issue." She sighed, taking a sip of her tea. "But I'm glad it's dealt with. That Pedro was trouble."

Fang nodded in agreement. "You always come up with the best ideas, Cindy," he said, a genuine warmth in his eyes.

Kev's jaw dropped slightly, a wave of surprise washing over him. The sweet, unassuming Cindy had been the mastermind behind Pedro's fate? It was a revelation that painted her in a whole new light. He looked at her with newfound concern. Perhaps she was even more terrifying than Reepia, her gentle demeanor masking a sharp intellect and ruthlessness.

Cindy, noticing Kev's stunned expression, chuckled softly. "Don't look so surprised, dear," she said, her voice a gentle melody. "I'm happy to help. I just thought back to the old days, when Fang's father ran the club, and inspiration struck."

She stood up, her movements graceful and deliberate. "But I must be getting back to work," she announced, a hint of regret in her voice. "There's still much to do before the real cleaning begins."

She paused by the bar, exchanging a warm greeting with Dale, who chatted with her freely. Then, with a final smile and a wave to Kev and Fang, she disappeared into the crowd.

Fang glanced at his watch, a frown creasing his brow. "It's getting late, Kev," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You should probably head to bed."

He turned to Talon, who stood silently at attention behind them. "Talon," he instructed, "escort Kev to his room."

Kev's heart sank. He'd hoped to spend more time with Fang, perhaps even share another intimate moment before the night was over. Just to talk about what the hell happened to Pedro. Or even… just for Fang to sleep… Kev didn't want to be alone.

"Fang, you can walk me," Kev protested, his voice a soft plea.

Fang shook his head, a hint of regret in his eyes. "Talon is in training, Kev," he explained. "He needs to walk around a bit, get a feel for the layout of the club."

Kev sighed, accepting the inevitable. "Alright," he said, forcing a smile. "Have a good night, Fang." He leaned in and gave the wolfman a quick kiss on the cheek, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

Fang's tail thumped against the booth. "You too, Kev," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. "Sleep well."

With a final wave, Kev followed Talon out of the barroom, leaving Fang to navigate the bustling club alone.

As Kev ascended the grand staircase, Talon's silent presence looming behind him, he couldn't help but feel a pang of awkwardness. He decided to break the ice, his voice a casual murmur.

"Hey, Talon," he began, "I'm not really a fan of straight whiskey. If you're ever getting me a drink, maybe a whiskey sour or something a bit sweeter would be nice. I didn't want to say anything in front of Fang, just a heads up."

Talon paused on the step below Kev, his sharp eyes meeting the human's in the dim light. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a thoughtful nod. "Thank you," he replied, his voice a low rasp. "Mr. Fang... he seems to be quite invested in you."

Kev chuckled softly. "Yeah, it appears he does."

Talon resumed his ascent, his gaze fixed on the steps ahead. "How long have you been with Mr. Fang?" he inquired, his tone neutral.

Kev hesitated for a moment, sensing a double meaning in Talon's question. "Just a few days," he replied, his voice carefully guarded. "I started last week."

"Really? You appear to be quiet... special to Mr. Fang," Talon observed, his voice a low rumble that echoed in the stairwell.

They reached the top of the stairs, and Kev turned to face Talon, a curious smile playing on his lips. "You started pretty fast, didn't you?" he remarked. "Just interviewed yesterday, and now you're practically part of the family."

Talon's frown deepened. "It was more of an audition than an interview," he corrected, his voice a raspy whisper.

Kev chuckled. "An audition?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow. "I thought your performance in the fighting pit two nights ago was the audition."

Talon's feathers ruffled slightly, a subtle sign of discomfort. "I'd rather not talk about it," he said, his voice a clipped rasp.

"Does that mean you're going to turn down the job?" he inquired, a hint of concern in his voice.

Talon let out a single dry laugh, the sound echoing in the empty corridor. "I don't think that's much of an option," he replied, his tone resigned. "I knew that before I even came back last night."

They reached Kev's apartment door, and Kev paused, turning to face Talon. "Would you like to come in for a bit?" he offered, a warm smile on his face. "I could make you some coffee."

Talon's sharp eyes scanned the hallway, checking for any signs of activity. "It's probably not... appropriate," he said hesitantly, his gaze flickering back to Kev.

"It's fine, Talon," Kev assured him, his smile widening. "Come in. Let me make you something to eat. I haven't seen you have anything other than those sour candies."

Talon's expression softened slightly, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. He stepped into Kev's apartment, his wings brushing against the doorframe as he entered.

Kev bustled around the kitchen, heating up the remaining coffee and assembling a quick meal for Talon. He toasted a bagel, spread it with butter, and added a colorful assortment of fruit to the plate. He carried the offering over to Talon, who was perched on the edge of the couch, his wings folded neatly against his back.

"Here you go," Kev said, placing the plate and a steaming mug of coffee on the coffee table.

Talon's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the food. "Thank you," he said, his voice a soft rasp. He picked up a piece of fruit and nibbled on it, his movements surprisingly delicate for someone with such powerful talons.

"We'll be working together pretty often, I guess," Kev remarked, taking a seat on the couch opposite Talon.

Talon nodded, his gaze meeting Kev's. "That's the idea," he confirmed. 

"Is your sister excited about the move?" Kev inquired, desperately trying to connect with the avian.

Talon's expression clouded over, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Not exactly," he admitted, his voice a low rasp. He reached for another grape, popping it into his mouth with a thoughtful chew.

"She's been laid up in our apartment for several months now," he explained, his voice laced with a touch of helplessness. "Passing the time with TV and video games. She's... less than thrilled about the prospect of living without electricity or phones."

"I can understand that," Kev said, a sympathetic smile playing on his lips. "I've found the transition a bit difficult myself. But I'm glad there will be more people to... hang out with during the day."

Talon raised an eyebrow, a puzzled expression on his face. "Hang out?" he echoed. "Like... during breaks?"

Kev nodded. "Uhhh, yeah," he explained. "The mansion is usually pretty quiet during the daytime. It can get a bit lonely."

Talon's frown deepened. "Lonly? But don't you have work to do?" he asked.

Kev sheepishly shook his head. "Not really," he admitted.

Talon's eyes widened in surprise, and he choked on a grape, spitting it out onto the plate. He quickly recovered, clearing his throat and taking a sip of coffee. "That's... very lucky, I guess," he managed to say, his voice a bit raspy.

Kev sighed, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. "Honestly, I'd like at least a little work," he confessed, exhaling a plume of smoke. "If Fang decides he doesn't like me anymore, I'll have nothing to fall back on, and I'll be fired."

Talon nodded thoughtfully, munching on a bagel. "That's… a valid concern," he agreed. "But I wouldn't worry too much about it. Fang seems quite taken with you."

He paused, then added with a sigh, "if he fires you then I'll be the one hanging out with no work to do."

Kev chuckled, appreciating Talon's attempt at humor. "Thanks for the reassurance," he said, taking another drag from his cigarette.

Talon finished his bagel and stood up, stretching his wings. "If you want to use the bathroom before I head down, go for it," Kev offered.

Talon considered the offer, then nodded. The thought of the club's crowded bathrooms, filled with drunken patrons and questionable hygiene, made the privacy of Kev's apartment all the more appealing. "I'll be right back," he said, disappearing into the bathroom.

Talon emerged from the bathroom moments later, his feathers neatly preened and his expression refreshed. "I'll see you around, Kev," he said with a curt nod.

Kev waved goodbye, a smile playing on his lips. Just as Talon was about to close the door, he poked his head back in. "Oh, and I was told to remind you to lock your door," he added, his voice a soft rasp.

With that, he finally disappeared down the hallway, leaving Kev alone once more.

Kev shook his head, a bemused smile on his face. Talon was certainly a unique character, his military-like demeanor and cryptic warnings a stark contrast to the more laid-back personalities of Horns and Dale. But beneath the rigid exterior, Kev sensed a genuine concern for his well-being, a loyalty to Fang that extended to those the wolfman cared about.

He locked the door, a sense of anxiety settling over him. He didn't light any candles as he smoked his last cigarette of the night, images of the lama man flashing though his mind. 

With a sigh, Kev stubbed his smoke and climbed into bed. The soft sheets did not hold back the visions of the auction. Kev tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable.

Chapter Text

Kev's sleep, when it finally came, was deep and dreamless, a welcome respite from the whirlwind of last night's events. He stirred awake as a persistent knocking echoed through his apartment. Blearily, he checked his watch - 7 am. It must be Horns, back from his shift and ready to crash.

Kev padded to the door, sleep still clinging to his eyelids, and swung it open. Horns stood on the threshold, a weary smile on his face, his massive frame drooping slightly with exhaustion.

Horns's smile faltered as his gaze swept over Kev's form. He snorted, a low, rumbling sound that echoed in the hallway. Kev, following his gaze, looked down and realized he was only clad in his underwear. A blush crept up his neck, and he quickly averted his eyes.

"Come in," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "Just woke up."

He retreated to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. A few minutes later, he emerged, fully dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

Horns was already comfortably sprawled on the couch, a joint dangling from his lips, its smoke curling lazily towards the ceiling. "Thought you'd at least have a little fur," he remarked with a chuckle, his gaze lingering on Kev's bare arms.

Kev rolled his eyes playfully. "Some humans do," he retorted, heading towards the kitchen. "But I'm not one of them."

He filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove, the familiar routine of making coffee a comforting anchor. As the water heated, he poured a separate glass of water for Horns and brought it over to the couch.

"Thanks, Kev," Horns mumbled, taking a long drag from his joint. "So, how was your night?" he asked.

"The auction was...," Kev replied, his voice trailing off as the memory of Pedro on the auction block flashed through his mind. He shuddered, a wave of unease washing over him. "Did you know about that? About Pedro?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Horns exhaled a cloud of smoke, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "My job isn't to upset you, Kev," he said, his tone gentle. "But yes, I knew. Pedro made it out quite well, to be honest. Talon wasn't too rough on him."

"What?" Kev's eyes widened in surprise. "Talon? What do you mean?"

"Pass me a bagel, and I'll tell you," Horns said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Kev quickly complied, handing Horns the last bagel from the bag.

Horns took a bite, savoring the warm, doughy goodness. "Fang wanted Talon to... audition, let's say," he explained between chews.

"Audition?" Kev echoed, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I thought his performance in the fighting pit was the audition."

Horns shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Talon is going to have a unique job, Kev," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Fang wanted to make sure he understood the seriousness of the deal they were making, the consequences of any... missteps."

Kev's heart sank. "What did Talon do to Pedro?" he asked, a knot of dread forming in his stomach.

"You're out of bagels, Kev," Horns observed, eyeing the empty bag on the counter. "Seems like you'll have to ask Talon about it yourself." He chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Kev's face flushed slightly. "I'm not trying to bribe him for information, Horns," he protested, though a playful smile tugged at his lips.

"Sure, sure," Horns replied with a wink. He stood up, stretching his massive frame. "Anything else you need before I head out?"

"Some jerky would be nice," Kev said, thinking about the long hours he spent during the day. "And, maybe some peanut butter. And… of course, more bagels."

Horns laughed heartily. "Trying to use them to buy more info from me, are you?" he teased. "Clever, Kev, very clever."

He headed towards the door, but Kev stopped him with a question. "Hey, Horns," he asked, "what's the laundry situation here? I haven't seen any washing machines or dryers."

"There are laundry chutes in a couple of spots on the second floor," Horns explained. "Just toss your dirty clothes in, and they'll end up in the basement. Cindy's crew will take care of it for you."

"That's convenient," Kev said, relieved. "Thanks, Horns."

"No problem, Kev," Horns replied with a wave. "See you tonight." He closed the door behind him, leaving Kev to ponder the mysteries of Talon and the events of the previous night.

Kev gathered the pile of dirty clothes that had accumulated over the past week and ventured out into the hallway. He followed Horns' instructions, searching for the elusive laundry chutes. After a few wrong turns and a brief detour into a room filled with sheet-covered antique furniture, he finally found one tucked away in a discreet corner.

He peered into the metal chute, its dark depths hinting at the labyrinthine basement below. With a shrug and a mumbled "Sorry, Cindy," he dumped his week's worth of laundry into the abyss. The clothes disappeared with a soft thud, swallowed by the mansion's hidden infrastructure.

Kev returned to his apartment, a mild sense of accomplishment washing over him.

After a leisurely circuit of the grounds, Kev returned inside, a sense of contentment settling over him. He'd enjoyed the solitude, the chance to clear his head and appreciate the natural beauty that surrounded the mansion. The contrast of the quiet, peaceful days and the dangerous nights of this place were extremely jarring.

Kev's stomach grumbled, reminding him of the meager selection of food in his kitchen. He decided to venture inside, hoping to catch Reepia before she left for the night. Perhaps she could spare a few leftovers or suggest something quick and easy he could prepare himself.

The kitchen, usually a bustling hub of activity, was now eerily quiet. A few cleaners diligently mopped the floors, their movements efficient and silent. But the stoves were cold, the ovens dark, and the familiar scent of spices and roasted meats was absent. Reepia, it seemed, had already departed for the day.

Disappointed but not deterred, Kev grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and headed back towards the staircase. As he passed through the main hall, he noticed a commotion near the front entrance. Max, his bushy tail twitching with authority, was directing a group of burly beastmen who were carefully maneuvering a large, heavy object wrapped in protective blankets.

Kev's eyes widened in recognition. It was his player piano!

"Hey, Max," Kev greeted, a smile spreading across his face.

Max turned, a playful grin on his face. "Kev," he acknowledged with a chuckle. "Always giving me more work, aren't you?"

"It's a gift," Kev explained, gesturing towards the piano.

Max laughed heartily. "When Cindy heard about this, she was quite envious," he revealed, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Kev chuckled nervously, remembering Cindy's role in the Pedro incident. "She's free to come up and listen anytime," he offered.

"Is it going in your private billiards room or your apartment?" Max asked, eyeing the bulky instrument.

Kev paused, considering his options. "Bring it up to my apartment, if it's not too much of a hassle," he decided. "If I have it down here, Asmodeus might get jealous."

Max laughed, a deep, hearty sound that echoed through the hall. "Good choice," he said, nodding in approval.

Kev watched in amazement as two of the cleaners, a hippopotamus and an elk, effortlessly lifted the piano and carried it past the staircase, disappearing down a hallway that led deeper into the mansion's labyrinthine interior.

"Those guys are strong," Kev remarked, impressed by their strength and coordination.

"They have to be," Max replied with a shrug. "This place is full of surprises, and you never know what you might have to move around."

Intrigued, Kev followed Max and the cleaners, his curiosity piqued. "Where are we going?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Max chuckled, a sly grin on his face. "You really need to explore more, Kev," he teased. "This place is full of hidden passages and secret rooms."

They continued down the hallway, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. They reached a small, unassuming room, its walls lined with shelves filled with cleaning supplies. Max closed the door behind them and slid a hidden panel aside, revealing a series of buttons and levers.

"Hold on tight," Max warned, pressing a button labeled "UP."

The room shuddered, a low hiss filling the air as a hidden mechanism activated. The entire room began to rise, a gentle but steady ascent that left Kev momentarily breathless.

A few moments later, the room came to a stop, and Max slid the panel open once more. They emerged onto the second floor, a familiar hallway stretching out before them.

"A mechanical elevator?" Kev exclaimed, his eyes wide with surprise. "That's quite impressive."

Max chuckled, a hint of irony in his voice. "Keeping that old thing running probably costs more than the entire security team's budget," he admitted. "But Fang's got a soft spot for the mansion's original features. He'd rather spend a fortune on repairs than replace it with something modern."

Kev's brow furrowed slightly. "Should I be worried about it breaking?" he asked, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips.

Max shrugged. "It's been holding up so far," he replied with a nonchalant air. "But if it does, just yell. Someone's bound to hear you."

They reached Kev's apartment, and Max stepped back, gesturing towards the open door. "Well, here we are," he said with a smile. "Enjoy your new toy."

Kev thanked Max once again, then stepped into his apartment, the anticipation of seeing the piano in its new home bubbling within him.

Kev's eyes lit up as he took in the sight of the player piano, its polished wood gleaming in the afternoon light. It was even more impressive in person, its intricate carvings and gleaming brass accents a testament to its craftsmanship. He wasted no time in rearranging the furniture, carefully positioning the piano against the wall opposite the windows, where it would bask in the warm glow of the sun.

Max, observing Kev's enthusiasm, chuckled. "Someone will drop off the other music scrolls soon," he assured him. "See ya."

With a final nod, Max and the two cleaners left the apartment, the sound of their footsteps fading down the hallway.

Kev, now alone with his new treasure, eagerly approached the piano. He ran his fingers over the smooth keys, a thrill of anticipation coursing through him. He opened the lid, revealing the intricate mechanism within, its gears and levers a testament to the ingenuity of its creators. After a few moments of exploration, he located the crank and the slot for the music scrolls. He carefully inserted one of the scrolls, its paper perforated with tiny holes, and began to turn the crank.

The piano sprang to life, its keys dancing in a mesmerizing ballet as the music filled the room. Kev closed his eyes, letting the melody wash over him, a smile spreading across his face.

Chapter Text

The day slipped away as Kev lost himself in the enchanting melodies of the player piano. 

He experimented with the few scrolls he had, each one revealing a new world of musical expression. From lively waltzes to somber ballads, the piano filled his apartment with a symphony of emotions, a welcome distraction from the anxieties that still lingered in the back of his mind.

As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the room, Kev's stomach rumbled, reminding him of the need for sustenance. He scrounged together a late, makeshift lunch from the remaining groceries, savoring the simple flavors and textures.

He checked his watch, surprised to see it was already two in the afternoon. The evening was fast approaching but he still had a few hours to kill. He decided to curl up on the couch with his book, the gentle melodies of the piano providing a soothing backdrop as he delved deeper into the history of Dala'Bon. He fell asleep within minutes.

A few hours later, a knock at the door startled him from his nap. He glanced at his watch, surprised to see it was already five o'clock. He opened the door. "Horns?" he asked.

"Evening, Kev," Horns greeted him with a cheerful grin. "I brought you those supplies."

He stepped inside, depositing the bags on the kitchen counter with a grunt.

Kev's stomach rumbled seeing the fresh groceries, he grabbed a piece of jerky and munched on it as he unpacked the bags. Horns, meanwhile, had made himself comfortable on the couch, his large frame sinking into the cushions with a sigh of contentment.

"How was your day, Kev?" Horns inquired, his voice a gentle rumble.

"A bit slow," Kev admitted, taking another bite of the dried-meat. "I did get to listen to my new piano for a while... Not exactly the most exciting day."

Horns chuckled. "Well, you did have a pretty eventful night," he pointed out. "And that piano looks good in here."

Kev nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "It's really nice," he agreed. "But I'm starting to wonder if I should have even bid on it at the auction. If Fang is bad with gambling... should I have assumed the same for auctions?"

Horns shook his head, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Auctions are just money, Kev," he explained. "But bets.. bets can be anything. A dance, a piece of clothing, even a life..."

He paused, his gaze meeting Kev's. "You've never dreamed of spending that much money on something, have you?"

Kev shook his head, a sheepish grin on his face. "Not in my wildest dreams," he admitted. "The most expensive thing I ever bought was a used car, and even that felt like a splurge."

Horns chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through the room. "The club is quite profitable, Kev," he revealed, a hint of pride in his voice. "Fang may be a bit... volatile at times, but he's a shrewd businessman. He knows how to make money."

Horns finished his coffee and stood up, stretching his massive frame. "Well, I better get going," he announced, a hint of excitement in his voice. "Big night ahead, Kev. Make sure you dress sharp. We're expecting those mafia VIPs."

Kev's eyes widened in surprise. "Has it really been a whole week already?" He asked, a touch of disbelief in his voice.

Horns chuckled. "Time flies when you're having fun... or working at Club Fang," he replied with a wink. "I'm going to get the staff ready early today. We need to make a good impression on these clients." He paused, his gaze meeting Kev's. "I'll be waiting for you down at the VIP table. Fang wants me around for the meeting."

With a final nod, Horns left the apartment, leaving Kev to prepare for the night ahead. Feeling a mix of anticipation and nervous energy, he quickly freshened up in the bathroom. He showered and carefully styled his hair with the gel Horns had brought him. He then selected a sleek black suit from his newly acquired wardrobe, its subtle silver accents shimmering in the soft light of his apartment.

As he waited for Fang, Kev nibbled on some fruit and cheese, his appetite dulled by the nervous flutter in his stomach. The anticipation of the evening's events, the meeting with the mafia VIPs and the prospect of spending more time with Fang, both excited and intimidated him.

Promptly at six o'clock, a knock echoed through the apartment. Kev opened the door to find Fang standing on the threshold, wearing an unusually basic black suit, his usual confident demeanor tinged with a hint of nervousness. He shoved the feeling down... it was best not to bring up Pedro again... maybe he could forget about it...

"Ready to grab some grub, Kev?" Fang asked, his voice a low rumble.

Fang led Kev through the bustling club, his hand resting possessively on the small of Kev's back. The atmosphere was electric, a mix of anticipation and excitement buzzing through the air. As they reached their familiar spot in the VIP section, Kev couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, Fang, this world, was so much more dangerous than he had initially assumed.

"So," Kev began, his voice a curious whisper, "what's the plan for the mafia visitors tonight? Do we have any idea what they'll be like?"

Fang's brow furrowed slightly, a hint of frustration in his eyes. "Unfortunately, we haven't been able to gather much information," he admitted, his voice a low rumble. "They might show up as regular customers, just to get a feel for the club and how things are run. Or they could make a grand entrance, demanding special treatment and attention."

He sighed, shaking his head. "We'll just have to be prepared for anything."

Kev nodded, a sense of unease settling in his stomach. The thought of encountering high-ranking mafia members, especially after his recent brush with the city enforcers, made him nervous. If a city council member attended an auction that involved human trafficking, he could only imagine what the mafia was like. He leaned into Fang, seeking comfort in his warmth and strength.

Fang's arm tightened around Kev's shoulders, a silent reassurance. "I've missed you," he murmured, his voice a soft purr against Kev's ear.

Before Kev could respond, Fang leaned in and captured his lips in a tender kiss. The world around them seemed to fade away, replaced by the intoxicating sensation of Fang's touch and the warmth of his embrace.

Just as the kiss deepened, a familiar voice interrupted their moment. "Can I get you gentlemen anything?" Rebecca asked, a polite smile on her face.

Fang reluctantly pulled away from Kev, a playful grin on his lips. "We'll have the usual," he replied, his gaze lingering on Kev's flushed cheeks.

"Right away, boss," Rebecca replied with a cheerful nod, her tail swishing playfully as she headed towards the bar. Dale, ever the efficient bartender, was already in the process of preparing their drinks, his hands moving with a practiced grace that belied their size.

Kev, his thoughts still lingering on the upcoming encounter with the mafia VIPs, turned to Fang with a curious frown. "Is Talon going to be here tonight?" he inquired, his voice a soft murmur.

Fang shook his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "No," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "He's probably still packing up his belongings and getting his sister ready to move in. It'll take a few days to settle them into their new accommodations."

Kev nodded, a sense of relief washing over him. He wasn't quite ready to face Talon again, not after finding out that his new body guard was also involved in Pedro's enslavement.

"So, I guess the rest of the night went smoothly?" he asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from the eagleman.

Fang chuckled, a deep, self-assured sound. "What did you expect, Kev?" he asked, puffing out his chest slightly. "I'm here to make sure everything runs smoothly."

Kev grinned, leaning into Fang's warmth. "Of course, big guy," he teased, a playful lilt in his voice.

Just then, Rebecca arrived with their drinks, placing them on the table with a practiced grace. "Enjoy," she said with a warm smile, her gaze lingering on Kev for a moment before she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Fang took a sip of his Bloody Mary, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. "So," he began, his voice a low rumble, "how's the piano? To your liking?"

Kev's face lit up. "It's wonderful, Fang," he replied, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Thank you again. I've been playing it all day." He paused, a hint of concern creeping into his voice. "I hope it wasn't too expensive."

Fang waved a dismissive hand. "Finding something that old and in such good condition is rare these days," he explained. "The price wasn't bad at all, considering."

Kev raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Really?" he asked. "I would have thought you could have one custom-built for less."

Fang chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the booth. "I'm not much for brand new things, Kev," he admitted, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "There's something about a bit of history, a story behind an object, that makes it more... special."

Kev grinned, leaning closer to Fang. "You know me," he teased, his voice a playful whisper. "I like things with a bit of history too." He reached up and playfully plucked a stray gray hair from Fang's chin, his touch light and teasing.

Fang's laughter boomed through the booth, a deep, resonant sound that sent a shiver of delight down Kev's spine. "What would you like to do tonight, my assistant?" he asked, his voice a low rumble filled with warmth and affection. "Unless the mafia auditors announce themselves, we only need to stick around the club to be available."

Kev's eyes lit up with excitement. "We could check out my new billiards room," he suggested, a playful grin spreading across his face. "I haven't had a chance to really try it out yet."

Fang's smile mirrored Kev's. "That sounds like a splendid idea," he replied, his voice a low rumble.

Just as they finished their drinks, Rebecca arrived with their food. A perfectly cooked steak, still sizzling on the plate, was placed in front of Fang, while Kev received a colorful grilled-chicken covered salad.

"I had to change your order a bit, Kev," Rebecca apologized, her voice a soft purr. "We're out of asparagus tonight."

"No problem," Kev assured her with a smile. "This looks delicious. Good choice."

Fang and Kev dug into their meals, the savory aromas mingling in the air. The quiet intimacy of their booth, amidst the bustling energy of the club, created a sense of comfortable seclusion, a world away from the chaos and uncertainty that had marked the past few days.

Kev, savoring the last bite of his salad, leaned back in his seat with a contented sigh. "The past week has flown by," he remarked, a hint of wonder in his voice. "I can't even remember everything that's happened since I started."

Fang chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the booth. "You've taken it all in stride, Kev," he said, his gaze filled with admiration. "I expect nothing less from my... family."

The word hung in the air, a subtle shift in their dynamic that sent a thrill through Kev's heart. He met Fang's gaze, a warmth spreading through him at the unspoken intimacy of the moment.

Fang, his appetite sated, signaled to Rebecca for another drink. "Another Bloody Mary, please," he requested, his voice a low rumble.

Kev finished his salad, pushing the empty plate aside. He watched as Rebecca disappeared into the crowd, her feline grace a mesmerizing contrast to the boisterous energy of the bar.

Fang, invigorated by his meal and the anticipation of spending some time alone with Kev, downed his fresh Bloody Mary in a few swift gulps. "Let's go," he said, rising from his seat with a newfound energy. "Lead the way, Kev."

Kev, a smile playing on his lips, guided Fang through the labyrinthine corridors of the mansion. They ventured towards the west wing, the distant sounds of the club's preparations growing fainter with each step.

As they approached the private billiards room, Fang couldn't help but comment on its location. "It's a bit far from the bar, isn't it?" he remarked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"I think the cleaning crew chose it," Kev explained, recalling his earlier conversation with Max.

Fang chuckled, a low rumble that reverberated through the hallway. "That's fine, then," he said, his tone light. "I'm sure Cindy gave it some thought."

Kev reached into his pocket and retrieved his light key ring. He selected the appropriate key and unlocked the door, a sense of pride swelling within him as he swung it open.

Chapter Text

The private billiards room looked even better than Kev remembered. The new furniture had arrived, plush leather sofas and a low coffee table creating a cozy seating area near the fireplace. The floors, once worn and scuffed, now gleamed with a fresh coat of varnish. The entire room exuded an air of luxury and relaxation, a perfect escape from the club's frenetic energy.

Fang surveyed the space with a satisfied nod. "This is good," he remarked, his voice a low rumble. He settled into one of the armchairs by the fireplace, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

"Would you like to play a round?" Kev asked, gesturing towards the pool table.

Fang glanced at the green felt, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. "Maybe later," he replied, his gaze returning to the crackling fire. "I'm still a bit... tense from the past few days."

Kev chuckled, understanding the wolfman's need for a moment of quiet. He racked the balls and began practicing his shots, the rhythmic click-clack echoing through the room. After a while, Fang stirred from his contemplative silence by the fireplace.

"Would you like another drink, Kev?" he inquired, his voice a low rumble that cut through the quiet room.

Kev looked up, a smile spreading across his face. "That would be nice," he replied, setting his cue down on the table.

Fang rose from his chair, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Don't go anywhere," he said, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

He strode towards the door, locking it securely behind him before disappearing into the hallway. Kev, momentarily puzzled by the gesture, shrugged it off. Perhaps Fang was just being cautious, ensuring their privacy in this secluded corner of the mansion.

He returned to his game, the rhythmic movements of his body and the satisfying sound of the balls colliding providing a welcome distraction from his lingering anxieties.

Kev heard a soft knock on the door and, with a smile, went to open it for Fang. The wolfman entered, carrying a tray laden with two drinks and a plate of appetizers.

"Let's enjoy these outside," Fang suggested, nodding towards the French doors that led to the private patio.

Kev's eyes lit up. "That sounds lovely," he replied, stepping aside to let Fang pass.

They settled onto the patio furniture, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the billiards room. Kev lit a cigarette, savoring the familiar ritual as he gazed out at the moonlit garden.

"Cindy did a good job with this room," Fang remarked, his voice a low rumble.

"Actually, it was Max who oversaw the renovations," Kev corrected him, taking a drag from his cigarette.

Fang raised an eyebrow, a puzzled expression on his face. "Max?" he echoed. "Who's Max?"

"Max is Cindy's daytime manager," Kev explained, taking a sip of his drink. "Her second-in-command, I guess you could say."

Fang nodded slowly, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "I'm not sure if I've had the pleasure of meeting him yet," he admitted. "He works the day shift, so I'm usually... indisposed."

Kev chuckled softly. "Yeah, you're usually asleep while he's here."

Fang took a sip of his drink, a contemplative look in his eyes. "Cindy wouldn't choose a slouch to be her daytime manager," he mused, his voice a low rumble. "I'm sure Max is a hard worker."

"He seems to be," Kev agreed. "I haven't had any issues with the daytime crew so far. Everyone's been very respectful and helpful."

Fang's expression hardened slightly. "Let me know if that changes, Kev," he said, his voice firm. "I'll be sure to rectify the situation."

"Your people are great, Fang," Kev reassured him, a warm smile on his face. "No need to worry."

Fang's tail wagged gently in response, a subtle sign of his pleasure. "I run a tight ship, Kev," he said, his voice filled with pride. "Everyone knows their place, and they do their jobs well."

He stood up, his gaze drawn to the moonlit woods beyond the patio. A moment of silence passed as he seemed lost in thought, the gentle breeze rustling his fur.

Kev, having finished his cigarette, extinguished it in the ashtray and headed back inside. The pool table beckoned him, its green felt a familiar comfort in this strange new world. He grabbed a cue and began practicing his shots, the rhythmic click-clack of the balls a soothing soundtrack to his thoughts.

Fang eventually joined him, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Mind if I try my hand at darts?" he asked, gesturing towards the board on the far wall.

Kev chuckled. "Be my guest," he replied, stepping aside to give Fang room.

Fang picked up a handful of darts, his large paw dwarfing the slender projectiles. He took aim, his brow furrowed in concentration, and threw the first dart with a powerful flick of his wrist. The dart sailed through the air, embedding itself deep into the wall beside the board.

Fang growled in frustration, his ears flattening against his head. He tried again, and again, each dart missing the target by a wide margin. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he tossed the remaining darts onto the table and slumped back into one of the armchairs.

"Maybe darts aren't my... forte," he grumbled, a sheepish grin playing on his lips.

Kev chuckled, carefully extracting the darts from the wall, leaving a spattering of small holes in their wake. "You're throwing too hard, Fang," he observed, a playful lilt in his voice. "You need to be more gentle, more precise."

He stepped back, mimicking Fang's earlier stance, and took aim at the dartboard. With a flick of his wrist, he released the first dart. It landed with a satisfying thud, though not in the bullseye. He threw the remaining darts, their placement a random scattering across the board. One, however, found its mark, landing squarely in the center.

Kev beamed, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. He turned to Fang, his eyes sparkling with a playful challenge. "Beginner's luck," he declared, his voice filled with mock arrogance.

Kev, still grinning, plucked the darts from the board and offered them back to Fang. "Your turn," he said, a playful challenge in his eyes.

Fang hesitated, a flicker of reluctance crossing his face. He wasn't keen on repeating his earlier embarrassing display. But Kev's encouraging smile and the unspoken challenge in his eyes were hard to resist.

With a resigned sigh, Fang took the darts and stepped up to the line. He drew his arm back, his muscles coiled with power, ready to unleash another errant throw.

But before he could release the dart, Kev's hand reached out, resting on his forearm. "Gentle," Kev whispered, his voice a soft reminder.

Fang's muscles relaxed slightly, his gaze meeting Kev's. He took a deep breath, focusing on the target, and released the dart with a controlled flick of his wrist.

The dart landed on the edge of the board, a soft thunk echoing through the room. It was far from the bullseye, but it was a marked improvement from Fang's previous attempts.

"Good," Kev encouraged, a genuine smile on his face.

Fang, however, grumbled, "I missed again." His competitive spirit was clearly wounded, his pride stung by his lack of skill.

"It takes practice, Fang," Kev reminded him gently. "You're not going to be great at something if you don't put in the time and effort."

Fang scoffed, a playful growl rumbling in his chest. "Games aren't fun if you have to think too much," he retorted, his frustration evident.

Kev laughed, a light, carefree sound that filled the room. "If you think too much about darts, Fang," he teased, "I wouldn't suggest playing chess anytime soon."

Kev, enjoying Fang's playful frustration, coaxed him into throwing a few more darts. Though many still found their mark on the wall, Fang's aim gradually improved, his throws becoming more controlled and deliberate. Soon, most of the darts were landing on the board.

Fang, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes, finally set the remaining darts down. "Alright, Kev," he said, his voice a low rumble, "I think it's time we head back to the bar. Horns should be waiting for us."

Kev carefully locked the door to his private haven, a sense of satisfaction settling over him. He'd already made this room his own, a sanctuary within the bustling world of the club. Turning to Fang, he offered a warm smile. "Ready?"

Fang nodded, his hand instinctively reaching for Kev's. Together, they stepped back into the labyrinthine corridors of the mansion, their footsteps echoing in the dimly lit hallways. As they progressed towards the bar, the atmosphere shifted. The quiet anticipation of the early evening had given way to a vibrant energy, the mansion now teeming with patrons eager to embrace the night's allure.

Fang, in his element, navigated the crowd with ease, his imposing presence parting the sea of bodies as they moved. Beastmen and beastwomen of all shapes and sizes, their laughter and chatter creating a symphony of sound, instinctively made way for the large wolf, their eyes filled with a mixture of respect and curiosity. Kev, following closely beside, marveled at the effortless authority Fang commanded, a stark contrast to the playful, almost vulnerable man he'd shared intimate moments with in front of the dart board.

As they approached the VIP table, Kev offered a friendly wave to Skippy and Twitch, who stood guard with their usual stoic expressions. The two bouncers nodded in acknowledgement, a subtle hint of amusement in their eyes.

Fang and Kev settled into their familiar seats, the plush cushions a welcome respite from the bustling energy of the club. Horns, already perched on the edge of the booth, greeted them with a mischievous grin.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, taking a long drag from his joint. "Look who finally decided to join us. Where have you two been hiding?"

His gaze shifted to Kev, a playful glint in his eyes. "Did you two take a little... nap again?" he teased, his voice a low rumble.

Fang's ears flattened against his head, a subtle sign of his displeasure. "Horns," he growled, his voice a warning rumble, "what's the status with the mafia auditors? Have they arrived yet?"

"Nothing yet, boss," Horns replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "But we're keeping a close eye on the entrance. They won't slip past us." He paused, his curiosity piqued. "So, where were you two?"

Kev glanced at Fang, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "We were checking out the billiards room," he answered.

Horns's eyes widened in surprise. "That's right!" he exclaimed, slapping his forehead with a massive hand. "With everything going on, I completely forgot about that." He turned to Fang, his voice filled with admiration. "Max did a great job."

Fang nodded, a pleased smile spreading across his face. "Max… yes," he mused. " Make sure to let Cindy know he did a good job. I'll make sure he's rewarded."

"Oh, yeah, Max is great," Horns chimed in. "He's been keeping things running smoothly during the day for a while now. I'll let them know," Horns assured Fang, taking another drag from his joint.

Kev, leaned forward. "So, what's the entertainment tonight, Horns?" he asked. "Anything special planned for the auditors?"

Horns grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "We have something good lined up," he replied, "but we'll cancel it if we have to. Wouldn't want to scare off our potential new clients. We still are playing things by ear."

"What is it?" Kev pressed, his interest growing.

Fang chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the booth. "We were going to have Rex demonstrate his... skills in the fighting pit," he explained. "A little showcase of our security team's prowess."

Kev pictured Rex's muscular physique and the predatory gleam in his eyes. "Who would even want to fight him?" he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "He's a beast."

Horns laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed through the booth. "There's a never-ending supply of hopefuls in this city, Kev," he explained. "Young bucks looking to make a name for themselves, prove their strength, earn a bit of glory... or just a quick payday."

He took a long drag from his joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "They see Rex as the ultimate challenge," he continued. "If they can beat him, their reputation skyrockets. It's a risky gamble, but the potential reward is too tempting for some to resist."

Fang's expression turned somber. "I'd rather Rex didn't fight," he admitted, his voice a low rumble. "It gets... messy."

Kev's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Messy?" 

Horns, sensing Kev's unease, quickly interjected. "Things are looking good for the rotating schedule to start tomorrow," he announced, his voice a cheerful distraction. "Most of the managers are on board, and even Reepia seems to have come around."

He winked at Kev. "Looks like your idea is going to become a reality, kid."

Kev asked, "Did you have any trouble hiring new workers to cover the shifts?"

Horns shook his head, a confident grin spreading across his face. "Not at all, Kev," he replied. "There are always plenty of willing applicants in this city. Finding qualified people wasn't an issue."

As the evening progressed, the club filled with the intoxicating rhythm of music and the lively chatter of patrons. Kev, nestled comfortably beside Fang, sipped his drink and listened half-heartedly as Horns and Fang discussed the intricacies of the club's operations. Their conversation, a blend of numbers, employee concerns, and upcoming events, washed over him like a familiar background hum.

Kev's attention was drawn to the dance floor, where a captivating spectacle unfolded. Beastmen and beastwomen, their forms a mesmerizing blend of grace and power, moved in perfect synchronicity with the music. He marveled at their fluid movements, their bodies telling stories of passion and desire, a language he was slowly beginning to understand.

Leaning into Fang, Kev sought solace in the wolfman's warmth and strength. Fang, ever attentive, responded by draping an arm over Kev's shoulders, pulling him closer. The familiar scent of sandalwood and citrus filled Kev's senses, a comforting reminder of their growing intimacy.

Around midnight, as the club throbbed with energy and the dance floor pulsed with a vibrant life of its own, Skippy, the imposing kangaroo bouncer, approached the VIP table. He cleared his throat respectfully, a hint of unease in his voice.

"Excuse me, boss," he began, his gaze shifting between Fang and Kev, "someone is here and says they would like to talk with you."

Fang's brow furrowed, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Is it the mafia VIPs?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of anticipation.

Skippy shook his head. "I don't know, sir," he replied. "It's a woman. Says her name is Ophelia."

A sly grin spread across Fang's face, replacing the momentary tension. "Send her over," he said, his voice filled with amusement.

Skippy nodded and retreated, disappearing into the crowd. Moments later, Ophelia emerged from the throng, her elegant figure gliding through the sea of bodies with a grace that belied the club's chaotic energy.

"Ms. Ophelia," Fang greeted with a charming smile, "welcome to my small establishment."

The puffin woman gracefully accepted the invitation, settling into the plush booth with an air of refined elegance. Her presence, a stark contrast to the club's primal energy, commanded attention.

"And this is Horns, my trusted manager," Fang continued, gesturing towards the mooseman seated beside him.

"Charmed," Ophelia replied with a polite nod, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She retrieved a cigarette from a jeweled case, its delicate design hinting at the treasures within her shop.

Horns, ever the gentleman, leaned forward and offered her a light.

As Ophelia inhaled, a cloud of fragrant smoke curled around her face, softening her features. "And where is your little red birdy tonight, Ms. Ophelia?" Fang inquired, a playful lilt in his voice.

A knowing smile played on Ophelia's lips. "Jasper was... enticed by some of your private rooms," she purred, her voice a melodic trill. "He's exploring the, shall we say, unique experiences your club has to offer."

Fang's grip tightened on Kev's shoulder. "Doesn't that bother you?" he growled.

Ophelia's gaze flicked between Fang and Kev, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Jasper is a work colleague, Mr. Fang," she replied, her tone carefully neutral. "I wouldn't call him my... what did you say? Personal assistant." She delicately tapped her cigarette against the ashtray, a cloud of smoke curling upwards.

Fang's expression remained unreadable. "Well then," he said, his voice regaining its usual smoothness, "what inspired your visit tonight, Ms. Ophelia?"

Ophelia's smile widened, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "You, darling," she purred, her voice a soft melody. "I actually had no real interest in visiting tonight, but after meeting you at the auction last night, I was... intrigued."

She leaned forward, her gaze intense. "Your presence during the auction was palpable, Mr. Fang. A force to be reckoned with."

Fang chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through the booth. "A good first impression, I suppose," he replied, his tone laced with a hint of pride.

Ophelia took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke that momentarily obscured her face. "When no one dared to bid against you for that piano..." she said, her voice trailing off. "Pure drama."

Fang's grin widened. "You could have put up a bid," he challenged, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"And ruin the moment?" Ophelia scoffed, a playful lilt in her voice. "What do you take me for, Mr. Fang?"

"I take you for a shrewd businesswoman, Ms. Ophelia," Fang replied, his voice a low rumble.

Ophelia stubbed out her cigarette, her gaze shifting between Horns and Kev. "Are we free to discuss… business here?" she inquired, a hint of caution in her voice.

"Of course," Fang assured her, his tone confident. "There's no bad place in this club, Ms. Ophelia. No need to worry about prying eyes or ears."

"There were whispers that the enforcers were here the other night," Ophelia remarked, her voice probing.

Fang's growl echoed through the booth, a primal sound that sent a shiver down Kev's spine. "They were sent away empty-handed," he retorted, his eyes flashing with a dangerous glint.

Ophelia's gaze remained fixed on Fang, a flicker of concern in her eyes.

"Have you taken any extra precautions?" Ophelia inquired, her voice laced with a subtle concern.

Fang's eyes narrowed, his posture tensing slightly. "We're always prepared for any... contingencies," he replied, his tone guarded.

Kev, sensing the underlying tension, interjected, "Our guard from last night, Talon, the eagleman, has recently been brought on board."

A flicker of surprise crossed Ophelia's face. "Oh?" she echoed, her eyebrows arching slightly. "It's good to know you're willing to hire non-mammals, Mr. Fang."

Fang shrugged, his expression nonchalant. "Such things don't matter to me, Ms. Ophelia," he retorted. "This is a meritocracy. Skills and loyalty are what count, not species."

Ophelia nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression on her face. "If only the whole world could be so... aspirational," she mused, her voice tinged with a hint of wistfulness. She paused, her gaze sweeping across the bustling barroom. "This club is a great place for business meetings," she observed, her tone shifting to a more practical matter. "What are the rates for a private party or a conference room?"

Fang's smile returned, a touch of warmth in his eyes. "Horns can go over the details with you, Ms. Ophelia," he said, rising from his seat. "I'll be right back." He extended a hand to Kev, helping him up from the booth. "It's getting late, my dear," he whispered in Kev's ear, a hint of possessiveness in his voice.

Kev, understanding the unspoken message, followed Fang without protest. He didn't want to create a scene in front of a potential client, even if Ophelia's words had piqued his curiosity.

As they ascended the stairs, leaving the vibrant energy of the club behind, Kev couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. "Fang," he asked softly, "what did Ophelia mean about you not hiring non-mammals?"

Fang's brow furrowed in frustration. "I have no idea," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "I hire anyone with the skills and the loyalty to contribute to the club's success. Species has never been a factor."

They reached Kev's apartment, and Kev paused, turning to face Fang. "Would you like to come in for a bit?" he offered, a hopeful glint in his eyes. "Maybe a glass of water before you head back down?"

Fang hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on Kev's face. The temptation to accept was strong, but duty called. He shook his head, a resigned smile playing on his lips. "I shouldn't keep the lady waiting," he said, his voice a gentle rumble.

He leaned down and captured Kev's lips in a tender kiss, his warmth and scent enveloping the human. "Good night, Kev," he whispered against his lips. "Make sure to lock the door."

With a final, lingering look, Fang turned and headed back downstairs, leaving Kev standing in the doorway, his heart fluttering with a mix of longing and anticipation.

Kev closed the door behind him, a contented sigh escaping his lips. He knew Fang had responsibilities, that the club needed his attention. But the promise of their shared future… the stolen moments of intimacy… and here he was alone, again.

Kev glanced at his silver watch, its hands pointing to one in the morning.

With a contented sigh, Kev turned off the lights and climbed into bed. The soft sheets and the faintest lingering scent of Fang's cologne on the pillow beside him offered a comforting reminder of the wolfman's presence, even in his absence. As sleep claimed him, Kev's dreams were filled with images of dart boards and pianos.

Chapter Text

As the first light of dawn peeked through the curtains, Kev stirred from his sleep, his body feeling more rested than the previous morning. After stretching and pushing away the thoughts of this world and how he arrived in this world, he headed to the bathroom for his morning routine.

The familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the apartment as Kev emerged from the shower, a sense of contentment settling over him. He poured himself a cup, adding a generous splash of cream and sugar, and set a glass of water on the table for Horns, anticipating his arrival.

Right on cue, a knock echoed through the apartment. Kev opened the door to find Horns, a wide grin on his face, looking surprisingly refreshed compared to his usual morning state.

"Morning, Kev!" Horns boomed, stepping into the apartment. He plopped down on the couch, his massive frame sinking into the cushions with a satisfied sigh.

Kev handed him the glass of water, a curious smile playing on his lips. "You seem to be in a good mood today, Horns," he observed. "What happened last night?"

Horns took a long gulp of water, his grin widening. "It seems we made a good impression on the mafia," he announced, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and relief.

"That's great," Kev said "When did they show up?"

Horns lit a joint, his movements practiced and efficient. He leaned back on the couch, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "You have no idea," he chuckled, a hint of weariness in his voice. "Fang's been quite worked up about it, pacing the floors and barking orders like a madman."

Kev's smile faltered slightly. "He hasn't really said much about it to me," he admitted, a touch of disappointment in his tone. "Even last night… it was actually more relaxing than most."

Horns took another drag, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, that's Fang for you," he said, shaking his head. "Always keeping his cards close to his chest." He paused, a thoughtful look on his face. "Oh, and by the way," he added, "that Ophelia lady... she was the auditor."

"What are the chances of that?" Kev questioned, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "Running into her at the auction house, just like that? Those are some long odds."

"Tell me about it," Horns replied, taking another drag from his joint. "But that's not even the best part. When Fang returned, after walking you up, he just asked Ophelia if she was going to put in a good word for us with the mafia. Totally blindsided me."

Kev's jaw dropped. "How did he guess?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Horns shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe it really was just a guess. Or maybe he's more perceptive than we give him credit for." He paused, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "But Ophelia didn't even try to hide it. She said she was quite pleased with the club's security and accommodations, and that she would definitely recommend us to her... associates."

Horns took a long drag from his joint, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Fang then asked if she'd like some entertainment. She agreed, and I had to go get Rex."

He paused, his smile fading slightly. "By the time I got back, Fang was getting into a fight with some cardinal. I had to pull him off the guy, and Ophelia seemed pretty upset. I thought she was going to cry and leave, but you know what she did?" Horns shook his head in disbelief. "She told the cardinal that he was going to be Rex's opponent in the pit."

Kev's mind raced, trying to process the information. He remembered the cardinal, Jasper, the only one who seemed to recognize the term "human." A wave of guilt washed over him. Had his presence indirectly led to Jasper's brutal beating?

"Rex would kill him," he said, his voice filled with concern.

"He didn't kill him," Horns assured him, "but Rex has a hard time trying to be gentle, if you know what I mean." He chuckled darkly. 

Horns took a long swig of water, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "After all that," he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "Ophelia and Fang seemed satisfied and parted ways. I met up with Fang just before he went to bed, and he mentioned he's taking you to Ophelia's jewelry store tonight."

Kev raised an eyebrow. "I'm not really into jewelry," he admitted, a hint of apprehension in his voice.

Horns looked him over, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Can't say I am either," he agreed with a chuckle. "But I'm guessing Ophelia's got more than just trinkets on her mind. She'll probably try to talk more business with Fang while you're browsing."

Kev sighed, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "Just don't laugh if Fang gets me something crazy, like a crown or something," he said, picturing himself adorned in gaudy jewels.

Horns, sensing it was time to depart, lumbered to his feet. "Anything else you need before I head out, Sir Kev?" he asked with a playful bow, his voice echoing through the small apartment. "Perhaps some grapes and cheese for your royal accommodations?"

Kev laughed but still replied, "Some scented candles or something like that would be nice."

Horns nodded, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I do like how it smells in here, though," he remarked, sniffing the air appreciatively.

Kev grinned. "Yeah, like weed," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Horns chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through the room. "Exactly," he said, shaking his head in amusement. "Well, I'll be off then. Later, Kev."

"Sleep tight, Horns," Kev replied, waving goodbye as the mooseman left the apartment.

Kev hummed a contented tune as he enjoyed a simple breakfast of coffee, peanut butter, and a perfectly toasted bagel. He felt a small surge of pride at his accomplishment; toasting the bagel on the stovetop without burning it had been a minor culinary victory.

Just as he was finishing his meal, a knock echoed through the apartment. He opened the door to find Max, the foxman cleaner, standing on the threshold.

"Morning, Kev," Max greeted him with a friendly nod. "Making work for me first thing in the morning now? You're getting bold." He deposited a large bag onto the floor, its contents a mystery.

"Thanks, Max," Kev replied, curiosity piqued. He peered into the bag and smiled. It was his laundry, neatly washed and folded.

Max then handed him a rectangular box. "And these are for your piano," he explained. "Cindy said to give them to you right away."

Kev opened the box, revealing a collection of music scrolls, each one promising a new world of melodies. He thanked Max, his excitement growing.

Max glanced around the apartment, his keen eyes taking in the neatness and order. "Good job on the cleanup, boy," he commented with an approving nod. "Cindy said she wanted to see your piano, by the way. She'll be by later."

With a final wave, Max disappeared down the hallway, leaving Kev to enjoy his newfound musical treasures.

Kev, feeling a surge of energy, decided to spruce up his apartment before Cindy's arrival. He meticulously washed out the ashtray, its lingering scent of smoke a reminder of the many conversations he'd had with Horns. He opened the windows wide, letting the fresh air dispel the lingering haze and inviting the sounds of the awakening backyard into his sanctuary.

With a thoughtful touch, he leaned his guitar against the wall beside the piano, creating a cozy musical corner. He then gathered the clean bags of clothes Marybelle had sent over and disappeared into his bedroom, carefully hanging the fresh suits to his wardrobe and admiring the exquisite craftsmanship.

Back in the living room, he swept the floor, his movements efficient and practiced. The kettle whistled, signaling the water was ready for tea. Just as he was about to pour it, a soft knock echoed through the apartment.

Kev's heart skipped a beat. Cindy was still a confounding figure, one part sweet maternal woman and the other part cold and ruthless. It wasn't easy for him to push away the memories of Pedro, shackled, on the auction block.

He crossed the room and opened the door, a practiced smile on his face.

Cindy stood on the threshold, her gentle smile radiating warmth. Behind her, Max lingered, his gaze fixed on Kev with a curious intensity.

"Good afternoon, Kev," Cindy greeted him, her voice a soft melody.

"Come in, both of you," Kev invited, stepping aside to let them enter.

Cindy stepped into the apartment, her eyes scanning the room with a critical yet appreciative gaze. Max, meanwhile, settled onto the couch, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

Cindy made her way to the kitchen, where the kettle was still whistling merrily. "I'll finish making the tea," she announced, her movements graceful and efficient.

Kev, touched by her thoughtfulness, protested, "Oh, you don't have to do that, Cindy. I was just about to pour it."

"Don't you worry about it, darling," she replied. She turned back to the stove, her hands expertly handling the teapot and cups. "Why don't you get that piano playing and let me hear a tune while I finish up here?"

Kev nodded, a smile spreading across his face. He walked over to the player piano, carefully selecting a scroll from the box Max had delivered earlier. He inserted it into the slot and began to turn the crank, the gentle melody filling the apartment with a soothing ambiance.

As the piano played its gentle tune, Cindy handed Kev a cup of tea, its fragrant steam swirling in the air. She hummed along softly, her gaze sweeping across the apartment, taking in every detail with a housekeeper's discerning eye.

She ran a finger along the kitchen counter, inspecting its cleanliness, then peered at the stovetop, checking for any lingering grease or spills. The song reached its final notes, and Cindy turned her attention back to Kev, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Hmm," she mused, her voice a soft murmur. "Needs a bit of work." She'd just peeked into the bathroom and Kev's bedroom.

Kev felt a pang of self-consciousness. He'd done his best to tidy up, but it seemed Cindy's standards were exceptionally high.

"At least your bathroom is quite clean," she conceded, a hint of approval in her voice.

Kev couldn't help but think of Vlad meticulously scrubbing down the bathroom before giving him a shave. He decided it was best not to mention that particular detail.

"Thanks," he replied, a sheepish smile on his face. "The bedroom's a bit messy, I guess."

"You haven't sent your sheets down to be washed yet," she observed, her tone gentle but reproachful.

Kev felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. "I guess that's what I'll do next," he mumbled, avoiding Cindy's gaze.

Cindy nodded. "Max, fetch a fresh set of bedding for Mr. Kev," she instructed, her voice firm but not unkind.

Max, who had been silently observing the exchange, rose from the couch and left the apartment without a word.

"Sorry, Cindy," Kev apologized, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I'm not used to having this kind of... accommodation."

"That's why I'm here, dear," she said, patting his hand gently. "Now, go on. Strip that bed. Max will be back any minute."

Kev, feeling the weight of Cindy's judgment, hastily stripped the sheets from his bed, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He was grateful that he hadn't left anything particularly embarrassing lying around, his usual habit of leaving clothes scattered about his room temporarily curbed by the presence of the fastidious housekeeper.

As he carried the rumpled bedding towards the laundry chute, he bumped into Max in the hallway. The foxman, his arms laden with a fresh set of sheets and blankets, raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"Someone's eager to impress," he quipped, a sly grin on his face.

Kev chuckled nervously, his cheeks still flushed. "Something like that," he mumbled, hurrying past Max and disappearing down the hallway.

He returned to his apartment a few minutes later, surprised to find Max had already made the bed with the new linens. The room looked much cleaner with the bed made, the crisp white sheets and fluffy pillows a stark contrast to the earlier disarray.

Cindy, meanwhile, had moved to the kitchen, her keen eyes inspecting every surface. She peered into the cupboards, ensuring everything was organized and in its proper place.

"Why don't you have any sweets or snacks in here?" Cindy inquired, her voice a gentle but pointed question.

Kev, a bit taken aback by her observation, replied, "I have a few pieces of fruit left, but I don't really eat much outside of dinner."

Cindy's brow furrowed slightly. "I'm not talking about you, dear," she clarified. "I'm talking about... other people. Guests."

Kev's cheeks flushed slightly. "You're my first real guest, Cindy," he admitted, a sheepish smile on his face. "Besides Horns and Fang, of course."

Cindy shook her head, a disapproving frown tugging at her lips. "That won't do," she declared, her voice firm.

Cindy turned to Max, her voice taking on a commanding tone. "Max, this boy is going to need some work," she declared, her gaze sweeping across the apartment with a critical eye. "Please bring him some drapes, a new bathroom mirror, a new sofa set, and some better cutlery."

She opened a few of Kev's cabinets, her frown deepening. "He also needs towels, air fresheners, a new kettle, an icebox, and a bread box." She paused, her gaze settling on Kev. "And bring him some lotion and a comb, too," she added, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Kev's head spun as he tried to keep up with Cindy's ever-growing list of demands. He glanced at Max, who seemed surprisingly unfazed by the barrage of instructions. The foxman leaned back on the couch, a contented smile on his face, as if he were enjoying a leisurely afternoon tea instead of being bombarded with tasks.

"Anything else, ma'am?" Max asked, his voice a playful drawl.

Cindy tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, I think that's enough for now," she replied, her gaze sweeping across the apartment one last time. "But don't be surprised if I find more things that need fixing later."

Kev turned to Max with a playful grin. "Sorry," he said, nudging the foxman playfully. "I told you I have a gift for causing trouble."

Max laughed. "Seems like it," he agreed, shaking his head in amusement.

Kev turned back to Cindy, his smile fading slightly. "Cindy," he began, his voice hesitant, "what should I do with my trash when it's full?"

Cindy's brow furrowed in thought. "You can leave it in the hallway anytime," she replied. "One of my cleaners will pick it up during their rounds." She paused "And if they happen to miss it," she added, her voice flat, "I'll just have to find a new cleaner."

Cindy approached the player piano, her hand gently tracing its polished surface. "It's a handsome instrument," she remarked, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Fang is too kind to me," Kev admitted, a warmth spreading through him at the memory of the auction.

"I'm glad you chose this over that... sword," Cindy said, her smile fading slightly.

Kev's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "How do you know about that?" he asked, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes.

Cindy chuckled, a gentle, reassuring sound. "Fang talks with me every morning, Kev," she explained. "About the club, about… you, about everything that's on his mind." Her smile returned, filled with a motherly warmth. "He cares about you deeply, dear."

She glanced at her watch, a hint of weariness in her eyes. "But I must be going now," she announced, rising from her seat. "Sleep is calling."

She paused at the door, turning back to Kev with a final reminder. "Max will be sending some cleaners up in the next hour to take care of the room," she said. "Just leave the door unlocked if you leave."

Kev nodded, a grateful smile on his face. "Thank you, Cindy," he replied. "For everything."

With a final wave, Cindy left the apartment, Max following closely behind.

Chapter Text

Kev, left alone once more, couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and belonging. Cindy's words, though sometimes cryptic and unsettling, always carried a genuine concern for his well-being. With a guitar in hand, he decided to escape the impending cleaning frenzy and enjoy some fresh air. He didn't want to be in the way, or worse, become another item on Cindy's meticulous to-do list.

He gathered the overflowing trash bag and placed it neatly by the door, a small act of consideration for the hardworking cleaning crew. Then, with a final glance around his cozy apartment, he stepped out into the hallway and made his way towards the back of the mansion.

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manicured lawns, creating a tapestry of light and shade. The air was still warm, but a gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass, a welcome respite from the stuffy confines of the mansion's interior.

Kev found his favorite spot by the pool, settling onto the bench beneath the sprawling oak tree. He propped his guitar case against the trunk and took a deep breath, savoring the tranquility of the moment.

Kev pulled out his silver cigarette case, a gift from the night before, and retrieved one of the expertly rolled joints Horns had prepared. He lit it, inhaling deeply, and let the smooth, fragrant smoke fill his lungs. Ralph's "finest flowers" were indeed potent, a gentle euphoria washing over him, easing his anxieties and sharpening his senses.

As he exhaled a plume of smoke, his thoughts drifted to Ralph and his cryptic history and relationship with Fang. There was a playful antagonism between them, a familiarity that hinted at a long and complicated history. Kev wondered what their past held, what secrets and shared experiences had forged their bond.

He finished his joint, carefully extinguishing it in the ashtray on the bench. He picked up his guitar, his fingers finding their familiar places on the strings. The music flowed effortlessly, the melodies a reflection of his newfound peace and contentment.

Lost in the music, Kev hadn't realized how much he'd missed playing. Life back on Earth, with its demanding job and endless distractions, had left little time for his passion. But here, in this strange new world, he found himself with an abundance of free time, a gift he was determined to make the most of.

He was still a bit rusty, his fingers occasionally stumbling over a chord or missing a beat. But the muscle memory was there, the familiar patterns and progressions ingrained in his subconscious. He closed his eyes, letting the music flow through him, the melodies a reflection of his hopes and fears, his dreams and desires.

He couldn't help but marvel at the quality of the guitar Asmodeus had provided. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its rich, resonant tones a testament to the toucan's discerning taste. Kev was touched by the gesture, a reminder that even in this world of power plays and hidden agendas, there was still room for kindness and generosity.

As Kev strummed the final chords of his song, a movement caught his eye. Talon, his posture rigid and his gaze darting nervously around the garden, was approaching from the direction of the mansion. The eagleman seemed out of place in the tranquil setting, his sharp features and predatory aura a stark contrast to the peaceful surroundings.

Kev stopped playing, a curious smile playing on his lips. "Hey, Talon," he greeted, waving a hand in welcome.

Talon's wings twitched slightly, a subtle sign of his unease. "I didn't want to disrupt you," he said, his voice a raspy whisper. "I heard your music from inside."

"What are you doing here?" Kev inquired, his curiosity piqued. "Another trial run?"

Talon shook his head, his feathers rustling slightly. "This is my first official day," he clarified, his voice a low rasp. "I'll be moving in tomorrow, with my sister."

Kev's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wow, that was fast," he remarked.

"The deal was done the moment Mr. Fang made the offer," Talon said flatly. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity to provide for my sister."

Kev nodded in understanding. "It must be a bit sudden for her too, though," he observed, thinking of Talon's sister and her reluctance to leave behind the comforts of her modern apartment.

"Yes," Talon admitted, his expression somber. "But it's for the best. She needs proper care, and I can't provide that on my own."

Kev, feeling a pang of empathy for Talon's situation, reached into his cigarette case and pulled out another joint. He lit it, taking a deep inhale before offering it to Talon. "Want some?" he asked, a friendly smile on his face.

Talon shook his head, his gaze fixed on Kev with a hint of disapproval. "What are you doing?" he inquired, his voice a low rasp. "Aren't you working?"

Kev chuckled, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Haven't you met Horns yet?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You must have, when you were doing paperwork."

Talon's brow furrowed in confusion. "But that's different," he protested. "He's..." His voice trailed off as he struggled to articulate his thoughts.

After a moment of silence, he finally said, "I'm here to work today, but everyone was on their way out when I arrived. Mr. Fang is asleep, and Mr. Horns just told me to find you."

Kev took another drag from the joint, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Welcome to Club Fang," he said, his voice laced with amusement.

"Horns must have forgotten, he didn't mention it to me this morning either," Kev mused, taking another puff from the joint. "There was a lot of excitement last night. A big deal was made, so I guess you coming on board must have been an oversight… You'll probably be joining us later as I'm asked to pick out pretty little rocks to celebrate."

Talon's confusion was evident. "A deal?" he echoed, tilting his head slightly. "Rocks?"

Kev chuckled at the eagleman's bewilderment. "Fang met the owner of a jewelry store last night," he explained, "and he's bringing me along to visit her shop tonight. Apparently, I need some bling to match my new suits."

"Good to know," Talon replied, his voice a low rasp. Kev sensed that the eagleman wasn't particularly interested in the details of his shopping trip. Talon's focus seemed to be elsewhere, his mind likely strategizing about potential security threats and defensive maneuvers.

Kev strummed a few more chords on his guitar, the gentle melody a stark contrast to the intensity of Talon's presence. He carefully placed the instrument back in its case before asking, "would you like some lunch, Talon?" 

Talon blinked, as if startled from his thoughts. He looked up at Kev, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, then nodded slowly.

"Follow me," Kev said, leading the way towards the grand staircase. Talon fell into step behind him, his movements precise and measured, his gaze constantly scanning the surroundings.

As they made their way through the mansion, Talon's long strides quickly closed the distance between him and Kev. He kept a watchful eye on the cleaners they passed, his sharp gaze assessing their every move.

"I thought we were going to the kitchen," Talon remarked, his voice a low rasp. "And... all the cleaners are staring at me. I think something's wrong."

Kev chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. "Relax, Talon," he reassured the eagleman. "They're just curious. You're the new guy, after all." He paused, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "I'll have to introduce you to Cindy, if she doesn't come to meet you first."

Talon's brow furrowed in confusion. "Who is Cindy?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "And where are we going?"

They reached the second floor, the atmosphere noticeably quieter than the bustling activity below

"The kitchen's closed during the day," Kev explained. "But I have my own kitchen in my apartment, remember?"

Talon nodded, his gaze sweeping across the hallway. "What else is up here?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Fang has his room and office," Kev replied, pointing towards the familiar doors. "I'm not sure what else goes on up here. I haven't seen anyone else around, except for the cleaners."

Talon's eyes widened as he took in the expansive hallway and the numerous closed doors. "It's massive," he murmured, a hint of awe in his voice.

Kev noticed with satisfaction that the trash bag he'd left outside his door was gone. He cracked open the door, a smile playing on his lips as he anticipated Talon's reaction to the transformed apartment. But before Kev could step inside, Talon pushed past him, his movements swift and purposeful.

"What the hell was that?" Kev exclaimed, startled by the eagleman's sudden intrusion.

Talon, his sharp eyes scanning the room, didn't even turn to look at Kev. "The door was unlocked," he said, his voice a low rasp.

Kev wasn't sure whether to laugh or be annoyed. "The cleaners were just here," he explained, gesturing towards the freshly made bed and the neatly arranged furniture. "They dropped off some new stuff for me."

Kev stepped back into his apartment, a smile tugging at his lips. The transformation was remarkable. No longer a bare-bones, utilitarian space, it now exuded warmth and personality, a testament to cleaning-crew's meticulous attention to detail.

The once-bare windows were now adorned with elegant drapes, their rich fabric filtering the afternoon sunlight and creating a sense of cozy intimacy. The bathroom, once sterile and uninviting, now boasted a stylish new mirror that reflected Kev's image with flattering clarity. A plush, inviting sofa replaced the worn-out loveseat, its soft cushions beckoning Kev to sink into its embrace. And the mismatched cutlery had been replaced with a gleaming set of silverware, adding a touch of elegance to even the simplest of meals.

Kev's gaze swept across the room, taking in the thoughtful additions Cindy had made. Fresh towels hung neatly in the bathroom, their fluffy texture a welcome luxury. A subtle fragrance of lavender and vanilla, courtesy of the new air fresheners, permeated the air, masking any lingering odors from the club below. A sleek new kettle sat on the stovetop, promising a quicker and more efficient way to brew his morning coffee. A compact icebox, tucked discreetly into a corner, offered the possibility of chilled drinks and fresh produce. And a charming bread box, its wooden surface adorned with delicate carvings, provided a designated space for his beloved bagels.

Kev noticed a few additional touches that hadn't been on Cindy's list. A soft, plush throw rug now graced the floor beneath the coffee table, adding a touch of warmth and comfort to the living room. And on the piano, a vase filled with a vibrant bouquet of wildflowers brought a splash of color and life to the space.

Talon, having completed his cursory inspection of the apartment, emerged from the bedroom and joined Kev in the living room. He seemed slightly less tense, his feathers no longer ruffled in agitation.

"It's... nice," he finally said, his voice a low rasp. "Did you say someone named Cindy is the cleaning woman?"

"Cindy's the cleaning manager," Kev explained, a hint of admiration in his voice. "She's been working for Fang's family her whole life."

Talon nodded slowly. "She must know him very well then," he observed, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"She does," Kev confirmed. "Fang trusts her advice implicitly." He paused, a flicker of unease crossing his features. "I heard you knew about Pedro at that auction… That was Cindy's idea."

Talon's gaze hardened, his feathers ruffling slightly. "Yes," he admitted, his voice a low rasp. "My... audition that night was to... educate Pedro."

Kev's eyes widened in surprise. "So you beat him up?" he asked, a mix of curiosity and concern in his voice.

 "It was necessary," Talon replied, his tone clipped. "He crossed a line, and Fang needed to send a message."

"I don't get it," Kev said, shaking his head. "Couldn't Fang have just... talked to him? Or banned him from the club?"

Talon's expression hardened. "It's not my job to get it, Kev," he retorted, his voice sharp. "I need this job, and what it means for my family. That's all that matters."

Kev sighed, a wave of sadness washing over him. "At least you don't seem to... enjoy it," he offered tentatively.

Talon remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Kev, sensing the eagleman's discomfort, decided to change the subject. "Are you hungry?" he asked, heading towards the kitchen. "I can make us some lunch."

"Thank you," he said, his voice a soft rasp. Talon tapped his leg and continued to look around the apartment. The eagle was restless and on edge.

Kev busied himself preparing sandwiches, the familiar rhythm of slicing bread and spreading condiments a welcome distraction from the heaviness of their conversation. He emerged from the kitchen with two plates piled high with sandwiches, sliced fruit, and the remaining coffee from that morning. He set them down on the coffee table, a silent invitation for Talon to join him.

They ate in silence, the gentle melodies from the player piano helping to fill the void. Talon, his initial awkwardness fading, tapped his foot in time with the music, a faint smile playing on his lips. Kev couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in the eagleman's demeanor, a hint of vulnerability peeking through his stoic facade.

Once they finished their meal, Kev gathered the plates and carried them to the kitchen. He carefully washed and dried them, placing them back in their designated spots. The cleaners had done a remarkable job organizing the space, and Kev was determined to maintain its pristine condition.

Talon glanced at his watch, a frown creasing his brow. "Only noon," he muttered. "We have six more hours to kill before Fang wakes up." He tapped his knees rhythmically, a nervous habit Kev had noticed earlier.

Kev, sensing Talon's restlessness, offered a suggestion. "If your sister's moving in tomorrow, the cleaners should be getting a room ready for you, right?"

"Yes," Talon replied, a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. "I should be able to see it in the morning when I bring her here."

Kev grinned mischievously. "Want to see it early?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

Talon's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and hope. "Can I?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I can't promise anything," Kev replied with a shrug, "but if we can find Max, I don't see why we couldn't."

Talon stood up abruptly, his wings rustling with excitement. "Then let's find this Max fellow," he said, his voice filled with a newfound determination.

Kev chuckled at the eagleman's eagerness. "Follow me," he said, leading the way out of the apartment and down the hallway. He headed towards the side staircase that led to the basement, Talon close on his heels.

Chapter Text

As they descended the stairs, Kev nodded politely to the cleaners they passed, but he could sense their curious gazes lingering on Talon. The eagleman's presence, a stark contrast to the usual daytime staff, clearly raised their interest.

Kev led Talon through the maze of corridors, his confidence growing with each step. He was starting to feel more at home in this subterranean world, its hidden passages and secret rooms no longer as intimidating as they had been on his first visit. Talon was silent, his eyes taking in every detail of their short walk, desperately trying to map out the expansive club layout in his head.

Finally, they reached Cindy's office, its cheerful pink door a welcome sight in the dimly lit basement.

Kev knocked gently on the door, a polite gesture even though he'd heard Max's invitation. He pushed the door open, revealing the foxman leaning back in his chair, juggling a few cleaning rags with impressive dexterity.

"Welcome, Kev," Max greeted, his bushy tail swishing playfully.

Talon stepped into the office, his presence immediately filling the small space with a sense of quiet intensity.

"Max, this is Talon," Kev introduced them. "He's moving in tomorrow with his sister. I'm sure Cindy or Horns must have let you know."

Max straightened in his chair, his playful demeanor replaced by a more serious expression. He and Talon exchanged a long, silent look, each assessing the other with a practiced eye.

"Welcome, Talon," Max finally said, extending a hand. "It's good to put a face to a name. I hope you're not a troublemaker like this human here." He shot Kev a playful glare.

Talon's wings twitched slightly, a subtle sign of his unease. "I apologize for any burden I may have caused you," he replied, his voice a low rasp.

Max burst into laughter, his booming voice echoing through the small office. "Don't worry about it, Talon," he assured him. "Everyone is a handful around here."

Max leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. "Honestly," he admitted, "the day shift runs so smoothly that a bit of excitement is a good thing. Keeps people sharp."

Kev, sensing an opportunity, seized the moment. "Speaking of excitement," he said with a grin, "we were wondering if we could see Talon's apartment."

Max's smile widened. "Sure," he replied, rising from his chair. "I was actually heading up there soon to check on the progress anyway. Let's go."

They left Cindy's office and made their way back upstairs, the familiar sounds of the club's preparations growing louder with each step. As they reached the grand staircase, Talon stopped abruptly, a hesitant look on his face.

"My sister... she's in a wheelchair," he explained, his voice a soft rasp. "I'm sorry, but I think she needs to be on the first floor. It would be difficult for her to navigate the stairs every day."

Max chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Why don't these kids explore?" he muttered under his breath. He gestured towards the grand staircase. "We have an elevator, Talon," he explained. "Your sister will be fine."

Talon's eyes widened in surprise. "Without electricity?" he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

"I was surprised too," Kev chimed in, a smile playing on his lips. "It's quite impressive, actually."

Talon's expression relaxed slightly. "That should be fine then," he said, a relieved sigh escaping his lips.

Max grinned. "She'll be fine," he assured Talon. "Just hope she likes reading. The library's right next door to her new apartment."

Max led them up to the second floor and down a new hallway, one Kev hadn't explored yet. The air hummed with the sounds of construction - the bzzzzt-bzzzzt of saws, the rhythmic pounding of hammers, the muffled voices of workers. They stopped in front of an open doorway, revealing a spacious two-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment bathed in the warm glow of afternoon sunlight.

The living area was noticeably larger than Kev's, with ample space for a comfortable seating arrangement and a dining table. A team of beastmen, their fur, scales, and feathers dusted with sawdust, were busy transforming the kitchen and bathroom. The kitchen countertops were being lowered, and the island had been removed to create a more open floor plan. In the bathroom, the shower was being converted into a spacious walk-in stall. The floors throughout the apartment had already been replaced with gleaming hardwood, their rich tones adding a touch of warmth to the space.

Kev walked over to the large windows, his gaze drawn to the view. The apartment overlooked the west side of the mansion, its expansive backyard stretching out below. He realized that his private billiards room must be located directly beneath them.

Kev watched as Talon meticulously inspected every corner of the apartment, a flicker of hope replacing the usual stoicism in his eyes. Finally, he turned to Max, a grateful smile spreading across his beak.

"It's perfect," Talon said, his voice a soft rasp. "Thank you."

Max nodded. "We're still working on furnishing it," he explained. "Do you have any specific requests?"

Talon hesitated for a moment, his gaze sweeping across the empty rooms. "We won't be bringing much with us from our old apartment," he admitted. "If you could just get us... beds… that would be a tremendous help."

"Consider it done," Max replied. "Anything else?"

Talon shook his head. "No, that's all we need. I... I owe you one, Max."

Max waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about it, Talon," he said with a warm smile. "We'll get you a few other things to make this place feel less... empty. You'll have to do your own grocery shopping, though." He paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And try to remember, there are no fridges here."

Talon nodded, a grateful smile playing on his lips.

Max led them out of the apartment and pointed to a nearby door. "That's the elevator," he explained. "We chose this room specifically for its proximity."

Talon opened the elevator door and peered inside, his sharp eyes taking in the intricate mechanisms and polished brass accents. A look of surprise crossed his face.

"Mr. Max," he said, turning back to the foxman, "I'll be here every day moving forward. If you need anything from me, don't hesitate to ask."

Max chuckled, a sly grin spreading across his face. "I'm not the needing sort, Talon," he replied. "I'm the doing sort." He clapped a hand on the eagleman's shoulder. "But I appreciate the offer. We'll talk again tomorrow, when it's time to move in."

With a final wave, Max turned and strode down the hallway, his footsteps echoing in the quiet mansion.

"Max seems like a very reliable man," Talon remarked, his voice a low rasp.

Kev nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he's a good guy," he replied, a smile playing on his lips. He glanced at his watch, a frown creasing his brow. "It's only one o'clock," he sighed. "We've still got six more hours to kill before Fang wakes up."

Talon tapped his knees. "What next?" he asked, his gaze scanning the hallway.

Kev shrugged. "Break time," he declared, heading towards the back door. "I'm going to have a smoke in the backyard."

Talon followed him outside, his sharp eyes taking in the sun-drenched garden. "It looks much different during the day," he observed, his voice a hushed whisper.

As Kev settled onto the familiar bench beneath the oak tree, Talon began pacing the manicured lawn, his keen eyes scanning the surroundings with a practiced vigilance. The contrast between the eagleman's relaxed posture and his ever-alert gaze was a curious juxtaposition, a testament to his years of training and experience.

"How long have you been a guard, Talon?" Kev inquired, breaking the comfortable silence.

Talon paused, his gaze momentarily fixed on a butterfly flitting among the flowers. "This is my first time as a bodyguard," he replied, his voice a low rasp. "But my previous job involved something of a similar nature."

Kev sensed a reluctance to delve deeper into his past, so he wisely chose not to probe further. "Did you think you'd get a job offer from Fang when you fought in the pit?" he asked instead.

"No," Talon replied. "I wanted the prize money. Even when he did offer me the job, I thought my... situation would be disqualifying."

Kev stretched his legs out in front of him, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun. "Well, now you can cook me lunches," he joked.

Talon's frown deepened. "I'm not a cook," he retorted, his tone a bit sharp.

Kev laughed, realizing he'd inadvertently touched a nerve. "I'm just kidding, Talon," he assured him. "Don't worry, I won't be expecting any gourmet meals from you."

Talon relaxed slightly, his gaze returning to the garden. "Why don't you share a schedule with Fang?" he inquired, his curiosity piqued. "Wouldn't it be easier to assist him if you were both awake at the same time?"

Kev sighed, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I wanted to," he admitted, "but Fang resisted… He said he didn't want to disrupt my natural rhythm, or something like that." He shrugged. "I'm not going to push him on something so small, I'm still so new here... But I do wish he'd sleep a bit more. He's always so tired."

Kev finished his cigarette, stubbing it out in the ashtray on the bench. The silence between him and Talon stretched, punctuated only by the sounds of nature and the distant hum of the city.

"Hey, Talon," Kev finally said, breaking the silence. "Would you be up for a game of pool?"

Talon looked at him, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "I've never played before," he admitted, his voice a soft rasp.

Kev grinned. "Perfect," he said, rising from the bench. "I'm not very good either, so we'll be evenly matched."

He led Talon back inside, their footsteps echoing in the quiet mansion. They reached the private billiards room, and Kev unlocked the door with his newly acquired key. The room was bathed in a soft, inviting glow, the new furniture had arrived, adding a touch of luxury to the space. Kev grabbed a cue and chalked the tip, while Talon watched with a curious expression.

"It's pretty simple," Kev explained, demonstrating how to hold the cue and aim for the balls. "You just need to get your balls in the pockets before your opponent does."

Talon nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. He took the cue from Kev and attempted a shot, but the ball veered off course, missing the pocket entirely.

They played a few more rounds, Kev patiently explaining the rules to eight-ball and offering tips along the way. Despite his initial enthusiasm, Talon struggled to grasp the game's nuances, his powerful talons proving to be more of a hindrance than a help when it came to delicate shots.

Kev, with his newfound confidence and practice from the previous night, easily won the game. Talon, his feathers ruffled in frustration, set his cue down with a sigh.

"Don't worry, Talon," Kev said with a reassuring smile. "Pool takes practice. It's kind of an awkward thing to get used to…" He gestured towards the dartboard on the far wall. "How about we try something else? Maybe darts?"

Talon, eager to redeem himself, nodded eagerly. They moved to the dartboard, and Kev handed Talon a set of darts. The eagleman's grip was firm, his sharp eyes focused on the target. With a swift flick of his wrist, he threw the first dart, hitting the bullseye with pinpoint accuracy.

Kev's jaw dropped in astonishment. "Wow," he breathed.

Talon shrugged, a hint of pride in his eyes. "I've had a lot of practice," he admitted, his voice a soft rasp. "Target practice was part of my training."

Kev watched in amazement as Talon continued to hit the bullseye with almost every throw. It was a stark contrast to his own clumsy attempts earlier that day. He couldn't help but feel a pang of envy, mixed with a grudging admiration for the eagleman's skill.

Kev chuckled nervously, trying to mask his surprise. "Maybe you should carry some darts around for protection," he joked, gesturing towards Talon's impressive aim. "They seem to be more effective than your claws."

Talon's gaze lingered on the darts, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Do you mind if I keep throwing these?" he asked, his voice a low rasp. "I find the rhythm... soothing."

"Not at all," Kev replied with a smile. "Feel free to play as long as you like." He moved towards the French doors that led to the patio, craving a breath of fresh air and a chance to indulge in another smoke.

"Where are you going?" Talon asked, his sharp eyes following Kev's movements.

"Just outside for a quick smoke," Kev explained, gesturing towards the patio. "Want to join me?"

Talon hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, it's my job," he said, setting the darts down and following Kev outside.

Chapter Text

The patio was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, its warmth a welcome contrast to the cool air of the game room. Kev pulled out his cigarette case and offered one to Talon, who politely declined.

"I don't smoke," Talon explained, his voice a soft rasp.

Kev nodded, lighting his own cigarette and inhaling deeply. He leaned against the railing, watching the shadows lengthen across the manicured lawn.

"It's beautiful out here," he remarked, his voice a contented sigh.

Talon joined him at the railing, his gaze sweeping across the expansive backyard. "It is," he agreed, a hint of surprise in his voice. "I hadn't realized how much space there was around this establishment."

"Hey, I think your new apartment is right above us," Kev said, pointing upwards. Talon followed his gaze, spotting a small balcony on the second floor directly overhead.

A mischievous glint appeared in Talon's eyes. He quickly glanced around, ensuring no one was watching, then with a powerful flap of his wings, he launched himself into the air. In a graceful arc, he soared upwards, landing lightly on the balcony above.

"It is!" Talon called down, his voice echoing slightly in the twilight air. He quickly returned to Kev's side, landing softly on the patio before neatly folding his wings back into place.

"If you ever need to check in on your sister," Kev remarked, "it should be easy from here."

Talon nodded, a hint of relief in his eyes. "Quite convenient," he agreed,.

Kev finished his cigarette, carefully extinguishing it in the ashtray on the bench. He and Talon headed back inside, the cool air of the game room a welcome contrast to the lingering warmth of the summer evening.

As they entered, Kev noticed a cleaner standing on a ladder, replacing a flickering torch. The cleaner, a young lizardman with vibrant green scales, was humming softly to himself as he worked.

Suddenly, Talon lunged forward, his movements swift and predatory. He grabbed the lizardman by the arm, yanking him off the ladder and pinning him against the wall.

"Who are you?" Talon demanded, his voice a harsh rasp. "How did you get in here?!"

Kev, startled by Talon's sudden aggression, rushed forward. "Talon, stop!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the room. "He's just a cleaner!"

The lizardman, his eyes wide with fear, stammered, "I-I didn't realize anyone was using the room! I'm just changing out the lights, like I'm supposed to."

Talon's grip tightened, his voice a menacing growl. "We locked the door! Who gave you a key?!"

Kev, alarmed by Talon's outburst, quickly intervened. He grabbed Talon's arm, his voice firm but gentle. "Talon, stop! There's a secret door for the cleaning crew."

The lizardman nodded vigorously, his eyes pleading for understanding. "Yes, yes!" he squeaked. "It's behind the bookshelf. We use it to access all the rooms without disturbing the guests."

Talon reluctantly released the cleaner, his grip loosening but his eyes still narrowed in suspicion. The lizardman, clearly shaken, scurried towards the bookshelf and disappeared down the hidden staircase.

Talon turned back to Kev, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. "Secret doors…" he muttered, shaking his head. "How am I supposed to keep you safe if there are hidden entrances everywhere?"

Kev gestured towards one of the plush armchairs by the fireplace. "Relax, Talon," he said with a reassuring smile. "You don't need to be so worried. Fang might be protective of me, to the point where he offered you an entire apartment to take this job, but this place is safe."

He leaned back in the armchair, crossing his legs comfortably. "The security team only allows delivery trucks during the day, and they keep a close eye on the loading dock. Plus, the cleaners are like a secondary security system. They're always around, observing everything, and they report anything suspicious to Cindy or Max."

Kev chuckled softly. "That lizard is probably talking to Max about you grabbing him right now."

Talon's expression darkened, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble for Max," he said, his voice a low rasp. "I was just... doing my job."

"Don't worry about it too much, Talon," Kev reassured him, his voice gentle. "I'm sure Max and Cindy will understand your reasoning. We can always smooth things over later."

Talon nodded, a hint of relief in his eyes. "There's still so much I need to learn about this place," he admitted, his voice a soft rasp. "Its secrets, its hidden passages... It's overwhelming."

Kev smiled sympathetically. "It takes time," he said, understanding the eagleman's struggle. "But you'll get there. We all do." He glanced at his watch. "We still have an hour or so before I need to get ready for tonight. Want to play some pool?"

"No, thank you," Talon replied. A worried frown on his beak was only visible to Kev for a moment before he walked back towards the pile of darts. "But I wouldn't mind another round of darts."

Kev chuckled, chalking his cue. "Be my guest, I'll stick to the pool for now."

Kev practiced his shots, his aim steadily improving with each game. Talon, meanwhile, dominated the dartboard, his accuracy uncanny. With each successful round, he stepped further and further away from the board, his throws remaining consistently precise. Kev couldn't help but feel a pang of envy, mixed with a grudging admiration for the eagleman's skill.

As the clock ticked closer to six, Kev reluctantly set his cue down. "I should probably head back to my room," he said, a hint of regret in his voice. "Need to get ready for tonight."

Talon nodded, retrieving the darts from the board. "Let's go," he said, his voice a soft rasp.

Kev led the way back to his apartment, Talon following closely behind. As they walked, Kev couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just witnessed a glimpse of Talon's true potential, a potential that extended far beyond his role as a bodyguard.

Kev rummaged through his newly expanded wardrobe, a smile playing on his lips as he considered his options. He finally settled on a deep blue suit with subtle silver accents, a perfect blend of elegance and confidence. He held it up, admiring the craftsmanship and the way the fabric shimmered in the soft light.

"Talon," he called out, turning to the eagleman who was perched on the couch, "I'm going to take a quick shower and get changed. Feel free to make yourself at home." He glanced at his watch. "It's 4:30 now. Horns usually swings by around 5 or 5:30, and Fang should be here by 6."

With a reassuring smile, Kev disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Talon to explore the apartment at his leisure.

The soothing melodies of the player piano drifted through the apartment, a welcome accompaniment to Kev's post-shower routine. He hummed along softly as he dried off, a sense of contentment washing over him. The piano had indeed been a wonderful addition to his new home, its music filling the once-empty space with warmth and life.

He spotted a bottle of lotion on the bathroom counter, a subtle fragrance of lavender and vanilla emanating from it. Another gift from Cindy, he realized with a grateful smile. He applied a generous amount to his face, the cool cream soothing his skin.

Kev finished getting dressed, carefully hanging his discarded clothes in the closet. He then headed back to the kitchen, where the enticing aroma of coffee filled the air. He poured himself a cup, adding a splash of cream and sugar, and carried it into the living room.

Talon was sprawled on the couch, one of Kev's books, A Brief History of Dala'Bon, open on his lap. The eagleman's usually rigid posture had softened, his wings relaxed and his gaze focused on the pages before him. Kev couldn't help but smile; it was the first time he'd seen Talon even remotely at ease.

"Enjoying the book?" Kev asked, taking a seat on the armchair opposite Talon.

"It's interesting, I guess," Talon replied, his voice raspy. "Just... things I forgot being taught back in school." He turned another page, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Kev sipped his coffee, watching Talon read. "Do you want anything to eat or drink before the club opens?" he offered. "I can make you something quick."

Talon looked up from his book, a flicker of hunger in his eyes. "I should probably eat," he admitted, his voice a low rumble. "Jerky, water, and an apple would be fine."

Kev nodded and headed to the kitchen. He assembled Talon's requested meal, arranging the jerky, a sliced apple, and a glass of water on a plate. He carried it over to the coffee table and set it down in front of Talon.

"Sorry, I'm not much of a cook," Kev apologized with a sheepish smile. "I relied on a microwave for too many years."

"Simple food is fine," Talon replied, taking a bite of the apple. "I'm not picky."

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Talon, his reflexes honed, was on his feet in an instant. He cautiously peered through the peephole before opening the door.

"Mr. Horns," Talon greeted, his voice a respectful rasp. "Good evening." He stepped aside, allowing the mooseman to enter.

"Evening, gents," Horns said with a cheerful smile, carrying a bulging grocery bag.

Kev took the grocery bag from Horns, a smile spreading across his face. "You're looking good today, Horns," he commented, noting the mooseman's freshly pressed suit and neatly groomed fur.

Horns chuckled as he settled onto the couch, his large frame dwarfing the furniture. "Hey, I look sharp everynight," he replied, grabbing the glass of water and the plate of food Kev had prepared for Talon. "Thanks for making me some grub, Kev."

Kev glanced at Talon, who was watching them with a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "I'll get you something too," Kev assured him, heading back to the kitchen.

Talon nodded gratefully and took a seat in one of the armchairs, his wings folded neatly behind his back.

Kev quickly assembled a plate of assorted cheeses and deli meats, adding a few crackers and grapes for good measure. He carried it over to Talon, placing it on the small table beside him.

"Sorry, it's not much," Kev apologized with a sheepish smile. "I'm still figuring out the kitchen."

Talon's lips curled into a faint smile. "This is fine, thank you." 

Kev took a sip of his coffee, enjoying the warmth and caffeine boost. Horns, meanwhile, had finished his impromptu breakfast and was now rolling another joint.

"So, Talon," Horns began, his voice a friendly rumble, "how's your first day going so far?"

Talon, who had been quietly enjoying his food, looked up, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Nothing to report," he replied, his tone formal.

Horns chuckled, lighting the joint and taking a long drag. "Relax, Talon," he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I'm not Rex or Fang. No need to be so formal with me."

Kev smiled, grateful for Horns's easygoing nature. "Thanks for the heads up about Talon being here today, by the way," he said. "I would have tried to think of more things to do if I'd known I was going to be asked to show him around."

Horns laughed, a deep, hearty sound that filled the apartment. "Must've slipped my mind," he admitted, a sheepish grin on his face. "But hey, at least you're getting to know each other. That's important, especially considering..."

"So, Talon," Horns prompted, leaning back on the couch with a relaxed air, "tell me, how was it? Your first day on the job. Did it live up to your expectations, the rumors you've heard about this place?"

Talon paused, carefully considering his words. "The club is... very quiet during the day," he observed, his voice a low rasp. "I was impressed with the cleaners' attention to detail. And the apartment being provided for my sister and me is... extremely generous."

Horns nodded, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "Sounds good enough to me," he said, reaching into his pocket and tossing a pack of cigarettes towards Kev.

Kev caught the pack with a grateful grin. "Thanks, Horns," he said, carefully transferring the cigarettes to his silver case.."

"Anytime," he said, his gaze shifting to Kev. "Do you need anything before I head out?"

Kev shook his head. "I'm all set, Horns. Thanks again for everything."

Horns stretched, a loud yawn escaping his lips. "Should be a good night tonight," he remarked, patting his stomach contentedly. "Reepicheep's making her famous lobster bisque. I can practically smell it from here."

With a final wave, Horns lumbered out of the apartment, leaving Kev and Talon alone once more.

Talon, his guard momentarily lowered, checked that the door was locked before walking back to the couch and settling into the cushions. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he closed his eyes, his wings twitching slightly in his sleep.

Kev watched him, a gentle smile playing on his lips. Despite Talon's initial stiffness and formality, Kev could see the exhaustion weighing on the eagleman. He was glad Talon felt comfortable enough to relax in his presence, even if it was just for a few stolen moments of rest.

Kev gathered the empty plates and carried them to the kitchen, rinsing them off and placing them in the drying rack. His stomach rumbled with hunger, but he knew dinner with Fang was not far away. He couldn't risk spoiling his appetite with a preemptive snack.

Instead, he grabbed his guitar and settled back onto the couch, his fingers finding their familiar places on the strings. He strummed a few chords, then launched into a melancholic melody, his voice soft and haunting in the quiet apartment.

As he finished the song, he noticed Talon watching him from the couch, his sharp eyes filled with a curious intensity.

"That was a nice song," Talon remarked, his voice a low rasp.

Kev smiled, a touch of self-deprecation in his voice. "I'm still working on it," he admitted. "I'm sure once you meet Asmodeus, you'll understand how much of a beginner I am."

"The nice thing about music," Talon replied, "is that it only matters if it sounds good. Not how long you've been playing."

Kev's smile widened, appreciating Talon's simple yet profound observation. He carefully placed his guitar back in its case, a sense of contentment settling over him.

He excused himself to use the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the quiet apartment. As he was washing his hands, he heard a knock at the door, followed by Talon's greeting.

"Mr. Fang," Talon's voice echoed from the living room, a hint of formality in his tone. "Good evening."

Chapter Text

Kev dried his hands and stepped out of the bathroom, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of Fang. The wolfman looked as dashing as ever, his pristine white suit a stark contrast to his usual dark attire. It accentuated his broad shoulders and powerful build, making him seem even more imposing and alluring.

Fang's gaze locked with Kev's, a warmth spreading through his amber eyes. He strode across the room, his movements graceful and deliberate, and pulled Kev into a passionate embrace. Kev leaned into Fang's touch, his senses filled with the wolfman's intoxicating scent.

Fang's lips moved against Kev's with a hunger that sent shivers down his spine. The wolfman's kiss was demanding, yet tender, his tongue exploring Kev's mouth with a gentle insistence that left him breathless. Fang leaned forward, his strong arms enveloping Kev, lifting him slightly off the ground. Kev clung to Fang, his heart pounding in his chest, a mix of excitement and a thrilling sense of surrender.

"You really are my good luck charm," Fang murmured against Kev's lips, his voice a husky growl. He nuzzled Kev's neck, his hot breath sending shivers down his spine.

 "Let's go eat," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I'm bringing you out to get something nice tonight, my little assistant."

Kev, still breathless from the kiss, could only nod in response. He felt himself being lifted higher, his body dangling in Fang's powerful arms. The wolfman leaned him back, their eyes locked, a playful smirk on Fang's face as he savored Kev's surprised expression.

"Ready for another adventure?" Fang asked, his voice a seductive purr.

"Yes," Kev managed to squeak out, his voice a breathless whisper. Fang's playful dominance, the raw power in his embrace, sent a thrill through him that he couldn't deny.

Fang slowly lowered Kev back to his feet, his tail wagging excitedly. He was practically vibrating with a newfound energy, his usual composure replaced by a boyish eagerness that Kev found both endearing and intoxicating.

Fang leaned in, his lips hovering close to Kev's, a silent promise of more to come. But then, with a visible effort, he pulled back, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Food first," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Let's go."

He took Kev's hand and led him out of the apartment, their fingers intertwined. As they walked down the hallway, Kev glanced back at Talon, who stood silently by the door, his sharp eyes following their every move. Kev wondered if the eagleman disapproved of his relationship with Fang, if he saw it as a distraction or a weakness. But Talon's expression remained impassive, thoughts hidden behind his stoic mask.

Talon closed the apartment door behind them and fell into step, his presence a silent but reassuring reminder of Fang's commitment to Kev's safety. As they descended the stairs, Kev couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation, a thrill of excitement for the night ahead.

The club was still in its pre-opening hush, the usual cacophony of music and laughter replaced by the soft murmur of staff preparing for the evening rush. Fang and Kev slid into their familiar spot in the VIP booth, Talon taking up his position as silent guardian behind them.

Rebecca, her feline grace accentuated by the dim lighting, approached their table with a welcoming smile. "Good evening, gentlemen," she purred, her voice a soft melody. "What can I get you tonight?"

Fang didn't hesitate. "Steak and eggs," he ordered, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the booth.

Kev, remembering Horns' earlier mention of the chef's specialty, perked up. "I heard there's lobster bisque tonight," he said, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Rebecca's smile widened. "Excellent choice, Kev," she replied. "I'll put your orders in right away." As he turned to leave, Dale, the ever-present bartender, took her place near the VIP booth, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Going out again tonight, Fang?" Dale inquired, raising an eyebrow. "Should I call Vlad in here to give you a checkup? Make sure you're not overexerting yourself?"

Fang chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed through the booth. "I'm perfectly fine, Dale," he retorted, a playful glint in his eyes. "Just enjoying a night out with my assistant."

Dale, with his usual flair, placed their drinks on the table - a vibrant Bloody Mary for Fang and a refreshing Cape Cod for Kev. He then pulled up a chair and joined them, his presence adding a comforting familiarity to the otherwise tense atmosphere.

"So," Dale began, his voice hiding his curiosity, "is this in celebration of sealing the deal last night?"

Fang took a long sip of his drink, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. "More like putting the bow on top," he replied, a hint of pride in his voice.

Dale turned to Kev, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Mind if I bum a smoke, kid?" he asked, his voice a gravelly whisper.

Kev, happy to oblige, slid his silver cigarette case across the table. Dale selected a cigarette, its slender form dwarfed by his large, calloused hand.

"Fang," Dale said, lighting his cigarette and taking a deep drag, "just don't burn yourself out. There's a lot going on right now, with the new schedule… the mafia deal... And with you gallivanting around the city..." He trailed off, a knowing look in his eyes. "I just don't want you to make a mistake."

Fang's ears flattened against his head, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Mistake?" he echoed, his voice sharp. "Do you think I'm old and senile now, Dale?"

Dale, unfazed by Fang's intensity, met his gaze with a steady calm. "You can only push your body so far, Fang," he replied, his voice firm but gentle. "You've been running on fumes for years. You really need to slow down before you break down."

Fang bristled, his fur standing on end. "I'm not some fragile old horse, Dale," he retorted, his voice a low growl. "I can handle the pressure."

"I'm not much older than you, Fang," Dale countered with a wry smile. 

Kev, touched by Dale's concern for Fang, smiled softly. "It's kind of you to think of him, Dale," he remarked, his voice sincere.

Dale chuckled, a hint of self-deprecation in his eyes. "Without Fang, there is no club, and we'd all be out of a job," he replied, his tone light but carrying a grain of truth. "Besides," he added with a wink, "who else would put up with my shenanigans behind the bar?"

Fang cleared his throat. "Don't worry about me, horse," he said, his voice a low rumble. "The doors just opened. Worry about the thirsty customers."

Dale stubbed out his cigarette, his expression turning serious. "I mean it, Fang," he said, his voice firm. "Don't make me have a talk with Cindy. She worries about you too, you know." With a final nod, he left the booth and returned to his post behind the bar, the crowd already clamoring for his attention.

Fang scowled, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "That horse..." he muttered under his breath, but the anger in his voice was tempered by a hint of undeniable respect.

Kev reached, his hand gently resting on Fang's arm. "He's right, you know," he said softly. "You really should slow down a bit, now that the deal is done."

Fang sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "The deal may be done, Kev," he replied, his voice weary, "but the work is never done. There's always something that needs my attention, some crisis that needs to be averted."

Just then, Rebecca arrived with their food, a steaming plate of steak and eggs for Fang and a colorful soup for Kev. The aroma of perfectly cooked steak and a masterfully prepared bisque filled the air, momentarily distracting them from their conversation.

As Fang eagerly dug in, Kev noticed Rebecca hovering nearby, a shy smile playing on her lips.

"Is everything alright, Rebecca?" Kev inquired, sensing her hesitation.

Her smile widened. "I have tomorrow off!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with a childlike excitement. "It's my first day off in... well, ever." She giggled, her eyes sparkling. "A different waitress will be taking care of you tomorrow. I've already told her your drinks and what you usually eat." She paused, a hint of nervousness creeping into her voice. "She's a bit nervous, but I assured her she'll do great."

Kev's heart warmed at Rebecca's enthusiasm. "Thank you, Rebecca," he said sincerely. "I'm sure she will."

Rebecca, her cheeks flushed with a pleased blush, hurried off to attend to other customers.

Kev turned to Fang, who was engrossed in his meal. "You should tip Rebecca," he suggested, a playful glint in his eyes. "She's a good waitress."

Fang, his mouth full of meat and eggs, grunted in agreement. "She is," he mumbled, swallowing his food. "I'll make sure she's taken care of."

Kev savored the last spoonful of his lobster bisque, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. It was, as Horns had promised, exceptional. The rich, creamy broth, the succulent chunks of lobster, the perfect balance of flavors... Reepia had truly outdone herself. He finished his Cape Cod, the tart sweetness a perfect complement to the hearty soup.

Fang, having devoured his own meal with his usual gusto, glanced at his watch. "We need to get going, Kev," he announced, his voice a low rumble. "Ophelia is keeping the store open late for us." He downed the last of his Bloody Mary, setting the empty glass on the table with a decisive clink.

Kev, taking one last drag from his post-meal joint, nodded. "Just let me finish this, and I'll be ready," he replied, exhaling a cloud of fragrant smoke.

Fang's gaze softened as he watched Kev. "Alright," he said, his voice gentle. "But don't take too long."

He turned and waved at Talon, who was standing guard nearby. "Talon," he instructed, "go find Perry out front. You remember, the owl? Tell him we'll be ready to leave in five minutes."

Talon nodded, his expression impassive. "Yes, Mr. Fang," he replied, his voice a soft rasp. He turned and disappeared into the crowd, his movements swift and efficient.

A pleasant buzz settled over Kev as he finished his joint, a warm glow spreading through his body. He felt relaxed and content, the earlier anxieties fading into the background. Fang, sensing Kev's newfound tranquility, smiled and extended a hand.

"Ready to go?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

Kev nodded, taking Fang's arm and allowing himself to be led out of the club. The night air was cool against his skin, a refreshing contrast to the warmth and energy of the barroom.

Perry, the owl man driver, was waiting patiently by the car, its engine purring softly in the moonlight. Fang opened the door for Kev tonight, his gentlemanly gesture a subtle reminder of his affection.

As they settled into the backseat, Talon taking his place in the front beside Perry, Fang pulled Kev close, his arm draping possessively over his shoulders. The familiar scent of sandalwood and citrus filled Kev's senses, a comforting reminder of Fang's presence.

The car glided smoothly down the driveway, the sprawling mansion receding into the darkness behind them. As they approached the security checkpoint, Rex, his muscular frame silhouetted against the brightly lit guardhouse, stepped forward to greet them.

Rex leaned in close to the car window, a mischievous grin on his face. "Going out again, boss?" he purred, his voice a low rumble. "That human must be very demanding." He winked at Kev, his predatory gaze lingering for a moment too long. "If you ever need a hand keeping him occupied..."

Talon, his sharp eyes fixed on Rex, interjected with a cold tone, "Is that all?"

Rex turned his attention to Talon, his grin widening. "You know… I just got to play with a little birdy last night," he taunted, his voice laced with a playful challenge. "I wonder if you'd do any better."

Fang's growl cut through the tense atmosphere, a warning rumble that silenced even Rex's bravado. "Enough, Rex," he snapped, his eyes flashing with a dangerous glint.

But Rex, ever the instigator, pushed his luck. "Come on, boss," he pressed, his voice a low purr. "We should really find out if he can take care of the human. It's a matter of security, after all."

Fang's voice boomed through the car, silencing Rex's taunts. "That's enough, Rex!" he growled, his tone leaving no room for argument. "There are customers and vehicles driving up to the club as we speak. Focus on making sure there are no fuck-ups."

Rex, though momentarily subdued, couldn't resist one last jab. He maintained his grin as he replied, "If there are any problems, I'll be sure Kev can witness how I handle them. The human should see how a real man fights."

With a final, lingering look, Rex straightened up and patted the roof of the car. "Enjoy the night, boss," he said.

Perry, relieved that the confrontation hadn't escalated further, quickly put the car in gear and drove out of the security checkpoint. They merged onto the main road, the city lights twinkling in the distance like a constellation of stars.

The sleek car sliced through the city's neon-lit arteries, its powerful engine humming a song of speed and precision. Talon, ever the dutiful bodyguard, retrieved the card Jasper had given him two nights ago and read the address aloud to Perry. The owl-man nodded, a confident glint in his eyes, and pressed down on the accelerator, propelling them through the bustling streets with exhilarating speed.

Kev's grip tightened on the seat, his knuckles turning white as the cityscape blurred past. He wasn't accustomed to such reckless driving, his rural upbringing having instilled a cautious approach to navigating the roads.

Fang, sensing Kev's unease, chuckled and leaned closer. "Perry's got great eyes for this," he assured him, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Kev's body. "His reflexes are lightning fast, and he's driven every type of car imaginable as a valet. No need to fret about a little speed."

He threw open the window, letting the wind whip through his fur and a mischievous grin spread across his face. Talon, in contrast, seemed completely at ease, his posture relaxed and his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

Kev, taking a deep breath, forced a smile. "I'm just not used to city driving," he admitted, his voice a bit shaky. "I grew up in a more... rural area."

"It's exciting, isn't it?" Fang countered, his eyes sparkling with a childlike glee. "The rush of adrenaline, the thrill of the chase..."

Perry, overhearing their conversation, couldn't resist a playful smirk. He pressed down on the accelerator once more, the car surging forward with renewed speed. The cityscape became a kaleidoscope of lights and colors, a dizzying blur that left Kev breathless.

In what felt like mere minutes, they arrived at Ophelia's jewelry store. The sleek, modern building stood in stark contrast to the quaint tobacco shop they'd visited last week, its glass facade reflecting the city's vibrant energy.

Kev's eyes widened as he took in the sheer size of the jewelry store. It occupied an entire corner lot, its multi-story facade a dazzling display of glass and chrome. The building pulsed with an energy that mirrored the city's vibrant nightlife, even at this late hour.

Chapter Text

Perry pulled up to the curb, the car's engine purring to a gentle stop. Talon, ever attentive, hopped out and swiftly opened the door for Fang and Kev. Fang, with a flourish, offered his arm to Kev, a gesture of both chivalry and possessiveness.

"Shall we?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

Kev, his curiosity piqued, took Fang's arm and allowed himself to be led towards the entrance. Talon, ever vigilant, rushed ahead and pushed open the heavy glass door, holding it open for them with a respectful nod.

Kev stepped into the jewelry store, his senses immediately overwhelmed by the sleek, modern design. The interior was a stark contrast to the old-world charm of the mansion, a testament to Ophelia's discerning taste and her desire to cater to the city's elite clientele. Polished marble floors, sleek glass displays, and strategically placed spotlights created an atmosphere of undeniable luxury. A series of cascading water features, their gentle trickling a soothing counterpoint to the bustling city outside, added a touch of tranquility to the space. A grand, double escalator, its chrome railings gleaming under the bright lights, beckoned shoppers to explore the upper levels.

A slender parakeet woman, her plumage a vibrant mix of turquoise and emerald green, greeted them with a polite smile. "Mr. Fang," she chirped, her voice a melodic trill, "Ms. Ophelia is waiting for you. Please follow me."

She led them past the bustling crowds and sparkling displays, towards a discreet elevator tucked away in a quiet corner of the shop.

The elevator whisked them silently to the top floor, its doors opening onto a plushly carpeted hallway lined with closed doors. The parakeet lady led them down the corridor, her heels silent across the soft flooring. At the end of the hall, she paused before an imposing mahogany door and opened it with a flourish.

"Ms. Ophelia is expecting you," she chirped, stepping aside to allow them entry.

Fang strode into the room, his confident gait filling the space with an air of authority. Talon followed close behind, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings with a practiced vigilance.

Kev hesitated at the threshold, taking in the scene before him. Ophelia stood by a large window, her silhouette framed by the glittering cityscape beyond. The office was spacious and meticulously designed, its minimalist furniture and muted color scheme creating an atmosphere of understated elegance. The centerpiece of the room was undoubtedly the panoramic view, the sprawling metropolis a breathtaking tapestry of lights and shadows.

"Ms. Ophelia," Fang greeted with a sly smile, "isn't it strange how we keep running into each other?"

Ophelia turned, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Indeed, Mr. Fang," she replied, her voice a melodic purr. "It seems fate has a way of bringing us together."

Ophelia's smile widened, her gaze shifting to Kev. "And I'm pleased to see you brought your assistant along, Mr. Fang," she said, her voice a gentle trill. "I apologize again for Jasper's rude behavior last night... It was truly uncalled for."

Fang's growl rumbled through the room, a subtle reminder of his lingering displeasure. "It's water under the bridge, Ms. Ophelia," he said, his tone dismissive.

Ophelia nodded, but a shadow of concern remained in her eyes. "Still," she persisted, "it leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I would feel better if I could help find something special for your assistant, something that you would truly appreciate, Mr. Fang."

Her gaze lingered on Kev, a calculating glint in her eyes.

Fang's lips curled into a pleased smile. "If it pleases you, Ms. Ophelia," he replied, his gaze dropping to Kev with a possessive warmth. "He is a captivating specimen, after all. Deserves something that lets people know he's cared for."

Ophelia's smile broadened, her eyes gleaming with a mix of admiration and shrewd calculation. "Of course, Mr. Fang," she purred, her voice smooth and persuasive. "A large, eye-catching jewel would certainly send a message. If someone sees such a treasure adorning your assistant, they'll know right away that a powerful figure is protecting him."

She seamlessly slipped into salesman mode, her demeanor shifting from gracious host to experienced businesswoman. "Do you have any specific ideas in mind, Mr. Fang?" she inquired, her tone professional yet inviting.

Fang's gaze softened as he turned to Kev. "What would you like, Kev?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble. "It's your choice."

Kev hesitated, his eyes darting between Fang and Ophelia. "I... I've honestly never thought much about it," he admitted, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "Jewelry never seemed like something I would enjoy."

Ophelia, sensing Kev's uncertainty, approached him with a reassuring smile. "Let's go down to the shop," she suggested, her voice a melodic trill. "We'll find something that suits your style and personality."

Fang and Talon exchanged a glance, then followed Ophelia and Kev as they made their way towards the elevator.

The ground floor of Ophelia's jewelry store was a dazzling spectacle, a treasure trove of glittering gems and precious metals. Display cases, illuminated by the strategically placed spotlights, showcased an array of necklaces, rings, earrings, and other body adornments, each piece more exquisite than the last. Ophelia, ever the attentive hostess, guided Kev through the maze of displays, her voice a melodic trill as she described the history and craftsmanship behind different items.

Kev's eyes darted from one glittering object to another, his senses overwhelmed by the sheer opulence on display. He tentatively picked up a few necklaces and rings, their weight surprisingly heavy in his hands. He even considered a few earrings and other piercings, intrigued but still finding them to be too over the top, too flashy.

Ophelia, sensing Kev's hesitation, suggested a different approach. "Perhaps something a bit more subtle," she purred, her gaze lingering on a display of intricately crafted belt buckles. "A statement piece that complements your attire without being too ostentatious."

Kev examined the buckles, their designs ranging from classic to avant-garde. But none of them seemed to resonate with him. He sighed, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "It's all a bit too flashy for me, Ophelia," he admitted. "I'd prefer something more... practical."

Ophelia's eyes flicked towards Fang, a silent question in their depths. She turned back to Kev, her smile unwavering. "Can we make something for you, then?" she inquired, her voice a gentle purr. "Something unique, something that reflects… you?"

Kev's brow furrowed in concentration as he pondered Ophelia's question. He wasn't accustomed to wearing jewelry, but he wanted to honor Fang's gesture and find something that felt meaningful and personal.

An idea sparked in his mind, a memory of his grandfather's cherished old cufflinks, passed down through generations. "If it's not too much trouble," he began hesitantly, "could you make me a pair of cufflinks?"

Ophelia's smile widened, her eyes sparkling with approval. "That's no problem at all, Kev," she replied, her voice a melodic trill. "A wonderful choice. Simple, elegant, and timeless."

Kev's confidence grew. "I'd like them to be silver," he added. "Nothing too intricate, so I don't break them."

Ophelia nodded, her enthusiasm evident. "Let's go downstairs and get them made," she said, leading the way back towards the elevator. "We have a workshop on the lower level where we can create something truly unique for you."

Kev's curiosity piqued. "You have a cabbing shop here?" he asked.

Ophelia's smile widened. "Indeed we do," she replied, a hint of pride in her voice. "Come, let me show you."

The elevator descended silently, its doors opening onto a brightly lit workshop. The basement workshop was a cacophony of sounds – the whirring of polishing wheels, the clanking of metal tools, the rhythmic tapping of hammers against anvils. It was a world away from the serene atmosphere of the showroom upstairs, a testament to the raw, creative energy that fueled Ophelia's jewelry empire.

A young beaver woman, her fur speckled with dust and her eyes bright with enthusiasm, rushed up to greet Ophelia. "Ms. Ophelia!" she chirped, her voice a cheerful squeak. "Welcome back! How was that auction a few nights ago?"

Ophelia smiled warmly. "It was a success, Clara," she replied. "And I have a special project for you." She gestured towards Kev. "This is Mr. Fang's assistant, Kev. He'd like a pair of silver cufflinks."

"Silver cufflinks?" she echoed, her gaze shifting between Fang and Kev. "Any specific design in mind, sir?"

"Let's just get them started, Clara," Ophelia interjected, her voice firm but gentle. "I'm taking them to pick out some stones."

She led Kev and Fang towards a different section of the workshop, leaving Clara to begin her work. Ophelia showed Kev to a brightly lit display case, its interior showcasing a dazzling array of gemstones. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires... their brilliance caught the light, creating a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of colors.

"What catches your eye, dear?" Ophelia inquired, her voice gentle. "Any particular stone that speaks to you?"

Kev examined the gems, his brow furrowing. They were all breathtakingly beautiful, but also strikingly large and extravagant. He wasn't accustomed to such opulence, his taste leaning more towards the subtle.

"The sapphire is nice," he finally said, pointing to a deep blue gem that shimmered with an inner light.

Ophelia nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. "It is," she agreed. "But sapphire isn't as... expensive as a diamond, darling."

Kev shrugged, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "They don't need to be expensive, Ophelia," he assured her. "I just want something that's meaningful."

Ophelia sighed dramatically, her feathers ruffling slightly. "Oh, darling," she said, her voice a playful scolding, "let's make a piece that I can brag about. Something that will turn heads, that people will covet for their wives and their mistresses. Let's have some fun with it."

Kev looked down at the array of gems, his eyes drawn back to the sapphire's deep blue hue. "I do like the blue," he mused, a creative spark igniting in his mind. "Is there any way to use the sapphire to back the diamond, so some of the blue shines through?"

Ophelia's eyes lit up, a spark of intrigue replacing her initial skepticism. "That's an interesting idea, Kev," she said, her voice filled with a newfound enthusiasm. She turned and called out to one of the workers, a skilled cabber with a magnifying glass perched on his long aardvark nose.

"Arnold!" she beckoned, her voice carrying easily over the din of the workshop. "Can we back a diamond with a sapphire, let some of the blue shine through?"

Arnold, startled from his concentration, looked up, his brow furrowed in thought. "I've never tried it before," he admitted, "but I don't see why not. As long as the setting is designed to accommodate it, it shouldn't be too difficult."

Ophelia nodded, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. "Excellent," she said, turning back to Clara, the beaver woman who was already working on the cufflinks' base structure. "Work with Arnold and make it happen."

She then turned to Fang, her demeanor shifting back to that of a shrewd businesswoman. "Mr. Fang," she said, her voice a smooth purr, "shall we discuss a little business while they work their magic?"

Fang nodded, a predatory grin on his face. "Lead the way, Ms. Ophelia," he replied, offering her his arm.

Ophelia led Fang into a nearby office, leaving Kev and Talon to observe the intricate process of crafting the cufflinks.

The workshop hummed with activity as Kev and Talon watched the artisans at work. The process of creating the cufflinks was surprisingly swift, thanks to the advanced technology at their disposal. Machines whirred and buzzed, their robotic arms expertly cutting and shaping the gemstones with laser-like precision.

Kev was particularly fascinated by Clara's hand-finishing of the setting. With delicate tools and a steady hand, she transformed the silver surrounding the gems into a series of stylized wolf teeth, creating the illusion of a wolf biting down on the precious stones. The effect was both striking and elegant, a perfect blend of power and sophistication.

The finished cufflinks were a masterpiece, their solid silver construction and flawless gems a testament to the skill and artistry of Ophelia's team. Clara carefully buffed the gemstones, their brilliance amplified by the careful polishing. She left the silver setting with a matte finish, applying a protective coating to prevent tarnishing. The contrast between the gleaming gems and the understated silver created a striking visual effect, a perfect balance of boldness and refinement.

As Ophelia and Fang emerged from the office, their conversation concluded, Clara proudly presented the finished cufflinks on a velvet cushion. Ophelia delicately picked up one, holding it up to the light, her critical eye examining every facet.

"I like the effect of the thin diamond with the backing sapphire," she mused, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. "It's subtle, yet striking. Good work, Clara, Arnold."

She turned to Fang, extending the cufflink towards him. "What do you think, Mr. Fang?"

Fang's grin widened as he took the cufflink, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Great job, Clara," he praised, his voice a low rumble. "Everyone will know who Kev works for now." He chuckled, his gaze lingering on the stylized wolf teeth that framed the gemstone. 

Kev beamed with delight. The cufflinks were perfect, a subtle yet meaningful statement that aligned perfectly with his personal style. He had dreaded the thought of wearing something flashy or ostentatious, but these cufflinks were both elegant and discreet. He couldn't wait to wear them, to feel the cool silver against his skin and the weight of the gemstones as a reminder of Fang's affection.

Clara, sensing Kev's satisfaction, carefully fastened the cufflinks onto his shirt sleeves. They nestled perfectly against the crisp white fabric, their silver gleam catching the light with every movement.

Fang turned to Ophelia, a confident smile playing on his lips. "I'm looking forward to our growing partnership, Ms. Ophelia," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I have a feeling it will be mutually beneficial."

Ophelia's smile widened, her eyes sparkling with delight. "I'm glad your assistant is satisfied," she purred, her gaze lingering on Kev. "I was a bit nervous at first, when we couldn't find anything suitable for him. But his unique request sparked some interesting ideas... He's given me inspiration for a whole new line of jewelry."

Kev blushed slightly, flattered by the compliment. "The cufflinks are perfect, Ophelia," he said sincerely. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, dear," Ophelia replied with a warm smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some designs to sketch out."

Fang nodded, offering his arm to Kev. "Come, my dear assistant," he said, his voice a gentle purr. "Let's let these folks close for the night."

"Feel free to drop by the club anytime, Ms. Ophelia," Fang added, turning back to the jeweler. "You… and Jasper… are always welcome."

With a final farewell, Fang led Kev out of the workshop and back to the waiting car.

Chapter Text

As Fang and Kev settled into the plush backseat of the car, a comfortable silence enveloped them. The city lights blurred past the windows, a mesmerizing dance of color and movement that reflected the vibrant energy of Dala'Bon's nightlife.

Fang, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery, turned to Kev with a hungry look in his eyes. "All this business talk has got me famished," he grumbled, his stomach growling audibly. "Perry, swing by the old diner on Elm Street. I'm craving their chili-cheese fries."

Perry, his sharp eyes focused on the road ahead, hesitated for a moment. "Boss," he said, his voice a soft hoot, "that diner's been closed for a couple of years now."

Fang's brow furrowed in frustration, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Closed?" he echoed, his voice rising slightly. "But... its always been there..."

"What else is there for a quick bite?" Fang asked, his disappointment evident in his voice.

Talon, who had been silently listening to the conversation from the front seat, spoke up. "What kind of food do you like, Mr. Fang?" he inquired, his voice a low rasp.

Fang pondered for a moment, his gaze drifting out the window. "Something fried," he finally replied. "We don't have deep fryers at the club. Reepia says it's a coward's way to prepare food."

Kev chuckled, picturing the head chef's disdain for anything that wasn't meticulously flame grilled and expertly seasoned.

"There's a burger place on the ground floor of my apartment building that I like," Talon offered tentatively.

Fang raised an eyebrow, a skeptical glint in his eyes. "It better be good," he warned, his tone playful but firm.

Talon shrugged, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I can't make any promises, boss," he replied. "But it's worth a try."

Fang laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that filled the car. "Alright, let's give it a shot," he said, his spirits lifting. "I've got no better ideas."

As the car approached the bustling city center, Talon leaned forward and gave Perry precise directions to the burger place. The owl man skillfully navigated the busy streets, finally pulling up to the curb in front of a brightly lit diner. The tantalizing aroma of grilled meat and fried potatoes wafted through the open window, making Kev's stomach rumble.

Fang reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp bill. He handed it to Talon, his voice a low rumble. "Burger, fries, and a shake," he instructed. "Extra bacon. And use the rest to get something for your sister upstairs. She'll have a busy day tomorrow with the move and should eat something."

Talon's eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of gratitude crossing his face. "Thank you, Mr. Fang," he said, his voice a soft rasp. "I'll be back in thirty minutes."

He exited the car and strode across the street towards the diner, his movements swift and purposeful.

Kev, touched by Fang's generosity, smiled warmly at the wolfman. "That was nice of you," he said, his voice filled with admiration.

Fang's gaze softened as he looked at Kev. "He deserves it," he replied simply. "He's got an important job and I want to make sure he can focus when he's working."

Without taking his eyes off Kev, Fang spoke to Perry. "You heard Talon, thirty minutes" he said, his voice a gentle command. "Take a break. Grab yourself something to eat while we wait."

Perry nodded gratefully and stepped out of the car, disappearing into the crowd.

Fang turned back to Kev, his smile widening. He leaned in, his hand cupping Kev's cheek, and captured his lips in a tender kiss. The world outside the car faded away, replaced by the warmth of Fang's touch and the intoxicating scent of his cologne.

The kiss deepened, a primal hunger igniting between them. Kev's hands roamed Fang's broad back, the soft fur a stark contrast to the crisp fabric of his suit. Fang, lost in the moment, pressed Kev deeper into the plush leather seat, his muscular chest a comforting weight against Kev's slender frame.

"My little lucky charm," Fang growled, his voice a husky whisper against Kev's lips. "I'm so happy you've come to me." He trailed kisses down Kev's neck, his tongue leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

Kev's breath hitched, his body responding to Fang's touch with a yearning he'd never known before. He wrapped his arms around Fang's neck, his hands barely meeting in the middle of the wolfman's broad back. "I want you too, Fang," he confessed, his voice a breathless plea. "Why not come to my room tonight?"

Fang pulled back, his amber eyes ablaze with desire. He captured Kev's lips in one last, lingering kiss. "We'll see what the night brings," he murmured, a promise in his voice.

Time seemed to dissolve as they lost themselves in each other's embrace. Thirty minutes passed in what felt like a heartbeat, the world outside the car a distant, forgotten dream.

A sharp rap on the window startled them back to reality. Perry, the owl man driver, peered in, a knowing smile on his face. "Talon's back, boss," he announced, his voice a soft hoot. "Ready to go?"

Fang, reluctantly pulling away from Kev, let out a low growl of frustration. He straightened his suit, his cheeks still flushed from the passionate encounter. Talon, a thin smile on his beak, handed a bag of takeout food through the window.

Fang sniffed the bag appreciatively, his tail wagging slightly. "Ah, just what I needed," he said, his voice a low rumble.

Perry started the car, smoothly merging back into the city's bustling traffic. Kev, his heart just starting to slow, held Fang's milkshake as the wolfman eagerly devoured his burger and fries. He couldn't help but marvel at Fang's impeccable table manners, despite his wolfish appetite. Not a single crumb or drop of sauce marred his pristine white suit.

"How do you do that?" Kev asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I'm always getting food all over myself."

Fang chuckled, his amber eyes twinkling. "Years of practice, my dear," he replied, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "And a healthy dose of self-preservation. Wouldn't want Marybelle to see me in a stained suit."

Fang finished the burger and fries in record time, his appetite seemingly insatiable. Kev, still nursing his own milkshake, handed it over to Fang, who eagerly accepted it.

The wolfman took a long, greedy gulp, the cold liquid hitting the back of his throat. A pained expression crossed his face, his eyes clenching shut in surprise.

"Brain freeze!" Kev exclaimed, bursting into laughter.

Fang groaned, clutching his head. "Damn it, Kev," he grumbled, his voice a muffled growl. He reluctantly handed the milkshake back to Kev.

Kev took a sip, savoring the sweet, creamy flavor. "If you'd slow down a bit you wouldn't have to worry about it," he teased, a playful smile on his face.

They continued their journey back to the club, the city lights blurring past the windows.

"How was the food, Mr. Fang?" Talon inquired from the front seat, his voice a respectful rasp.

"Greasy," Fang replied, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "It was great."

They soon arrived at the familiar security checkpoint. Rex, his muscular frame silhouetted against the brightly lit guardhouse, stepped forward to greet them.

As the car rolled to a stop, Fang and Kev stepped out, Talon and Perry following close behind. The security team, their movements efficient and practiced, immediately began their inspection of the vehicle. Rex, his predatory gaze sweeping over them, couldn't resist a playful jab at Kev.

"Nice cufflinks," he purred, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I thought Fang would have gotten you a nice collar instead."

Fang chuckled, his arm tightening around Kev's shoulders. "Rex, behave," he warned, his tone light but firm.

Rex shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "Just an observation, boss," he replied, his gaze lingering on Kev. He then turned to Fang, his demeanor shifting to one of professionalism. "No incidents to report. Everything's been quiet."

"Good," Fang said, a satisfied nod. "Keep up the good work, Rex."

He ushered Kev back into the car, Talon taking his place in the front seat. As Perry drove them up the winding driveway, Fang leaned closer to Kev, his voice a low rumble. "Don't mind Rex," he whispered. "He's just jealous."

Kev chuckled, a warmth spreading through him at Fang's protective gesture. "I can handle him," he replied, a confident smile on his face.

As they stepped back into the bustling club, the energy palpable even at this late hour, Fang steered Kev towards the familiar comfort of the VIP table. The air throbbed with the rhythmic pulse of music, and the dance floor shimmered with a kaleidoscope of colors and movement.

"Another drink before bed?" Fang inquired, his voice a low rumble amidst the surrounding noise.

Kev nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "And maybe some dessert," he added, his stomach growling softly.

Fang chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. "Just don't tell Reepia I indulged in someone else's cooking," he whispered conspiratorially.

"She already knows we went to Ralph's," Kev reminded him with a grin.

Fang shrugged, a mischievous smirk on his face. "That's different," he retorted. "Ralph's food is an experience, not just sustenance. It's more like art than food."

Kev, feeling a bit more adventurous, decided to branch out from his usual Cape Cod. "I'll have a whiskey sour, please," he told Rebecca, who had materialized at their table with her usual feline grace. "And a slice of blueberry pie."

Fang, ever predictable, ordered his customary double whiskey on the rocks. As Rebecca disappeared into the crowd, Kev turned to Fang, a hopeful glint in his eyes. After finishing off his drink and slice of pie he felt full and content. He was about to ask if Fang would walk him back to his room when a familiar figure approached their table.

The iguana manager approached, his reptilian movements as fluid and confident as ever, sauntered towards them. He was wearing a vest made of feather boas and garish tie-dye pants, a sly smile playing on his lips. Talon, oblivious to this colorful individuals identity, stepped forward, blocking Lanon's path.

"Hold it right there," Talon said, his voice a low rasp. "State your business."

Lanon raised an eyebrow, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. "Talon, is it?" he purred, his voice laced with a condescending tone. "I'm here to speak with Mr. Fang, as I'm sure he's informed you."

Talon didn't back down. "I haven't been informed of any such meeting," he retorted, his wings rustling slightly in agitation.

Kev, sensing a potential conflict brewing, nudged Fang discreetly. The wolfman, who had been observing the exchange with a bemused expression, finally intervened.

"Talon," Fang interjected, his voice a calm but authoritative rumble, "that is Lanon, one of my managers. He's in charge of personal relations."

Talon's posture relaxed slightly, but his gaze remained wary. "My apologies, Mr. Lanon," he said, inclining his head in a respectful bow. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Lanon's lips curled into a knowing smile as he studied Talon. "Ah, the type who appreciates the chain of command," he purred, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "Much more complicated than a certain feisty kitty I know... I think you'll be an interesting one, Talon."

Lanon then turned his attention to Fang, settling into the booth with a graceful flourish. "So, boss," he began, his voice a smooth purr, "I was expecting you in my office nearly an hour ago, you haven't forgotten about our meeting, have you?"

Fang's gaze shifted to Kev, a hint of remorse in his eyes. "Have Talon escort you to your room, Kev," he instructed. "I need to talk with Lanon."

Kev's heart sank. He'd hoped to spend more time with Fang… the thought of being alone up in his apartment, while not awful, did fill him with loneliness. But he understood the importance of Fang's duties and didn't want to interfere, and didn't want to do anything that might upset Fang.

"I'd rather you walked me up…" Kev said softly, his voice laced with a hint of disappointment.

Lanon chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Please, Fang," he interjected, "don't let me get in the way of an intimate moment."

Fang's growl reverberated through the booth, a warning rumble that silenced Lanon's playful teasing. "Keep your thoughts away from Kev, Lanon," he warned, his voice a low, menacing purr.

He turned to Talon, his expression softening. "Talon, take Kev up to his room, and then come right back," he instructed. "I need to go over a few more things with you before you leave for the night."

Talon nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Yes, Mr. Fang."

Kev, with a final lingering look at Fang, rose from his seat. He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Fang's cheek. "Don't work too hard," he whispered.

He followed Talon out of the booth, leaving Fang and Lanon to their private conversation.

As they walked up the grand staircase, Kev's curiosity got the better of him. "What do you think they're talking about?" he asked Talon, his voice a hushed whisper.

Talon's brow furrowed in thought. "I'm not sure," he replied, his voice a low rasp. "What does Mr. Lanon do, exactly?"

Kev hesitated for a moment, unsure how much to reveal. "He's... in charge of... personal relations," he finally said, repeating the double-entendre that had been told to him by both Horns and Fang.

Talon's frown deepened. "Ah," he said, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Then it's probably better for both of us if we don't know."

They reached Kev's apartment, and he unlocked the door, stepping aside to let Talon in. "Would you like to come in for a bit?" he offered, a friendly smile on his face.

Talon shook his head, his gaze fixed on the hallway beyond. "Mr. Fang said to come right back," he replied, his voice a clipped rasp. "I'll see you tomorrow, Kev."

"See you, Talon," Kev said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. He watched as Talon turned and disappeared down the hallway, his footsteps echoing in the quiet mansion.

Kev, feeling the weight of the day settle upon him, shed his clothes and carefully placed his new cufflinks and watch on the dresser. The silver glimmered softly in the moonlight, a reminder of Fang's affection and the unexpected adventure that had led him to this place.

He slipped beneath the cool sheets, the familiar comfort of his bed a welcome respite from the day's events. His mind buzzed with images and conversations, a kaleidoscope of experiences that both excited and unsettled him. He thought of Fang's warmth, Lanon's cryptic words, Cindy's maternal concern, and Talon's quiet intensity. It was a world of contradictions, a place where danger and desire coexisted, where the boundaries between pleasure and pain were blurred.

But as sleep tugged at his eyelids, Kev's thoughts drifted back to Fang's love. A thrill of anticipation ran through Kev, a spark of hope amidst the uncertainty. He closed his eyes, surrendering to the darkness, and fell into a deep sleep. He dreamt of talon throwing diamond darts at an evil, mustache twirling, Rex.

Chapter Text

Kev's eyes blinked open, the familiar knocking at his door pulling him from a deep sleep. He glanced at his watch - 7 am. His body, still adjusting to the club's nocturnal schedule, protested the early wake-up call.

Mindful of his previous faux pas, Kev quickly pulled on his dirty clothes from the night before, answering the door. Horns stood on the threshold, his usually cheerful face etched with exhaustion.

"Howdy, Kev," Horns mumbled. He shuffled into the apartment, his massive frame collapsing onto the couch with a weary sigh.

"Just about to put the coffee on," Kev said, gesturing towards the kitchen. "You just want water, right?"

Horns nodded gratefully. "Please," he said, his eyelids drooping heavily.

Kev filled the kettle and set it on the stove, the familiar hiss of the gas flame a comforting sound in the quiet apartment. He poured a glass of water for Horns and brought it over, along with an ashtray.

Horns was already rolling a joint, his large hands always impressed Kev, how the moose could hold on to the small rolling papers was amazing. He lit it, taking a long, slow drag, and exhaled a cloud of fragrant smoke. Kev opened the windows, letting the fresh morning air dispel the lingering haze.

"So," Kev inquired, settling onto the couch beside Horns, "anything interesting happen last night?"

"Not much, really," Horns replied with a sigh. "Just… the first day of the new one-day-off policy starts tonight. It's such a simple idea, but everyone's making it so damn complicated."

Kev chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. "I'm sure once it becomes routine, it'll be a great thing," he said, his voice filled with optimism.

Horns snorted, a cloud of smoke escaping his nostrils. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbled. "But right now, it's a pain in my ass. Rescheduling shifts, dealing with everyone's complaints... It's enough to drive a moose crazy."

He stretched his large arms. "Anyway, I gotta get going soon, sleep's calling," he announced, a hint of weariness in his voice. "Anything you need before I go?"

"Some noodles would be great," Kev replied, thinking of the empty pantry. "I'm starting to get tired of bagels and fruit."

"Will do," Horns said with a grin. "Oh, and I heard you almost had the boss up here again last night." He winked at Kev, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

Kev raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his face. "He stayed down in the VIP booth," he clarified. "Didn't even walk me up."

"Well, I walked by later, and he was laying into Lanon about something involving you," Horns chuckled. "I heard him say he'd much rather be up here than down there."

Kev's cheeks flushed, a flutter of excitement warming his face. "Maybe I'll be more than just an assistant soon." 

"Go for it, Kev," Horns encouraged, giving him a playful nudge. "He already got you a diamond, I heard. You're basically hitched."

Kev thought of the beautiful cufflinks, their sapphire-backed diamonds sparkling in the morning light, on his bedside table. He couldn't deny the thrill of Fang's affection, the sense of security and belonging he felt in the wolfman's presence.

"This would actually make more sense if I was his boyfriend instead of his assistant," Kev mused aloud, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "I can't imagine many people see me as anything other than that."

"It's kind of obvious, Kev," the moose admitted. "The way he looks at you, the way he touches you... it's not exactly subtle." He paused, a more serious expression crossing his face. "But Fang's old-school, and he has commitments. The club comes first, always has. But… I'm sure that dog will finally chase you home eventually."

Horns slapped his knees, a sign that he was ready to depart. "Well, I'm off to bed," he announced, yawning widely. "Say hi to Talon for me when you see him."

"Will do," Kev replied with a smile. "Sleep tight, Horns."

With a final wave, Horns left the apartment, leaving Kev alone with his thoughts and the lingering scent of coffee and marijuana smoke.

Kev finished his coffee, rinsed the mug, and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. He made sure to leave the space spotless, wiping down the sink and arranging the towels neatly.

Dressed in a comfortable pair of fresh slacks and a crisp button-down shirt, he returned to the living room just as another knock sounded at the door. He opened it to find Cindy and Max standing on the threshold.

"Good morning, Kev," Cindy greeted him with a warm smile. Without waiting for an invitation, she bustled past him into the kitchen, her practiced movements betraying her eagerness to make tea.

Kev nodded at Max, a friendly smile on his face. "Come on in," he said, gesturing towards the living room.

Max settled onto the couch, his bushy tail swishing contentedly. Kev, meanwhile, approached the piano and opened the box of music scrolls.

"Lightfoot Waltz or Jam-Thumb Rag?" he asked Cindy, holding up two of the scrolls.

Cindy, busy with the tea kettle, glanced over her shoulder. "Lightfoot Waltz, please," she replied, her voice gentle.

Kev carefully inserted the scroll into the piano and turned the crank, the delicate notes filling the apartment with a soothing ambiance.

Kev settled onto the couch beside Max, the gentle strains of the waltz creating a relaxing atmosphere. "Max," he began, "please thank the cleaners for taking care of the room. It looks great." He paused, a smile playing on his lips. "And that throw rug was a good choice. It really ties the room together."

He hesitated for a moment, then added, "Oh, and could you also tell that lizardman cleaner, the one Talon grabbed yesterday, that Talon and I apologize for the misunderstanding?"

Max chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "I'll pass on the message," he assured Kev. "But I don't think you need to worry too much. Cindy's already keen to meet Talon. She's heard all about his... unique skills."

Kev raised an eyebrow, a hint of concern in his voice. "I hope she's not angry with him," he said. "He's still getting used to the club and thinks trouble is around every corner."

"She understands the importance of security," Max replied with a shrug. "She might give him a stern talking-to, but I doubt she'll hold it against him for long."

Just then, Cindy emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray laden with teacups and a plate of pastries. She placed the tray on the coffee table, a warm smile on her face.

"Freshly baked scones, dears," she announced, her voice a gentle melody. "Made with some of those lovely blueberries Horns brought you."

Kev's stomach rumbled appreciatively. "They look delicious, Cindy," he said, reaching for a scone.

"Thank you," Max added, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the treats.

Cindy settled onto the couch beside Max, her gaze fixed on Kev. "May I see the cufflinks, dear?" she asked, her voice a gentle purr.

Kev, happy to show off Fang's gift, carefully retrieved the cufflinks from his bedroom and handed them to Cindy. She held them up to the light, her eyes sparkling with admiration.

"They're exquisite," she declared, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Not too flashy or gaudy, just the right amount of elegance. A perfect choice for you, Kev."

After they finished their tea, she stood up, her movements graceful and deliberate. "Well it's time to finish morning rounds. Have a good day, Kev," she said, her voice warm and reassuring. "And don't hesitate to call on me if you need anything."

With a final smile and a wave, Cindy left the apartment, Max following closely behind.

Kev, guitar in tow, headed downstairs, to the tranquility of the backyard. The afternoon sun beat down, casting a shimmering glow on the pool's surface. He settled onto a lounge chair, the cool tiles a welcome contrast to the lingering warmth of the summer air. He lit a cigarette, savoring the familiar ritual as he strummed a few chords on his guitar.

Lost in the music, he didn't notice Reepia's approach until she was standing right beside him, her arms crossed and a stern expression on her face.

"Hey, human," she huffed, her voice a low growl. "If this day-off-a-week thing doesn't work out, I'm blaming you."

Kev chuckled nervously, his fingers faltering on the guitar strings. "Good to see you too, Reepia," he replied, trying to maintain a lighthearted tone.

Reepia's gaze narrowed, her sharp eyes boring into Kev's. "Did Fang eat anything while he was out last night?" she asked, her voice a pointed question.

Kev's eyes shifted to the side, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. How did she know? "I... I can't remember," he stammered, his voice a bit too high-pitched. "I must have had a lot to drink last night."

"Don't bullshit me, pipsqueak," Reepia snapped, her tone leaving no room for evasion. A dangerous grin then spread across her face. "The old dog always has a T-bone steak with pork chops after you go to beddy-bye. He only got a T-bone last night. What else did he have?"

Kev squirmed under the pressure. "We parked downtown last night so Talon could see his sister," Kev explained, trying to maintain his composure. "Maybe Fang snuck off at some point, while I was distracted."

Reepia's eyes narrowed, her skepticism evident. "Are you trying to pin it all on the boss, human?" she asked. "Smart move."

She took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I'll come by and ask Fang about it tonight," she declared. "And if you say anything while I'm questioning him, we will have a problem."

She revealed a set of surprisingly sharp teeth. "Enjoy your day, cupcake," she said.

Kev, a bit unnerved by Reepia's cryptic warning, forced a smile. "You too, cactus," he replied, watching as she turned and headed back towards the kitchen, her apron flapping in the breeze.

Kev spent some time strumming his guitar in the quiet of the backyard, the gentle melodies a soothing balm to his soul. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, he decided to head inside. 

Back in his apartment, Kev surveyed the space with a critical eye. The cleaners had done a thorough job, leaving the room spotless and inviting. He couldn't find a single speck of dust or a misplaced object. Still, he felt a restless energy buzzing within him, a desire to keep busy and explore his new surroundings.

He grabbed a mop and bucket, deciding to give the floors a quick once-over. The rhythmic swish of the mop against the hardwood was strangely therapeutic. Once the floors were dry, he lit a scented candle, its delicate fragrance of lavender and vanilla filling the air and masking any lingering odors from Horns' earlier visit. He settled onto the couch with his book, determined to make some sort of progress in understanding the history of Dala'Bon.

But the dense prose and unfamiliar references continued to frustrate him. He longed for something more accessible, something that would provide a glimpse into the everyday lives of the city's inhabitants. "Maybe I should just get a newspaper," he muttered to himself, closing the book with a sigh.

He glanced at his watch, it was only 10 am. The day stretched out before him, an expanse of empty hours waiting to be filled. He poured himself another cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would spark some inspiration.

Restless from the caffeine, he decided to wander the mansion once more. He left his apartment, his footsteps echoing in the quiet hallways. He ventured downstairs, towards the theater, drawn by the distant sounds of activity.

As he entered the grand space, he found a crew of beastmen and women hard at work on the stage. They were building and repairing various set pieces, their movements efficient and coordinated. Soft strains of music drifted from back-stage, creating a soothing ambiance that contrasted with the industrious scene before him.

Kev took a seat in one of the plush velvet chairs, his gaze fixed on the stage. He sipped his coffee, enjoying the spectacle of creativity and craftsmanship unfolding before his eyes.

Chapter Text

When Kev finished his cup, he decided to head back to his apartment, not knowing what else to do to kill time. As he passed the empty barroom, he spotted Max leading a group of cleaners through the mansion, towards the west wing. They were carrying a large tapestry, its vibrant colors and intricate patterns a stark contrast to the mansion's muted decor.

"Hey, Max," Kev greeted, a curious smile playing on his lips. "What's up?"

Max, his brow furrowed in concentration as he directed the cleaners, glanced over at Kev. "Talon arrived with his sister," he explained. "They've asked us to bring a few things up to their apartment."

Kev's eyes widened as he took in the massive tapestry the cleaners were carefully maneuvering. "That's a big one," he remarked. "I would have thought that belonged to the mansion."

Max chuckled, a sly grin on his face. "Apparently, it's one of the few things they brought with them from their old place," he said. "Talon's sister is quite attached to it." He paused, a thoughtful look on his face. "I've already got the perfect spot for it."

Kev followed Max and the cleaners as they made their way towards the elevator. The confined space was filled with the scent of cleaning supplies and the soft rustling of the tapestry.

"How long has Talon been here?" Kev inquired.

"Maybe thirty minutes," Max replied, his tone somber. "His sister seems... less than impressed."

Just as the elevator doors opened onto the second floor, a shrill voice echoed down the hallway. "I'd rather be back in the housing projects than this bullshit!"

The unmistakable sound of a door slamming shut punctuated the outburst, leaving a tense silence in its wake.

Kev and the cleaners cautiously entered the apartment, the earlier outburst still hanging heavy in the air. Talon stood outside a closed door, his shoulders slumped and his wings drooping. He looked utterly defeated, a stark contrast to the confident and assertive figure Kev had encountered earlier.

As he noticed Kev and the cleaners, Talon straightened up, a forced smile masking his inner turmoil. "She's just getting some sleep," he explained, his voice a strained rasp. "It's been a long day already."

He gestured towards the tapestry. "You can put that... wherever," he said, his voice trailing off.

Kev took a moment to survey the apartment, noting the subtle changes that had been made to accommodate Talon's sister. Doorways had been widened, ramps installed, and furniture rearranged to create clear pathways. It was evident that Max had taken great care to ensure the space was accessible and comfortable.

Talon, his gaze fixed on the floor, approached Max with a hesitant step. He bowed his head slightly, his voice a soft rasp. "Mr. Max, you have been so kind to me and my sister," he began, his tone sincere. "And yet, I insulted one of your workers yesterday. Please, let me atone for my actions."

Max clapped a hand on Talon's shoulder, his grip firm but reassuring. "Cindy wants to have a chat with you tonight," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "She's the one you need to be apologizing to.

He laughed, a hearty sound that echoed through the apartment. "Don't worry, Talon," he added, his voice softening. "She's not one to hold a grudge. Just be prepared for a bit of a lecture."

A voice, muffled but unmistakably irritated, echoed from the closed bedroom door. "Shut up while I'm moping!"

Kev bit back a laugh, his shoulders shaking with suppressed amusement. He glanced at Talon, a questioning look in his eyes. "Is she serious?" he whispered.

Talon sighed, a weary smile playing on his lips. "Yes and no," he replied, his voice a soft rasp. "Sabrina is... quite stubborn. She knows deep down that this was the best thing that could have happened to us, but she needs to make a show of… being pissy."

He raised his voice slightly, calling out towards the closed door, "Isn't that right, sister?"

A muffled retort echoed back. "You suck, brother! Get a better job!"

Talon groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Please, Kev," he pleaded. "Ignore her, she can be an idiot."

Kev couldn't contain his laughter any longer. He stepped closer to the closed door and called out in a cheerful voice, "Hello, new neighbor!"

The door cracked open a sliver, and a pair of piercing blue eyes peered out. Sabrina, Talon's sister, was also an eagle, her features just as sharp and striking as her brother's. Her expression, however, was anything but welcoming.

"Neighbor?" she scoffed, her voice raspy like Talon's but higher pitched. "You live at this weirdo medieval sex club? I don't want you getting any of your rare diseases on my stuff. Leave."

She slammed the door shut, leaving Kev and Talon standing in stunned silence.

Talon's beak hung open, his feathers ruffled in embarrassment. Kev, however, couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"Let's give her some space," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "She's clearly not in the mood for socializing."

As they left the apartment, Talon turned to Max with a sheepish expression. "Again, I apologize for yesterday," he said, his voice a low rasp. "I didn't mean to overstep my boundaries."

Max waved a dismissive hand. "No harm done, Talon," he assured him with a smile. "Just try to be a bit more... discerning in the future."

Talon nodded, a grateful look in his eyes. He and Kev then headed back down the hallway towards Kev's apartment.

"So," Kev began, once they were safely inside, "how was your night after we parted ways?"

Talon shrugged, settling onto the couch. "I didn't stay much longer," he replied, his gaze fixed on the floor. "Fang just asked me a few questions about you, and then I left."

Kev raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "About me?" he echoed. "What kind of questions?"

Talon hesitated for a moment, then said, "Nothing specific. Just... general things. What you did during the day, who you talked with, that sort of thing."

Kev nodded, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. He lit a joint, offering it to Talon, who politely declined.

"I've got to find Lanon's daytime manager and get a shave today," Kev announced, taking a drag from the joint.

Talon looked up from the book he'd been idly flipping through. "Who's the daytime manager?" he asked, his voice a soft rasp. "And what's a shave?"

"It's like a haircut, but for my face," Kev explained, scratching at the stubble that had already started to reappear.

Talon flipped through the book, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Must be a weird mammal thing," he muttered, his voice a low rasp.

Kev chuckled. "Yeah, I guess it is." He stood up, stretching his arms above his head. "We need to find Vlad. He's the daytime manager who works under Lanon. He should be somewhere down in the east wing, near the loading dock."

Talon raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "You don't even know where he is?"

Kev shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. "I haven't gotten around to exploring much of the mansion yet," he admitted. "To be honest, the east wing kind of feels like a forbidden zone. Other than the theater, the only room I've been to over there is the fighting pit. And when I tried to check out the loading dock last week, Lanon personally escorted me back to the main entrance."

Talon looked up from his book, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Mr. Fang said I have full authority to enter any unlocked door in the building," he stated. "If he's expecting you, I don't see an issue with us going there." A spark of excitement flickered in his eyes, a welcome change from his earlier somber demeanor. It seemed the prospect of exploring the forbidden east wing was a welcome distraction from the stress of his move.

Kev, sensing Talon's eagerness, grinned. "Let's go then," he said.

Kev and Talon descended the grand staircase, their footsteps echoing in the dimly lit hallway. The air hummed with a subdued energy, a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos that erupted each night. They passed by the familiar landmarks of the theater and the fighting pit, their presence drawing curious glances from the cleaners diligently preparing the spaces for the evening's festivities.

Kev recognized a few faces from the cleaning crew, but most were unfamiliar, their gazes lingering on Talon with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. The eagleman's reputation as Fang's new bodyguard had clearly preceded him.

"Do you think he is close," Talon questioned. "There are no more rooms." He gestured towards the end of the long, dimly lit corridor, where a single door stood slightly ajar.

Suddenly, a shrill scream pierced the silence, echoing through the hallway and sending a shiver down Kev's spine.

Talon's instincts kicked in instantly. He stepped in front of Kev, his wings spreading slightly in a protective gesture. "Stay behind me," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "I'm going in."

Without hesitation, Talon lunged forward, his powerful legs propelling him towards the door where the scream had originated. He slammed his shoulder against the wood, the door whipping open with a THWACK under the impact. He burst into the room, his movements swift and decisive.

Kev, his heart pounding in his chest, scrambled to catch up. He rounded the corner and skidded to a halt, his eyes widening in shock. Talon had Vlad pinned against the wall, his talons digging into the bat man's shoulder and wrist, his face contorted in a mask of fury. A terrified alligator woman, her scales shimmering with a sheen of sweat, cowered in the corner, her hands covering her face.

Kev's gaze swept across the room, taking in the stark contrast to the rest of the dimly lit, opulent mansion. The space was clinical, almost sterile, with gleaming white tiles and a single leather chair positioned beneath a harsh, overhead limelight. It was clearly a medical bay, though the absence of any modern medical equipment or supplies gave it an unsettling, almost sinister vibe.

Kev's eyes then fell upon the gator woman, her form trembling in the corner. She wore a blue bib, and her eyes were wide with terror.

"Talon, stop!" Kev shouted, his voice echoing through the room.

Talon's grip tightened on Vlad, his voice menacing. "This freak was pulling out that woman's teeth!"

Vlad gasped, his wings fluttering in panic. "No, no, it's not what it looks like!" he protested.

"He's a doctor, Talon!" Kev insisted "Let him go!"

Talon's grip loosened slightly, but he didn't release Vlad entirely. "Why wouldn't he put her under anesthesia?" he demanded, his voice a harsh rasp. "That makes no sense."

Vlad, his face pale and his wings trembling, struggled to catch his breath. "She works the night shift," he explained. "If I put her under, she won't be able to drive home." 

The gator woman, her voice shaking, added, "Please, don't hurt the doctor. He's helping me."

Talon, his expression conflicted, finally released Vlad. He stepped back, his brow furrowed in disapproval. "That's very negligent," he said. "You could lose your license for something like that."

He turned to the gator woman and offered her a hand, his demeanor softening. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle.

The woman hesitated, her gaze darting between Talon and Vlad. She seemed unsure whether to trust the eagleman, the fear in her eyes was undeniable.

Vlad spun around, his voice rising in a frustrated shriek. "You ruined the clean room!" he exclaimed, gesturing wildly at the scattered dental tools and overturned tray. "Thank goodness I finished the extraction before you barged in here, or else this poor woman would be stuck here another hour of her day. Now I have to sanitize the whole room again!"

His anger simmered as he turned his attention to Talon. "Who the hell are you, and why is the human with you?.." Vlad's voice trailed off as he finally noticed Kev standing awkwardly in the doorway.

The gator woman, seizing the opportunity to escape the tense atmosphere, quickly removed her bib and slipped out of the room. "Thank you, doc," she said with a grateful nod. "I'll follow up tomorrow."

Talon, his feathers slightly ruffled from the confrontation, cleared his throat. "My apologies, you must be Mr. Vlad," he said, his voice a low rasp. "I am Talon, Mr. Fang's new bodyguard."

Vlad straightened his jacket, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Ah, yes," he said, a dry chuckle escaping his lips. "I've heard about you already. Guess they weren't lying about you having a quick trigger."

Talon's wings twitched slightly, his posture stiffening in response to Vlad's comment.

Vlad turned his attention to Kev. "Well, you're stuck with this hothead now, I suppose," he said. "I don't envy you." He paused, his gaze lingering on Kev's face. "I'm guessing you're here for one of your... shaves, then?"

Kev nodded, a sheepish grin playing on his lips. "Yeah," he admitted. "Sorry again about the interruption, Vlad. Talon heard a scream and reacted. I can't say I wasn't a bit freaked out myself."

Vlad's gaze softened as he looked at Kev. "Not your fault, Kev," he said, his voice a gentle rasp. He then turned his attention back to Talon, his expression hardening.

"You," he said, pointing a long, bony finger at the eagleman, "may sit there. And if you move again, you're out of here." He indicated a small wooden chair near the door, its stark simplicity a contrast to the plush furnishings of Kev's apartment.

Talon, sighing in annoyance, reluctantly took a seat, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Vlad turned back to Kev, a professional smile returning to his terrifying face. "Your procedure is non-invasive, Kev," he assured. "Just let me get this mess sorted out, and we'll begin."

He efficiently gathered the scattered dental tools and discarded bib, placing them in a biohazard bin. He then wiped down the leather chair and surrounding surfaces with disinfectant, his movements precise and methodical.

Once the chair was spotless, Vlad gestured for Kev to take a seat. "Make yourself comfortable," he said, his voice a soothing whisper.

Kev cautiously approached the chair, his gaze lingering on the gleaming surgical instruments Vlad was carefully arranging on a nearby tray. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness as he settled into the leather seat, the harsh limelight illuminating his every feature.

Vlad, meanwhile, meticulously washed his hands, scrubbing them with antibacterial soap and drying them with a sterile towel. He then retrieved a pair of hot towels from a warming cabinet and gently placed them on Kev's face. The warmth was soothing, relaxing the muscles in Kev's jaw and easing the tension that had built up over the past few days.

Vlad then selected a small jar of shaving cream and a straight razor from his tray. The blade, honed to a razor-sharp edge, gleamed ominously in the bright light. Talon, watching from his designated chair, shifted uneasily, his wings twitching nervously as Vlad approached Kev with the gleaming instrument.

"What, bird?" Vlad asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. He glanced at Talon, who was watching him with a wary expression.

"I thought you said the procedure was non-invasive," Talon retorted, his voice a low rasp.

Vlad chuckled, a dry, raspy sound that echoed in the small room. "Keep those feathers in that chair," he instructed, his tone playful but firm. "This won't take long."

He turned back to Kev, gently removing the hot towels from his face. "Now, let's get started," he said, dipping his fingers into the jar of shaving cream and applying it to Kev's face with practiced ease. The cool, creamy lather felt soothing against Kev's skin, a welcome contrast to the lingering warmth of the towels.

Talon's anxiety grew with each passing moment. He tapped his legs restlessly, his gaze fixed on the scene unfolding before him. Vlad, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity, held the razor poised against Kev's throat. The bat man's focus was unnervingly sharp, his attention drawn to the delicate pulse of Kev's jugular vein.

Kev, seemingly paralyzed by the situation, remained motionless, his eyes closed and his breath shallow. Talon's heart hammered in his chest, a primal fear gripping him. If the human was hurt, it would be his responsibility. He'd failed in his duty to protect him.

Vlad's bony hand gently tilted Kev's head, exposing the smooth skin of his neck. The human was a puppet in the bat man's grip, his vulnerability laid bare. Talon's legs tensed, his talons digging into the wooden chair, ready to spring into action at the slightest sign of danger.

The razor descended once more, its edge kissing the delicate skin beneath Kev's jawline. Talon tapped his legs faster, a frantic rhythm echoing the beat of his racing heart. The bat man then moved the blade upwards, stopping just beneath Kev's nose.

Talon's feathers ruffled, a warning caw building in his throat. He was about to intervene, to snatch the razor from Vlad's hand, when the bat man suddenly stepped back, a satisfied smile on his face.

"All done," Vlad announced, his voice a soft whisper. He dabbed a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic on Kev's freshly shaved face, the sharp scent of alcohol filling the air.

Kev hopped off the counter, running a hand over his smooth skin. "Thanks, Vlad," he said with a relieved smile. "You're great at this. And sorry again about, uh, our entrance" He glanced back at Talon, who was still perched on the small chair, his posture rigid.

"Is there any way I can let you know we're coming next time?" Kev asked Vlad, hoping to avoid another surprise encounter.

Vlad's gaze flicked towards Talon, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Knock, please," he said simply.

Kev chuckled. "Will do." He stepped away from the chair, feeling the smoothness of his freshly shaved face. "See you in a few days, Vlad."

Vlad waved a dismissive hand. "Don't bother bringing the bird next time," he said with a smirk.

Talon, his feathers ruffled slightly, bowed his head respectfully. "Have a good day, Mr. Vlad."

Kev and Talon left the medical bay, the tension from the earlier encounter slowly dissipating as they walked back towards the main part of the club.

Chapter Text

"It's lunchtime," Kev observed, glancing at his watch. "Are you hungry?"

Talon nodded, a hint of weariness in his eyes. "Yes," he admitted. "It's been a long morning."

Kev hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Do you want to invite your sister to join us? I promise I won't give her any diseases." He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood.

Talon's frown deepened. "She might need some more time to cool off," he replied, his voice a low rasp. "There's food in our apartment. She won't starve. She's just... too proud to eat with us right now."

Kev shrugged, a sympathetic smile playing on his lips. "I don't quite get it, but that's fine. Let's head back to my room then. I've got a few things we can snack on."

Back in Kev's apartment, they settled on the couch, enjoying the simple lunch Kev had prepared. The player piano, now a familiar presence in the room, filled the space with a lively melody.

"This song is different," Talon observed, his sharp ears picking up the change in tempo and rhythm.

"There's a whole box of music scrolls," Kev explained, gesturing towards the collection on the piano.

Talon's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Like... old MP3s?" he asked, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

"Yeah, kinda," Kev replied with a smile.

Talon eagerly flipped through the scrolls, his fingers tracing the titles and composers. He selected one and carefully inserted it into the piano, the music shifting to a hauntingly beautiful ballad.

Kev excused himself to use the bathroom, leaving Talon to explore the musical possibilities of the player piano. When he returned, a fresh cigarette between his lips, Talon was engrossed in another song, this one a lively jig that had his foot tapping along.

Kev chuckled, settling back onto the couch. "Finding something you like?" he asked, exhaling a plume of smoke.

Talon nodded, his eyes still fixed on the piano. "It's... different," he admitted, his voice a soft rasp. "But, yes, it's nice."

Kev glanced at his watch, surprised to see it was only 1 pm. "Still plenty of time before the club opens," he remarked, stretching his arms above his head. "Are you in the mood for some more games in the billiards room?"

Talon, who had been quietly observing Kev, nodded. "If you want to go, let's go," he replied, a hint of eagerness in his voice. The prospect of another distraction from the move and his sister's sullen mood was welcome.

They reached the billiards room, its doors still locked from the night before. Kev fumbled with the keys, finally unlocking the door and ushering Talon inside. The room was bathed in warm daylight, the fireplace embers glowing softly, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Kev grabbed a cue and chalked the tip, while Talon headed straight for the dartboard.

"Have you ever played 301?" Kev asked, watching Talon line up his first throw.

Talon shook his head, his gaze focused on the target.

"It's a fun game," Kev explained, approaching the dartboard. "You start with 301 points, and each dart you throw subtracts from your score. The first person to reach zero wins." He paused, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "But there's a catch. You have to end on a double."

Talon's brow furrowed in concentration as he processed the rules. "A double?" he echoed, his voice a low rasp.

"Yeah," Kev confirmed. "You have to hit a double ring or the bullseye to finish the game."

Talon nodded, his grip on the dart tightening. "Sounds challenging," he said, a competitive glint in his eyes.

Kev chuckled. "It is," he agreed. "But that's part of the fun."

Talon's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why not just throw until you miss a bullseye?" he asked, his voice a low rasp. "Seems like a waste of time to aim for anything else."

Kev chuckled, shaking his head. "That's not the point of the game, Talon," he explained. "301 forces you to strategize, to aim for different spots on the board depending on your score. It's about precision and calculation, not just brute force."

He paused, a playful glint in his eyes. "Besides," he added, "another good way to practice is to play lefty."

Talon laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed through the room. "Lefty?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Why bother?"

"You're already so good with your right hand," Kev teased, "I don't want you to get bored."

Talon scoffed, gesturing towards the dartboard. "The distance is too short," he remarked, his voice a confident rasp. "It's barely a challenge."

Kev raised an eyebrow. "That distance is pretty far, where I come from," he countered.

Talon, undeterred, switched the dart to his left hand and took aim. With a flick of his wrist, he released the projectile. It sailed through the air, missing the board entirely and embedding itself in the wall with a satisfying THUNK.

Kev chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Might want to start a bit closer if you're learning lefty," he suggested.

Talon flushed as he retrieved the errant dart from the wall. "I'll get the hang of it," he muttered, his voice a low grumble.

Kev took a step back, pulling a joint from his case. "Meditate on it for a bit," he said with a wink. "I'm going to have a smoke on the patio."

Talon nodded, his gaze returning to the dartboard.

Kev stepped out onto the patio, the cool evening air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the game room. Talon followed close behind, his movements swift and silent.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Kev inquired, exhaling a plume of smoke into the twilight air.

Talon shook his head, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "No," he admitted, his voice a raspy whisper. "The stress of the move, the fight with my sister..." He trailed off, his gaze sweeping across the sunny garden. "And the demands of this new job. It's all been a bit... overwhelming." He stretched his wings, a silent expression of his exhaustion.

"Once I fall into a routine, things will get better," he added, his voice regaining a hint of its usual confidence. "... I just need some time to adjust."

He turned to Kev, a curious glint in his piercing eyes. "And you?" he asked. "Have you had a hard time getting used to this place?"

"I'm still getting there," Kev admitted. "I know I'm showing you around and introducing you to people, but I only met those same people a few days ago myself." He took a drag from his joint, the smoke curling lazily upwards in the still air.

"Your sister seems like she'd be fun," Kev continued, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "I hope she opens up soon. I know it must suck to be dragged out here into the woods with no electricity, but it's definitely going to be worse if she doesn't want to meet me or anyone else."

A voice from the balcony above interrupted their conversation. "That's only true if you're not a total loser weirdo," the voice declared, its tone a mix of defiance and teenage angst.

Kev and Talon looked up, startled, to see Sabrina, Talon's sister, leaning over the railing, her arms crossed and a defiant expression on her face.

Kev, surprised by the sudden appearance, waved up at the balcony. "Hey there!" he called out, a friendly smile on his face.

Talon, his voice dripping with sarcasm, retorted, "Hello, sister. So good to see you out in the sunlight."

"Can it, brother," Sabrina shot back, her voice sharp. "It smells like you're smoking weed down there. Did you finally become cool, big bro?"

Talon scoffed. "You know I don't smoke," he replied, his tone exasperated.

A dramatic sigh echoed from above. "Now I have to talk to this weirdo to get some weed," Sabrina lamented, her voice a playful whine. "Brother, you're putting me in such dangerous situations. First, you bring me to a brothel, and now you ask me to approach strangers?" She laughed at her own joke, the sound carrying clearly through the still evening air.

Talon shook his head, a fond smile playing on his lips. "You're not a little kid, Sabrina," he reminded her gently. "You're free to come down if you'd like to meet Kev."

"Is there a chair down there?" Sabrina called down, her voice a mix of curiosity and defiance.

"Yes," Kev responded, a welcoming smile on his face.

"Don't you dare!" Talon shouted, leaping to his feet.

But it was too late. Sabrina, with a determined flap of her wings, descended from the balcony, her landing a bit ungraceful as she stumbled and fell into the chair next to Kev. She smoothed down her dress, revealing a pair of long, slender legs, and looked up at Kev, her expression a mix of curiosity and disdain.

"Are you a radiation victim?" she asked bluntly, her voice a raspy caw. "What are you?"

"I'm a human," Kev replied, his voice steady despite the bluntness of her question. "Nice to meet you." He extended his hand politely.

Sabrina shook it, her grip surprisingly firm for someone so delicate. "Nice to meet you, human," she echoed, a flicker of interest in her eyes. "You seem a bit more interesting than my brother over there." She shot a playful glare at Talon, who merely rolled his eyes in response.

"Can I have a hit?" Sabrina asked, her gaze fixed on Kev's joint.

Kev looked up at Talon, unsure how to proceed.

 "You'd never know it by the way she acts, but she's twenty," Talon explained. "I'm not her father."

"Damn straight," Sabrina chimed in, her voice a defiant caw. She turned to Kev, her eyes wide. "Please, you weird, pale man," she said, her tone a mix of desperation and amusement. "I'm already losing my mind with boredom. I was supposed to be raiding with my guild right now… and here I am… in exile!"

Kev considered for a moment, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Play Talon in a game of darts for it," he proposed, his smile widening.

Sabrina and Talon exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them. Talon laughed, a rare sound that surprised Kev. "Sure," he agreed.

"However," Kev added, "Talon has to use his left hand."

Hope flickered in Sabrina's eyes. "I'm game," she declared, a competitive fire burning within her. "Let's do it."

Talon frowned, a hint of apprehension in his gaze. He wasn't particularly skilled with his left hand, and the prospect of losing to his sister, especially in front of Kev, was less than appealing.

Kev stood up, leading the way back into the billiards room. Talon carefully lifted Sabrina and carried her inside, placing her in one of the arm chairs, facing the dartboard.

"You'll play 301," Kev stated, handing a set of darts to Sabrina. "Do you know the rules?"

"Yeah," Sabrina replied confidently. "It was a mini-game for a spring solstice costume two years ago."

Kev wasn't entirely sure what she was talking about, but her self-assuredness was contagious. He handed another set of darts to Talon, who reluctantly weighed them in his left hand.

The game was a surprisingly close one, filled with near-misses and unexpected triumphs. Talon, despite his initial struggles with his left hand, quickly adapted, his natural precision and aim shining through even with his non-dominant hand. Sabrina, though a beginner, proved to be a quick learner, her strategy and a bit of luck helping her keep pace with her brother.

The tension in the room mounted as their scores dwindled, each throw carrying the weight of victory or defeat. Finally, with a well-aimed dart that landed squarely in the double ring, Sabrina reached zero, a triumphant smile spreading across her face.

"Lucky shot," Talon muttered under his breath.

Kev clapped his hands together. "A deal's a deal, Talon," he said. "Let's go back outside."

He turned to Sabrina, offering a warm smile. "Thank you for participating in my little bet," he said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. "And congratulations on your win."

Back on the patio, Kev handed Sabrina a joint and a match. Her eyes lit up with a mischievous glint.

"Thanks," she said, tucking them discreetly into her bra.

"You're not going to smoke now?" Kev asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nah," Sabrina replied with a grin. "I'm gonna save it for when I need to go to bed. This place is gonna be so loud and weird, I'll need all the help I can get to sleep."

"The second floor is actually really quiet," Kev assured her, "as long as you keep your windows closed."

"I'll believe it when I see it, Kev," Sabrina retorted, her tone skeptical.

Talon, who had been silently observing the exchange, spoke up. "Kev only moved here a week before us," he informed his sister.

Sabrina's gaze shifted to Kev. "What's your job, then?" she asked.

"I'm Fang's assistant," Kev replied, a hint of pride in his voice.

Sabrina's eyes widened. "So you know Fang, then?" she asked, leaning forward. "Is he as crazy as everyone says he is?"

Talon's feathers ruffled in disapproval. "Sabrina, watch yourself," he warned, his voice low. "That's my boss you're talking about."

Sabrina merely rolled her eyes and blew a raspberry at her brother.

"I don't know about the rumors," Kev said, his tone carefully neutral. "You could say I'm new in town."

Sabrina turned her attention back to Kev. "People say he's a killer," she whispered, her eyes wide. "If you come here and rub him the wrong way, you never leave."

Kev's smile faltered, the memory of Pedro's fate flashing through his mind. He couldn't deny a shiver of apprehension at Sabrina's words.

"Isn't that... cool!?" Sabrina continued, her voice filled with a morbid fascination. "He's like a modern-day gangster. I thought he was just a rumor, a boogeyman parents use to scare their kids."

"Most of the business is just a bar and nightclub," Kev clarified, trying to dispel the sensationalized image Sabrina had painted. "There are some private back rooms for the more... passionate customers. But Fang mostly just hangs out in the bar all night, so he can be available to the managers and staff if they need him."

Sabrina pouted, playfully swatting Kev's arm. "Stop talking," she whined. "You're ruining it for me. I was enjoying the mystique."

Talon, who had been quietly observing the interaction between his sister and Kev, couldn't resist a playful jab. "So, sister, do you finally believe me that we're living here and I do work for Mr. Fang?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

Sabrina sighed dramatically. "Yes, yes," she conceded. "Your glow-in-the-dark friend here convinced me. I've obviously gone into a coma and am now living in some weird dream world."

Talon raised an eyebrow. "Remember, you said that if I actually got a job here, and actually got an apartment here, and actually introduced you to Mr. Fang, then you wouldn't complain to me about moving."

Sabrina pointed a finger at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You haven't introduced me to Fang yet," she retorted. "So the deal's not closed."

Talon rolled his eyes, a fond smile playing on his lips. "Kids," he muttered under his breath.

"Brothers," Sabrina retorted, sticking out her tongue playfully.

"Sisters," Talon countered, shaking his head in amusement.

Sabrina turned her attention back to Kev. "So, Kev," she began, her voice a mischievous chirp, "what exactly does the assistant do? Are you shaking down punks who don't pay their tab? Or maybe selling young ladies to gruff businessmen?"

"Sabrina!" Talon exclaimed, his voice a sharp reprimand.

Sabrina merely shrugged, a defiant glint in her eyes. "What? I'm just curious." She looked at Kev expectantly. "Well?"

Kev blushed, a wave of embarrassment washing over him. "I... I don't really do much," he admitted, his voice a bit hesitant. "I just hang out with Fang, keep him company, until I go to bed."

Sabrina's eyes widened in disbelief. "No way!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with awe. "That's my dream job, man. Getting paid to hang out with a hot wolfman all night? Sign me up!"

Kev snorted, a surprised laugh escaping his lips. He hadn't expected such an enthusiastic response from Sabrina, especially considering her earlier disdain for the club. It was a refreshing change from the cautious curiosity and veiled warnings he'd received from the other staff members.

"I need details!" Sabrina exclaimed, leaning forward eagerly. "Tell me everything! What's he like? Is he as hot as he looks? Does he have a secret lair? A hidden treasure trove? A collection of rare and exotic..."

"Sabrina!" Talon interrupted, his voice a stern reprimand. "We shouldn't be discussing work matters, especially not Mr. Fang's personal life."

Sabrina pouted. "You're such a buzzkill, brother," she grumbled, crossing her arms in defiance.

Talon sighed, a weary smile playing on his lips. "Isn't it about time we headed back upstairs?" he asked gently. 

Kev glanced at his watch. It was nearing five o'clock, and he still had to shower and change before Fang arrived. "Yeah, I should probably get ready," he said, rising from the bench.

Sabrina's eyes widened in alarm. "You better not forget to bring me down tonight, brother!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of excitement and desperation.

Kev chuckled. "I'll remind Talon later, if we're not too busy," he assured her.

"I'm counting on you, Kev," Sabrina said, her voice a playful plea. "Save me from the nothingness that is life without electricity."

Kev grinned. "I'll do my best," he promised.

He turned to Talon, a warm smile on his face. "I'll see you up there," he said, heading back towards the billiards room.

Talon nodded, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. He carefully lifted Sabrina from the chair, her wings fluttering in excitement.

Chapter Text

Kev arrived back at his apartment, surprised to find Talon waiting patiently by the door.

"Flying up is a nice shortcut, huh?" Kev remarked with a grin.

Talon nodded, a rare smile playing on his beak. "I'm already considering it for emergency situations," he admitted, his voice a low rasp.

Kev unlocked the door and ushered Talon inside. 

"Help yourself to anything in the kitchen," Kev offered, gesturing towards the kitchen. "It might be another long night."

Talon's eyes lit up at the sight of the food. "Thank you," he said, his voice a grateful whisper.

Kev disappeared into the bedroom, emerging a few minutes later in a stylish gray suit with subtle silver accents. He'd carefully styled his hair, the gel holding it in place with a polished sheen. He checked his reflection in the new bathroom mirror, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He was ready for whatever the night might bring.

Kev emerged from his bedroom, finding two beastmen had raided his pantry. Horns, perched on the couch, was devouring a sandwich with gusto, while Talon, standing at the counter, nibbled on a piece of fruit.

Kev sighed, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Howdy, Horns," he greeted, settling into an armchair and lighting a cigarette. 

Horns, his mouth full, mumbled a cheerful, "Howdy, Kev." He swallowed, then added, "First day of the new schedule tonight. Gonna try to make sure it all runs smoothly. Lots of new blood on the roster."

Kev's curiosity piqued. "New blood?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow. "What's the occasion?"

"Training," Horns said simply, between bites of his sandwich. "Gotta get those new hires up to speed."

Talon, having finished his snack, dusted his hands off and tossed the remnants in the trash. "Mr. Horns," he said, his voice a respectful rasp, "I'm leaving Kev in your care for now so I can get cleaned up too." He glanced at his watch. "I'll be back in twenty minutes." With a curt nod, Talon exited the apartment.

Horns leaned back on the couch, a thoughtful expression on his face. "That one's a bit uptight, isn't he?" he remarked, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.

Kev sat down at the piano, his fingers lightly tracing the keys. "Yeah," he agreed, a soft smile playing on his lips. "His sister is pretty intense too. Kinda reminds me of Reepia, in a way."

Horns grinned. "Now there's a pair," he said, shaking his head in amusement. "Fire and ice." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a large bag of what looked like high-quality marijuana. "Brought you some more of Ralph's finest," he said, tossing the bag onto the coffee table. "I'll roll you some while we wait."

Kev's eyes widened in surprise. "Thanks, Horns," he said, genuinely touched by the gesture. He selected a lively tune on the player piano, its cheerful melody filling the apartment with a sense of warmth and anticipation.

Horns paused mid-roll, his eyebrows furrowing. "Speaking of Cindy," he said, his voice a low rumble, "she might stop by later to have a word with Talon. About that... incident yesterday."

Kev's heart skipped a beat. "Yeah, yesterday…" he echoed, a nervous tremor in his voice.

Horns looked up, his gaze meeting Kev's with a questioning intensity. "Please don't tell me Talon attacked another cleaner," he said, his tone laced with a hint of dread.

 "Worse," Kev admitted. "He pinned Vlad against a wall when he was pulling someone's tooth."

Horns groaned, dropping the half-rolled joint onto the coffee table. "Why would he do that?" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

"We heard a woman scream," Kev explained, his voice still a bit shaky from the memory. "Talon didn't hesitate. He just kicked in the door and pulled Vlad off the lady. It all happened so fast."

Horns listened intently, his expression growing increasingly grim. "I'll talk to Lanon about it," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I don't know how he's going to react, but I'll try to smooth things over."

"Talon doesn't really understand that the mansion is pretty safe during the day," Kev observed, a hint of worry in his voice. "He's a bit... overzealous."

Horns nodded in agreement. "He's just doing his job, I guess," he replied with a shrug. "A bit too enthusiastically, perhaps, but his heart's in the right place."

Kev hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Should I tell Fang to... you know, tell him to tone it down a bit?"

Horns shook his head. "Just tell Fang what happened," he advised. "Let him decide what he thinks about it. Talon is his employee, after all."

"Well," Horns announced, rising from the couch with a groan. "Come take your joints, I've got to get going."

Kev collected the expertly rolled joints and carefully placed them in his cigarette case. "Thanks, Horns," he said with a grateful smile. "For everything."

Horns smiled and looked down at the much smaller man. "Anytime, Kev." He glanced at his watch, then opened the apartment door. Standing on the threshold was Talon, his feathers neatly preened and his expression composed.

"There's the fun guy," Horns remarked with a chuckle, nodding towards Talon. "I'll leave you two to it. Enjoy dinner, Kev."

Talon stepped into the apartment as Horns left, closing the door behind him. The eagleman looked refreshed after his shower, his sharp features accentuated by a fresh black suit that fit him impeccably.

Kev, humming a tune as he tidied up the kitchen, couldn't help but steal glances at Talon, who was now absorbed in the history book Horns had brought earlier. The eagleman's intense focus, his brow furrowed in concentration, was a stark contrast to his usual stoic demeanor. It was almost endearing, seeing him so engrossed in something other than security protocols and combat strategies.

Just as Kev was finishing up, a knock echoed through the apartment. He glanced at his watch - it was barely past 5:30. A flutter of anticipation filled his chest as he crossed the room and opened the door.

Talon jumped up quickly and pulled open the door. "Mr. Fang."

Fang stood on the threshold, his presence radiating a warmth that instantly dispelled any of Kev's lingering anxieties. He was dressed in a charcoal gray suit, its tailored lines accentuating his broad shoulders and powerful build. His amber eyes sparkled with a mix of affection and amusement as he took in the scene before him.

"Ready for dinner, Kev?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the apartment.

Kev's eyes lit up at the sight of Fang. "You look great tonight," he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. He reached up and gently adjusted Fang's tie, his fingers lingering on the wolfman's warm fur.

Fang chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down Kev's spine. He captured Kev's hand in his own, his gaze falling on the silver cufflinks adorning Kev's wrist. A tenderness softened his features as he brought Kev's hand to his lips, nuzzling his face into the human's palm.

"Let's go," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper.

Hand in hand, they left the apartment and made their way down the grand staircase, the sounds of the bustling club growing louder with each step. The barroom was already filled with patrons, their laughter and chatter creating a vibrant symphony of energy.

Fang led Kev through the forming crowd, his imposing presence parting the sea of bodies as they approached their usual spot in the VIP section.

Kev and Fang settled into the familiar comfort of the VIP booth, their presence drawing curious glances from the surrounding patrons. The club pulsed with a vibrant energy, the air thick with the mingled scents of perfume, alcohol, and anticipation.

Kev, lighting a cigarette, leaned closer to Fang, his voice a quite amidst the din. "So, what was all that business with Lanon about last night?" he inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Fang's expression turned serious, a shadow crossing his handsome features. "Unfortunately, it was... important," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "Sorry, my little assistant."

Just then, a new waitress approached their table, another feline, her movements graceful and efficient. She placed a Bloody Mary in front of Fang and a Cape Cod before Kev, her smile warm and welcoming.

"Good evening, gentlemen," she purred. "I'm Luna, and I'll be taking care of you tonight. Rebecca has the night off."

Fang, his focus already shifting back to the business at hand, barked his order without acknowledging Luna's introduction. "Steak and eggs, rare and runny," he demanded, his voice a low growl.

Kev, ever the polite one, smiled at Luna. "I'll have the salmon and rice, please," he requested, his voice a gentle contrast to Fang's gruffness.

Luna nodded, her gaze lingering on Kev for a moment before she spoke. "I'll be sure to check back in every once in a while," she purred, her voice a soft melody. "Anything else I can get for you?"

"Bring Fang a cup of coffee too, black," Kev added, glancing at his boss.

Luna's eyes flicked towards Fang, a hint of apprehension in their depths. She nodded quickly and hurried away, leaving Kev and Fang alone once more.

"So," Kev began, leaning closer to Fang, "any plans for the night?"

Fang's brow furrowed in concentration. "I need to make sure things run smoothly with the new schedule and the new hires," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "It's going to be a busy night."

Kev took a leisurely sip of his Cape Cod. "Talon moved in today," he remarked casually, exhaling a plume of smoke.

Fang glanced over at the eagleman, who stood stoically by the velvet rope, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. "Good," he grunted, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

Kev hesitated for a moment, then continued, "He seems to be having a bit of a hard time adjusting to daytime security."

Fang's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" he demanded, his gaze sharpening.

"He's just a bit... on edge," Kev explained, choosing his words carefully. "He seems to think something bad is going to happen."

Fang took a sip of his Bloody Mary, a sly grin spreading across his face. "That's why I hired him, Kev," he replied. "He's vigilant, alert.. exactly what we need right now, with the city breathing down our necks and the mafia deal looming."

Kev took another sip of his cocktail, a thoughtful expression on his face. "He ruffled a few feathers earlier today," he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Fang's grin widened. "Whose feathers?" he asked.

Kev proceeded to recount the incident in the billiards room yesterday, describing Talon's overzealous reaction to the cleaner's presence and his subsequent apology to Max.

Fang's smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful frown. "Can't say I haven't been surprised by them popping up using those secret passages," he mused, shaking his head. "It's a necessary evil, I suppose…" He paused, his gaze meeting Kev's. "But that doesn't sound like a big issue, Kev. Talon apologized, and Cindy knows."

Kev hesitated for a moment, then continued, his voice a bit hesitant. "There was also... an incident with Vlad." He proceeded to tell Fang about Talon's outburst in the medical bay, his concern for Kev's safety, and Vlad's subsequent reprimand.

As Kev finished his story, Fang burst into laughter, a deep, hearty sound that echoed through the VIP booth.

"That bat is a bit creepy," Fang chuckled, his laughter rumbling through his chest. "I can't blame Talon for that one." His grin widened, a playful glint in his amber eyes. "Though Lanon, on the other hand, might be a bit miffed about it. I'll have to make sure they come to some sort of understanding."

Kev shifted in his seat, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "Maybe you should tell Talon to... relax a bit," he suggested tentatively. "He seems a little too eager to jump into action."

Fang's arm tightened around Kev's shoulders, pulling him closer. "I'll do no such thing," he declared, his voice low and confident "Hearing these stories just confirms that I hired the perfect person for the job."

Kev's gaze shifted towards Talon, who stood stoically by the velvet rope, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. "I met Talon's sister today, too," Kev remarked, a playful smile playing on his lips. "I don't know what you'll think of her, but I think she's a riot."

Fang turned his attention back to the bustling barroom, his keen eyes observing the patrons as they filed in. "That's good," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "I'm glad she's warming up to you."

"She has no filter, though," Kev warned, a hint of amusement in his voice. "So don't be offended if she says something... unexpected."

Fang chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through the booth. "I don't have thin skin, Kev," he assured him. "I can handle a bit of... sass."

Kev grinned. "Of course," he replied.

Just then, Reepia emerged from the kitchen, a steaming platter of food balanced precariously on one arm. Her expression was a thundercloud, her eyes narrowed in a fierce glare directed at Fang from across the dining room.

"You!" she barked, her voice a raspy growl that cut through the ambient noise of the club. "You overgrown, irresponsible mutt!"

Chapter Text

Talon, ever vigilant, reacted instinctively. He stepped in front of Reepia, his wings spreading slightly in a protective gesture. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What do you think you're doing?"

Reepia, undeterred by Talon's imposing presence, glared up at him. "Out of my way, bird-brain!" she snarled, her voice a furious growl. Without warning, she stomped on Talon's foot and delivered a swift kick to his shin.

Talon, caught off guard by the unexpected attack, yelped in pain and stumbled backward, his wings flapping wildly as he tried to regain his balance. He lost his footing and tumbled to the floor, his feathers ruffled and his dignity momentarily shattered.

Reepia, her anger momentarily sated, marched towards the table and held the platter of food aloft. She glared at Fang, her eyes blazing with fury.

"Where," she demanded, her voice a menacing hiss, "and what did you eat last night, Fang?"

Kev, startled by the sudden outburst, watched in stunned silence as Reepia held the plate of steak and eggs, her gaze fixed on Fang with an intensity that could melt steel.

Fang's eyes darted nervously from side to side, a rare display of unease from the usually composed wolfman. "I ate here, Reepia," he stammered, his voice a strained rumble. "You made me food, remember?"

Reepia's laughter echoed through the VIP section, a sharp, mocking sound that cut through the sounds of the customers. "You are an awful liar, dog," she retorted, her eyes narrowing. "Now tell me the truth."

"Lower your voice, Reepia," Fang hissed, his ears flattening against his head. "We have customers." He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Reepia's laughter intensified, drawing curious glances from nearby patrons. "I've been making you the same five food items every night for years, Fang," she said, her voice a triumphant cackle. "You skipped your pork chops last night, puppy. Stop trying to hide it from me."

Kev sipped his drink, his gaze flitting between Fang and Reepia. He remembered the head chef's warning that morning: Don't say anything while I'm questioning him. He watched as Fang squirmed under Reepia's relentless interrogation, the usually unflappable wolfman visibly cracking under the pressure.

"It would be such a shame," Reepia continued, her voice a sweet, menacing purr, "if I suddenly realized this steak wasn't cooked to your liking. I'd have to take it back to the kitchen, and you'd have to wait even longer to eat."

Fang's growl reverberated through the booth, a low, menacing rumble that silenced the nearby conversations. "You wouldn't dare," he warned, his eyes flashing with a dangerous glint.

Reepia's grin widened, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She leaned closer to the plate, inspecting the steak with a critical eye. "Oh, dear," she said, her voice a feigned concern. "You asked for rare, but this looks like it might be more medium-rare."

Fang's patience snapped. "No!" he barked

Reepia raised an eyebrow, her smile turning predatory. "Spill it, mutt," she challenged, her voice a low purr.

Fang, defeated, slumped back in his seat with a resigned sigh. "Fine," he grumbled. "I got a burger and fries at a diner last night. Happy now?"

Reepia's teeth flashed triumphantly and she placed the plate in front of Fang with a flourish. "You're getting veggies with your second meal tonight," she declared, her voice firm. "You know you shouldn't be eating fried food."

Fang's growl returned, but it lacked its earlier intensity. "I can do what I want, Reepia," he muttered, though his tone was more playful than threatening.

"That's what you always say, pup," she replied. 

Talon, still nursing his bruised shin, hobbled over to the table, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. He placed a hand on Reepia's shoulder.

"Who's this?" he asked, his voice a low rasp. "Is she bothering you?"

Reepia shrugged off Talon's hand with a growl. "Get your feathers off me!" she snapped.

Kev quickly intervened, sensing another potential conflict brewing. "Talon, this is Reepia, the kitchen manager," he introduced, gesturing towards the feisty rat woman.

Talon stepped back, a hint of apprehension in his eyes. "Good to meet you, Ms. Reepia," he said, his voice carefully neutral. He winced slightly, rubbing his shin where Reepia had kicked him earlier.

Reepia turned her attention to Talon, her gaze sharp and unwavering. "Don't get in a cook's way when they're in the restaurant," she warned, her voice a stern admonishment.

Talon nodded, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. "Noted," he replied, his tone subdued.

"Be happy it's not broken," Reepia added with a sly grin. She tapped one of her boots on the floor, a metallic clunk echoing through the booth.

Talon straightened his posture, his wings rustling slightly. "Do you have a daytime manager I should meet?" he inquired, his voice a low rasp. "I seem to be making a rather... unfavorable first impressions on my own."

Reepia let out a hearty laugh, her sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. "I'm the matriarch of the kitchen, bird-boy," she declared. "Just me and my crew of misfits."

"I like that you're not soft," she continued, her voice a low purr. "Or a complainer. If I'd done that to the human, he'd be on the ground still, and the wolf would be all worked up." She grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Then, her tone turned serious. "But make sure you don't let that human get hurt, Talon," she warned. "Fang would shame us all by crying like a little girl."

Fang growled, his ears flattening against his head. "Get back to the kitchen, Reepia," he barked, his voice a low rumble.

Reepia chuckled, unfazed by his anger. "Veggies!" she yelled over her shoulder as she disappeared into the crowd.

Fang devoured his steak and eggs with his usual gusto, the sounds of his enthusiastic eating momentarily filling the otherwise quiet booth. Kev, savoring his salmon and rice, couldn't help but marvel at the chef's culinary skills. The fish was perfectly cooked, its flaky texture complementing the fluffy rice and the vibrant medley of vegetables.

As they finished their meals, Luna appeared, her movements graceful and efficient. She cleared their plates and placed a steaming cup of black coffee in front of Fang.

Kev, leaned closer to Fang. "Reepia seems to be the one who's really in charge around here," he observed, a playful smile on his face.

Fang chuckled, a deep rumble that vibrated through the booth. "She's certainly a force to be reckoned with," he admitted, taking a sip of his coffee. "I wouldn't be surprised if she could beat Rex in a fight… unless he was going all out from the start."

Kev's eyes widened in disbelief. "No way," he protested. "Rex is twice her size!"

"Reepia fights dirty," Fang explained with a knowing grin. "She goes for the throat, literally and figuratively."

Kev chuckled, remembering the swift kick Reepia had delivered to Talon's shin. "She certainly got the best of Talon," he remarked. "And he's always on guard."

"That's her advantage," Fang said, swirling his coffee thoughtfully. "She knows she's underestimated... I think Talon even said something similar to you after his fight in the pit, didn't he? 'If you're smaller, you must be decisive.'"

Kev nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. He glanced over at Talon, who was now engaged in a conversation with Cindy near the entrance to the VIP section. The eagleman's posture was rigid, his wings slightly ruffled, as he listened intently to the head of housekeeping.

A moment later, Talon nodded curtly and stepped aside, allowing Cindy to pass. She approached their table with a determined stride, her usually gentle demeanor replaced by a steely resolve.

Talon followed Cindy to the table, his posture rigid and alert. Cindy gracefully took a seat, while Talon remained standing, his gaze low, on the table.

"Good evening, Fang," Cindy greeted, her voice a melodic purr. She turned to Kev with a warm smile. "And good evening to you as well, Kev."

"Hello, Cindy," Kev replied, returning her smile.

Cindy's gaze shifted back to Fang, a hint of admiration in her eyes. "You've chosen a fine gift for your assistant, Fang," she complimented, her voice soft. "Those cufflinks are exquisite."

Fang's grin widened, and he affectionately rubbed Kev's shoulder. "Kev picked the design," he said, his voice filled with pride.

Cindy nodded approvingly. "He has good taste," she acknowledged. But then, her expression turned serious. "However," she continued, her gaze shifting to Talon, "the other one... needs a touch of training."

Talon's wings twitched slightly, his posture becoming even more rigid.

"Talon is doing what I hired him to do, Cindy," Fang interjected, his voice a low rumble. "If I gave him this position and then heard he was lazing around, I'd fire him. He's sharp, active, and can protect the mansion while I sleep."

Cindy looked at Kev, a knowing glint in her eyes. "The mansion, you say…" 

"Regardless," she continued, her tone firm, "I would still like to suggest that Talon think twice before manhandling my workers. Poor Jubilee was already in pain from getting a tooth removed when Talon scared her so badly she didn't sleep all day. I've had to put her on laundry folding tonight so she can take a nap."

"It was a misunderstanding, Ms. Cindy," Talon said, his voice a low rasp.

"Madam Cindy, if you please," she corrected him, her tone firm.

Talon's gaze flickered to the floor, a hint of embarrassment in his eyes. "Madam Cindy," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

Cindy studied him for a moment, her expression softening slightly. "He has potential," she finally said, turning to Fang with a knowing smile. "But he needs a bit of... refinement."

She looked at Kev, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "And you, dear," she said, her voice gentle, "please try to keep him from throttling my staff."

She then turned back to Fang, her tone shifting to a more maternal one. "Don't drink too much tonight, pup," she admonished. "You're working."

With a final nod, Cindy rose from her seat and gracefully exited the booth. "Have a good night, gentlemen," she said, her voice a melodic farewell.

As she walked away, Dale caught her eye and raised his glass in a silent toast. Cindy returned the gesture with a warm smile, a silent communication passing between them.

Kev watched her go, a mix of admiration and apprehension swirling within him. Cindy, despite her gentle demeanor, was clearly a force to be reckoned with, a woman who commanded respect and loyalty from those around her. And a woman who… had no qualms about severe punishment.

Talon, his posture still rigid, remained standing. He seemed lost in thought, his gaze fixed on the spot where Cindy had just been sitting.

"She's... intimidating," he finally admitted, his voice a hushed whisper.

Kev chuckled softly. "She is," he agreed. "But she's also one of the kindest people I've met here." He paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. "She just has a unique way of showing it."

"I'll keep that in mind," Talon replied. He relaxed slightly, his wings no longer held so tightly against his back.

Fang, who had been observing the exchange with quiet amusement, cleared his throat. "Well, Talon," he said, his voice a low rumble, "it seems you've made quite an impression on the staff already."

"I didn't mean to cause any trouble, Mr. Fang," he said. "I was just trying to do my job."

Fang chuckled, a reassuring hand resting on Talon's shoulder. "I know, Talon," he said, his tone gentle. "And I appreciate your vigilance. But remember, the other staff are not a threat."

He paused, his gaze meeting Talon's. "You're still new here," he continued, "and there's a lot to learn."

Talon nodded, a grateful look in his eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Fang," he replied.

As the crowd in the bar swelled and the energy intensified, Kev and Fang settled into a comfortable rhythm of conversation and shared glances. The warmth of Fang's presence beside him, the subtle scent of his cologne mingling with the smoky air, created a sense of intimacy that Kev found both exhilarating and reassuring. It was a small moment, but Kev was beginning to feel like he might be upset if this did turn out to only be an elaborate dream.

Chapter Text

"Talon mentioned that he wants to introduce his sister to you tonight," Kev remarked casually, watching Fang's reaction.

Fang's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. "Why do I care to meet some girl?" he grumbled, his voice a low rumble. "I have enough to deal with already."

Kev's smile faltered, a pang of disappointment stinging his heart. He'd hoped Fang would be more receptive to meeting Talon's sister, especially considering the eagleman's loyalty and dedication to the club.

"She's living here now, Fang," Kev persisted, his voice soft but firm. "You'll have to meet her sooner or later."

Fang sighed, a resigned expression on his face. "I suppose you're right," he conceded, his tone grudging.

He finished his drink in one swift gulp and waved Talon over, his demeanor shifting back to that of the confident, commanding club owner.

Talon's feathers ruffled slightly, a mix of apprehension and gratitude flickering in his eyes. "My sister... she's a bit overwhelmed at the moment, sir," he explained, his voice a hesitant rasp. "The move has been tiring for her, and she's not quite adjusted to the... environment yet."

Fang waved a dismissive hand, his tone firm but not unkind. "Nonsense, Talon," he insisted. "Bring her down. She can have a meal with us, get a taste of the club's atmosphere. It might help her feel more at ease."

Talon hesitated, then nodded slowly. "That's very generous of you, Mr. Fang," he said, his voice filled with gratitude. He glanced around the bustling barroom, his sharp eyes assessing the crowd. "I'll bring her down," he assured Fang, a determined glint in his eyes. "I'll be back quickly."

With Talon momentarily absent, Fang seized the opportunity to draw Kev closer. He leaned in, his warm breath tickling Kev's ear, and pressed a lingering kiss against the side of his neck.

"My little assistant," he murmured, his voice a husky purr, "you look absolutely stunning tonight."

Kev's cheeks flushed, a shy smile playing on his lips. He turned his head, his gaze meeting Fang's with a mix of affection and playful defiance.

Fang's eyes followed Kev's line of sight, landing on a pair of beastmen gracefully twirling on the dance floor. "I can't help but imagine us dancing like that, now and then," he whispered, his voice laced with a longing that sent shivers down Kev's spine.

The music continued to weave its spell, the dancers' movements a mesmerizing spectacle of grace and passion. Kev and Fang remained lost in their own world, their gazes occasionally meeting in silent communication, a shared understanding blossoming amidst the club's vibrant energy.

Suddenly, Talon reappeared, pushing a wheelchair through the crowd with surprising ease. Kev's eyes widened in surprise. The wheelchair, a sleek contraption of silver and chrome, looked incredibly high-tech and modern, a stark contrast to the club's medieval aesthetic.

Sabrina, seated in the chair, was dressed in a flowing blue dress that accentuated her delicate features. Despite her earlier grumbling, she looked surprisingly elegant and composed, her expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Talon skillfully maneuvered the wheelchair around the tables, finally reaching the VIP booth. He carefully positioned the chair beside Kev and Fang, his gaze fixed on his sister.

"Sabrina," he said, his voice a gentle rasp, "this is Mr. Fang, the owner of the club."

Sabrina looked up at Fang, her blue eyes meeting his amber ones with a hint of defiance.

"He's handsome," Sabrina remarked, her voice a raspy caw, "but I thought he'd be... bigger."

Talon's feathers ruffled in embarrassment. "I apologize, boss," he stammered, quickly reaching for the wheelchair's handles, ready to whisk his sister away.

Fang, however, burst into laughter, his deep rumble echoing through the booth. "Kev," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "you were right. She is a riot."

Talon looked up, a hint of panic in his eyes. "She's rude, Mr. Fang," he protested. "I'll take her back upstairs."

"Come on, brother," Sabrina whined, her voice a playful plea. "Let me eat! I'm starving."

Fang waved a dismissive hand. "Let her stay, Talon," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "I did say she could have a meal."

Talon slumped back, a defeated sigh escaping his lips. "Sabrina, please don't embarrass me," he pleaded. "If we get kicked out, I don't know what we'll do."

Sabrina rolled her eyes, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. "You're such a worrywart, brother," she retorted. "Just work some overtime or something. I'm sure Mr. Moneybags here can afford it." She gestured towards Fang with a dramatic flourish.

Talon shook his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips despite his sister's antics. He rose from his seat and returned to his post by the velvet rope, leaving Kev and Sabrina alone with Fang.

"Well, Mr. Human," Sabrina began, her voice a playful chirp, "it seems like you were telling the truth about your job requirements. Just hanging out and keeping the boss company, huh?" She leaned forward, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Not a bad gig, if you ask me."

Fang's grin widened, his arm tightening around Kev's shoulders. "Not a bad gig at all," he agreed, his voice a low rumble filled with contentment.

Kev leaned into Fang's warmth, a sense of belonging washing over him. He caught Sabrina's eye, and she raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her face.

"Wait, for real?" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of surprise and amusement. "Oh. My. God. Mr. Fang is into..." She trailed off, her eyes widening in realization. "This is actually crazy!"

She leaned forward, her excitement palpable. "Fang was hot before," she whispered, "but like, now he's even more of a forbidden fruit. The powerful, brooding boss falling for his fragile and whimpy male assistant? There's no way!"

Fang chuckled, his laughter booming through the booth. "Girl, my assistant is quite the capable man," he retorted, his voice filled with pride. "This club runs on merit. Do you think I would keep a slacker by my side?"

"You could afford to," Sabrina countered with a sly grin. "But… you're definitely too good for that." She propped her elbows on the table, her gaze fixed on Fang. "So, tell me," she asked, her voice a playful caw, "do you work out?"

Fang's laughter echoed through the VIP booth, a deep, resonant sound that drew curious glances from nearby patrons. "Work out?" he echoed, a playful glint in his eyes. "I run a nightclub, Sabrina. That's a workout in itself."

Just then, Luna approached their table, her feline grace a welcome distraction from the conversation. "Can I get you something?" she inquired, her voice a soft purr.

"I'm starving," Sabrina declared, her eyes scanning the menu. "I'll have the grilled tuna and a strawberry daiquiri."

Luna nodded and hurried off to place the order.

"I didn't think Talon was telling the truth about getting hired," Sabrina confessed, turning back to Fang. "I mean, who wouldn't want to work here? Free food, free drinks, and now, apparently, days off." She paused, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Everything would be perfect if you just paid your electric bill and got the lights back on in here."

Fang chuckled, his amusement evident. "My electric bill is actually quite high, Sabrina," he replied, his tone light.

"For what?" she scoffed. "The metal detectors at the entrance?"

"We have an IT department that runs jamming signals and other digital security measures," Fang explained, a hint of pride in his voice. "We need to make sure no one is looking into the club from afar."

Sabrina's eyes widened in excitement. "Hold on," she interrupted, leaning forward eagerly. "That means there are computers somewhere! Tell me, where is this IT building?"

Fang's smile turned cryptic. "That's a secret, Sabrina," he replied, his voice a low rumble.

Kev's mind raced. He remembered the mysterious crow woman, Kaiote, the IT manager he had briefly met during his first night at the club. She had mentioned overseeing the club's security systems, and her office was said to be quieter, away from the main building. Could that be where the IT department was located?

"I guess I'll just have to find it myself then," the eaglewoman declared, a playful challenge in her voice.

Fang chuckled, shaking his head. "Good luck with that," he retorted. "Just don't yell and cry when someone catches you and wheels you back to the mansion."

Sabrina burst into laughter, her voice echoing through the VIP section. "Not only will I yell and cry," she declared dramatically, "but I'll also throw myself on the ground and have a full-blown tantrum."

Fang's laughter joined hers. It was a rare sight to see him so relaxed and carefree, his usual guarded demeanor replaced by a genuine amusement.

Just then, Luna arrived with Sabrina's order, a plate piled high with grilled fish and a colorful array of vegetables, accompanied by a frosty strawberry daiquiri.

"Enjoy," Luna said with a smile, placing the dishes on the table.

Sabrina's eyes lit up at the sight of the food. "Finally!" she exclaimed, grabbing her fork and digging in with gusto.

Kev watched in amusement as Sabrina devoured her meal with the same voracious appetite as Fang. It seemed the wolfman wasn't the only one in the club with a healthy appreciation for food.

He was glad to see the two of them getting along, their playful banter and shared laughter a welcome contrast to the tension of the past few days. It seemed Sabrina's vibrant personality and sharp wit had managed to break through Fang's usual reserve, bringing out a lighter, more playful side of the wolfman.

Sabrina finished her meal in record time, pushing the empty plate away with a satisfied sigh. "Thank the cook for me, will you, Kev?" she asked. "That was delicious. I don't know how they do it without electricity… I tried to make myself lunch earlier, and I couldn't even toast bread right."

"Do you usually do a lot of cooking?" he asked Sabrina.

"Do you think my brother could cook anything?" she retorted with a playful scoff. "He'd probably boil water trying to make ice."

Kev laughed, picturing the scene.

Sabrina finished her daiquiri with a satisfied sigh. "Thank the bartender for me too," she said, her voice a soft purr. "That was delicious."

Fang, who had been quietly observing their interaction, leaned forward. "So, Sabrina," he began, his voice a gentle rumble, "are your accommodations adequate? Is there anything you need?"

Sabrina's expression turned thoughtful. "The apartment itself is lovely," she admitted. "But there's a small step down to the balcony, which is a bit difficult to navigate with my chair. And the peephole on the door is useless for me." She paused, a genuine smile spreading across her face. "But whoever lowered the kitchen counters and remodeled the bathroom... kiss them for me. It's perfect."

Fang nodded, a pleased expression on his face. "I'll let Cindy know about the changes that need to be made," he assured her.

Sabrina's gaze shifted to Kev, a hint of envy in her eyes. "I'm so jealous of you, human," she said, her voice a playful whine.

Fang's gaze shifted to Sabrina's wheelchair, a frown creasing his brow. "There's one more thing," he said, his voice a low rumble. "That chair... it's an eyesore."

Sabrina glanced down at her wheelchair, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "I agree," she admitted, "but unfortunately, the legs don't work."

Fang waved a dismissive hand. "No, no, not that," he clarified. "It's too... too... chrome. It clashes..."

"I'll have another one ordered, something that matches the atmosphere a bit better. You can keep that shiny thing in your room as a spare."

Sabrina's face lit up with excitement. "That's awesome!" she exclaimed. "Make sure it has a cup holder!"

Fang snorted. "That's doubtful," he replied, a playful smirk on his face.

"I look forward to seeing it," Sabrina said, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Fang then beckoned Talon over with a wave of his hand. The eagleman approached the table, his posture rigid and alert.

"I hope my darling sister has been polite company," Talon said, his voice a low rasp.

Sabrina grinned mischievously. "Brother, did you know Fang here is a dirty dog? Cuddling with his assistant and all."

Talon's eyes widened in surprise, his gaze darting between Fang and Kev. "Sister," he pleaded, his voice a strained whisper, "please tell me it's time for me to bring you back upstairs."

"Yes, Talon," Fang said. "She's had her meal, and I'm sure she's eager to share all the juicy details with you." He turned to Sabrina, his smile softening. "I look forward to our next conversation, Sabrina."

"You're gonna have to send Kev away next time so I can get the real details," Sabrina retorted, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Kev blushed, his cheeks warming under Sabrina's teasing gaze.

Talon, sensing the need for a swift exit, quickly intervened. "Say goodnight, Sabrina," he urged, gently guiding her wheelchair away from the table.

"Goodnight, hot wolf daddy!" Sabrina called out, her voice echoing through the barroom. "And skinny human dude!"

With a final wave, Talon wheeled his sister out of the VIP section, leaving Kev and Fang alone once more.

Kev's laughter filled the booth, a light, carefree sound that echoed Fang's own amusement. "She's crazy," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I like her," Fang admitted, a fond smile playing on his lips. "She reminds me of someone I used to know."

Kev leaned closer, a playful glint in his eyes. "So, hot wolf daddy," he purred, his voice a low, seductive murmur, "wanna take me for a walk in the backyard?"

Fang's tail wagged excitedly, his amber eyes sparkling with delight. "Let's go, my skinny human dude," he replied, his voice a low rumble filled with warmth.

Hand in hand, they left the bustling barroom and stepped out into the cool night air. The moon cast a silvery glow on the manicured lawns and the shimmering pool, creating a magical atmosphere that heightened the intimacy of their shared moment.

Kev lit a cigarette, the familiar smoke curling lazily upwards as they strolled through the gardens. He leaned into Fang's strong arm, savoring the feeling of safety and belonging that the wolfman's presence provided. Fang's tail continued its rhythmic wagging, a silent testament to his contentment.

They completed a leisurely circuit of the grounds, their conversation a comfortable mix of shared laughter and quiet observations. As they approached the back door, Kev extinguished his cigarette in a nearby ashtray.

As they re-entered the club, the energy had reached a fever pitch. The dance floor was packed, the music flowing through the air, and the bar was abuzz with lively conversation. Fang and Kev made their way back to the VIP table, their presence drawing curious glances from the surrounding patrons.

"I'm starving," Fang declared, his stomach growling audibly. He signaled to Luna, who promptly appeared with a notepad in hand.

"A cup of meat stew," Fang ordered, his voice a low rumble.

Kev, still feeling pleasantly full from his earlier lunch, opted for a lighter option. "Just a glass of water and a slice of pie for me, please," he requested.

Luna nodded and disappeared into the crowd, her feline grace navigating the throng with ease. It wasn't long before their food was served, the meat stew and pie both looked wonderful. Another hour passed while they ate and watched the dancers.

Fang turned to Kev, a hint of concern in his eyes. "It's already getting late, Kev," he said, his voice a gentle reminder. "Perhaps you should head to bed soon."

Kev, who had been enjoying Fang's company and the vibrant atmosphere of the club, hesitated. "Will you walk me to my room?" he asked, his voice a soft plea.

Fang's lips curled into a warm smile. "Of course, Kev," he replied, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze Kev's.

He turned to Talon, who was still standing guard by the velvet rope. "Talon," he instructed, "wait here. We have one more thing to do when I return."

Talon nodded, his expression impassive.

Fang then led Kev towards the grand staircase, their footsteps echoing in the relative quiet of the hallway.

As they reached Kev's apartment, he unlocked the door and turned to face Fang, a hopeful glint in his eyes. "Come in," he invited, his voice a soft whisper. "Just for a few minutes."

Fang hesitated, his gaze lingering on Kev's face. He wanted nothing more than to accept the invitation, to spend the rest of the night wrapped in Kev's embrace. But the club, his life's work, called to him. He couldn't simply abandon it, not when there were still so many responsibilities demanding his attention.

"I... I can't, Kev," he finally said, his voice filled with regret. "I still have more work to do tonight."

Kev's smile faltered, a stab of disappointment stinging his heart. But before he could say anything, Fang leaned forward and captured his lips in a passionate kiss.

Kev melted into the embrace, his arms wrapping around Fang's neck, his body yearning for more. "I want you, Fang, so badly," he whispered against the wolfman's lips.

Fang held Kev tightly, his heart pounding in his chest. "I want you too, Kev," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "More than you know."

He reluctantly pulled away, his gaze lingering on Kev's face. "But I have to go," he said, his voice a soft growl. "I'll see you tomorrow... my love."

With a final, lingering kiss, Fang turned and walked away, leaving Kev standing in the doorway, his heart aching with a bittersweet longing. He closed the door behind him, a smile playing on his lips despite the disappointment. Fang's words, "my love," echoed in his mind. Sleep came quickly when he slipped into his freshly changed sheets.

Chapter Text

The familiar glow of dawn filtered through Kev's curtains, marking the start of another day in his new, unconventional, probably not a coma-dream, life. He followed his usual morning routine, enjoying a hot shower and brewing a fresh pot of coffee. Dressed in comfortable jeans and a t-shirt, he settled at the small kitchen table, savoring the warmth of his coffee and the quiet solitude of the morning.

As he spread butter on a bagel, a knock echoed through the apartment. Kev opened the door to find Horns, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced by a weary slump.

"Morning, Kev," Horns mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He shuffled into the apartment and, without waiting for an invitation, grabbed a glass of water and the bagel from Kev's plate. He then collapsed onto the couch, his massive frame sinking into the cushions with a sigh of relief.

"Thought you were gonna swing by the table last night," Kev remarked, a playful smile on his face.

Horns took a long swig of water, then lit a joint, exhaling a cloud of fragrant smoke. "Got swamped," he explained, his voice though tired, still boomed. "New schedule needs a bit of ironing out. Once the new people are trained, it should be easier." He yawned widely, his eyes heavy-lidded.

Kev poured himself another cup of coffee and sat across from horns on one of the arm chairs Cind had delivered. "Anything exciting happen?" he inquired.

"Not that I've heard," Horns replied, taking a long drag from his joint. "Didn't get out of the back until my shift ended."

"Fang seemed in a good mood, though," Horns continued, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Only did half his normal barking at the staff. Must've been from spending time away from the bar with you."

Kev chuckled, a warmth spreading through him at the thought of Fang vulnerability when they played darts. "Yeah, we had a nice time," he admitted, his gaze drifting towards the window. The sight of the shimmering pool in the backyard sparked an idea.

"Hey, Horns," he said, turning back to the mooseman, "could you maybe grab me a swimsuit while you're out? It's getting pretty hot, and that pool looks awfully inviting."

Horns looked down at Kev, a puzzled frown creasing his brow. "I have no idea what size to get you, kid," he admitted, scratching his head. "You're... well, you're not exactly built like the rest of us."

Kev laughed. "Just something comfortable and... not too revealing," he replied, a playful glint in his eyes.

Horns nodded and slapped his knees. "I'll give it a try," he said, rising from the couch with a groan. "See you later, Kev."

"Have a good sleep, Horns," Kev called out as the mooseman left the apartment.

Kev watched Horns disappear down the hallway, a smile playing on his lips. He was grateful for the mooseman's friendship and support, his easygoing nature a welcome contrast to the intensity of the club's other inhabitants. He couldn't wait to see what kind of swimsuit Horns would bring back, and he was even more excited about the prospect of finally taking a dip in the pool.

Kev, feeling a burst of energy from the morning coffee, set about tidying up his apartment. He cleared the breakfast dishes, wiping down the counters and sweeping the floor. A few strategically placed candles and open windows filled the apartment with a soft, inviting glow and a refreshing breeze. Just then, a knock echoed through the apartment. He glanced at his watch, 7:45 am. He opened the door to find both Cindy and Max standing on the threshold.

Cindy, with her usual air of authority, swept past Kev and headed straight for the kitchen. Kev, accustomed to her assertive nature, simply smiled and turned on the player piano, its cheerful melody filling the apartment with a welcoming ambiance.

He joined Max on the couch, offering a friendly greeting. "Morning, Max. Anything exciting on the agenda today?"

Max chuckled, a sly grin on his face. "Not today, buddy," he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "At least not until you make some trouble for me."

Just then, Cindy emerged from the kitchen, balancing a tray laden with steaming teacups and a plate of toast. She placed the tray on the coffee table and settled gracefully onto the couch.

"Kev has been improving so quickly," she remarked. "This room is much more... homey now." She glanced around the apartment, her keen eyes taking in every detail. "Still a few things that need attention… but it's a vast improvement from when I first saw it."

Kev took a sip of his tea "I can't be slacking when everyone else works so hard," he replied, his voice filled with a genuine admiration for the club's dedicated staff.

Cindy nodded, a pleased expression on her face. "Since I heard you were willing to wash dishes for Reepia," she said, her voice a soft murmur, "I knew you'd be a good partner for Fang."

Kev's cheeks flushed slightly. "So you heard about that, huh?" he asked.

Cindy nodded again, her eyes twinkling. "Fang is a typical boy," she explained, her voice laced with a maternal warmth. "Likes to roughhouse and play with his toys. He needs someone with a level head like you, someone who can reel him in when he gets carried away. Someone that knows to pick up after themself."

"Don't make it sound so serious, Cindy," Kev protested, a playful lilt in his voice. "Fang and I are still just... good friends."

Cindy rose from the couch. "For how long, though?" she asked, her voice a gentle whisper that lingered in the air even after she left the room.

Kev watched her go, a mix of amusement and warmth filling his chest. Cindy, despite her stern demeanor and no-nonsense attitude, clearly cared deeply for Fang, and her approval meant a lot to Kev.

Max nudged Kev with his elbow as he got up to follow Cindy. "Thanks for the grub, bub."

Kev finished his tea and quickly cleaned up the cups and plates, his movements efficient and practiced. Feeling a creative spark ignite within him, he grabbed his guitar and headed down to the backyard patio. The morning air was cool and crisp, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the afternoon sun. He settled onto his favorite bench by the pool, the gentle sounds of nature a soothing backdrop as he lit a joint.

He took a long, slow drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs and clear his mind. As the familiar buzz settled in, his fingers danced across the guitar strings, the melodies flowing effortlessly from his fingertips. He played a mix of old favorites and new compositions, his voice blending with the music in a harmonious symphony.

Lost in his own world of sound, Kev didn't notice Talon's approach until the eagleman was standing beside him, his sharp eyes observing Kev with a quiet intensity.

"Good morning, Mr. Kev," Talon greeted him, his raspy voice cut through the peaceful ambiance of the garden.

"Hey, Talon," Kev replied, a friendly smile on his face. "What did you and Fang do after I left last night?"

Talon's expression remained stoic, but a hint of weariness lingered in his eyes. "Mr. Fang had me talk with Mr. Lanon," he explained. "We discussed my... altercation with Mr. Vlad." He paused, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. "Things have been worked out..."

"That's good," Kev said, nodding in approval. "No need for animosity among the staff."

Kev, recalling more of the previous day, couldn't resist asking about Talon's sister. "How was Sabrina after meeting Fang?" 

Talon's expression softened slightly. "Encouraging," he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But.. she's already planning a grand escape attempt, I'm sure."

Kev chuckled. "This place will grow on her, don't worry about it too much," he reassured Talon. "Fang seemed to think she was funny. He even offered to get her a new wheelchair."

Talon's eyes widened in surprise. "That's... a blessing," he said, a grateful smile playing on his beak. "She'll be thrilled." 

"Where is she now, anyway?" Kev asked.

"She was still asleep when I got ready this morning," Talon replied. "I didn't want to wake her."

Kev nodded in understanding. "Want some coffee?" he offered. "I've got some left over from earlier."

Talon's eyes lit up. "If that's not a problem," he said eagerly. "I haven't had a chance to go grocery shopping yet."

"No problem at all," Kev assured him. "Let's head up to my apartment."

Kev and Talon left the tranquil garden behind and ascended the stairs to Kev's apartment. Once inside, Kev busied himself in the kitchen, reheating the leftover coffee and pouring two steaming mugs. Talon, meanwhile, gravitated towards the couch, drawn to the stack of books on the coffee table. He picked one up, its worn leather cover and faded gold lettering hinting at its age and historical significance, 'A Brief History of Dala'Bon'.

As Kev emerged from the kitchen with the coffee, Talon was already engrossed in the book, his brow furrowed in concentration. Kev smiled softly, pleased to see the eagleman finding a moment of peace amidst the chaos of his new surroundings. He handed Talon a mug, then settled across from him, enjoying the quiet companionship and the warmth of the shared space.

Kev lit a cigarette, the familiar smoke curling lazily towards the ceiling as he relaxed on the chair. Talon, engrossed in his book, seemed oblivious to the world around him, his brow furrowed in concentration.

After finishing his coffee, Kev glanced at his watch. "It's almost eleven," he remarked, breaking the comfortable silence. "Have you ever played any music before, Talon?"

Talon looked up from his book, a puzzled expression on his face. "No," he replied, his voice a low rasp. "Never had the time or the inclination."

Kev chuckled softly. "It's fun," he said, strumming a few chords on his guitar. "A good way to pass the time, and it can be quite therapeutic."

"Interesting," the eagle murmured, his gaze returning to the book.

"I'd be happy to teach you a few chords, if you'd like," Kev offered hopefully.

Talon flipped another page, his focus unwavering. "I'll pass."

Kev sighed, a hint of disappointment. He set his guitar aside and glanced at his watch again. "Do you think Sabrina is up yet?" he asked, changing the subject. "It's almost lunchtime."

"Hard to say," Talon replied with a shrug. "She gets up anywhere between dawn and dusk, depending on how late she stayed up gaming the night before."

Kev stood up, stretching his arms above his head. "Well, we can go see if she wants some lunch," he suggested. "There are no video games here and it's nearly noon, after all."

Talon hesitated for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. "I guess," he mumbled, closing his book and placing it on the coffee table.

Together, they left Kev's apartment and walked down the hallway towards Talon's new home. The mansion was still relatively quiet, the daytime cleaning staff going about their duties with a hushed efficiency.

They reached Talon's door, its freshly painted surface gleaming in the soft light filtering through the windows. Talon took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever awaited them on the other side.

The apartment was eerily quiet as Talon unlocked the door and stepped inside. "She must still be sleeping," he whispered, his voice a low rasp.

Suddenly, a yell echoed from the bathroom. "I'm not sleeping, brother!"

A moment later, Sabrina emerged, her chrome wheelchair gliding smoothly across the newly installed hardwood floors. She was dressed in an oversized t-shirt that reached her mid-thigh, her feathers contrasting sharply with the dark fabric.

Chapter Text

"Morning, Kev," the eagle woman greeted, a mischievous grin on her face. "Looking as translucent as ever."

Kev nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "Morning, Sabrina," he replied.

Sabrina maneuvered her wheelchair deftly to the kitchen, easily reaching a glass from the lowered cabinets and filling it with water. She took a long sip, her eyes watching Kev, filled with curiosity.

"So, Kev," she began, wheeling back into the living room where Kev and Talon were seated, "how did you score this gig? And can you put in a good word for me? I didn't even know being a rich guy's arm candy could be a real job." She flashed a playful grin.

Kev chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I kind of... fell into the position," he admitted. "It was a bit of a whirlwind, to be honest."

Sabrina's eyes widened. "What I would give for Fang to fall onto me," she said dramatically, "in any position!"

Talon, who had been quietly reading, looked up sharply. "Sabrina!" he admonished, his voice low. "Don't talk about my boss like that."

Sabrina laughed, unfazed by her brother's reprimand. "So you're worried about your boss," she teased, "but Kev isn't worried about his boyfriend? I think you worry too much, brother."

Talon scowled, his feathers ruffling slightly. "Sabrina, be careful what you say," he warned, his voice a hushed rasp. "This is Club Fang, not the housing. People here don't take kindly to disrespect."

Sabrina rolled her eyes playfully. "It's not disrespect, it's envy," she retorted, her tone light. She turned back to Kev. "So, what's the plan for the day?" she asked. "Are we going out for grooming and massages before hitting the shops?"

Kev laughed, shaking his head. "I wish," he replied. "I think we'll be sticking around the mansion today..."

"But," he added, rising from his seat, "are you hungry, Sabrina? It's almost lunchtime."

"Starving," Sabrina declared dramatically. "That food last night was… amazing. How is anyone supposed to know that a sex club has a Michelin-star chef? It's wild."

Kev grinned. "Sorry to disappoint you, but the kitchen is closed during the day. I've got bagels and peanut butter back in my apartment, though, if you're interested."

Sabrina groaned dramatically. "That's a bit of a buzzkill," she complained, her voice a playful whine.

Talon chimed in, "Why don't you cook, then?"

"We have no food, brother," Sabrina retorted, her tone exasperated.

"You're welcome to use whatever I have," Kev offered generously.

Sabrina eyed him suspiciously. "Why should I cook for you?" she asked, her voice a challenging caw.

Kev chuckled. "Well, you get to eat the food you cook," he pointed out, still grinning.

Sabrina sighed, but a hint of amusement flickered in her eyes. "You're lucky I'm hungry," she conceded. "And you better have coffee."

Kev nodded eagerly. "I do," he assured her.

Sabrina's face lit up. "Ugh, you're gonna be a pain, aren't you?" she said, shaking her head in mock exasperation. "Lead the way, my questionably opaque new friend."

Kev led the way back to his apartment, Talon trailing behind as he pushed Sabrina's wheelchair. Once inside, Kev quickly moved furniture around to create more space for Sabrina to maneuver.

Sabrina looked around, her eyes widening in surprise. "Nice," she commented, her voice a raspy caw. "Even smells fancy in here."

Talon, seemingly unfazed by his sister's antics, plopped down on the couch and resumed reading his book.

Sabrina, meanwhile, began exploring Kev's kitchen supplies, her curiosity and hunger fueling her search. Kev put the kettle on the stove, reheating the coffee again.

Sabrina watched intently as Kev lit the stove with a match, a fascinated expression on her face. "Whose big idea was it to remove the electric up here too?" she remarked, shaking her head in disbelief. "How do you even survive?"

Kev chuckled. "We adapt," he replied. "It's not as bad as you might think."

Sabrina, with surprising efficiency, whipped up a batch of toasted bagel sandwiches, using up all of Kev's deli meats and cheese. Kev poured coffee for everyone and they gathered around the coffee table, enjoying their impromptu lunch.

Kev took a bite of his sandwich, impressed by Sabrina's culinary skills. "This is really good," he complimented. "A much better use of the ingredients than I would have come up with."

Sabrina shrugged. "Gotta make do with what you have," she replied. "And you couldn't even think of making a sandwich? Ugh, just like brother... At least you know what fun is."

Talon finished his sandwich and picked up his book again. "Reading is fun," he mumbled, his gaze fixed on the pages.

Sabrina rolled her eyes. "Nerd," she muttered under her breath. She turned to Kev, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "So, what's there to do in this place?" she asked. "What do we do for fun?"

Kev sighed, leaning back against the couch cushions. "That's the thing," he admitted. "I'm still struggling to fill my days… The downside of not having any real responsibilities, I guess."

"Reading is fun," Talon repeated, not looking up from his book.

Sabrina shot him a playful glare. "Besides reading, brother dearest," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I've explored the grounds a bit, played some pool and darts... But I'm running out of ideas," Kev admitted.

Sabrina threw her hands up in mock exasperation. "We're in the hedonism capital of the city, and you're bored?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with disbelief. "This is just sad."

"That's why I get paid the big bucks, I'm not distracted by the private rooms," he quipped, a playful glint in his eyes.

Talon snorted, turning a page in his book without looking up.

"More like that's why Fang gives you the big bucks," Sabrina retorted, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

"Sabrina!" Talon admonished, his voice a low rasp. "Watch your language."

"Whatever," Sabrina mumbled, rolling her eyes. She turned to Kev, her expression hopeful. "Pass me one of those joints then, human, if you're going to be so very boring."

Kev opened his silver cigarette case, revealing the neatly rolled joints inside. "I'll split one with you," he offered with a smile, "since you made such a great lunch."

He lit the joint and passed it to Sabrina, who took a long, appreciative drag. Kev started the player piano, its gentle melody filling the room.

Sabrina wrinkled her beak. "Ugh, this music sucks," she complained, waving a hand dismissively. "Put something good on."

Kev chuckled. "Feel free to pick out a different song," he said, gesturing towards the box of scrolls.

Sabrina wheeled herself over to the piano and began rummaging through the collection. Kev took another puff from the joint, enjoying the relaxing sensation that spread through his body.

"All these songs look like grandma music," Sabrina grumbled, flipping through the scrolls with a frown.

"This is as good as it gets when Asmodeus isn't here," Kev explained with a shrug.

"Asmodeus?" Sabrina questioned, her curiosity piqued. "That's a funny name. Who's that?"

"The entertainment manager," Kev replied. "If you want, we can take a walk and see if he's around. He doesn't seem to follow much of a set schedule, so I don't know if he'll be here."

Talon, who had been quietly observing the exchange, sat up straighter. "I would like to meet Mr. Asmodeus," he said, his voice a low rasp. "It's important for me to know the different managers here..."

Sabrina smirked. "Brother, he's probably avoiding you so he doesn't get choke-slammed." 

Kev chuckled. "Well, let's go see if he's around," he said, grabbing his guitar case. "Maybe we can even convince him to play us a song."

Sabrina frowned, "I can't go looking like this," she declared, glancing down at her oversized t-shirt.

Kev raised an eyebrow. "Good enough for me, but not for Asmodeus?" he teased.

Sabrina laughed, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Duh," she retorted, looking at Talon. "Gotta make a good first impression, right?"

Talon, sensing an opportunity to escape his sister's teasing, stood up abruptly. "Let's not dally then," he said, his voice a brisk rasp.

Kev could tell Talon was relieved to have something to do, a distraction from the awkwardness of the earlier conversation. He followed Talon as the eagleman pushed Sabrina's wheelchair back towards their apartment.

As they entered the newly renovated space, Sabrina let out a delighted squeal. Her new wheelchair, a masterpiece of craftsmanship, was waiting for her in the living room. Its frame was made of dark, polished wood, accented with intricate black cast iron details. The overall aesthetic was rustic and elegant, perfectly complementing the club's decor. But the gleaming gears and levers beneath the seat revealed its modern functionality, a testament to the club's ability to blend tradition with innovation.

"Brother, please put my new chair in my room," Sabrina instructed, her voice echoing from the bathroom.

Talon carefully maneuvered the wheelchair into his sister's room, his movements gentle and precise. He returned to the living room, a hint of relief in his eyes, and plopped down on the couch, picking up the book he'd been reading earlier.

"Make yourself at home, Kev," Talon said, his gaze returning to the pages. "She takes about twenty-five minutes to get ready, so yeah." He flipped a page, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Kev wandered around the apartment, admiring the transformation. The fresh paint, the new furniture, the subtle touches of decor... Cindy and Max had truly outdone themselves. His gaze settled on the massive tapestry hanging on the far wall. Its intricate patterns and vibrant colors added a touch of warmth and personality to the otherwise minimalist space.

Kev stepped onto the balcony, taking in the view of the mansion's sprawling backyard. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manicured lawn, and the pool shimmered invitingly. A mischievous idea sparked in his mind.

"If you had a ladder," Kev said, turning to Talon, "we could sneak down and play a game of darts while she's getting ready."

Talon looked up from his book, a bemused expression on his face. "Just fly down," he replied simply, turning another page.

Kev sighed. He stepped back inside and grabbed his cigarette case, then returned to the balcony. He lit a cigarette, savoring the familiar ritual as he gazed out at the picturesque scenery.

Chapter Text

From inside the apartment, he could hear Sabrina moving about, the sounds of drawers opening and closing, and the occasional muffled curse as she struggled with a zipper or a button.

He finished his cigarette, carefully extinguishing it and tucked it in his pocket. As he turned to go back inside, Talon spoke up.

"I can get you an ashtray," the eagleman offered, gesturing at the coffee table in front of him.

Kev shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Talon," he replied with a smile. "If you and your sister don't smoke inside, I'm fine with smoking on the balcony."

Talon nodded, a grateful look in his eyes. "Thank you." 

Sabrina emerged from her room, a transformation evident in her appearance. Gone was the oversized t-shirt, replaced by a fitted black tee that accentuated her slender frame. A collection of delicate silver necklaces adorned her neck, their subtle shimmer catching the light with every movement. A long, slightly puffy skirt flowed around her legs, adding an eccentric touch of elegance to her ensemble.

She wheeled herself into the living room, her new wheelchair gliding effortlessly across the hardwood floor. "This new ride is awesome," she exclaimed, a wide grin on her face. "I rolled over that rug, and it didn't even drag!"

She turned to Kev and Talon, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Let's go, you slowpokes!" she urged, already heading towards the door.

Kev chuckled, grabbing his guitar case. "Coming, coming," he replied, following Sabrina out of the apartment.

Talon, a bemused smile playing on his lips, carefully marked his place in the book and joined them.

They entered the elevator, the confined space filled with a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. Sabrina, her newfound mobility a source of boundless enthusiasm, chattered excitedly about the upcoming meeting and the prospect of exploring the club. Talon, though outwardly stoic, couldn't help but share his sister's excitement. He was grateful for the opportunity Fang had given them, a chance to start anew in a world that seemed both strange and inviting.

The elevator descended smoothly, its soft hum a comforting counterpoint to the anticipation building within them. As they passed through the ground floor, a few cleaners paused in their work to watch them, their curious gazes lingering on Sabrina's new wheelchair.

"That's a fancy wheelchair you've got there," one of the cleaners, a friendly-looking badger woman, remarked with a smile.

Sabrina beamed, her eyes sparkling with pride. "Isn't it, though?" she replied, spinning the chair in a graceful pirouette. "It's so much easier to maneuver than my old one."

Talon, who had been walking beside his sister, offered to take over pushing the wheelchair. "Let me help you, Sabrina," he rasped.

"Not today, brother," Sabrina retorted playfully, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Something about the wheels on this chair makes it so easy to push, even on the carpet. I'm practically gliding!"

Talon chuckled, a rare sound that warmed Kev's heart. "That's great, sis," he replied. "I'm surprised, though. It felt just as heavy as your old chair when I was pushing it earlier."

Sabrina shrugged, a knowing smile on her face. "Maybe the bearings are better, or the tires are different," she mused. "Whatever it is, I'm not even breaking a sweat."

They continued their journey, passing by the grand staircase and the now-empty barroom. The club, still in its pre-opening slumber, was a stark contrast to the bustling energy Kev had experienced the night before.

Kev led them deeper into the east wing, his footsteps echoing in the quiet corridors. He pushed open the heavy wooden door to the theater, its grandeur even more impressive in the daylight.

The theater, bathed in the soft glow of morning light streaming through the high windows, was far from the hushed sanctuary Kev had expected. On stage, Asmodeus paced back and forth like a caged predator, his colorful feathers ruffled in agitation. His voice, a shrill cacophony of squawks and trills, echoed through the empty space.

"Rhythm, Gerald, rhythm!" he screeched, his long beak inches from the face of a giraffe man who stood stoically beside a towering stand-up bass. "Not harmony, not melody! Why do I hear extra notes? Are you bored? Is playing in my band not exciting enough for you? Do you need to be put front and center so you can wow the audience with your stand-up bass?!"

The rest of the band members, a motley assortment of beastmen and beastwomen huddled together on the stage, remained silent, their gazes fixed on their instruments, carefully avoiding Asmodeus's wrathful eyes.

Kev, taking in the scene with a mix of amusement and apprehension, exchanged a glance with Talon. He quietly led Sabrina to a plush couch in the rear of the room, far from the epicenter of Asmodeus's tantrum.

"This is hour five," Asmodeus shrieked, his voice reaching a fever pitch, "and I haven't heard a single note of conviction from any of you!"

He kicked a music stand, sending sheet music fluttering to the floor. "You should all have it memorized by now!" he raged. "You've played every single possible wrong note already!"

His feathers were ruffled, his beak clacking in frustration. "Get it right this time, you oafs!"

With a dramatic flourish, Asmodeus snatched a bassoon from a nearby stand. He raised it high above his head, his eyes blazing with intensity.

"From the top!" he yelled. "One, two..."

The band, their nerves frayed and their spirits dampened, hesitantly began to play one of Kev's songs. The familiar melody, now infused with Asmodeus's unique arrangement, filled the theater. The major verse flowed into the melancholic minor chorus, then transitioned into the dissonant bridge, each instrument weaving its part into the intricate tapestry of sound.

Asmodeus had cleverly orchestrated the piece to highlight the bassoon's deep, resonant tones. His fingers danced across the keys, the buttons clicking with a percussive rhythm that added an unexpected layer of complexity to the song.

Kev, thoroughly impressed by the performance, couldn't help but smile. The song, despite Asmodeus's dramatic flair, sounded incredible. The blend of instruments, the intricate harmonies, and the unexpected percussive elements created a unique and captivating soundscape.

But Asmodeus, ever the perfectionist, was far from satisfied. "That was awful!" he shrieked, his voice echoing through the empty theater. "Get out of my sight! We have curtain-call in six hours, and you sound like a flock of drunken seagulls!"

The musicians, relieved to be released from Asmodeus's relentless scrutiny, quickly gathered their instruments and scurried offstage, their footsteps a chaotic symphony of relief. Asmodeus, his feathers ruffled in frustration, began collecting the scattered sheet music, his beak clacking in disapproval.

Kev, feeling a surge of sympathy for the beleaguered musicians, rose from his seat and approached the stage. Talon and Sabrina, curious to see how Kev would handle the temperamental toucan, followed close behind.

Kev approached the stage, his footsteps echoing in the empty theater. "Good afternoon, Asmodeus," he greeted, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Asmodeus, his attention still fixated on the scattered sheet music, seemed not to hear him. He muttered to himself, his beak clicking in frustration.

Kev sighed, then decided to take a different approach. He pulled his guitar from its case and plucked a few notes, a simple melody filling the silent hall.

Asmodeus's head snapped up, his sharp eyes scanning the room. "Who's still playing?" he demanded, his voice a sharp caw. He turned around, his gaze landing on Kev standing at the foot of the stage.

A smile instantly transformed his features. "Ah, my human friend!" he exclaimed, his voice a melodic trill. "I hope you didn't have to endure too much of today's... practice." He gracefully hopped off the stage and settled beside Kev, his colorful feathers brushing against the plush velvet seats.

"And who are your friends, little human?" Asmodeus inquired, his gaze shifting to Talon and Sabrina, who stood a few paces behind Kev.

Talon stepped forward, his posture straight and his gaze unwavering. "Good to meet you, Mr. Asmodeus," he said, his voice respectful. "My name is Talon."

Asmodeus's beak curled into a knowing smile. "Ah, our new daytime guard dog," he chirped, his voice a melodic trill. "I hear you're quite... physical." His eyes twinkled with amusement. "If I knew of some musicians who weren't practicing when they should… do you think you could rough them up for me a bit?"

Sabrina burst into laughter, her voice echoing through the empty theater. "Don't tease my brother too much," she warned, a playful glint in her eyes. "He gets shy."

Asmodeus turned his attention to Sabrina, his feathers ruffling slightly in admiration. "And who might this beautiful young thing be?" he inquired.

"This is my sister, Sabrina," Talon replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "She's a bit of a... hellion."

Sabrina playfully punched Talon's arm, a mischievous grin on her face. "Hey!" she cawed. "I'm not that bad."

Asmodeus's attention flitted back to Kev and his guitar, his enthusiasm reignited. "Good, good," he chirped, dismissing Talon and Sabrina with a wave of his wing. "Now, where were we?" He looked expectantly at Kev. "I see you have your guitar. Play me another nice human tune before I turn in for my beauty sleep."

Kev smiled, happy to oblige. "Of course," he said, his voice warm. "You play music for me every night, so it's the least I can do."

This time, Kev chose a more relaxed tune, a gentle melody that flowed effortlessly from his fingertips. His strums were light and precise, the notes blending harmoniously in the quiet theater. He hummed along softly, his voice adding another layer of warmth to the music.

Asmodeus closed his eyes, swaying gently to the rhythm. When the song ended, he opened his eyes and sighed contentedly. "Another fine tune," he praised, his voice a melodic trill.

Asmodeus's enthusiasm bubbled over, and he hopped onto the stage with a flourish. "Again!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing through the theater. "Just the chords this time." He picked up his bassoon, his long beak poised above the reed.

Kev, a bit surprised by the sudden request, nodded and began strumming the chords of the song he'd just played. Asmodeus joined in, his bassoon weaving a rich, melancholic counterpoint to Kev's gentle melody.

The combination of the guitar and bassoon created a unique and captivating soundscape, the two instruments complementing each other in unexpected ways. Kev, caught up in the moment, found himself improvising subtle variations on the rhythm, his fingers dancing across the fretboard with a newfound freedom.

Asmodeus, his eyes closed in concentration, followed Kev's lead, his bassoon responding with a depth and complexity that transformed the simple tune into something entirely new. Kev was amazed by the toucan's ability to adapt and improvise, his musical instincts sharp and intuitive.

When the song finally came to an end, Asmodeus lowered his bassoon, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "That's it for me, Kev," he announced, his voice a soft trill. "I'm off to transcribe and sleep. Remember, practice makes perfect."

With a final nod, Asmodeus turned and left the theater, his colorful feathers a fleeting blur in the dim light.

Kev carefully placed his guitar back in its case, a sense of wonder lingering from his impromptu jam session with Asmodeus. He turned to Talon and Sabrina, who had been watching from the couch.

"That was... weird," Sabrina remarked, a puzzled frown on her face. "But kinda cool."

Talon's gaze remained fixed on the bassoon, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. "Mr. Asmodeus is amazing." 

"He didn't even talk to us," Sabrina complained, crossing her arms in mock annoyance. "Just clicked on that big tube thing and left."

"It's a bassoon," Kev explained with a smile.

"Whatever," Sabrina retorted, rolling her eyes.

Kev glanced at his watch, the silver hands ticking steadily towards the afternoon. "It's only 3 pm," he observed, a hint of boredom creeping into his voice. "We've got another hour or two to kill before I need to get ready for tonight."

He turned to Talon and Sabrina. "You two up for some pool or darts?" he asked, hoping to break the monotony of the afternoon.

Talon nodded eagerly, his eagerness to participate in any activity a welcome change from his usual stoicism. "Sure," he replied, his voice a low rasp.

Sabrina, still perched on her new wheelchair, shrugged. "I'll hang out," she said, a smile on her face. "Got nothing better to do."

Kev led the way out of the theater and down the hallway, They reached the private billiards room, and he unlocked the door.

Kev spent the next hours honing his pool skills, the rhythmic click-clack of the balls a soothing backdrop to the quiet afternoon. Talon and Sabrina, meanwhile, engaged in a friendly game of darts, their laughter echoing through the room.

As the clock ticked closer to five, Kev reluctantly set his cue down. "Alright," he announced, a hint of regret in his voice, "I've got to get ready for dinner with Fang."

Sabrina pouted playfully. "You're literally making me so jealous," she whined. "All these fancy dinners and outings... I'm stuck here with nothing but books and despair."

Talon, having finished his game of darts, carefully placed them back in their case. "You're free to get dinner in the club whenever the kitchen is open, Sabrina," he reminded her gently. "Mr. Fang told me last night."

Sabrina's eyes lit up. "Your boss likes me more than you, doesn't he?" she teased.

"I think Mr. Fang just wants you eating so you're not talking, sister," he retorted.

Kev laughed, surprised by Talon's witty comeback. The eagleman usually maintained a stoic demeanor, but around his sister, he seemed more relaxed, more playful.

"Well," Kev said, clapping his hands together, "I'd better get going."

They left the billiards room, Talon carefully maneuvering Sabrina's wheelchair through the mansion's corridors. As they reached the elevator, Kev waved goodbye. "Later, Sabrina," he said with a smile. "And Talon, try not to get into any trouble."

"I'll do my best," Talon replied.

Kev watched as the elevator doors closed, a sense of contentment settling over him. He was starting to form genuine connections with the people in this strange new world, and it felt good. He headed back to his apartment, eager to freshen up and prepare for his evening with Fang.

The familiar routine of preparation for the evening ahead began. Kev showered, the warm water washing away any lingering traces of sleep. He dressed in a crisp, tailored suit from his new wardrobe, a subtle grey pinstripe adding a touch of sophistication. A quick glance in the mirror revealed a confident, polished reflection, a far cry from the disheveled traveler who had arrived in this world just over a week ago.

In the kitchen, he set the kettle on the stove, anticipating Horns' arrival with his customary coffee request. He then turned his attention to the ashtray, carefully washing away the remnants of the day's conversations.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. It was Horns, as expected.

"Howdy," Horns greeted, stepping into the apartment and depositing a few bags on the counter.

"Looking good in here, Kev," Horns remarked, his gaze sweeping across the neatly arranged apartment. "Becoming quite the homemaker." He paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "If Fang doesn't make his move soon, I might have to sweep you up myself."

Kev blushed, a wave of warmth spreading through him. Horns, despite his playful teasing, had become a trusted friend and confidante over the past week and a half. The big, burly mooseman, with his easygoing nature and infectious laughter, had carved a special place in Kev's heart.

He quickly shook off the image of Horns's large, strong hands roaming his body, a blush deepening on his cheeks. He grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and poured the freshly brewed coffee

"Here you go," Kev said, handing the steaming mug to Horns.

Horns downed the coffee in a few gulps, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. He then expertly rolled a joint, lighting it with a practiced flick of his wrist. "Second day of the new schedule," he remarked, exhaling a cloud of fragrant smoke. "Learned a few things last night, so tonight should go a bit smoother."

Kev nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Just keep an eye on Asmodeus tonight," he advised. "He was still awake and practicing around three."

"That bird sleeps in short bursts all day long," Horns explained. "He'll be fine. Besides," he added with a wink, "he thrives on chaos."

"I hope the rest of the band will be fine too," Kev replied, a hint of concern in his voice.

Horns shrugged. "They'll adjust," he said confidently. "They're professionals, after all." He glanced at his watch, a hint of urgency in his eyes. "Speaking of which, I better go check on things. Doors open soon."

He stood up, stretching his massive frame. "Thanks for the coffee, little guy," he said, patting Kev's shoulder affectionately. "See you tonight."

"Have a good one, Horns," Kev replied, waving goodbye as the mooseman left the apartment.

Kev, feeling a mix of anticipation and curiosity, headed to the kitchen to prepare for Talon and Fang's arrival. Just as he was pouring another cup of coffee, a knock sounded at the door. Kev opened it to find Talon standing on the threshold, looking remarkably refreshed and alert. The eagleman's feathers were neatly preened, his black suit free of wrinkles, and his sharp eyes sparkled with a newfound energy.

Talon greeted him with a polite nod.

"Come in, Talon," Kev invited, stepping aside to let him enter. "I just made some coffee."

Talon's lips curled into a faint smile. "Thank you," he said, his voice a soft rasp.

He settled onto the couch, accepting the offered mug of coffee with a grateful nod. He then reached for the book he'd been reading the day before, taking small sips as he immersed himself in its pages.

Kev, pleased to see Talon so relaxed and comfortable in his presence, took a seat on the armchair opposite him, sipping his own coffee and enjoying the quiet companionship.

With the gentle melodies of the player piano filling the room, Kev glanced at his watch. It was nearing six o'clock, and Fang was due to arrive any minute. He felt a flutter of anticipation in his chest, eager to spend the evening with the wolfman and discover what the night would bring."

A knock echoed through the apartment. Talon, his reflexes sharp as ever, was on his feet in an instant. He opened the door, revealing Fang standing on the threshold, his presence radiating a quiet power and confidence.

"Good evening, Mr. Fang," Talon greeted him with a respectful nod.

Chapter Text

Fang smiled, his amber eyes sparkling with warmth. "Talon," he acknowledged, stepping into the apartment. He turned to Kev, his gaze softening. "You look lovely tonight."

Kev blushed, a shy smile playing on his lips. "Thank you, Fang," he replied, gesturing towards the couch. "Come sit with us while I finish my coffee."

Fang settled onto the couch beside Kev, his gaze sweeping across the room. "The apartment looks nice," he complimented, his voice a low rumble. "The piano sounds good, too."

Kev nodded, pleased by Fang's approval. He quickly got up and poured a cup of coffee for the wolfman, remembering his preference for it black. He handed the mug to Fang, their fingers brushing briefly, a subtle spark of electricity passing between them before sitting back down.

Fang took a sip of the coffee, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "Ralph's going to visit tonight," he announced, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Kev raised an eyebrow, curious. "For business?" he inquired.

"Business and pleasure," the wolfman replied with a wink.

Fang finished his coffee in one swift gulp, setting the empty mug down on the table. "Excuse me for a moment," he said, rising from the couch. 

He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Kev and Talon alone in the living room. Kev noticed Fang peeking into his bedroom before closing the bathroom door, a curious expression on his muzzle.

A few moments later, Fang emerged, his expression relaxed and refreshed. "Ready to eat, my little assistant?" he asked, a playful smile on his face.

Kev's heart skipped a beat at the endearment. He stood up and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Fang's cheek. "Lead the way, big guy," he replied, his voice a gentle murmur.

Fang's arm draped possessively over Kev's shoulders as they made their way out of the apartment. Talon, ever vigilant, turned off the player piano, closed the windows, and locked the door behind them. He then followed the pair, his silent presence a reassuring shadow in the dimly lit hallway.

The club was already starting to buzz with activity, the early crowd trickling in, eager to escape the mundane world and immerse themselves in the seductive allure of Club Fang. As they descended the stairs, Kev couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement, Ralph, the dapper mallard-man, had seemed to put Fang in a good mood… when he wasn't antagonizing the wolf.

As Fang and Kev settled into their usual spot at the VIP area, a sense of familiarity washed over Kev. The plush booth, the soft glow of the chandeliers, the distant hum of conversations and laughter - it all felt strangely comforting, a haven.

Rebecca, her feline grace and warm smile a welcome sight, approached their table. "Good evening, gentlemen," she greeted them, her voice a soft purr. "How can I help you tonight?"

Kev, remembering her excitement about her day off, couldn't resist asking, "How was your day off, Rebecca?"

Her eyes lit up, a genuine joy radiating from her. "It was wonderful, Kev," she replied, her voice a melodic trill. "I got to have dinner with my family, catch up on some much-needed sleep, and even visit the park." She paused, a wistful smile playing on her lips. "It was... perfect."

Kev's heart warmed at her happiness. "I'm so glad for you, Rebecca," he said sincerely.

Rebecca's smile widened. "Thank you, Kev," she replied. "Now, what can I get you two to eat?"

Fang, his gaze fixed on the bustling crowd, barked his order without hesitation. "Steak and eggs, rare and runny," he demanded, his voice a low rumble.

"Just a salad with grilled chicken for me, please, Rebecca," he requested.

"Coming right up," Rebecca said with a nod, her tail swishing playfully as she disappeared into the crowd.

Kev, feeling a surge of affection, leaned into Fang, his head resting comfortably on the wolfman's shoulder. The memory of Fang's parting words the night before, "my love," echoed in his mind, a sweet melody that brought a smile to his lips. He couldn't help but feel a sense of hope, a belief that their connection was deepening, evolving into something more than just a boss and his assistant.

"Fang," he began, his voice a soft murmur against Fang's fur, "I talked with Cindy today."

Fang grunted in acknowledgment, his gaze still fixed on the growing crowd. "That's nice," he replied, his tone distracted.

Kev chuckled softly. "She seems to think we're going to get married or something," he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

Fang's head snapped towards Kev, his eyebrows furrowed in surprise. "Really?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "I'll need to have a talk with her."

"I thought it was nice," Kev admitted, a shy smile playing on his lips. "I told her we're still getting to know each other, but..." He trailed off, his gaze meeting Fang's.

Fang's expression softened, a warmth spreading through his eyes. He reached out and gently squeezed Kev's hand, a silent reassurance. But before he could say anything, Rebecca arrived with their food and drinks, her arrival an unfortunate interruption to the intimate moment.

"Here you go, gentlemen," she purred, placing the plates on the table with her usual grace. "Steak and eggs for you, Mr. Fang, and a lovely salad for Kev."

Fang nodded in acknowledgement, his gaze returning to the bustling crowd. "Thank you" he said, his voice clipped.

Kev, his appetite momentarily forgotten, watched as Rebecca disappeared into the throng of patrons. He turned back to Fang, his heart filled with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. What did the future hold for them? Would their connection deepen, blossom into something more? Or would the demands of Fang's world, the constant pressures and dangers, ultimately tear them apart?

Fang attacked his steak and eggs with his usual gusto, the sounds of his enthusiastic eating filling the otherwise quiet booth. Kev, in contrast, found himself savoring his salad, enjoying the fresh flavors and crisp textures.

Once he finished, Kev lit a cigarette, the familiar smoke curling lazily upwards as he relaxed into the plush cushions.

"Did Talon get into any trouble today?" Fang inquired, picking his teeth. "Or that sister of his?"

"Not today," Kev replied with a chuckle. "I introduced them to Asmodeus earlier."

"That's good," Fang said, a relieved sigh escaping his lips. "Vlad may be a good sport, but if Talon had attacked Asmodeus, there would be feathers everywhere."

Kev laughed, picturing the scene: the flamboyant toucan flapping and squawking in panic while Talon stiffly walked towards him. It was a humorous image.

"We still need to meet Kaiote," Kev reminded Fang, "but that's it for the managers. Sabrina will meet Rex and Reepia eventually, I'm sure."

Fang frowned, a hint of frustration in his voice. "That crow has been locked up out there for over a week," he grumbled. "If I had any clue as to what she actually does, I'd be out there making sure she was working." He shook his head, muttering something about computers and their incomprehensible complexities.

Kev chuckled, taking another drag from his cigarette. "Well, she must be doing a good job if she hasn't had anything to report," he pointed out. "No news is good news, right?"

Fang's expression softened slightly. "I suppose you're right," he conceded with a sigh. "It's just... one less thing for me to have to worry about."

Kev leaned closer, his hand gently resting on Fang's arm. "Exactly," he said, his voice a soothing murmur. "Be grateful for the peace and quiet, Fang. You deserve it."

Time seemed to accelerate in the bustling club. An hour slipped away in a blur of laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses. Kev, comfortably nestled in the VIP booth, watched Dale expertly navigate the crowded bar, his hands a blur as he mixed and poured drinks with remarkable speed and precision.

Kev's attention was drawn to the entrance of the VIP section, where a familiar figure was approaching. Ralph, the dapper mallard man from the previous night's dinner, strode confidently towards the velvet rope, a muscular badger man trailing behind him.

Talon, his posture rigid and alert, stepped forward to intercept them. He looked down at Ralph, his sharp eyes assessing the situation. "Good evening, gentlemen," he greeted, his voice a low rasp. "Can I help you?"

Ralph flashed a charming smile, smoothing back his sleek feathers. "Good evening" he replied, his voice a smooth quack. "We're here to see Fang."

Talon's gaze flickered towards Fang, who was deep in conversation with Kev. Fang, sensing the commotion, glanced up and gave a subtle nod.

Talon stepped aside, allowing Ralph to pass, but his arm extended to block the badger man's path. "I'm sorry, sir," he said, his voice firm, "but only Mr. Ralph is allowed in the VIP section at this time."

The badger man bristled at Talon's challenge, his growl echoing. Talon's feathers ruffled in response, his stance mirroring the badger's aggression.

"Relax, Brice," Ralph interjected. "Go get yourself a drink at the bar. This is a safe place."

Brice shot Talon one last menacing glare before turning and heading towards the bar, his heavy footsteps shaking the floor.

Ralph approached Fang and Kev, a charming smile on his face. "Fang, my friend!" he exclaimed, extending a webbed hand. "Good to see you." He turned to Kev, his smile widening. "And to you, the miraculous assistant." He took Kev's hand and brought it to his beak, placing a gentle kiss on his knuckles. "Good to see the old wolf hasn't scared you off yet."

Fang growled, watching his old friend greet Kev. "Not yet," he replied, his arm tightening around Kev's shoulders. He snapped his fingers, summoning Rebecca. "Order whatever you want, Ralph," he said generously. "Rebecca, make sure Reepia knows this is the duck's order. She'll want to handle it personally."

Rebecca nodded, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Right away, Mr. Fang," she replied, disappearing into the bustling crowd after writing down the mallard's order.

Ralph settled into the booth, his gaze sweeping across the room. "Your staff seems to be in a good mood tonight, Fang," he observed.

"They just started a new schedule," Kev explained, a hint of pride in his voice. "One day off a week."

Ralph's eyes shot open in surprise. "A day off?" he echoed, his voice incredulous. "Why on earth would they need a night off? The club's open every night, isn't it?"

Kev patiently explained the concept of work-life balance, highlighting the benefits of rest and rejuvenation for both the employees and the business itself. He spoke of increased productivity, improved morale, and the potential to attract and retain top talent.

Ralph listened intently, his expression a mix of skepticism and consideration. "Well, I'll be," he finally said, shaking his head. "You humans certainly have some... peculiar ideas."

Fang chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the booth. "Unconventional, maybe?" he remarked.

"Indeed," Ralph agreed, his voice laced with a playful chuckle. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, intricately carved wooden box. He slid it across the table towards Kev.

"Fang is impossible to buy for," Ralph explained, his tone lighthearted, "so I thought you might appreciate a little gift."

Kev's eyes widened in surprise and gratitude. "Thank you, Ralph," he said, carefully opening the box.

Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, was a dense, amber-colored block of what Kev recognized as weed oil. It was far larger than anything he'd ever seen before, its potent aroma filling the booth with a sweet, tangy scent.

"Wow," Kev breathed, his eyes wide with amazement. "This is... a lot."

Fang leaned closer, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Do you know what it is?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

"Yes," Kev replied, his voice a mix of awe and excitement. "But I've never seen this much before."

Fang chuckled, his chest rumbling with amusement. "It's a fine gift, Ralph," he said, his gaze lingering on the potent concentrate. "Thank you."

Ralph nodded, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "I wanted to get you something special to celebrate your success with the… recent deal you closed with those VIPs," he explained. "And it seemed like your little human here enjoys the occasional indulgence."

Fang's grin widened. "He does," he confirmed, his arm tightening around Kev's shoulders.

Ralph leaned back in his seat, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I haven't seen you in so many years, Fang," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "Your visit last week... It reminded me of the good old days. It seems your little human has helped you regain some of your... spark."

Fang's grin turned into a playful scowl. "I never lost it, duck," he retorted, his voice a low rumble. "But Kev here is definitely my good luck charm." He looked down at Kev, his eyes softening. "Would you like to try some of this oil?" he asked, gesturing towards the box.

Kev hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "I don't think I can, I've got no way to smoke it," he admitted, his voice a soft murmur.

Fang laughed, a deep, hearty sound that echoed through the booth. "We'll get Horns over here," he said, waving at the bartender. "He's an expert in these matters."

Ralph grinned. "How's the big brute doing, anyway?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine affection.

"Horns is the same as always," Fang replied with a shrug. "Reliable, loyal, and always ready with a joint and a bad joke."

"That's good to hear," Ralph said, nodding in agreement. "He's a good man, that moose."

Fang raised his hand, catching Rebecca's eye. "Waitress," he called out, his voice commanding, "could you fetch Horns for us?"

"Of course, Mr. Fang," Rebecca replied, disappearing into the crowd.

Ralph's sudden laughter boomed across the VIP table, his eyes tearing up. "Hey, remember that time those strippers were trying to get you drunk?" he cackled, slapping his webbed hand on the table. "And that short tomcat told you to pay him or he'd break your hands!"

Fang scowled, taking a long sip of his drink to hide his embarrassment.

"If Horns hadn't pulled you off him, you would've probably killed him," Ralph continued, his laughter echoing through the booth. "And then you swung at Horns! You should've seen your face when you realized what you did! I wish I had a camera!"

Fang's scowl deepened. "That was a long time ago, duck," he grumbled. "And if I remember correctly, you were the one who hired those strippers and didn't pay… You know I don't even care for ladies."

Ralph's laughter only intensified. "It was your birthday, Fang!" he wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. "I was just trying to make it memorable… didn't I?"

Kev, amused by the playful banter between the two friends, chuckled. "It does sound memorable," he agreed, a smile playing on his lips.

"Don't worry, Kev," Fang reassured. "Ralph won't be invited to my birthday."

Ralph burst into quacking laughter once more, his voice echoing through the booth. "You know I'll find out when and where it is, Fang," he retorted, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "And I'll be sure to not pay male strippers this time!"

After a minute of collecting himself, Ralph concluded, "this human has really mellowed you out, and I love it."

Fang's ears flattened against his head. "What do you mean by that, Ralph?" he asked, his tone a mix of amusement and challenge.

"Just look at you," Ralph said, gesturing towards Fang with his wing. "Sitting here, talking, enjoying a quiet drink. You've always been too high-energy to sit still. When we were younger, it was fine, but now..." He paused, his gaze shifting to Kev. "The wolf hasn't left the club in years, Kev, because he'd just get into fights everywhere he went."

Fang growled, his fur bristling slightly. "I have no patience for idiots, Ralph," he retorted, his voice a low rumble. "I don't need to give the city more ammunition to use against me and my property."

"What has it been, three or four years?" Ralph continued, a hint of concern in his voice. "This self-imposed isolation has turned you into a cult figure out in the city. People have made up all sorts of rumors about you,."

Fang shrugged, his expression nonchalant. "Let them talk," he said dismissively. "I didn't leave simply because I didn't want to. The club is my life, my sanctuary."

He took a sip of his drink, his gaze drifting towards the dance floor, where the energy was starting to build.

Chapter Text

Horns approached the booth, his eyes widening as he spotted the box in front of Kev. "Whoa," he exclaimed, his voice a low rumble. "I'll be right back." He disappeared into the crowd, leaving Kev and Fang to exchange puzzled glances.

"Not even a hello," Fang chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

Ralph joined in the laughter. "You're right," he agreed. "Horns hasn't changed a bit."

Just then, Rebecca arrived with Ralph's order, a steaming plate of gourmet delicacies and a crystal glass filled with a vibrant cocktail. The aroma of exotic spices and fresh herbs filled the air, tempting Kev's taste buds despite his recent meal.

"Horns is going to be joining us," Kev informed Rebecca. "Could you bring him some water, please?"

"Of course," Rebecca replied with a warm smile. She quickly returned with a glass of ice water, placing it on the table before disappearing back into the bustling crowd.

Ralph savored each bite of his meal, his movements slow and deliberate. "Reepia is the same as ever, too," he remarked between mouthfuls. "Her cooking might have even gotten better… if that's possible."

Horns returned to the VIP table, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. He held aloft a gleaming glass contraption that Kev immediately recognized as some sort of bong.

"Howdy, folks," Horns boomed, nodding at Talon as he squeezed into the booth next to Kev, effectively sandwiching the human between himself and Fang.

With a practiced hand, Horns placed the bong on the table and carefully chipped off a small chunk from the block of weed oil. He loaded the sticky substance into the bowl, then produced a lighter from his pocket and began heating a metal nail embedded in the glass.

His eyes scanned the table, finally landing on Ralph. "Oh, hey there, Ralph," he said with a casual wave. "Long time no see."

Ralph, his attention momentarily diverted from his meal, nodded in greeting. "Horns," he acknowledged, his voice a friendly quack. He returned to his plate, savoring each bite of his gourmet creation.

Kev watched with fascination as Horns inhaled deeply from the bong, his massive lungs expanding, drawing in the potent vapor. Horns held his breath for a moment, his eyes closed in concentration, before exhaling a thick cloud of smoke.

"Oh yeah," Horns sighed, a contented smile spreading across his face. "That's the good stuff." He looked down at Kev, remembering why he was here. "Wanna try?"

Kev nodded eagerly, his curiosity piqued. "Please," he said, his voice a bit breathless.

Horns chuckled and prepared another hit, carefully heating the nail and loading the bowl with a fresh piece of the concentrate. Kev had to stand up to reach the mouthpiece, the bong clearly designed for someone of Horns's stature.

He inhaled deeply, the potent vapor filling his lungs with a surprising intensity. A coughing fit ensued, his body wracked with spasms as he struggled to catch his breath.

Horns laughed heartily, patting Kev's back with a reassuring hand. "Easy there, kid," he said, his voice a booming rumble. "That stuff's not for the faint of heart."

Kev, his eyes watering, managed a weak grin. "Worth it," he rasped, the effects of the potent herb already starting to take hold.

Ralph, having finished his meal, leaned back in his seat with a satisfied sigh. "So, Fang," he inquired, his voice a smooth quack, "what's next on the agenda?"

Fang's gaze shifted to the pool table visible through the open doorway of the game room. "I was thinking of watching kev shoot some pool," he replied, a playful glint in his eyes. "He has a private billiards room now. It's a bit quieter there."

Ralph's smile widened. "That sounds great," he said. "I know if Asmodeus sees me, it might cause some... drama."

Kev, feeling the full effects of the potent herb, leaned into Fang, his head resting on the wolfman's shoulder. A wave of warmth and contentment washed over him, his anxieties momentarily forgotten.

Fang's hand instinctively found its way to Kev's hair, gently stroking the soft strands. "Let's go then," he said, his voice a low rumble.

They stood up, leaving their empty plates on the table. Fang waved at Talon. "Stay here," he instructed. "We'll be back in a bit."

Talon nodded, his gaze following them as they walked towards the game room.

Kev, his steps a bit unsteady from the potent oil, clung to Fang's arm for support. Ralph and Horns chatted amicably behind them as they walked though the quieter east wing. They entered the billiards room, its cozy atmosphere a welcome contrast to the bustling bar. The only sounds were the soft click of the billiard balls as Kev set up the table and the crackling of the fire.

"I'll play too," Ralph announced, his voice cheerful.

Horns and Fang settled into the plush armchairs by the fireplace, their gazes fixed on the pool table.

Kev, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, raised a hand in mock warning. "No bets tonight, gentlemen," he declared.

Fang let out a playful growl, his ears flattening against his head. Ralph raised an eyebrow.

"You've already seen the old dog gamble," Ralph remarked, his voice a smooth quack. "What did he lose this time?"

Fang's growl deepened, a warning rumble that echoed through the room.

"If he wants to tell you, he will," Kev said.

Horns laughed heartily. "That's right, Ralph," he chimed in. "Don't push your luck. You don't want the dog to bite."

"Sometimes I think he has rabies," Ralph joked.

The click-clack of billiard balls filled the room as Kev and Ralph took turns at the pool table. They weren't playing a formal game, just enjoying the casual back-and-forth of friendly competition. The atmosphere was relaxed, a stark contrast to the earlier tension in the VIP booth.

Meanwhile, Fang and Horns settled into a conversation by the fireplace, their voices a low murmur that blended with the crackling flames.

"How's the staff adjusting to the new schedule?" Kev overheard Fang inquire, his tone laced with a hint of concern.

Horns sighed, taking a long drag from his joint. "It's a bit chaotic, to be honest," he admitted. "Everyone's still figuring out their new shifts, and there's been a few scheduling conflicts. But it'll get better. Once the new hires are fully trained, things should smooth out."

Ralph, who had been listening intently, shook his head in disbelief. "I still think it's madness to have to train all those new people," he remarked, his voice a disapproving quack. "It's a lot of extra work for everyone."

Kev, lining up a particularly tricky shot, chimed in. "The idea is that there will be less staff turnover in the long run," he explained. "By giving everyone a day off, they'll be happier and more likely to stay. So, after this initial period of training, you'll actually have less work to do in the future."

"Well, if it works, I'll be the first person to steal the idea from you, kid," Ralph declared, raising his glass in a mock toast.

Horns burst into laughter, his booming voice echoing through the room. "That's Ralph for you," he said, shaking his head in amusement. "Always looking for an angle."

Ralph turned to Kev, his expression more serious. "Turnover is an issue for me too," he admitted, his voice a thoughtful quack. "It's hard to find good, reliable staff these days. Everyone wants the easy jobs, the ones that pay well and require minimal effort."

"No job is easy if you have to commit every day to it," Kev said, his voice filled with conviction. "Give people a chance to catch their breath, and they'll be more productive in the long run."

Fang nodded thoughtfully. "It's a trial run," he reminded him. "We'll see what the real results are in a month."

"Even Cindy's looking forward to her day off," Kev added with a smile.

"That old deer," Ralph said, shaking his head. "If she didn't like the idea, Fang would have never even considered it. She's the real boss around here, you know."

Kev missed his shot, the cue ball bouncing off the cushion and rolling to a stop in the middle of the table. A pang of frustration shot through him, momentarily breaking his concentration.

His thoughts drifted back to his earlier conversation with Cindy. He couldn't shake the feeling that her approval, her subtle encouragement of his relationship with Fang, held a significant weight. It was as if she was passing the torch, entrusting him with the care and well-being of the wolfman she'd known since childhood.

He thought of the way she had meticulously redecorated his apartment, adding personal touches and creating a sense of warmth and comfort. He thought of her insistence on him stocking his kitchen with snacks and drinks, her subtle reminders to create a welcoming space for guests. It was clear that Cindy valued domesticity, a nurturing instinct that extended beyond her role as the head of housekeeping.

A sudden realization struck him. If Cindy didn't like him, Fang probably wouldn't either. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, a reminder of the precariousness of his position. He needed to continue proving himself, not just to Fang, but to the entire Club Fang family.

Horns, observing the game with a keen eye, turned to Ralph with a friendly grin. "So, Ralph, how's business been?" he inquired, his voice a booming rumble.

Ralph, lining up a shot with practiced precision, sank the ball into the corner pocket with a satisfying click. "Booming, Horns, booming," he replied confidently. "The city grows every year, and every year, more rich folk want to spend money on my food. I'm even thinking of opening a third location soon."

Kev, impressed by Ralph's success, couldn't help but ask, "Where?"

Ralph shrugged, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I don't know yet," he admitted. "Inspiration hasn't struck me yet."

"As long as you put enough zeros at the end of your prices, some rich idiot will call it exclusive," Fang quipped, a playful glint in his eyes.

Ralph laughed, a hearty sound that filled the room. "Look who's talking," he retorted, gesturing towards the opulent surroundings of the billiards room.

Kev, inspired by the ongoing conversation, chimed in with an idea. "With all the issues you've been having with the city, Fang," he suggested, "wouldn't it be nice if you could make some sort of deal with Ralph to promote the park? Didn't you say you take your morning walks there, Ralph?"

Kev, his enthusiasm growing, continued, "If you could get rich city folks to appreciate the park more, they're bound to want to protect it. And if the city goes on for miles and miles, what could be more exclusive than… dining in the woods?" He looked up, eager to gauge Fang and Ralph's reactions to his idea.

Ralph's gaze also shifted towards Fang, a glimmer of intrigue in his eyes. They both waited for Fang's response, the air thick with anticipation.

Fang tapped his fingers on the table, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "We made a deal to maintain it as a park," he mused, his voice a low rumble. "I don't know if this would violate any of the terms..."

Ralph, however, was already envisioning the possibilities. "It's a fun idea, Kev," he said, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "My creative juices are already starting to flow." He gestured animatedly with his wings. "Bonfires, string lights, live theater, grills and tents... We could create a truly magical experience."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the room. "There's already a large pavilion in the center of the park," he continued. "Carriages could bring the customers from the edge of the park to the center, adding to the sense of exclusivity. And imagine a circular bar in the middle of the dining area, serving up my signature cocktails and gourmet constructions." He spun around, his excitement contagious.

Fang, though amused by Ralph's enthusiasm, raised a cautionary hand. "Don't get too excited yet, duck," he warned. "It's not a done deal. We need to make sure it's feasible, both legally and logistically."

Ralph waved a dismissive wing. "Oh, but it is… or will be," he declared, his voice brimming with confidence. "I've already decided. My lawyers will begin to deal with the legal side tomorrow."

Fang barked out a laugh, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You get a restaurant, but what do I get out of this, Ralph?"

Ralph winced slightly, his feathers ruffling. He turned to Kev, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yes, Kev," he said, his voice a teasing quack, "what does Fang get out of this?"

Kev, emboldened by Fang's earlier approval, met Ralph's gaze with a confident smile. "Fang gets something much more valuable than a restaurant," he explained, his voice firm. "He gets a bargaining chip."

He paused, letting the words sink in. "People like the park, Ralph, but it's just land with trees. If a part of it is transformed into an exclusive restaurant for the city's elite, they'll feel like it's something of their own. They'll want to protect it, to preserve it."

Kev's smile widened. "If the city ever tries to shut down the club again," he continued, his voice laced with a hint of steel, "Fang can threaten to sell the park as well, effectively shutting down their fancy hangout spot. That's leverage, Ralph. Real power."

Ralph's eyes widened in surprise, his beak agape. "Well, I'll be," he muttered, clearly impressed by Kev's strategic thinking.

Fang, however, remained unconvinced. "That's good, Kev," he said, his voice a low rumble, "but I don't know if it's enough." He leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "The city council is relentless. They'll find a way to circumvent any obstacles we put in their path."

Kev, determined to sway Fang's opinion, continued, "There are a few smaller things too. People will be able to see the club from the restaurant, or at least the long line of cars leading up to it. That's free advertising, specifically targeted at high-net-worth individuals."

He then turned to Ralph with a mischievous grin. "And," he added, "you could always pay rent and park cleaning fees."

Ralph squawked in mock outrage. "Hey! I got you a present today!"

Horns burst into laughter, his booming voice echoing through the room. "That's the spirit, Kev," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "Hit him where it hurts - his wallet."

Fang's growl subsided, replaced by a thoughtful frown. "Everyone knows about the club, Kev," he insisted, his voice a low rumble. "It's a legend in its own right."

Kev raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Are you sure?" he challenged. "Talon's sister said she thought you were a myth."

Fang's frown deepened, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "She called me something odd too, if I remember correctly," he chuckled.

Kev laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet room. "Point taken," he conceded. "But there are always new people coming to the city, young and upcoming socialites who don't know all the deeper secrets. They don't always have someone there to guide them."

He leaned forward, his voice filled with conviction. "This exclusive restaurant will get people talking about the club again, Fang. And not just in the usual circles. It'll reach the ears of those who can afford Ralph's exorbitant prices. It'll create a buzz, a sense of mystery and exclusivity that will draw them in."

Fang's smile returned, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "That does sound... unconventional," he admitted, a hint of admiration in his voice. "I like it."

Ralph, his drink raised in a mock toast, fixed his gaze on Fang. "You better be paying that human well," he quipped, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "He's a valuable asset." With a final wink, he rose from his seat. "I'm out. Gonna head back to the bar to force Dale to make me another drink. I'll meet you guys there later."

Horns, following suit, stretched his massive frame and yawned. "Gotta get back to work too," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He looked at Kev and grinned. "Uh… I'll hang onto that oil for you since you don't have a way to smoke it yet... I'll bring it by in the morning."

"Thanks, Horns," Kev replied with a smile.

Horns grinned and waved goodbye, lumbering out of the room, leaving Kev and Fang alone once more.

"Care to join me on the patio while I smoke?" Kev asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Fang's tail wagged excitedly. "After you," he replied, his voice a low rumble filled with warmth.

Kev led the way out onto the patio, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the billiards room. He settled onto a bench, pulling out his cigarette case and the bag of herbs Ralph had gifted him.

Kev inhaled deeply from the joint, the potent aroma of Ralph's finest flowers filling his lungs. He exhaled slowly, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "That was a good idea, my sweet," Fang murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Having control of the city's newest and hottest restaurant would be a valuable asset to our operations."

Kev's heart swelled with a sense of accomplishment. "Anything to help," he replied, a shy smile playing on his lips. "I hope I didn't overstep, though."

"Not at all, Kev," Fang assured him, his hand reaching out to gently cup Kev's cheek. "You've had many great ideas. Things I would never have thought of on my own. I need you here, by my side." His gaze intensified, his amber eyes glowing in the moonlight. "You're my good luck charm."

He leaned in, pulling Kev closer, their bodies pressed together on the bench. Just as their lips were about to meet, a voice echoed from the balcony above, shattering the intimate moment.

"Kiss him, human!" Sabrina's voice, a playful yet demanding shriek, cut through the night air. "That hot wolf daddy wants it!"

Kev and Fang pulled apart, their cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and amusement. They glanced up at the balcony, where Sabrina leaned with a mischievous grin on her face, her wheelchair parked behind her.

Kev, his cheeks still flushed from the interrupted kiss, playfully retorted, "Don't be a third wheel just because you're jealous, Sabrina!"

Sabrina let out an exaggerated groan. "Ugh, you slor," she whined." "You better tell me all about it tomorrow." She paused, her gaze lingering on Fang with a playful smirk. "Fang, you're looking hot as always. Love you!" With a final burst of laughter, she rolled back into her apartment, leaving Kev and Fang alone on the patio.

Fang stood up, straightening his suit and hiding a grin. He cleared his throat. "Let's head back to the bar, Kev," he said, a touch of regret in his tone. "One more drink, and then it's bedtime for you."

Kev's heart sank slightly, but he understood the demands of Fang's responsibilities. "Will you walk me to my room tonight?" he asked, his voice soft and hopeful.

Fang sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I wish I could, Kev," he admitted, his gaze meeting Kev's with a mixture of longing and apology. "But Ralph and I have more to discuss regarding a change in shipping schedules and weights. It's important that we get this sorted out tonight."

Kev leaned into Fang, seeking comfort in his warmth and strength. "I understand…" he murmured.

They returned to the VIP booth, the familiar buzz of the club enveloping them once more. Dale, ever attentive, appeared with their drinks, a Bloody Mary for Fang and a Cape Cod for Kev.

"Ralph got a drink and wandered off into one of the private rooms," Dale informed Fang with a knowing grin.

Fang sighed, shaking his head in amusement. "That duck," he muttered under his breath.

Dale chuckled. "Don't worry, boss," he reassured Fang. "He won't last long. He's got a weak constitution."

"If you see him, remind him that we still have business to discuss tonight," Fang instructed, his tone firm.

"Will do," Dale replied with a wink. He turned to Kev, his expression softening. "Enjoy your drink, Kev," he said, before heading back to the bar.

Kev savored his Cape Cod, Dale's drinks always were poured so well, his consistency was impeccable. The alcohol warmed his blood, easing the lingering tension from being denied by Fang once more.

Fang, having finished his drink, rose from his seat and gestured to Talon. "It's getting late, Kev," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Talon will escort you to your room."

Kev nodded, a hint of disappointment flickering in his eyes. He really would have preferred Fang to walk him upstairs. He stood and kissed Fang, "I hope you and Ralph have a good time tonight."

As Kev and Talon made their way through the bustling club, Kev turned to Talon, curious. "So, what do you think of Ralph?" he asked, remembering the duck man's playful banter with Fang.

"He seems... interesting," Talon replied cautiously, his gaze scanning the crowd. "A businessman, from what I gather. And he seems to know everyone here from way back."

Kev chuckled. "Yeah, he and Fang go way back. They seem to have a... unique dynamic."

They reached Kev's apartment door, and Talon paused, his expression serious. "Good night, Kev," he said, his voice a low rasp. "And remember, lock your door."

"Goodnight, Talon," Kev replied. "And tell your sister she shouldn't be a third wheel."

Talon's brow furrowed in confusion. "A third wheel?" he echoed. "What does that mean?"

"She'll know," he said, winking at Talon before closing the door.

Alone in his apartment, Kev couldn't help but sigh, he really thought that he would have had the chance to enjoy Fang's company on the private patio... He climbed into bed, the soft sheets a welcome embrace, and drifted off to sleep, his dreams filled with images of wolves and ducks having a tea party in the woods.

Chapter Text

Dawn arrived, painting the sky with soft hues of pink and orange. Kev groaned as he pulled himself from the comfortable bed. It was more difficult this morning as he thought of being turned down once more… At least Fang got to spend time with his old friend. Kev showered, dressed in comfortable clothes, and brewed a pot of coffee, the aroma filling his apartment with a welcoming warmth.

Remembering Horns's early morning visits, Kev prepared a plate of food for the mooseman, arranging a bagel, some fruit, and a slice of cheese on a plate. He opened the windows to let in the fresh air and lit a few scented candles, their gentle fragrance adding a touch of serenity to the space.

Just as he was settling down with his own cup of coffee, a knock echoed through the apartment. He opened the door to find Horns, red eyed, a tired but satisfied smile on his face.

"Morning, Kev," Horns greeted him with a slur, stepping inside and placing the water pipe and Kev's bag of weed oil on the coffee table.

His eyes lit up at the sight of the prepared plate. "Thanks, buddy," he said, grabbing the food and digging in.

Kev chuckled, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "How was the night after I left?" he asked, taking a seat opposite Horns.

"Good," Horns replied, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "Oh, Ralph is always a good time. We had a few laughs… reminisced about the old days..."

Kev took a sip of his coffee. "Ralph was telling a story last night," he began hesitantly, "about a time when Fang took a swing at you."

Horns's cheeks flushed slightly, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, about that..." he mumbled, his voice a low rumble. "I didn't mean to hit him back so hard."

"Oh," Kev said, surprised. "I didn't hear that part of the story."

Horns sighed, shaking his head. "The boss was going nuts, beating on some cat who'd insulted him," he explained. "I had to pull him off, but he was seeing red. He got me with a lucky hook, so I... well, I headbutted him… The boss was out of it for a day," Horns continued, a hint of concern in his voice, "but he recovered. Not the best birthday present, though." 

Horns then glanced at the bag of weed oil on the table. "I had a bit of this last night," he confessed "Hope you don't mind."

Kev waved a dismissive hand. "Not at all," he replied with a smile. "You've been more than kind to me, Horns. If you like it, have at it."

"If you say so," Horns said with a grin. He packed and took a deep inhale from the water pipe. He exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "I'll leave this here then," he said, gesturing towards the bong. "I'll take it back when I wake up."

"No worries," Kev replied, appreciating the gesture. "Thanks again, Horns."

Horns's gaze shifted to the bags on the counter from the evening before. "Did you try on those swimming trunks yet?" he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Kev's cheeks flushed slightly as he remembered the forgotten item. "Not yet," he admitted, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "I completely forgot about them."

"Well, make sure you do today," Horns urged. "It's a scorcher out there, and that pool is begging to be used."

"I will," Kev promised. "Oh, and Horns?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you grab me some toilet paper while you're at the market?" Kev asked, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. "I'm running low."

Horns chuckled. "Sure thing, Kev," he replied. "I like the good stuff too. Soft and fluffy." 

Horns slapped his knees, stood, and with a final wave, left the apartment, leaving Kev to his own devices.

Kev, feeling the effects of the potent oil, carefully stashed the water pipe and the remaining herbs in his kitchen counter, away from prying eyes. He then returned to the kitchen, filled the kettle with more water, and set it on the stove to boil.

As he waited for the water to heat, he selected a new music scroll from the box and inserted it into the player piano. A lively waltz filled the apartment, its cheerful melody that helped wake him up. He was anticipating Cindy and Max's now customary morning visit.

He grabbed a cleaning cloth and meticulously wiped down the coffee table and couch, ensuring everything was spotless for his guest. He was just finishing up when a gentle knock echoed through the apartment.

Kev set the cleaning cloth aside and made his way to the door, a welcoming smile on his face.

Cindy, as usual, wasted no time in making herself at home. She bustled into the kitchen, her practiced hands reaching for the teapot and cups. Max, on the other hand, settled onto the couch with a relaxed sigh.

"Didn't give me any surprises yesterday, Kev," he remarked with a playful grin. "Thought something might have been wrong."

Kev chuckled, shaking his head. "Just a quiet day," he replied. "Cant expect me to be exciting all the time."

Just then, Cindy emerged from the kitchen, the water pipe clutched in her hand. A disapproving frown creased her brow. "These stinky things should be locked up," she scolded, her voice a gentle reprimand. "Max, please get Kev a safe."

Max, who had been enjoying the music, straightened up with a start. "Right away, ma'am," he replied, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He shot Kev a knowing wink before disappearing into the hallway. "Exciting."

Cindy placed the water pipe on the counter, then returned with a tray of steaming teacups. She handed one to Kev, her smile warm and inviting.

"You boys and your fun," she said, shaking her head affectionately. "Just remember to be smart about it, too."

She took a sip of her tea, her foot tapping along to the cheerful waltz emanating from the player piano.

Kev blushed slightly, a mix of embarrassment and a feeling of his personal space being violated. He appreciated Cindy's efforts to improve his living quarters, but he also wished she'd given him a heads-up before just barging in.

"How was your evening with Ralph?" Cindy asked, sipping her tea.

"He seemed good," Kev replied, taking a sip of his tea. "We played some pool, and he and Fang laughed a lot together. I'm glad they had a chance to hang out."

Cindy nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. "So, Ralph used to work here, right?" Kev asked, remembering the familiarity between Ralph and the other managers. "He seems to know everyone."

A fond smile touched Cindy's lips. "Yes, he did," she confirmed. "He was the manager of the bar, kitchen, and entertainment when the club first opened. Fang had to split those responsibilities among three different managers after Ralph left."

"He must have been a hard worker," Kev observed, impressed.

"He was," Cindy agreed. "It hurt to lose him, but Fang has no hard feelings now. They've both moved on, and their friendship has endured."

Just as Kev was about to ask Cindy more about Ralph, Max returned, accompanied by a hippopotamus cleaner carrying a heavy safe.

"Bedroom closet, right corner," Cindy directed, her voice brisk and efficient.

The hippo nodded and, with surprising agility for his size, maneuvered the safe through the apartment and into Kev's bedroom. He emerged a few minutes later, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. "All done, madam," he reported to Cindy with a respectful bow.

"Thank you, Bartholomew," Cindy replied with a warm smile.

Max clapped a hand on the hippo's back, unable to reach his shoulder "Good work," he said, his voice filled with approval.

As Bartholomew left the apartment, Cindy turned to Kev and Max. "Well, I believe we must take our leave as well," she announced, rising from the couch. "Duty calls."

Max nodded, his gaze shifting to the safe. "Combination's on the door," he reminded Kev. "Don't forget it."

With a final wave, Cindy and Max left the apartment, leaving Kev alone once more.

Kev chuckled to himself as he spotted the safe tucked away in the corner of his closet. A small key dangled from its handle. "Easy enough combination to remember," Kev thought, a smile playing on his lips. He added the key to his growing keychain, its weight a comforting reminder of the support and care he'd received from the club's staff.

Heeding Cindy's earlier warning, Kev carefully placed the water pipe and the bag of weed oil inside the safe, securing it with the key. He wasn't quite ready to experiment with the potent concentrate again, and he didn't want to risk anyone else stumbling upon it.

He glanced out the window, the afternoon sun still blazing in the sky. The heat was stifling, and the pool's shimmering waters beckoned him with a siren's call. With a surge of anticipation, he retrieved the swimsuit from the bag that Horns had brought him the previous day.

It was a simple pair of blue swim trunks, surprisingly stylish and well-fitting. He quickly changed, grabbing a towel from the linen closet, and headed out to the pool, eager to escape the heat and enjoy a moment of relaxation.

As he emerged from the mansion, his bare feet sinking into the soft grass, he caught a few curious glances from the cleaning crew working nearby. Their surprise was understandable; he was a stark contrast to their usual surroundings, his pale skin and lean physique a far cry from the fur-covered or scaled bodies they were accustomed to.

Kev, finally unphazed by their stares, continued towards the pool, a sense of liberation washing over him. The day's summer heat, even this early in the morning, was relentless, and the prospect of a refreshing swim was too tempting to resist. He reached the poolside and tossed his towel and cigarette case onto a nearby lounge chair.

He sat on the edge, dangling his feet in the cool water, a contented sigh escaping his lips. The contrast between the scorching air and the refreshing water was exhilarating. Then, with a playful grin, he pushed himself off the edge and plunged into the pool.

The cool water enveloped him, a welcome respite from the oppressive heat. He surfaced with a gasp, his hair slicked back against his head. He floated on his back, his limbs spread wide, letting the water carry him wherever it willed. The sun beat down on his face, its warmth a gentle caress against his skin. For the first time since his arrival, without Fang close, Kev felt truly at peace.

The gentle rocking of the water and the warmth of the sun lulled Kev into a peaceful state of semi-consciousness. He drifted along the surface of the pool, his thoughts drifting lazily like clouds in a summer sky. A faint sound, a rustling in the bushes perhaps, reached his ears, but he dismissed it as a trick of his imagination.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over him, blocking out the sun. Kev's eyes snapped open, and he looked up in surprise to see Talon descending towards him from the sky. The eagleman, his powerful wings outstretched, was flying right at him.

"Talon!" Kev yelled, startled by the unexpected sight.

Talon, realizing his mistake a moment too late, attempted to pull up, his wings beating furiously against the air. But it was too late. With a resounding splash, he crashed into Kev, sending both of them tumbling beneath the surface.

They emerged a few seconds later, gasping for air and sputtering water. Kev, his hair plastered to his forehead, glared at Talon. "What the hell, Talon?!" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of shock and annoyance.

From the balcony above, a burst of laughter echoed through the garden. Kev looked up to see Sabrina leaning over the railing, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Did you save the human from drowning, brother?" she called down, her voice a playful chirp.

Talon sputtered, spitting out a mouthful of chlorinated water. "I'm going to get you for this, sister!" he yelled up at the balcony, his voice echoing across the quiet garden. He then turned to Kev, a sheepish expression on his face.

"I'm so sorry about this, Kev," he rasped quickly. "Sabrina saw you... well, she said you were drowning, and I'd just woken up and..." He trailed off, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I... I'm sorry."

Talon climbed out of the pool, his wet feathers clinging to his muscular frame. He shook himself vigorously, sending a spray of water droplets in all directions.

"My pants are soaked," he grumbled, his voice a low rasp. "Ugh, I don't have any more pajamas until I do laundry next week."

Kev, still chuckling at the unexpected turn of events, offered a solution. "There's a laundry chute in the mansion," he explained. "Just toss your clothes in, and Cindy's crew will take care of them for you."

Talon's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?" he asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"Yeah," Kev confirmed. "It's pretty convenient."

Talon quickly stripped off his wet pants, revealing a pair of long, tight-fitting black briefs. He wrung the water out of his pants, then hung them over a nearby chair to dry.

"It's hot already," he remarked, fanning himself with his wings. He looked up at the balcony, his gaze settling on his sister. "Sabrina, are you coming?" he called out.

"Hold your horses, brother," Sabrina replied, her voice a playful chirp. "I'll be right down."

Chapter Text

With a relieved sigh, Talon slipped back into the pool, his powerful wings momentarily disturbing the tranquil water. Kev, the rush of adrenalin residing, resumed his leisurely laps, the rhythmic strokes a soothing balm to his muscles.

Talon, inspired by Kev's effortless movements, attempted to mimic his strokes. But his large wings, unaccustomed to such confined spaces, proved to be a hindrance. He flapped and splashed, creating a miniature tidal wave that sent Kev sputtering and laughing.

Just then, Sabrina emerged from the mansion, her wheelchair expertly navigating the patio's smooth tiles. She was clad in a bright red bikini that accentuated her curves, a pair of oversized sunglasses perched on her beak.

"Now this is more like it," she declared, parking herself in a sunny spot and basking in the warmth.

Talon, a mischievous grin on his face, splashed water at his sister, eliciting a playful shriek.

Kev, energized by the cool water and the playful atmosphere, showcased his swimming prowess, effortlessly transitioning between front crawl, butterfly, and backstroke. Talon, determined to keep up, attempted to mimic Kev's movements but struggled to maintain his pace. His large wings, though powerful in flight, proved cumbersome in the water, slowing him down and hindering his strokes.

After a few laps, Kev took a break, retreating to the shade of the oak tree. He lit a cigarette, enjoying the contrast between the cool shade and the warmth of the sun on his skin.

Sabrina, propelled by her new wheelchair, rolled over to join him. "Why hide over here?" she asked, a playful lilt in her voice. "It's beautiful out." She paused, her gaze fixed on the joint in Kev's hand. "Also, gimme a hit."

Kev chuckled and passed her the joint. He watched as Talon continued his valiant but ultimately futile attempts to master the butterfly stroke.

"Sunburn," Kev said.

"Sun what?" Sabrina asked, passing the joint back to Kev.

"If I'm out in the sun too long, my skin burns," Kev clarified.

Sabrina burst into laughter, her voice echoing through the garden. "Wow, sucks to be human," she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Sabrina, ever the inquisitive one, leaned back in her wheelchair, a sly grin on her face. "So, how did it go?" she asked, her voice a playful chirp. "Did Fang finally court you last night?"

Kev coughed, a surprised laugh escaping his lips. He passed the joint back to Sabrina, his cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and amusement. "I invite him back to my room every night," he confessed, shaking his head. "The only night he wasn't too busy, he fell asleep before I could even use the bathroom."

Sabrina held in her hit, her eyes widening in surprise. She nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression on her face. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she passed the joint back to Kev.

Sabrina took a long drag from the joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke that swirled in the warm afternoon air. "From what I can tell, Fang's a typical alpha," she remarked, her voice a mix of amusement and understanding. "Gotta be solving problems If you want him to focus on you, just give him one. Say something like, 'Baby, I'm so lustful for you. I cry every night when you aren't there to smother me in kisses. My eyes might wander if you don't quench my thirst, hot wolf daddy.'"

Kev burst into laughter, surprised by Sabrina's boldness. He couldn't imagine himself ever saying something so overtly suggestive to Fang, but the image of the wolfman's flustered reaction was undeniably amusing.

Talon, who had been silently observing their interaction from the pool, looked over, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What's so funny?" he asked, his voice a low rasp.

Kev and Sabrina exchanged a conspiratorial glance, their laughter subsiding into giggles.

Kev, eager to change the subject and showcase his swimming skills, took another puff of the joint and grinned. "I've got one more swimming style I know," he announced, his voice filled with playful confidence. "Breaststroke."

Talon frowned, a puzzled expression on his face. "Breaststroke?" he echoed, his voice a low rasp. "That sounds... vulgar."

Kev laughed, shaking his head. "Just watch," he said, diving back into the pool with a graceful arc.

He swam a few laps using the breaststroke technique, his movements smooth and rhythmic. His body undulated through the water, his arms and legs propelling him forward with a powerful yet controlled motion.

As he reached the edge of the pool, he pulled himself up, water cascading down his toned chest. "It's a different set of movements than the others," he explained to Talon, who was watching intently from the poolside. "Maybe your wings won't stick out as much with this one."

Talon, his curiosity piqued, nodded slowly. "I'll give it a try," he said, his voice a determined rasp.

He dove into the water, his powerful wings momentarily disrupting the surface. He surfaced a few feet away from Kev, his expression a mix of concentration and frustration as he attempted to mimic Kev's breaststroke technique.

Talon, with his natural athleticism and keen observation skills, quickly picked up the breaststroke technique. Kev watched in admiration as the eagleman glided through the water, his wings tucked neatly against his back, his movements smooth and efficient. It was a stark contrast to his earlier struggles with the other strokes.

Talon, sensing Kev's approval, beamed with pride. "This is much easier," he remarked, his voice a satisfied rasp. "My wings don't get in the way at all."

Sabrina, who had been lounging in the sun, suddenly sat up straighter, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Race!" she declared, her voice a playful chirp. "Loser does a lap around the house!"

Kev and Talon exchanged glances, a competitive spark igniting in both their eyes.

"You don't have to do this, Kev," Talon said, a hint of concern in his voice. "I'm sure your human feet would get pretty sore if you had to run all the way around the mansion."

Kev grinned, a playful challenge in his eyes. "I think I can manage," he retorted. "Maybe your legs are just soft from flying around so much."

Talon's eyes narrowed, his competitive spirit ignited. "How many laps is this race?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

Sabrina, her voice echoing across the pool, declared, 'Four laps! Loser runs around the mansion. On your marks… onetwothreeGO!'

Kev and Talon lunged forward, their bodies slicing through the water with powerful strokes. The race was neck-and-neck, Talon's raw strength and athleticism pitted against Kev's refined technique and determination.

Lap after lap, they battled, neither willing to yield an inch. But as they approached the final turn, Kev pulled ahead, his streamlined breaststroke propelling him towards the finish line with a burst of speed.

He touched the wall, gasping for air, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. Talon, mere inches behind, surfaced with a frustrated caw. He'd lost, fair and square.

Sabrina, perched by the edge of the pool, clapped her hands in delight. 'Looks like you're going for a run, brother!' she teased.

Talon, his pride wounded but his sense of honor intact, nodded solemnly. 'A bet's a bet,' he muttered, climbing out of the pool and shaking the water from his feathers. He then took off at a sprint, disappearing around the corner of the mansion.

Kev, still catching his breath, watched Talon go, a mix of amusement and admiration in his eyes. He turned to Sabrina, a playful smile on his face.

'Your brother's a good sport,' he remarked.

Sabrina chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. 'He's also a sore loser,' she retorted. 'But he'll get over it. He always does.'

Sabrina stretched out on her chair, the back reclined, soaking up the warmth of the afternoon sun. "I guess things aren't that bad here," she conceded, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"I agree," Kev replied, settling back onto the bench under the oak tree. "It's definitely... different. But there's a certain charm to this place, a sense of community and belonging that I haven't felt in a long time."

Sabrina nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. "It's peaceful," she mused, "and only the cleaners stare at me."

"They keep an eye on everyone, not just you."

She spun her wheelchair around, a playful glint in her eyes. "But I'm special," she retorted with a grin.

Kev laughed, enjoying her infectious energy. He paused, then asked gently, "So... what happened? If you don't mind me asking."

Sabrina's smile faded, replaced by a somber expression. She sighed, her gaze drifting towards the distant horizon. "Car accident," she said simply.

Then, her usual mischievousness returned, and she looked up at Kev with a grin. "How about you, human?" she asked, her voice a playful chirp. "How'd you lose all your fur? Radiation? Fire?"

"This is just... natural," Kev replied, running a hand over his bare arm.

Sabrina's eyes widened in fascination. "It's quite unique," she observed, her voice a soft caw. "Though it seems like it wouldn't be much fun in the winter."

Kev chuckled. "It does have its advantages," he admitted. "It's easy to stay clean, for one thing."

Sabrina smirked. "And you probably save a fortune on shampoo," she teased. "Not much maintenance required to look good for Fang, huh?"

"Don't make me sound so pedestrian, my dear," Kev retorted playfully. "I, of course, have a rigorous beauty regimen."

Sabrina leaned forward, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Do tell, darling," she purred, her voice sounding like a playful imitation of Ophelia's. "How do you achieve such soft, pale skin? It practically glows in the moonlight."

Kev burst into laughter. "It's a secret, Sabrina," he replied, winking at her. "A closely guarded human beauty secret."

He glanced up at the sun, its rays now beating down with an intensity that made him squint. "I'm going to get burnt if I stay out here much longer," he said, rising from the bench. "Want to make us some lunch again? My kitchen is open to you."

Suddenly, Talon appeared, running though the manicured gardens, his chest heaving and his wings slightly ruffled. Kev was impressed by the eagleman's speed, even with his detour around the mansion.

Without a word, Talon dove headfirst into the pool, the water splashing around him as he resurfaced with a gasp.

Sabrina clapped her hands in delight. "Good job, brother!" she cheered. "Your prize is pushing me back to Kev's apartment so I can make lunch."

Talon climbed out of the pool, shaking the water from his feathers. He looked down at Sabrina, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Let's change first," he suggested. "Apparently, there's free laundry here."

Sabrina's face lit up. "Yes!" she exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air. "Now I don't have to ration my outfits. I can wear whatever I want!" She turned to Kev, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Let's go inside!"

Talon carefully maneuvered Sabrina's wheelchair back into the mansion, their laughter echoing through the quiet hallways. Kev, feeling a sense of warmth and contentment after his swim and the playful banter with Talon and Sabrina, headed back to his own apartment to freshen up.

He took a quick shower, the hot water washing away the chlorine. He dressed in a pair of comfortable dress pants and a crisp button-down shirt, leaving his jacket and other accessories in his bedroom. 

As he brewed a fresh pot of coffee, the aroma filling the apartment with a comforting warmth, he heard a knock at the door. He opened it to find Talon and Sabrina, both looking refreshed and ready for the evening ahead. Sabrina had changed into a stylish ensemble of jeans and a graphic tee, her vibrant personality shining through even in casual attire. Talon had a pair of sweatpants and a white sleeveless tee on, it was odd to see the uptight eagle looking so casual. 

"Come on in," Kev greeted them with a smile, stepping aside to let them enter.

Talon carefully maneuvered Sabrina's wheelchair into the living room, while Kev poured three cups of coffee.

Sabrina, with newfound confidence, took charge of the kitchen. She expertly navigated the gas stove and the limited tools, whipping up a simple but satisfying lunch of noodles. Talon, perched on the couch, continued his exploration of the history book, his brow furrowed in concentration. Kev, meanwhile, picked up his guitar and practiced a few chords, the gentle melody filling the apartment with a soothing ambiance.

Talon, his attention momentarily diverted from the book, watched Kev play for a few minutes, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. But then, his gaze returned to the pages, his focus unwavering.

Sabrina emerged from the kitchen, balancing three plates of food. "Lunch is served!" she announced, her voice a cheerful chirp.

They gathered around the coffee table, enjoying the simple meal and the comfortable silence.

"So, what's next?" Sabrina asked, once they'd finished eating. "Any more exciting adventures planned for today?"

Talon shook his head. "We're going food shopping," he replied, his voice a low rasp. "Kev can't be feeding us every day."

Sabrina raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "But his boyfriend is rich," she pointed out. "I doubt he even pays for this food." She looked at Kev expectantly. "Do you?"

Kev blushed slightly, a sheepish grin on his face. "No," he admitted.

Sabrina turned back to Talon, a triumphant smirk on her lips. "See?" she said, her voice a playful chirp.

Talon sighed, shaking his head in amusement. "Sabrina, please," he pleaded, his tone exasperated. "Don't make this harder than it already is."

"When are we going?" Sabrina pressed, her excitement palpable.

Talon, sensing her impatience, stood up and closed his book. "Now," he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. He gently pushed Sabrina's wheelchair towards the door.

Kev, surprised by their sudden departure, interjected, "You have a car? I call shotgun!"

Talon shook his head, an apologetic look on his face. "I'm sorry, Kev, but you can't come," he explained. "I can't look after you and my sister at the same time and… She'll throw a fit if I go without her."

He paused, his gaze meeting Kev's. "Don't wander around too much while we're gone," he advised. "I'll be back before six."

With a final, quick nod, Talon pushed Sabrina's wheelchair out the door, leaving Kev alone in the apartment.

Kev looked around his suddenly quiet apartment, pondering how to fill the next few hours. It was only noon, and the day stretched out before him, an expanse of empty time. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he remembered the potent gift Ralph had given him.

He crossed the room and opened the safe, carefully retrieving the water pipe and the bag of weed oil. He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "Why not?" he muttered to himself. "It's not like I have anything else to do."

He loaded the pipe, lit the flame, and inhaled deeply, the rich, earthy flavor filling his lungs. The potent oil quickly took effect, a wave of relaxation washing over him, easing the tension that had been building since his encounter with the city enforcers.

Feeling pleasantly hazy, Kev settled back onto the couch, his eyelids growing heavy. He closed his eyes, letting the music from the player piano lull him into a peaceful slumber.

Chapter Text

The afternoon slipped away in a blissful haze of dreams and hazy thoughts. When Kev finally awoke, the sun was already beginning its descent, casting long shadows across the room. He stretched, his muscles pleasantly relaxed, and glanced at his watch. It was almost five o'clock.

Time to get ready for another night at the club, he thought, a smile playing on his lips.

Feeling refreshed and rejuvenated after his nap, he headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. He carefully styled his hair with the gel, achieving a sleek, professional look that he hoped would impress Fang. He then selected a tailored suit from his wardrobe, its dark blue fabric a perfect complement to his pale complexion and bright blue eyes.

As he waited for Horns to arrive, Kev decided to prepare a simple breakfast for the mooseman. He cracked a few eggs into a pan, the sizzle of the bacon filling the apartment with a mouthwatering aroma. He toasted a couple of bagels, remembering Horns's fondness for them.

Just as the coffee finished brewing, a knock echoed through the apartment. Kev opened the door to find Horns, his usual cheerful demeanor a welcome break from the loneliness of the past hours.

"Evening, Kev," Horns greeted him, stepping inside and placing several bags on the counter. "Supplies," he announced with a grin. "Got you the good stuff." He tossed a roll of toilet paper towards Kev, who caught it with a chuckle.

"Speaking of good stuff," Horns continued, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "where's that oil Ralph gave you?"

"I'll grab it," Kev replied, disappearing into the bedroom. He retrieved the water pipe and the bag of weed oil from his safe, carefully placing them on the counter beside Horns.

Horns wasted no time, expertly loading the pipe and taking a deep, satisfying hit. He exhaled a cloud of fragrant smoke, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "Ah, that is the good stuff," he mumbled, reaching for the plate Kev had prepared.

Kev smiled, enjoying the camaraderie. He poured himself a cup of coffee and joined Horns at the table, the gentle melodies from the player piano creating a soothing backdrop to their breakfast.

"How was your day, Kev?" Horns inquired between bites of his bagel.

"Went by quickly," Kev replied with a shrug. "Swam a bit, had lunch with Talon and Sabrina, took a nap..."

Horns grinned. "Must be nice," he remarked, a hint of envy in his voice. "All I got was dreams about a mountain of paperwork and a bunch of grumpy employees." He finished his food and gulped down the last of his coffee. "Mind if I have another cup?" he asked, holding out his empty mug.

Kev nodded and refilled Horns' cup. "Fang wants to go out again tonight," the mooseman mentioned casually. "Didn't say why, though."

Horns took another hit from the pipe, a thoughtful expression on his face. "The boss is gonna swing by soon," he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I think he said something about bringing Dale along too."

"Dale?" Kev echoed, surprised. "Why Dale?"

Horns shrugged. "Beats me," he replied. "But I gotta get out of here. Another night of the new schedule awaits." He stood up, stretching his massive frame. "Want a hit before I go?" he offered, gesturing towards the water pipe.

Kev hesitated for a moment, that oil was really strong and he didn't want to fall asleep again or say anything too crazy. "Just a small one."

He took a careful puff, savoring the smooth, potent vapor. Horns then reclaimed the pipe and took a final, lung-expanding hit before carefully picking up the illicit supplies.

"Thanks for the coffee, little guy," Horns said with a grateful dopey grin, his eyes already glazed. "See you tonight."

He left the apartment, leaving Kev alone with his thoughts and the lingering scent of marijuana smoke. Kev finished his coffee, feeling a pleasant buzz settle over him.

Talon arrived only minutes after Horns left, his presence filling the apartment with a quiet intensity. He surveyed the room with a critical eye, noting the open windows and the lingering scent of marijuana smoke.

"You should lock your door," he advised, his voice a low rasp. "It's not safe to leave it open."

Kev, surprised by Talon's sudden concern, chuckled. "Don't worry, Talon," he reassured him. "Horns was just in here, the security team must already be down at the entrance."

Talon nodded, a hint of approval in his eyes. He looked refreshed and alert, his black suit looked freshly ironed, his feathers neatly preened. He made his way to the kitchen, poured himself a cup of coffee, and settled onto the couch with a contented sigh.

"How was the store?" Kev asked, taking a seat opposite Talon.

A flicker of amusement crossed Talon's face. "I had to chase Sabrina down a few times," he admitted, a chuckle escaping his lips. "She's quite quick in that new chair."

"Hope she wore herself out, at least," Kev joked.

Talon grinned. "I haven't seen her wear a bathing suit in years," he remarked. "Or want to spend time outside, for that matter. She's a pain, I know, but she seems... less self-conscious here."

"She's still a third wheel, though," Kev teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

Talon frowned, clearly still not understanding the reference.

Kev laughed. "Shes fun, just a bit... spirited."

"That she is," Talon agreed with a sigh. He took a sip of his coffee, a thoughtful expression on his face. "So," he began, "it sounds like we might be going out into the city again tonight. I saw Mr. Horns talking with Mr. Dale not too long ago."

"Any info on what we're doing?" Kev asked, his curiosity piqued.

Talon shook his head. "Another Fang secret," he replied with a shrug. "They just told me to be ready to leave."

"Well, I think it's nice to see the city," Kev countered with a smile. "It's so vibrant and full of life."

Talon's brow furrowed slightly. "The city is filthy," he retorted, his voice a low rasp. "The mansion is much nicer."

Kev laughed, surprised by Talon's bluntness. "You do know what happens down in the club, right?" he teased.

"The club has Madam Cindy and Mr. Max," Talon replied with a shrug. "The city has poverty and crime. I'll take the club any day."

"Everything I've seen so far has been pretty nice," Kev countered. "The restaurant, the jewelry store..."

Talon nodded. "Mr. Fang has good taste," he said.

Kev grinned playfully. "Thanks," he replied, leaning back on the couch.

Talon laughed, a rare sound that echoed through the apartment. "You know what I mean," he clarified. "He's not going to bring you just anywhere. He wants to impress you."

"I'd be happy with a walk in the park," Kev said, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

"I've heard the park is nice," Talon agreed, his gaze returning to the book in his hands.

Kev stood up and stretched, his muscles still pleasantly loose from his swim earlier that day. He walked over to the mirror, checking his reflection. His hair was neatly styled, his suit impeccably tailored. He felt a surge of confidence, a sense of belonging in this world of luxury and power.

Just then, a knock echoed through the apartment. Talon, his reflexes sharp as ever, was on his feet in an instant. He straightened his suit jacket and smoothed his feathers before approaching the door.

"Good evening, Mr. Dale," Talon greeted, his voice respectful.

Kev turned around, surprised to see Dale standing on the threshold. The bartender was dressed in a dark green suede suit, a stark contrast to his usual bartending uniform. He looked surprisingly dapper, his normally jovial expression replaced by a more serious, almost contemplative one.

"Come in, Dale," Kev invited, a warm smile on his face. "What brings you here?"

"Just waiting for Fang with you lot," Dale replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "He wasn't quite ready yet. My first day off, and I'm back here already…" He chuckled, shaking his head.

Dale settled onto the couch, his large equine body nearly filling the space. Despite his playful complaints, Kev could sense he was quickly relaxing.

"Coffee or water, Dale?" Kev offered, gesturing towards the kitchen.

"Coffee, please," Dale said with a grateful smile. "Maybe this day off thing isn't so bad after all. Getting served instead of serving… it's quite nice."

Kev poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Dale, along with a sugar bowl. Dale stirred in a generous spoonful of sugar, then turned to Kev with a hopeful look.

"Mind if I bum a smoke?" he asked, his voice a gravelly whisper.

Kev grinned and slid his cigarette case across the table. Dale selected one, its slender form dwarfed by his large, calloused hand.

As Dale lit his cigarette, his gaze swept across the apartment. "This place is looking good, Kev," he remarked, nodding approvingly. "The last time I saw it was years ago..."

Talon, who had been quietly reading on the armchair, looked up briefly, his sharp eyes taking in the scene before returning to his book.

"Thanks, Dale," Kev replied, a sense of pride warming his chest. "Cindy and her crew did most of the work, but I've added a few things."

Dale gestured with his cigarette, the smoke making rings in the air. "That player piano is a good touch too," he remarked, nodding towards the instrument in the corner. "Must be nice to have some music that isn't so... dramatic all the time."

"Amadeus's music certainly demands one's attention," Kev agreed.

"You've got that right," Dale said with a wry smile. "He does love the spotlight, that bird." He took a sip of his coffee

Dale, his gaze shifting to Talon, raised an eyebrow. "So, Talon," he began, his voice a curious rumble, "how are you fitting in? Next to Kev, you're the talk of the town."

Talon's frown deepened, his feathers ruffling slightly. "I may have had a few... mishaps," he admitted, "Everyone has been very kind to my sister and me."

Dale laughed, a deep neighing sound. "Accidents happen," he said, his tone understanding. "But people are really talking about you getting an apartment here. It was a surprise with Kev, until people picked up on his... relationship with the boss. But you're the second new hire that's living. It's got everyone buzzing."

Talon remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor, his wings twitching slightly. The weight of the club's attention, the whispers and curious glances, seemed to be taking a toll on him.

Dale, oblivious to Talon's discomfort, continued his musings. "It's unprecedented, really," he remarked, swirling the last dregs of his coffee. "Fang's never been much of one to allow others up here on the second floor. It's got everyone speculating."

He finished his coffee and stood up, stretching his long legs. "Bathrooms still in the back?" he asked. "I'll be right back."

Kev pointed towards the small hallway. "Down there, on the left," he replied.

Dale nodded and disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later, a knock echoed through the apartment. Talon, his reflexes sharp as ever, jumped to his feet and opened the door.

"Good evening, Mr. Fang," he greeted, his voice a respectful rasp.

Fang stepped into the apartment, his presence filling the small space with a commanding energy. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, his silver watch gleaming in the dim light. His harsh gaze softened as it landed on Kev, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"Evening, Kev," he said, his voice a low rumble.

Kev rose from the couch and greeted Fang with a kiss, his lips lingering on the wolfman's cheek. "Want a cup of coffee before we head out?" he offered.

Fang nodded, his smile widening. "That sounds lovely," he replied, settling onto the couch.

Kev poured a cup of coffee for Fang, remembering his preference for it black. He handed the mug to the wolfman, their fingers brushing briefly, a subtle spark of electricity passing between them.

Fang, looking around the apartment, asked, "Where's that old horse? He should have been here already."

A voice boomed from the bathroom, "The wolf's the late one!" Dale called out, amusement lacing his tone.

Fang grinned, shaking his head. "Dale..." he muttered fondly, taking a sip of his coffee. "We're going out again tonight, Kev," he announced, his voice a low rumble. "Got to deal with a few things, and then we're meeting Ralph again for dinner."

Kev nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "Sounds good," he replied. "Where are we going first?"

Fang finished his coffee, handing the empty mug to Kev, who promptly rinsed it and placed it in the sink.

"Talon," Fang said, turning to the eagleman, "would you mind having Perry bring the car around?"

"Of course, Mr. Fang," Talon replied, rising from the couch and heading towards the door.

Kev nestled close to Fang on the couch, enjoying the warmth and comfort of his presence. Fang leaned in, his eyes filled with a predatory hunger, and captured Kev's lips in a passionate kiss. The world around them seemed to fade away, replaced by the intoxicating sensation of Fang's touch and the undeniable connection that sparked between them.

Emboldened by the intimacy of the moment, Fang gently pushed Kev down onto the couch, his large frame hovering over the human. Kev's arms instinctively wrapped around Fang's neck, his fingers tangling in the wolfman's thick fur.

Fang's kisses deepened, his tongue exploring Kev's mouth with a primal urgency. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he whispered against Kev's lips, "You're all mine, Kev."

He trailed kisses down Kev's neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, eliciting a shiver of delight from the human. "Oh, Fang," Kev moaned, his voice a breathless whisper.

Suddenly, a loud snort echoed from the kitchen, shattering the intimate moment. "Get off him, you old dog!" Dale's voice boomed, laced with amusement. "Perry's waiting!"

Fang growled, reluctantly pulling away from Kev. He glared at the Dale, his eyes flashing with a mix of annoyance and embarrassment. Then, his gaze softened as he looked down at Kev.

"Let's go, then," he said, offering Kev a hand and helping him up from the couch.

Kev, his cheeks flushed and his heart racing, took Fang's hand, a shy smile on his face. "Lead the way," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper.

Fang, his tail wagging excitedly, led Kev out of the apartment and down the stairs, their intertwined fingers a silent testament to their growing bond.

As they reached the waiting car, Perry greeted them with a polite nod. "Good evening, gentlemen," he said, his voice a soft hoot.

Dale, however, surprised them by sliding into the backseat alongside Kev and Fang. Talon, with a slight frown, took his usual place in the front passenger seat.

Perry started the engine, the car purring to life as they headed towards the security checkpoint. Rex, his muscular frame silhouetted against the floodlights, was already waiting for them.

He leaned in close to the window, a mischievous grin on his face. "Going out again, boss? Really?" he purred, his gaze lingering on Kev. "The human must be quite demanding. If he needs exercising this badly, just let me have him for an hour or two." He winked at Kev, his predatory eyes gleaming in the darkness.

Fang growled, his ears flattening against his head. But before he could respond, Dale coughed loudly, drawing Rex's attention.

"I don't think Kev wants to spot you while you lift weights in the mirror, kitty," Dale quipped, a playful smirk on his face.

Rex's ears flattened against his head, mirroring Fang's earlier reaction. "Who let you out of the stable, horse?" he retorted, his voice a low growl.

"Fang needed a real man to help him out tonight, kitty," Dale shot back, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Why don't you get back to work and wait for us to return?"

Rex bristled, his claws flexing involuntarily. "If you're a real man, why don't you come out here and prove it?" he challenged, his voice a menacing rumble.

Dale's hand rested casually on his own lap, a subtle gesture. "Kitty," he said, his voice a calm drawl that carried a surprising weight of authority, "I've got enough 'real man' right here to put you in the hospital. Don't try me."

Rex's eyes narrowed, a low hiss escaping his lips. He glared at Dale, his predatory instincts flaring. But then his gaze shifted to Kev, and a cruel smirk twisted his lips. "The old geldling would probably pass out before the fun even started," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

Fang's patience finally snapped. "Enough!" he roared, his voice a thunderous boom that echoed through the car.

Rex's grin faltered, replaced by a mask of forced obedience. "Enjoy your night, boss," he said, his tone clipped. He gave the top of the car a pat before stepping away. 

Perry, relieved that the confrontation hadn't escalated further, quickly put the car in gear and sped away from the checkpoint, leaving Rex fuming in their wake.

Kev, feeling a mix of anxiety and exhilaration after the tense encounter with Rex, rolled down the window and lit a cigarette, the cool night air rushing in to mingle with the smoke. Dale, sprawled comfortably in the spacious backseat, gazed out at the city lights, a contemplative expression on his face.

Fang, his voice a low growl, leaned forward and spoke to Perry. "Take us to Bozeman and Bozeman. I need to have a little chat with that slimeball."

Dale sighed. "And I thought you were just being nice, inviting me out to dinner," he remarked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Fang chuckled, a deep rumble that vibrated through the car's interior. "We are going to dinner, Dale," he assured him. "Just after I have a little... conversation with Bozeman."

Perry, his sharp eyes gleaming in the city lights, expertly maneuvered the car through the bustling streets. The sky-walks between buildings, the extreme clashes of style and architecture, the massive scale, the sights and sounds of the city were a sensory overload. Kev, gripping the armrest tightly, marveled at the owl man's driving skills. He weaved through traffic with a grace and precision that defied the laws of physics, leaving Kev breathless and slightly disoriented.

The car finally screeched to a halt in front of a towering skyscraper, its imposing facade casting a long shadow over the busy street. Signs for banks and stock brokerages lined the sidewalks, a testament to the financial power concentrated within these walls.

Fang stepped out of the car, offering his hand to Kev with a reassuring smile. "Come on, Kev," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Let's go see what Bozeman has to say for himself."

Kev took Fang's hand and followed him into the building, Talon and Dale trailing silently behind them. Perry, meanwhile, remained by the car, his large eyes casually watching passers by as he leaned on the vehicle.

Chapter Text

The lobby was a stark contrast to the dimly lit, sensual atmosphere of the club. Bright lights, polished marble floors, and the hushed conversations of well-dressed businessmen and women created an air of sterile professionalism.

Fang, his presence commanding attention even in this unfamiliar environment, strode purposefully towards the elevators. Inside the elevator, his eyes scanned the panel of buttons, each representing a different floor of the towering building.

"Thirty-four," Dale stated, his voice a low rumble.

Fang leaned closer to the panel, his sensitive nose twitching. "I can smell Bozeman's greasy fingers on it," he growled, a hint of disgust in his voice.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, revealing a long, carpeted hallway lined with a seemingly endless row of offices. Each door displayed a polished brass nameplate, the names etched in elegant script. Kev's eyes scanned the plaques as they passed, a dizzying array of unfamiliar names and titles flashing before him. Lawyers, accountants, financial advisors... it was a world of suits and briefcases, a far cry from the dimly lit, sensual atmosphere of Club Fang.

Fang, his keen senses heightened, sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring slightly. He then strode purposefully down the hall, his confident gait echoing in the quiet corridor.

He stopped abruptly in front of a set of imposing double doors at the end of the hall. The brass nameplate, larger and more ornate than the others, read: "Bozeman and Bozeman."

Without hesitation, Fang pushed both doors open with a resounding crash, his booming voice echoing through the office. "Bozeman!" he roared, his anger palpable. "Get out here!"

The office was momentarily stunned into silence. A few tired-looking beastmen and women in suits glanced up from their paper-covered desks, their eyes wide with surprise at the unexpected outburst.

At the far end of the room, a door swung open, revealing a jackal in a sharp suit. He barked, "Who the fuck is yelling for me?!" His eyes landed on Fang and his demeanor instantly shifted to one of nervous deference. "Mr. Fang," he yelped, his voice cracking slightly, "I... I apologize for the disturbance."

Fang's growl deepened. "I'm looking for the chameleon," he said, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the office.

The jackal pointed towards the door next to the one he had just exited. "He's in his office," he stammered, then quickly retreated back into his own workspace.

Fang turned to Dale, his eyes flashing with a predatory glint. "Come with me," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Fang and Dale strode purposefully towards Bozeman's office, leaving Kev and Talon standing in the middle of the now-silent workspace. Kev's gaze swept across the room, taking in the curious stares of the employees who had witnessed the entire spectacle. He couldn't help but chuckle nervously, the tension in the air palpable.

"Well, this is awkward," he muttered under his breath, hoping Fang's confrontation with Bozeman wouldn't escalate into something even more dramatic.

Kev and Talon stood in the center of the office, the silence amplified by the hushed whispers and curious glances of the surrounding workers.

Suddenly, Fang's voice boomed from Bozeman's office. "Don't try to hide, Bozeman. I can smell you."

The workers' heads snapped towards the closed door, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and fascination.

A moment later, the door flew open, revealing a chameleon-man peeking out, his scales shifting colors in a panicked display. "Don't hurt me!" he pleaded, his voice a high-pitched squeak.

Before he could say another word, he was yanked back into the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

Talon's frown deepened, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Maybe you should go in there," he suggested, his voice a low rasp.

Kev hesitated. "I have no idea who that is," he admitted, his voice laced with a hint of apprehension. "But Dale's in there too, so it should be okay, right?"

Talon shrugged. "You know Dale better than I do."

Kev thought back to his interactions with the bartender. Dale was friendly, jovial, always ready with a joke or a witty remark. But there was also a hint of steel beneath his easygoing demeanor, a sense of loyalty and protectiveness towards Fang that Kev had witnessed firsthand. And if Cindy was anything to go by…

"Yeah," Kev finally said. "I should probably go."

He took a deep breath and pushed open the door to Bozeman's office, Talon following closely behind.

The office was a stark contrast to the sleek, modern reception area. Stacks of legal documents and maps littered the desk, the walls adorned with awards and framed newspaper clippings. A large window offered a view of the city skyline, but the blinds were drawn, casting the room in a dim, oppressive light.

Dale, his usually jovial expression replaced by a mask of cold fury, held Bozeman suspended in mid-air, by a single arm, the chameleon man's feet dangling helplessly above the floor. Despite Bozeman's build, Dale seemed to effortlessly support his weight, his grip on the chameleon unwavering.

Fang stood directly in front of Bozeman, his face inches from the terrified lizard's. "Always with the excuses, Bozeman," he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room. "... Should have just brought it to court and fought it, you snake."

Kev's cough broke the tense silence, drawing Fang's attention. The wolfman's gaze softened slightly as he looked at Kev and Talon.

"Ah, Kev," Fang said, his voice regaining an iota of warmth. "Meet my new assistant."

Fang beckoned Kev closer with a wave of his hand. "Kev, meet Bozeman. He's the club's lawyer."

Bozeman, still dangling in Dale's grasp, sputtered, "What are you...?"

Dale gave him a shake, effectively cutting off his question.

"I'm a human," Kev offered, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness.

"Let me go, Dale!" Bozeman pleaded, his voice a strained hiss.

Fang ignored Bozeman's protests and fixed his gaze on the chameleon lawyer. "Bozeman," he said, his voice a low, menacing growl, "I came here for a reason."

Bozeman gulped, his eyes darting nervously between Fang and Dale.

"You're going to be working for someone new," Fang declared.

"You can't fire me!" Bozeman exclaimed, his voice rising in panic. "We're so close to winning those zoning appeals!"

"I'm not firing you," Fang clarified, his tone still firm. "You're getting a new boss."

"But... this is a private practice," Bozeman stammered, his confusion evident.

Fang's gaze swept over Kev and Talon, a subtle smile playing on his lips, before returning to the distressed chameleon dangling in Dale's grip.

"I've formed a new business partnership," Fang announced, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the office. "These new colleagues have their own legal teams who will be taking over my cases."

Bozeman's eyes widened in disbelief. "Which cases?" he sputtered, his voice a mix of panic and outrage.

"All of them," Fang replied simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Bozeman struggled in Dale's grasp, his scales flashing with a kaleidoscope of colors as his anxiety and anger mounted. "This is a bad move, Fang!" he hissed, his voice a desperate plea. "I've been working on these cases for years! No one knows them like I do! The council is trying to walk back on their deal, and we're going to make so much money when we win. You can't do this to me!"

Fang's eyes were cold, devoid of any warmth. "You'll be continuing your work," he stated, his voice firm. "Just working for them."

Bozeman's protests grew louder, his voice rising in desperation. "I don't want to work for some faceless suits! Let me win these cases! We're so close!"

Fang's laughter echoed through the office, a chilling sound that silenced Bozeman's pleas. "Put him down, Dale," he ordered, his tone still amused.

Dale released the struggling chemelion, who stumbled back, rubbing his sore wrist. "That was uncalled for," he muttered, his voice a petulant hiss.

"The boss said to grab you," Dale retorted with a shrug. "I grabbed you. Don't cry about it, Boze."

Bozeman retreated to his desk, collapsing into his chair with a defeated sigh. "This is madness," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "It will take me weeks just to fill these people in on all the details."

Fang's grinned "The group taking over is called Nail and Kick," he announced, his voice a triumphant rumble.

Bozeman's head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Impossible," he gasped. "It's... who did you just say?" Bozeman's scales shifted rapidly, a kaleidoscope of colors reflecting his inner turmoil. "But they work for..." he stammered, his voice trailing off in disbelief. "Fang, what did you do? I have workers here, families to support..."

Fang's expression remained impassive. "Call yourself a consultant, I don't much care," he said, his tone dismissive. "Name your salary to them and keep your position here. It's not like you were working on anyone else's cases anyway."

Bozeman rubbed his temples. "Let me think," he muttered under his breath. "Stupid dog, making a deal with them."

Dale, sensing Bozeman's rising panic, interjected with a warning growl. "Watch it, Boze."

Bozeman's eyes narrowed, his gaze darting between Fang and Dale. "What did you give them, Fang?" he hissed. "What did they want?"

Fang laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed through the office. "Nothing," he replied, his voice light and carefree. "They just wanted to be able to book parties at the club. A little exclusivity for their clientele."

Bozeman's skepticism was evident. "That can't be the only thing," he insisted, his voice a mix of disbelief and frustration. "They're not known for their... subtlety."

Fang's patience was wearing thin. "That's it, Bozeman," he growled, his voice a low rumble. "Take it or leave it."

Bozeman frowned, his scales still shifting colors in agitation. "Sounds like the deal you made with the city council," he muttered under his breath. "And I've been working on that for six years!"

Fang's growl deepened. "This isn't me asking, Bozeman," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "This is me telling you what's happening. If you want to quit and retire, I won't stop you. But if you're going to keep being a lawyer, this is what's happening."

Bozeman slumped in his chair, defeated. "How do you all deal with this wolf every day?" he lamented, his voice a weary hiss.

Fang's hackles rose, and he lunged forward with a menacing growl. Kev, sensing the impending outburst, quickly reached out and grabbed Fang's arm, his touch a silent plea for restraint.

Fang's muscles tensed, but he slowly released a breath, his anger subsiding slightly under Kev's calming influence.

Kev, taking advantage of the momentary lull, addressed Bozeman directly. "Bozeman," he said, his voice gentle but firm, "what makes you hesitant to work with the other lawyers? Is it just a matter of money?"

Bozeman grimaced, his scales shifting colors in a display of frustration. "They'll steal all the glory," he finally admitted, his voice a petulant whine. "Their names are awesome - Nail and Kick! No one's even going to remember me, Bozeman." He dramatically flopped forward onto his desk, his voice muffled by the piles of paperwork. "I knew I should have used a stage name."

A snicker escaped Talon's beak before he quickly coughed and looked away, pretending to be engrossed in his surroundings.

"You don't get it," Bozeman said, his voice rising in frustration. "Good lawyers are everywhere, but… if you know a lawyer's name? They're rich! They're celebrities! I don't even make the papers since Fang shut himself up in his mansion!"

Dale, leaning against the wall with a smirk, chimed in, "The boss doesn't care about making the front page. He just wants the club to be taken care of."

Fang's gaze softened as he looked at Kev. "I was making the papers too much," he admitted, his voice a low rumble. "It was... distracting."

"Those were wild times," Bozeman reminisced, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "The office was buzzing. Every day was a new headline, a new scandal..."

Fang's hand rested warmly on Kev's shoulder, a silent reassurance amidst the settling tension in the room. "Those days are in the past, Bozeman," he stated, his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of melancholy. "I'm not the wild fighter I once was. I'm realizing the benefits of... solidifying my future."

Bozeman's gaze flicked between Fang and Kev, taking in the possessive gesture and the unspoken intimacy between them. A sly smile crept onto his face. "Alright then," he conceded, his voice a resigned sigh. "Let's hit the jackpot and sail off into the sunset. I guess I can get my glory after we're rich."

Fang's smile returned, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "I'll leave it in your capable hands, then, Bozeman," he said, his voice a low rumble. "They should be here tomorrow to begin the document transfer.... Why don't you come by the club now and then, keep me updated on the progress? You know we can talk freely there." He glanced at Dale, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And of course, our esteemed lawyer will get free drinks."

Dale nodded, a broad grin spreading across his face. "Can't let our friends go thirsty, boss," he replied, raising an imaginary glass in a toast.

Bozeman chuckled, a hint of his usual arrogance returning. "Twist my arm," he quipped, a playful smirk on his lips.

As they stepped back into the main office, the jackal lawyer poked his head out of his doorway, his gaze settling on the eagleman. "Talon," he called out, his voice a hesitant bark, "come here for a few minutes."

Fang looked back at Talon, a questioning glint in his eyes.

"Excuse me, boss," Talon said, his voice a low rasp. "I'll be down at the car in five." He turned and walked into the jackal's office, closing the door behind him.

Fang shrugged. "Lawyers," he muttered under his breath. He then led Kev and Dale back down to the waiting car.

Chapter Text

As Perry started the engine, Kev couldn't help but feel a pang of curiosity. "Do you know what Talon's doing?" he asked.

Fang shook his head, his expression unreadable. "Lawyers are personal business, Kev," he replied, his tone firm. "If he wants you to know, he'll tell you."

A few minutes later, Talon emerged from the office building, his expression carefully neutral. He slid into the front passenger seat, and Perry pulled out into the bustling city traffic.

"My apologies for the delay, Mr. Fang," Talon said, his voice a low rasp. "It seems Mr. Bozeman simply wanted to apologize to me, regarding you."

Fang raised an eyebrow, catching Talon's eye in the rear-view mirror. "Apologize?..." he inquired.

"He... didn't realize I work for you, Mr. Fang," Talon explained. "He was... surprised to see me."

Fang's lips curled into a knowing grin. "I see," he purred, his amusement evident.

The car navigated through the city, leaving the bustling downtown area behind. The scenery shifted, the sleek skyscrapers and vibrant lights giving way to a more industrial landscape. Warehouses and factories lined the streets, their imposing structures casting long shadows in the twilight.

"Are you sure about the address, Mr. Fang?" Perry inquired, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "This area seems... industrial."

Fang, his gaze fixed on the GPS display, nodded confidently. "Ralph said this was the address," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "He wouldn't steer us wrong."

Perry, though still skeptical, continued driving, his sharp eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. Kev, his curiosity piqued, peered out the window, taking in the sights. Large pumps, towering cranes, and rows of garage doors painted a picture of a district dedicated to utilities.

As they rounded a corner, a line of cars came into view, their headlights illuminating the road ahead. Kev could see a cluster of lights in the distance, a beacon of activity in the otherwise quiet industrial zone.

The car eased into the line, joining the procession of vehicles slowly snaking their way towards the illuminated destination. Dale, his curiosity piqued, leaned forward from the backseat. "Is this duck that popular?" he asked, his voice a mix of amusement and disbelief. "Better be a nice club."

"He learned from the best," Fang replied.

"His restaurant, with the glass floors and the amazing view, was really nice," Kev chimed in, a fond smile playing on his lips. "The way you could look down and watch the cooks at work was really cool."

Dale laughed. "Yeah, and they get to look up at the asses of the folks they're making food for," he retorted with a mischievous grin. "I prefer things eye-to-eye, myself."

Kev's cheeks flushed slightly, a wave of embarrassment washing over him. He hadn't considered that perspective before.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Perry pulled the car up to the front of the line. The club's facade, bathed in a neon glow, was a stark contrast to the surrounding industrial buildings. A large, garish sign, emblazoned with a stylized sewer rat, proclaimed its name: "The Sewer."

Kev's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "The Sewer?" he echoed, his voice a mix of amusement and disbelief. "That's... an interesting name."

Fang's face twisted into a scowl as he read the garish sign. "What the hell is this, Ralph?" he muttered under his breath, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

He stepped out of the car, his imposing figure casting a long shadow in the neon light. Kev and Dale followed suit, Talon trailing silently behind them.

A valet, a sleek ibex man with a charming smile, greeted them at the entrance. "Good evening, Mr. Fang," he purred, his voice a smooth baritone. "Welcome to The Sewer. We've been expecting you." 

He spoke into a small radio clipped to his lapel, "the wolf has arrived." Then he announced, "someone will meet you at coat check. Enjoy your evening."

Perry nodded at the valet and drove away, leaving Fang and his entourage standing on the sidewalk.

Fang, his displeasure evident, led Kev and Dale towards the entrance, Talon following in the rear. The heavy metal doors swung open, revealing a dimly lit, smoke-filled interior that pulsed and throbbed. The moment they stepped inside, a cacophony of lights and sounds assaulted their senses. Pulsating electro beats and raucous yells filtered up from a grand staircase that dominated the entrance hall. To their right, a coat check counter, manned by a bored-looking koala, stood bathed in a dim, red glow.

Suddenly, a figure emerged, ascending from the shadows of the stairs, his footsteps quick and light. It was a chipmunk man, dressed in a tailored suit that resembled a plumber's uniform, complete with overalls and a tool belt. He bounded towards them with an energetic grin.

"You must be the famous Fang," he chirped, his voice surprisingly deep for his small stature. "Welcome to the Sewer! I'm the manager, Simon."

Fang nodded, his expression not hiding how uncomfortable he was with the club's theme. "Where's Ralph?" he growled.

"He's in a VIP room downstairs," Simon chirped, gesturing towards the staircase. "Follow me."

They descended the wide concrete steps into the heart of the club, Kev's senses overwhelmed by the unexpected sight. The interior was a stark contrast to anything he had encountered so far. Large concrete structures, tanks, and pumps reminiscent of an industrial warehouse, dominated the space, their rough surfaces adorned with graffiti and neon lights. Water flowed freely through exposed pipes and channels, creating a mesmerizing soundscape of gurgling and rushing currents.

The electric music pulsed through Kev's body, its relentless beat driving the energy of the crowd. Beastmen and beastwomen of all shapes and sizes danced and mingled, their movements a blur of fur, scales, and feathers. Kev, disoriented by the sensory overload, clung to Fang's arm, grateful for his reassuring presence.

They navigated a maze of walkways and bridges, the glass-covered grates beneath their feet offering glimpses of the rushing water below. The bar itself was built into a massive water turbine, light shining up though its spinning blades creating a hypnotic visual effect. Above the bar, a small second floor loomed, its windows shrouded by heavy curtains, hinting at the hidden pleasures that awaited the club's most discerning clientele.

Simon led them up a set of stairs beside the bar and pushed open a heavy door at the top, ushering them into a dimly lit room. The sounds of the club below were muffled, replaced by a soft hum that barely registered.

The room's decor was a stark contrast to the industrial aesthetic of the main club. Rustic wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, while exposed brick walls adorned with vintage photographs and neon signs created an eclectic, almost dive bar vibe. The furniture was a mix of worn leather couches and chairs, their surfaces etched. A large, flat-screen television, muted, displayed the latest news headlines. Large windows, currently shrouded by heavy velvet curtains, offered a bird's-eye view of the bustling club below.

Ralph, the dapper mallard-man, was sprawled on one of the couches, a young lady duck perched on his lap, her beak locked in a passionate kiss with his. The sight brought a blush to Kev's cheeks and a low growl from Fang's throat.

Dale, ever the jester, sauntered into the room with a playful grin. "Well, Ralph," he drawled, his voice a teasing rumble, "who's the little birdie?"

Ralph, startled by the intrusion, tilted his head back over the couch, peering at the newcomers upside down. "Oh, it's you," he said, his voice a slightly muffled quack.

He quickly disentangled himself from the young duck woman and stood up, smoothing his ruffled feathers and straightening his suit jacket.

"You're actually on time," he remarked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

Ralph gestured towards a large, circular table in the center of the room. "Sit, relax," he invited, his voice regaining its usual smoothness.

He then turned to the young duck woman, who was still perched on the arm of the couch. "Donna," he said, his tone professional, "this is Mr. Fang and his guests. Please take their orders."

Donna stood up, smoothing her dress with a practiced gesture. She approached Kev, her gaze lingering on his form with a mix of curiosity and appraisal.

"Human," Kev supplied with a wry smile, anticipating her question.

Donna smiled coyly. "Human, huh?" she echoed, her voice a soft chirp. "Don't think we have that on the menu."

Kev grinned, enjoying the playful banter. "Chicken Parm and a… cranberry-vodka will do just fine," he replied, his tone light.

Donna nodded. "Nice cufflinks, human," she complimented, her gaze lingering on the silver wolf teeth that framed the gemstones.

She then moved on to take Fang, Talon, and Dale's orders, her professional demeanor returning as she efficiently jotted down their requests.

As Donna disappeared into the bustling club below, Ralph grabbed his drink from the coffee table and joined the others at the large, round dining table.

"What are you doing here, horse?" he asked Dale with a playful nudge. "Shouldn't you be slinging drinks?"

Dale leaned back in his chair, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "It's my day off, actually," he replied, a wide grin spreading across his face. "I get to do whatever I want."

Ralph chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And you're still getting ridden by Fang? Sounds like a great day off."

"It won't be every time," Dale retorted, his smile unwavering. "But I haven't cooked for ages, and a free meal is always appreciated."

Ralph laughed heartily, his feathers ruffling with amusement. "Kev told me about these days off," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Still blows my mind. So, tell me, what are you going to do on your real day off?"

"Get away from Fang," Dale said with a chuckle.

Fang's ears flattened against his head in mock offense.

Dale continued, oblivious to Fang's reaction, "I'll sleep as late as I want, do my grocery shopping, maybe watch a movie. Might even get a date lined up…" A genuine smile spread across his face. "I'm really looking forward to it."

"You'll get ghosted, buddy," Ralph laughed. "But to be honest, it does sound appealing... How was reworking the bartender's schedules?"

"Wasn't that bad," Dale replied with a shrug. "We train new people all the time. I just pretended Fang had another one of his meltdowns and a lot of the staff walked out again."

Ralph's laughter boomed through the room, a deep, hearty sound that echoed off the exposed brick walls. "Kev, buddy," he said, turning to the human, "tell me more about your idea for the park restaurant, it seems like your ideas have a way of taking off. I have my own vision, but you might have some human perspectives I haven't considered. To be honest, I haven't stopped thinking about it since last night."

Kev paused, taking a sip of his water as he gathered his thoughts. "When I think about it," he began, "it needs to be unobtrusive. Although it's catering to the wealthy who can afford it, we don't want to drastically change how the park operates for everyone else… Maybe the restaurant itself breaks down... tables, chairs, everything packed away, so morning joggers can still use the paths. Or maybe there's no visible security, so anyone can walk through; after all, the park is a public place. We could even build the kitchen on the club's land, with the dining area just beyond in the park itself."

Ralph nodded thoughtfully, stroking his beak with a webbed finger. "I agree that we can't upset the folks who aren't using the restaurant," he said. "The park is a public space, and we need to respect that. However, security is essential. I can't have any incidents tarnishing my reputation or endangering my guests."

He paused, his gaze flickering towards Fang. "When you mentioned the kitchen being on the club's land… now that is an interesting idea," he mused. "It would certainly save a lot of red tape, given the zoning differences between the two properties."

Kev, his imagination ignited, leaned forward eagerly. "I had another wild idea," he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "What if everyone was served on picnic blankets? Total picnic style!"

Ralph burst into laughter, his feathers ruffling with amusement. "No, no, my dear boy," he chuckled. "I don't think the ladies who are all dressed up will want to sit on the ground."

"Some hits, some misses," Ralph conceded, his laughter subsiding. He turned to Fang, a curious glint in his eyes. "Hey, Fang, what are your thoughts on all this?"

Fang stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Your kitchen on my property?..." he considered. "That's Reepia's domain. You know she'd never allow it."

"You're right," Ralph sighed. "Damn that prideful rat."

Kev, intrigued by their exchange, leaned forward. "What's the issue?" he asked. "Why couldn't she run the kitchen?"

"If there's a kitchen operating on club grounds," Fang explained, "Reepia will be head chef, by any means necessary. She's fiercely protective of her territory. I'm not sure if she'd let Ralph even step inside…"

Dale nodded in agreement. "She'd see it as a challenge," he added. "And you know how she feels about challenges."

Kev persisted, "But couldn't she oversee both kitchens? If we ran the kitchen on club property, Ralph could still handle everything else, like the menu and the ambiance, marketing, staff, finances..."

Ralph shook his head. "The kitchen doesn't have the same profit margins as cover fees or the bar, Kev," he explained. "I need to be in control of the entire operation to make it financially viable, to make it soar."

"Why?" Kev questioned, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I don't think it would be challenging to sell her food. You seemed to enjoy the meal she made you last night."

"Her food is exceptional," Ralph conceded, a hint of admiration in his voice. "Her personality, on the other hand..." He trailed off, a knowing smile playing on his beak.

"Are you worried about staffing," Kev questioned, remembering the dedication he'd witnessed in the kitchen during his brief visit. "Her cooks all seem very loyal to her."

Fang nodded in agreement. "They are," he confirmed. "But Reepia is... fiercely independent. She might see this as a chance to catch up to Ralph. He's got two restaurants, two kitchens, after all."

Ralph laughed, a hearty sound that echoed through the room. "You're right, Fang," he admitted, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "But I'll always be one step ahead. If this works out I'll be at two and a half and she'll only be at one and a half."

Donna returned, balancing a tray laden with drinks and food. As she placed the orders on the table, Simon, the manager of the Sewer, leaned forward with a curious glint in his eyes.

"Who's this 'Reepia' broad you keep talking about?" he asked, his voice a mischievous squeak. "She sounds feisty."

Dale laughed. "She'd chew you up and spit you out, chipmunk," he warned, a playful grin on his face.

Simon laughed too, unfazed by the warning. "Who says I wouldn't like that?" he retorted before turning to Ralph, his tone earnest. "Hey, you gotta let me have one of those so-called 'days off' next time you go to the club. I wanna meet her."

Ralph raised his glass in a mock toast. "Why not?" he replied, his voice a smooth quack. "It could be quite the spectacle."

The group settled into their meal, the sounds of conversation and laughter filling the private room. 

Chapter Text

Dale, ever the connoisseur, took a sip of his drink and nodded approvingly. "Not bad," he commented, his voice a low rumble. "Decent selection, too. Do you turn a good profit on this joint, Ralph?"

"The profit margin is quite good, actually," Ralph replied. "The big trick was getting everything cleaned up. I've got a whole recirculating pump system set up, and a hundred thousand gallons of water pumped in every day. These customers want to feel dirty, down in the sewer, but they don't want to smell it."

"You gave me quite the shock when I saw that sign," Fang admitted. "What gave you the idea for this place?"

Ralph leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "You taught me, Fang," he replied. "You taught me that people crave spaces that are out of the ordinary, that offer something unique and memorable. They want something grand, with atmosphere, something that transports them to another world."

He gestured around the room, his wings spreading slightly in a gesture of pride. "I wanted to give them something they can't find anywhere else. So why not the dirty underbelly of the city? The hidden world beneath the gleaming towers and polished facades."

Kev, impressed by Ralph's vision, nodded in appreciation. The duckman had managed to create a truly unique and captivating experience, a testament to his creativity and business acumen.

"You've got quite the empire, Ralph," Kev remarked, his voice filled with admiration. "A beautiful, high-class restaurant atop one of the largest buildings in the city, and now this... seedy nightclub in its bowels."

Ralph fluffed his feathers with pride. "Diversity is the key to success, my dear boy," he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "One must cater to all tastes, all desires."

The meal concluded with satisfied sighs and contented murmurs. Ralph, ever the picture of relaxation, stretched back out on the plush sofa, a contented smile playing on his beak. He turned to Donna, who had been chatting quietly with Dale.

"Darling," he said, his voice a smooth quack, "fetch my supplies, would you?"

Donna nodded obediently and disappeared through a side door, her movements swift and silent. Talon wandered to the windows, his gaze fixed on the bustling club below, his sharp eyes missing nothing.

A few moments later, Donna returned, carrying a small, black briefcase. She placed it on the coffee table in front of Ralph and took a seat beside him. Ralph rewarded her with a quick peck on the cheek before snapping open the briefcase.

Inside, nestled in velvet lining, was a collection of small baggies and jars, each containing a different type of colorful substance. The air filled with a subtle, earthy aroma, a hint of the forbidden pleasures.

Ralph, with a practiced hand, began carefully filling a pipe with a blend of the various substances from his briefcase. The air in the room grew thick with a sweet, exotic aroma. He looked up, offering the pipe with a sly grin.

"Anyone care for a puff?" he inquired, his voice a playful quack.

Dale shook his head, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. "No thanks, Ralph," he replied. "I'd like to stay upright tonight."

Fang merely grunted, his gaze fixed on the pipe with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. "We won't be staying much longer." 

Ralph, seemingly unfazed by Fang's lack of enthusiasm, continued his preparations. He then pulled out a small bag of a couple blue pills from the briefcase. "Here, Kev," he said, handing the bag to the human with a wink. "Slip one of these into Fang's drink some night, and you could probably get him to dance with you."

Fang's growl echoed through the room, his ears flattening against his head.

Ralph laughed heartily, his feathers ruffling with amusement. "Come on, Fang," he teased, "we all know you've got moves."

Kev raised an eyebrow, a surprised smile playing on his lips. He'd never imagined the stoic, reserved Fang letting loose on the dance floor. The thought was both intriguing and slightly terrifying.

Kev cautiously took the bag of pills, his curiosity piqued. "What are they, exactly?" he asked, eyeing the colorful capsules with a mix of intrigue and apprehension.

"I already told you," Ralph replied with a playful grin. "Dancing pills!" He winked at Kev. "Guaranteed to get even the most reluctant wallflower on their feet."

He then turned to Fang and Dale, raising his glass in a farewell toast. "If you're heading out, enjoy your night," he said, his voice a warm quack. "I'll be over again soon. We have big plans to discuss, after all!" He then leaned in and whispered something in Donna's ear, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Fang chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the room. "Thank you for the food, Ralph," he said, his gaze lingering on the empty plates. "And it was nice to meet you, Donna."

Kev echoed Fang's farewell, a polite smile on his face. Donna, her cheeks flushed from Ralph's whispered words, simply giggled and waved goodbye.

Fang stood up, his hand resting on Kev's shoulder. "Let's go," he said, leading Kev out of the private room and back into the bustling club. Talon, ever vigilant, followed closely behind.

They made their way through the crowd and outside, where Perry was waiting patiently by the car. They settled into the backseat, the city lights a dazzling backdrop as they drove away from one club and back to another.The dinner had been unexpectedly nice considering they ate at the sewer.

As the car approached the security checkpoint, Rex emerged from the guardhouse, a smirk playing on his lips. He leaned in close to the window, his predatory gaze sweeping over the occupants.

"So, where'd you lot end up?" he purred, his voice a low rumble. 

"We went to visit Ralph," Fang replied, his tone nonchalant. "He's opened a new nightclub down in the sewers."

Rex's smirk vanished, replaced by a look of disgust. "That's nasty," he scoffed, wrinkling his nose. "That duck must have finally lost his mind."

Kev chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. "It was an interesting club," he admitted. "Seemed pretty busy, too."

Rex turned his attention to Kev, his gaze lingering on the human's form. "Do you like getting dirty, human?" he asked, a suggestive undertone in his voice. "You didn't seem like the type. But don't worry, I've got rubber sheets at home, just in case."

Dale, who had been quietly observing the exchange from the backseat, couldn't resist a jab. "Just in case you have a nightmare, kitty?" he quipped, a mischievous grin on his face.

Rex's ears flattened against his head, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Shut up, horse," he retorted, his eyes narrowing. "Or I'll send you to the jello factory. Just come at me."

Dale laughed heartily, unfazed by Rex's threat. "I'd like to see you try, kitty cat," he challenged, his voice booming through the car.

Fang, his patience wearing thin, intervened. "Enough, both of you," he growled, his voice a stern command. "Rex, just scan the damn car."

Rex, his pride momentarily wounded, stepped back, and the group passed though the metal detectors. Rex slapped the top of the car once they were back inside, allowing Perry to drive through the checkpoint. As they ascended the winding driveway towards the club, the tension in the car gradually dissipated.

Fang and Kev returned to the familiar comfort of the VIP booth, settling into the plush cushions with a contented sigh. The club was in full swing, its anachronistic energy pulsating through the air, a symphony of music, laughter, and desire.

Dale joined them shortly, his presence a welcome addition to their intimate gathering. 

Rebecca, her feline grace unwavering even in the bustling bar, appeared with their drinks, a Bloody Mary for Fang, a Cape Cod for Kev, and a refreshing glass of iced tea for Dale.

"So, Dale," Fang inquired, his voice a low rumble, "what are your plans for the rest of the night? Anything exciting?"

Dale took a sip of his iced tea, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It's already getting late and I want to catch up on some sleep," he mused, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Not much left of my night, I'm afraid." He paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Maybe I'll pop into one of the private rooms before heading home."

Kev's cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and amusement warming his face. He remembered Lanon's earlier comments about the club's "unique experiences" and couldn't help but wonder what Dale had in mind.

Fang chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through the booth. "Not a bad way to end the night," he remarked, his gaze lingering on Kev for a moment before returning to Dale.

"I hope I didn't impose on your day off, Dale," Fang said, a touch of sincerity in his voice.

Dale chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. "I've come to expect it from you, wolf," he replied with a good-natured grin. "Besides, I had a good time at Ralph's. Being able to kick back and have drinks poured for me was something I haven't been able to enjoy for years."

They finished their drinks, the comfortable silence punctuated only by the clinking of ice cubes and the distant hum of the club's energy. Dale rose from his seat.

"Well," he announced, stretching his long legs, "time for a little fun. Have a good night, boss. Kev."

With a final wink, Dale sauntered towards the east wing, leaving Fang and Kev alone in the VIP booth.

Kev, watching Dale disappear into the crowd, turned to Fang with a hopeful smile. "Dale seems excited," he remarked playfully. "Maybe you could walk me back to my room, and we could have a bit of fun too?"

Fang's cheeks flushed and he averted his eyes, a rare sight that made Kev's heart flutter. His tail wagged eagerly, betraying his desire. "I really want to, Kev," he admitted, his voice a low rumble, "but I need to go talk to Reepia about the park resteraunt… If I don't, and she hears about the changes from someone else, she'll have my ears… or, at least, one of them."

He leaned in and kissed Kev gently, his lips lingering on the human's. "Have a good night, my love," he whispered, his voice filled with a tender affection. He then waved at Talon, a silent signal for the eagleman to accompany Kev.

"Fang, please," Kev pleaded, his voice soft but insistent. He remembered Sabrina's words from earlier that day, her playful encouragement to express his desires. "I'm lonely without you."

Fang's tail stopped wagging, his expression softening. He looked deeply into Kev's eyes, his own filled with a mix of longing and regret. "My love," he said, "I don't want you to ever be lonely. Please… forgive me."

Kev's heart ached at the sight of Fang's vulnerability. The wolfman, usually so strong and confident, looked almost... lost. Kev reached out, his hand gently cupping Fang's cheek.

"I understand, Fang..." he said, trying to hide his disappointment. "I'll… see you tomorrow evening."

Fang eyes welled and he leaned in for one last kiss. Then he reluctantly turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Kev, a bittersweet ache in his chest, got up and could only glance at Talon as he left the booth, heading for his apartment.

"Don't worry, Kev," Talon said, quickly falling into step behind the human. "He is just... a busy man."

Kev nodded, a forced smile on his face. He knew Talon was right. Fang was a complex man, torn between his duties and his desires. But Kev was patient. He was willing to wait, to give Fang the time he needed to navigate his own internal conflicts. 

They reached Kev's apartment, and Talon, with a respectful nod, bid him goodnight. Kev closed the door behind him, locking it with a click.

Kev settled onto his couch, a bittersweet feeling lingering in his chest. He lit a cigarette.

He thought about Fang. The wolfman's conflicted emotions, his struggle to balance his responsibilities with his desires, tugged at Kev's heart. He longed to be a source of support for Fang, to offer him something, even a fraction of the kindness that he had been shown. And despite the disappointment of their perpetually interrupted intimacy, Kev couldn't deny the warmth that spread through him at the memory of Fang's kisses, his whispered words of affection, his wild, primal power, his kindness...

As the night deepened, Kev extinguished his cigarette and prepared for bed. 

Kev closed his eyes, his dreams filled with unexpected images of waves, shifting colors and treehouses.

Chapter Text

As the first rays of dawn peeked through the curtains, Kev stirred from his sleep. The familiar rhythm of the club had ingrained itself into his being, waking him at the same early hour each day. He stretched, feeling a pleasant soreness in his muscles from the previous day's swim, and headed to the bathroom for his morning ritual.

After a refreshing shower, Kev brewed a pot of coffee, the rich aroma filling his apartment with a comforting warmth. He prepared a glass of water, anticipating Horns's arrival, and then slipped into his swimsuit. The summer heat was relentless already, and he was eager to escape to the cool oasis of the pool.

Just as he was finishing his coffee, a knock echoed through the apartment. He opened the door to find Horns, his eyes glazed and a wide, dopey grin plastered on his face. The mooseman was clearly enjoying the effects of the potent weed oil.

"Mornin', Kev," Horns slurred, stumbling into the apartment and collapsing onto the couch with a contented sigh. He held out the water pipe and the bag of oil, his grip a bit unsteady. "Brought these back," he mumbled, his voice a low rumble.

Kev took the items and placed them back in the safe, shaking his head in amusement. "Thanks," he said, handing the mooseman the glass of water. "How's it going?"

Horns took a long gulp of water, his eyes still glazed. "Good," he replied. He then proceeded to zone out, his gaze fixed on some unseen point in the distance.

Kev, seeing Horns's state, couldn't help but feel a pang of amusement and sympathy. "You can crash in my room if you want, Horns," he offered, gesturing towards the bedroom. "The couch doesn't look very comfortable."

Horns shook his head slowly. "The couch is pretty comfy," he slurred, his eyelids drooping heavily. Horns laid down as if to prove the couch was big enough for his frame, moments later, a soft snore escaped his lips, and he was fast asleep.

Kev chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. He carefully placed the water pipe and oil back in the safe, then grabbed his towel and headed out to the pool, leaving Horns to his peaceful slumber.

Kev was just about to step out onto the patio when a knock interrupted his plans. He opened the door to find Cindy and Max, making their usual morning rounds. Cindy, ever authoritative, marched straight into the kitchen upon seeing Horns sprawled out on the couch.

"Boys," she sighed, shaking her head with a mix of amusement and exasperation. She set about preparing tea, her movements practiced and efficient. Max, meanwhile, leaned against the kitchen counter, careful not to disturb the sleeping mooseman.

"How was your evening, Kev?" Cindy inquired, her voice a gentle purr as she poured the tea.

"It was good," Kev replied, settling onto a chair at the kitchen table. "We saw a lawyer named Bozeman, and then had dinner with Ralph at his night club."

Cindy's eyes twinkled with amusement. "I heard Fang was a bit upset he couldn't see you to bed last night," she remarked, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

Kev blushed slightly, his gaze dropping to his teacup. "He could have," he mumbled, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "He just... chooses the business over me..."

Cindy gave a knowing smile. "Of course he does," she replied, her voice gentle. "But that you're even making him consider it is wonderful. One of these nights, he'll give in to his desires. You'll see."

Kev's blush deepened, a warmth spreading through his chest. "I hope so too," he murmured, his gaze meeting Cindy's with a shy smile.

Cindy turned back to the kettle, a maternal warmth radiating from her. "I always hoped he'd have some pups of his own," she confessed, her voice a wistful whisper. "But I'm glad he found you, Kev. You're good for him."

Kev's cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and a flutter of hope warming his face. He didn't know how to respond to Cindy's candid observation, his heart still reeling from Fang's own whispered confessions over the past two weeks.

Cindy, sensing his discomfort, passed him a teacup, her smile gentle and reassuring. "Has he told you he loves you yet?" she inquired.

Max, who had been quietly observing the exchange from the kitchen counter, raised an eyebrow. "I think I'm in the wrong conversation," he quipped.

Kev chuckled, his gaze meeting Cindy's. "He has," he admitted.

Cindy nodded, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Fang is loose with his words, Kev," she said, her voice a wise purr. "But 'love' is one he doesn't use often. Treasure it." She paused, her gaze softening. "The wolf is a simple man, for better or for worse. He's loyal, protective, and dedicated to those he cares about. But he can also be stubborn, impulsive, and... well, you know."

They finished their tea in comfortable silence, the gentle melodies of the player piano creating a soothing backdrop to their conversation.

Finally, Cindy rose from her seat, a hint of weariness in her eyes. "I must be going, dears," she announced, turning to Max. "Come along. We have morning rounds to complete."

Max, who had been enjoying the impromptu tea party, reluctantly followed Cindy out of the apartment.

Kev glanced at the couch, where Horns was snoring softly, his massive frame sprawled across the cushions. He shook his head, a fond smile playing on his lips. After carefully placing the empty teacups on the counter, a sense of contentment settled over him. 

Kev, feeling the warmth of the morning sun through the windows, remembered his goal of swimming. He grabbed a towel and made his way to the backyard, where the pool shimmered invitingly under the clear blue sky. Despite the early hour, the sun was already starting to heat up the day, promising another scorcher.

As Kev emerged from the refreshing embrace of the pool, his wet hair slicked back and a contented smile on his face, he spotted an unexpected figure lounging by the poolside. Reepia, the head chef, sat regally in one of the lounge chairs, her dirty white chef's coat looking somewhat out of place amidst the leisurely atmosphere. Beside her, on a small table, sat two steaming mugs of coffee.

She raised a hand in a beckoning gesture. "Kev, my dear," she called out, her voice surprisingly gentle, "come join me for a chat."

Kev, intrigued by Reepia's summons, approached her with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. He settled into the adjacent lounge chair, accepting the cup of coffee she offered with a grateful smile. Although he was getting better at making his own, the cups she produced just smelled so much better.

Reepia took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke that swirled in the warm morning air. "I hear you might have won me a second kitchen to run," she said. "Making all sorts of new responsibilities for me, human. I'm already swamped as it is."

Kev winced, a pang of guilt stabbing at his conscience. "My apologies, Reepia," he mumbled, taking a sip of the coffee. He remembered Sabrina's words from the day before, her playful jab at the club's hidden culinary gem.

"More people should know what a great cook you are," Kev ventured, his voice gaining confidence. "How is anyone supposed to know the kitchen in a sex club is this good? This new venture could change that. You'll be able to serve people who are in attendance solely to be fed. Well, there's a chance of that, at least." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Ralph did mention that he wants to make sure you're willing to cook his menu."

Reepia's growl reverberated through the peaceful morning air, her normally composed demeanor momentarily shattered. "That duck only wants to sell air-filled pastries and overpriced salads!" she exclaimed, her voice a raspy snarl. "I'll have to have a serious talk with him. People will only pay big bucks if we serve meat."

Just then, Talon and Sabrina emerged from the mansion, both clad in swimsuits. Talon wore a pair of black trunks that showcased his lean, muscular physique, while Sabrina sported her bright red bikini.

Reepia's gaze snapped towards them, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Who are you two?" she demanded, her voice a low growl.

Talon's posture stiffened slightly, recognizing the authority in Reepia's voice. "Hello, Ms. Reepia," he replied with a respectful nod, his feathers smoothing instinctively. "I am Talon, Mr. Fang's bodyguard. We've met already… This is my sister, Sabrina. We moved in three days ago."

Reepia's gaze swept over Talon, recalling how she had disabled the larger eagle with a quick kick to his shin. "Oh yeah, the hotshot," she said, a hint of challenge in her voice. 

Sabrina rolled her wheelchair closer to Kev and reached for his coffee cup. "Mind if I try some?" she asked, her voice a raspy caw.

Kev, startled by her sudden movement, instinctively pulled the cup away. "Hey!" he protested, a playful smile on his face.

Sabrina pouted, her lower lip jutting out. "Come on, Kev," she whined. "Don't be stingy."

Kev relented, handing her the cup. Sabrina took a sip, her eyes widening in surprise. "Oh my, human," she exclaimed, "you actually made a decent cup this time."

Reepia laughed, a hearty sound that echoed across the pool area. "Not all wrong," she said, her gaze settling on Sabrina. "You said your name was Sabrina?"

Sabrina, ever the performer, rolled her wheelchair closer to Reepia with a flourish. She extended a hand, her voice dripping with mock formality. "Hello, Ms. Reepia. I am Madam Sabrina, humbly at your service."

Reepia chuckled, a raspy sound "You're a hot one, aren't you?" she remarked. "Glad to know there's someone here who doesn't have an Adam's apple."

Sabrina grinned, her confidence radiating. "Yes, dear," she replied, batting her eyelashes playfully. "Someone has to keep these boys in line."

Reepia's stern demeanor softened, replaced by a genuine smile. "I like you, girl," she declared, her voice a warm, if gravely, purr. "If you ever want breakfast, just come down to the bar in the morning. If I'm still around, I'll whip something up for you."

Talon chimed in, "I could go for some eggs right now, actually."

Reepia shot him a glare. "Who invited you, hotshot?" she retorted, her voice laced with amusement. "Besides," she added, turning back to Kev and Sabrina, "it's been a long night, and I've got a lot to think about. This new schedule, the possibility of a second kitchen..." She trailed off, smoke curling off of her cigarette.

"Farewell for now," she said with a final nod. "Enjoy your swim."

With a graceful swish of her tail, Reepia turned and headed back towards the mansion, leaving Kev, Talon, and Sabrina to bask in the warm afternoon sun.

The pool's surface shimmered under the afternoon sun as Kev and Talon resumed their swimming lessons. Kev, a patient instructor, demonstrated the intricacies of the breaststroke, focusing on the proper breathing technique and the coordination of arm and leg movements.

Talon, his athleticism evident in every stroke, proved to be a quick learner. His powerful wings, once a hindrance, now seemed to propel him through the water with surprising efficiency. He followed Kev's instructions closely, his brow furrowed in concentration as he perfected his form.

After a while, Kev decided to take a break, climbing out of the pool and settling onto a lounge chair beside Sabrina. He lit a joint, offering it to Sabrina, who eagerly accepted.

"Talon's a natural," Kev remarked, watching the eagleman effortlessly glide through the water.

Sabrina took a long drag from the joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "He's always been good at everything he tries," she replied with a hint of pride in her voice. "Except maybe cooking." She chuckled, remembering Talon's disastrous attempt at making eggs earlier that morning.

Sabrina took a puff from the joint, then passed it back to Kev. "So," she started, her voice laced with curiosity, "where'd you guys go last night? Talon was telling me, but when he got to the part where you ran into Bozeman, he got all silent and broody." She chuckled. "That slimy lawyer has been dragging his feet on our case for weeks. I was kinda hoping Fang would teach him a lesson."

Kev exhaled slowly, a cloud of smoke swirling in the air. "Bozeman's office was pretty tense," he admitted. "I thought Fang was going to attack that poor chameleon."

Sabrina's brow furrowed in confusion. "Bozeman's a jackal, I thought," she said.

Kev realized his mistake. "Oh, the jackal," he clarified with a sheepish grin. "It's confusing when they have the same name."

"Fang's lawyer is the chameleon," Kev explained, taking another drag from the joint. "Talon did stay behind for a few minutes and talked with the jackal. It sounds like you might be in luck, though."

Sabrina's interest piqued. "How so?" she asked, leaning forward in her wheelchair.

"The jackal said he didn't know Talon worked for Fang," Kev continued. "He seemed pretty surprised."

Sabrina burst into laughter, her voice echoing through the garden. "Brother, you really did well, landing this job!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight. "I hope you told that jackal that Fang was angry and would come bite him if he doesn't get his butt in gear."

Talon, engrossed in his breaststroke practice, didn't seem to hear Sabrina's outburst. His focus was solely on mastering the new technique, his powerful wings propelling him through the water with surprising grace.

Kev, feeling the sun's heat intensifying, moved to a shady spot under the oak tree. Sabrina followed, her wheelchair gliding effortlessly across the patio.

"Sucks about that sunburn thing," she remarked, a playful glint in her eyes.

"I'm used to it," Kev replied with a shrug, lighting another cigarette. He watched Talon's determined strokes, a curious thought forming in his mind. "I'm surprised you don't fly around more," he said, exhaling a plume of smoke. "You managed to get down from the balcony that first day we met. If I could fly, I'd do it all the time."

 "Flying is outlawed in the city, dummy," she said, shaking her head in amusement. "Didn't brother tell you?"

"I had no idea," Kev admitted, a surprised look on his face. "Talon flew when he thought I was drowning." He paused. "Thanks for that, by the way."

Sabrina laughed, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Yeah, he's too easy to get going," she teased.

Kev's brow furrowed in thought. "I also saw Perry, the owl man, fly over the club one night," he recalled. "Does that mean he's breaking the law too?"

Sabrina shrugged. "Little things, human," she said, her voice a casual dismissal. "It's risky. The city enforcers take that rule pretty seriously."

Kev sighed, shaking his head. "That sucks," he said, his gaze drifting towards Talon, who was now effortlessly gliding through the water. "I can imagine that not being able to fly around must be frustrating."

"We're used to it," Sabrina replied with a shrug. "But it was pretty funny watching Talon try to stop mid-air. He totally biffed it." Her laughter echoed through the garden.

Kev, feeling a playful impulse, gathered a handful of smooth pebbles from the poolside and tossed them into the deep end. "Hey, Talon," he called out, a mischievous grin on his face. "Let's see if you can retrieve these."

Talon, ever eager for a challenge, nodded enthusiastically. He took a deep breath and dove into the water, his powerful wings propelling him downwards with surprising speed. He resurfaced moments later, a pebble clutched triumphantly in his hand.

Kev laughed, impressed by Talon's agility and adaptability. They continued the game for a while, Talon's dives becoming more graceful and efficient with each attempt.

Finally, Talon emerged from the pool, his feathers slicked back against his head. "It's still early," he said, a hint of sheepishness in his voice, "but I'm starving."

Sabrina, who had been lounging in the sun, raised an eyebrow. "You did murder those eggs this morning," she remarked with a playful smirk. "I'm surprised you even tried to eat them."

Talon shot his sister a mock glare. "Lunch," he said, turning to Kev with a hopeful look.

Kev hesitated, remembering the moose sleeping on his couch. "Horns is passed out in my room," he explained. "I was hoping to let him sleep for a bit."

Talon's gaze shifted to Sabrina, a silent question in his eyes.

Sabrina sighed dramatically. "Fine," she conceded. "I'll cook. But don't expect anything fancy."

They dried up and departed for their rooms.

Chapter Text

Kev, mindful of the sleeping mooseman on his couch, quietly retreated to his bedroom to change out of his wet swimsuit. He slipped into a pair of comfortable jeans and a soft t-shirt, savoring the feeling of dry clothes against his skin. He then grabbed the book Talon had been reading, thinking Talon would appreciate the offer.

Tiptoeing past Horns, Kev made his way out of the apartment and across the hall to Talon's new residence. He knocked softly on the door, then let himself in, assuming Talon wouldn't mind the intrusion.

The apartment was filled with the comforting aroma of cooking food. Sabrina, clad in another oversized t-shirt, was expertly navigating the kitchen, her wheelchair spinning and turning as she prepared their lunch. Talon was nowhere to be seen, but the sound of running water suggested he was in the bathroom.

"Hey, Sabrina," Kev greeted her with a smile, settling onto the couch and opening the book.

"Hey, Kev," Sabrina replied, her voice muffled by the sizzle of something frying in a pan. "Whatcha reading?"

"Talon's been reading it," Kev replied, placing the book on the coffee table. "Seems pretty interesting."

He stepped out onto the balcony, the warm afternoon sun a welcome contrast to the cool air of the apartment. He lit a cigarette, savoring the familiar ritual as he gazed out at the sprawling backyard.

When he returned a few minutes later, Sabrina was setting plates of food on the coffee table. Talon, freshly showered and dressed in a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt, was lounging on the couch with the book, a contented smile on his face.

"Dig in," Sabrina announced, gesturing towards the plates.

Kev sat down, his eyes widening in surprise at the spread before him. There were sandwiches piled high with deli meats and cheeses, a colorful array of fresh fruits and vegetables, and a bowl of crispy chips.

"Talon must have done a good shopping trip," Kev remarked, impressed by the variety and abundance of food.

The three of them ate in comfortable silence, the only sounds the clinking of glasses and the occasional satisfied sigh. Sabrina, true to her energetic nature, finished her food in record time, her plate left spotless. Talon, despite his usual stoic demeanor, also ate quickly, his hunger evident after a long morning of swimming.

"Brother," Sabrina declared, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "next time you go out to some fancy place for dinner, you better bring me along."

Talon, his gaze fixed on the book in his hands, chuckled softly. "I don't call the shots," he reminded her gently. "Mr. Fang makes the decisions."

Sabrina pouted playfully. "Work your magic, Talon," she urged, batting her eyelashes. "Convince him he needs me. My brilliant brain, my captivating beauty... it would be stupid to leave me behind."

Talon shook his head, a fond smile playing on his lips. "You're incorrigible," he muttered, but Kev could see the amusement in his eyes.

Kev finished the last bite of his sandwich, a satisfied smile on his face. "That was great, Sabrina," he complimented, reaching for a napkin.

"Well, now that we've eaten," Sabrina declared, her voice filled with a restless energy, "let's go on an adventure!"

Talon sighed, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Where do you want to go, Sabrina?" he asked.

"Let's find the IT department!" Sabrina exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I'm dying to check the internet."

Talon merely shrugged, a resigned smile playing on his beak. "Have fun," he said, his voice a soft rasp.

Sabrina stuck her tongue out at her brother playfully before turning her attention to Kev. "Well, human?" she asked, her voice a mischievous chirp. "You in?"

Kev thought for a moment, recalling Fang's earlier mention of the IT department. "I remember Fang saying Kaiote works somewhere near the perimeter road, where the power grid ends," he mused. "Maybe we could try looking there?"

Sabrina's eyes lit up. "Alright!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands excitedly. "Let's go on a road trip! We'll just follow the perimeter until we find the building."

Kev glanced at his watch, a smile playing on his lips. "It's only one o'clock," he remarked. "We've got plenty of time to kill before the club opens." He turned to Talon, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Hey, Talon," he said, "you have a car here, right? Wanna take a drive around the perimeter road?"

Talon hesitated, a flicker of unease crossing his face. "I don't know, Kev," he replied, his voice a low rasp. "I'm not sure we should be venturing too far from the mansion, especially with..." He glanced at Sabrina, then back at Kev. 

Sabrina rolled her eyes dramatically. "What are we, prisoners?" she scoffed. "We can't even leave the grounds without an armed escort?"

Kev nodded. "Besides, Talon," he added, "have you even driven around the club yet? It might be a good idea to familiarize yourself with the lay of the land."

Sabrina jumped in, knowing her brother's personality "Yeah, brother," she chimed in, "how can you call yourself a good bodyguard if you don't even know the club's grounds? I guess you're just not that serious about protecting us."

Talon frowned, his feathers ruffling slightly. Sabrina's words, though playful, had struck a nerve. He reluctantly set his book aside and stood up, his posture rigid.

"What are you two waiting for?" he asked, his voice low. "Let's go."

Kev and Sabrina exchanged a triumphant glance, their plan to get Talon out of his shell seemingly successful. They followed Talon out of the apartment and down the hallway towards the garage.

The elevator ride down to the first floor was filled with a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. Sabrina, her curiosity piqued, peppered Kev with questions about the mansion's hidden passages and secret rooms, while Talon remained stoic, his gaze fixed on the elevator's control panel.

As they stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, Kev led them towards the west wing, a part of the mansion he had only recently begun feeling comfortable exploring. They passed by several closed doors, each one a mystery waiting to be unveiled. Finally, they reached the entrance to the garage, the same ones that Kev had stumbled upon during his first week, its heavy wooden doors standing slightly ajar.

The garage was a stark contrast to the rest of the mansion, its utilitarian design and exposed pipes a far cry from the opulent chandeliers and plush carpets that adorned the upper floors. Yet, it held a certain charm, a reminder of the building's past.

Fang's collection of classic cars and motorcycles, their chrome gleaming under the fluorescent lights, occupied most of the space. But Talon, his movements purposeful, led them past these gleaming beauties towards the back of the garage.

There, at the end of a row of vintage vehicles, sat a dented, faded van, its paint chipped and one of its hubcaps missing. It was a stark contrast to the surrounding luxury, a testament to Talon's humble beginnings.

Talon pulled a set of keys from his pocket and approached the van. A faint beep sounded, and the sliding side door opened, revealing an automated platform that had been modified to accommodate a wheelchair.

"Well, here's our ride," Talon announced, a hint of pride in his voice.

Sabrina wheeled herself onto the platform with ease. The van's interior was surprisingly spacious, its middle seats removed to create a large, open area for Sabrina's wheelchair.

Kev settled into the passenger seat, a sense of nostalgia washing over him. The van's interior, with its worn upholstery and faded dashboard, reminded him of the beat-up vehicles his friends back on Earth used to drive. It was the first thing he'd encountered in this world that felt like home, nostalgic even.

Talon, having secured Sabrina's wheelchair, climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. The van sputtered to life, its exhaust emitting a cloud of smoke that momentarily obscured their view. He carefully backed out of the garage, maneuvering the vehicle around the mansion's sprawling grounds.

As they passed the loading dock, Kev caught a glimpse of the large, metal doors and the wooden platform that had been the site of his earlier encounter with Lanon. It looked stark and utilitarian in the fading daylight, a stark contrast to the meticulously landscaped gardens and opulent architecture of the mansion.

Talon, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, drove past the club's main entrance and onto the perimeter road. A sign, its bold letters warning of trespassing, marked the boundary between the club's private domain and the sprawling urban jungle beyond.

The road wound its way through a dense forest, the trees casting long shadows in the late afternoon light. Kev, his curiosity piqued, gazed out the window, taking in the unfamiliar scenery.

The sun-drenched road looked remarkably different from the night Perry had driven Fang and Kev down this same path. Memories of that exhilarating ride, the thrill of the chase, and the stolen kisses in the backseat brought a blush to Kev's cheeks.

Unlike Perry's daring maneuvers, Talon drove at a leisurely pace, his sharp eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. The road, well-maintained and lined with towering trees, offered a sense of tranquility that belied the bustling city just beyond the treeline.

Sabrina, her curiosity piqued, leaned forward in her wheelchair, her gaze sweeping across the landscape. "How did we miss it?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with frustration. "If the building has servers, it needs big air conditioners. It must be sucking up a ton of electricity!"

They completed a full loop around the perimeter, the dense foliage occasionally parting to reveal glimpses of the city skyline in the distance. Sabrina, her frustration mounting, turned to Kev and Talon.

"Did either of you see anything?" she demanded, her voice a raspy caw.

Talon shook his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary," he replied, his gaze still fixed on the road ahead.

Kev hesitated, a memory surfacing from their earlier drive. "Maybe," he said slowly, his brow furrowing in thought. "I saw a well. It looked pretty old, but there were no weeds or plants growing on it. Shouldn't it be overgrown by now?"

Talon's eyes widened in realization. "I saw that too," he admitted, "but I didn't even think about it."

He quickly turned the van around and drove back along the perimeter road. They stopped near the suspected well, its clean stone form peeking out from beneath a layer of fallen leaves, about a hundred feet from the road.

The closer they got, the more apparent it became that the well was not as ancient as it first appeared. The stones surrounding its opening were meticulously placed, their edges too clean, the moss too uniform, with clean edges. It was a clever facade, designed to blend seamlessly into the surrounding wilderness.

Talon parked the van and hopped out, quickly assisting Sabrina with the ramp. Together, the three of them cautiously approached the well, their footsteps crunching on the dead leaves. It was much larger up close than they had thought.

Peering over the edge, they saw that the interior was a smooth, concrete tube, its walls devoid of any cracks or imperfections. The well was surprisingly deep, the bottom illuminated by a series of bright lights that cast an eerie glow upwards.

"This is definitely not natural," Kev observed, his voice a hushed whisper.

"It's too perfect," Sabrina agreed, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Someone went to a lot of trouble to make this look old."

Talon, his gaze fixed on the illuminated depths, nodded slowly. "It must lead somewhere," he said, his voice a low rasp. "But where?"

Sabrina leaned forward in her wheelchair, peering into the well's depths. "Do you think there's another wheelchair down there?" she asked, her voice a hopeful chirp. "Maybe a fancy, motorized one with cup holders and a built-in massage chair."

Kev chuckled. "I doubt it," he replied. "This looks more like a secret entrance than a luxury elevator."

Talon, his curiosity piqued, stepped closer to the edge. "You two wait here," he instructed, his voice a low rasp. "I'm going down to investigate."

Before Kev or Sabrina could protest, Talon spread his powerful wings and leaped into the well. His descent was surprisingly graceful, his wings acting as a parachute to slow his fall.

Kev peered into the well, his eyes straining to make out the details in the dim light. "This is so cool," Sabrina exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. "Secret passages and hidden rooms! Just like in a spy movie."

"It has to be the IT department, right?" Kev mused aloud. "That light down there is solid, not firelight. So, it's obviously electric…."

They both leaned over the edge, their eyes searching the depths.

Sabrina, her adventurous spirit ignited, suddenly declared, "I'm going down too!" Before Kev could react, she pushed herself from her wheelchair to the edge of the well.

"Wait, Sabrina!" Kev exclaimed, reaching out to stop her.

But it was too late. With a mischievous grin, Sabrina launched herself into the well, her wings flapping to slow her descent. "Brother is slow," she called up to Kev. "He's probably looking inside every cubby before he'll tell us to come down."

Kev shook his head in disbelief. "That girl is fearless," he muttered to himself, a mixture of amusement and concern swirling within him.

Kev strained his ears, trying to decipher the muffled squawks and caws echoing up from the well. Talon and Sabrina seemed to be engaged in a heated argument, their voices bouncing off the concrete walls, but the exact words were lost in the reverberations.

He decided to wait patiently by the well's edge, hoping they would resolve their disagreement soon. As he stood there, lost in thought, a figure emerged from the trees lining the perimeter of the mansion's grounds.

It was Kaiote, the enigmatic crow woman who headed the club's IT department. She looked tired, her dark feathers slightly ruffled, hidden behind her large hooded sweatshirt, and a perplexed frown marred her usually composed features.

"Kev?" she asked, her voice a raspy caw. "What are you doing out here?"

"Hey Kaiote, good to see you again," Kev said, gesturing towards the well. "We found this... and Talon and Sabrina went down to investigate."

Kaiote yawned, rubbing her eyes with a feathered hand. "Who are Talon and Sabrina?" she inquired, her voice thick with sleep. "I don't see anyone." She pulled a piece of bread from her pocket and took a bite, her movements slow and deliberate.

"Fang's new bodyguard and his sister," Kev clarified.

Kaiote's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Bodyguard?" she echoed, a flicker of interest in her eyes. "Interesting."

Kaiote chuckled dryly, crumbs scattering from her beak. "I thought you were Fang's assistant or something," she said, her voice a raspy caw. "He hired someone else now, too? He should really leave that up to Horns."

Kev nodded slowly. "We were wondering if the IT department is down the well," he admitted, his curiosity piqued.

Kaiote's expression turned guarded. "Yes," she confirmed, her voice a low murmur. "But I'm not really in the mood for any visitors right now..."

Kev's brow furrowed in concern. "I'm sorry, Kaiote," he said, "but Talon and Sabrina are already down there."

Kaiote froze, the tiredness in her body instantly replaced by a palpable fear. Her eyes widened, and she looked at Kev with a mix of disbelief and panic. "Down there? They're... avians?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Before Kev could answer, Kaiote took a deep breath and, without another word, dove headfirst into the well.

Kev watched Kaiote's sudden disappearance, a sense of unease settling in his stomach. The crow woman's reaction had been extreme, her fear palpable. What was it about Talon and Sabrina being avians that had triggered such a visceral response?

He hoped Talon wouldn't overreact if Kaiote burst in on them unexpectedly. The eagleman had already proven his tendency towards impulsive action, and Kev didn't want any more misunderstandings or conflicts. Talon seemed to have a knack for making bad first impressions.

Kev leaned over the well's edge, straining his ears to hear what was happening below. The muffled echoes of raised voices reached him, a chaotic blend of Talon's sharp rasp, Sabrina's indignant cawing, and Kaiote's panicked squawks. It sounded like a full-blown confrontation was brewing in the depths of the IT department.

The echoing yells gradually subsided, replaced by an uneasy silence. Kev wished he could be a fly on the wall, witnessing the unfolding drama in the IT department.

After what felt like an eternity, Talon's silhouette emerged from the well's depths, his powerful wings beating against the air as he ascended towards the surface. He landed gracefully beside Kev, his feathers slightly ruffled and his expression a mix of frustration and amusement.

"What's going on down there?" Kev asked, his voice filled with concern.

Talon let out a long sigh, running a hand through his feathers. "It's... complicated," he admitted, his voice a low rasp. "There should be a rope ladder somewhere in the leaves over there," he said, pointing towards a nearby thicket. "You can use that to come down."

Kev and Talon searched the area, their hands brushing against damp leaves and prickly branches. Finally, Kev spotted the coiled ladder, its rough fibers blending seamlessly with the forest floor. Talon grabbed it and tossed the bundle over the rim of the well, its weight causing the rope to unravel and dangle invitingly in the darkness.

"See you down there," Talon said with a wry smile, before leaping back into the well, his wings outstretched.

Chapter Text

Kev, his curiosity outweighing his apprehension, approached the well's edge. He grabbed the rope ladder, its coarse texture rough against his palms, and began his descent into the unknown. He was grateful for his lack of fear of heights, the drop into the darkness below was exhilarating rather than terrifying.

Kev's feet landed on the solid concrete floor with a soft thud, a stark contrast to the leafy ground above. He wiped his damp palms on his pants, his eyes adjusting to the bright electric lights that illuminated the space. The walls, painted a sterile white, and the exposed pipes and ventilation ducts overhead gave the area a utilitarian, almost bunker-like feel.

A single metal door, its surface gleaming under the harsh lights, stood at the end of a short hallway. It looked imposing, a barrier between the mundane world above and the secrets hidden below. Kev cautiously approached the door, his hand reaching out to test its weight. To his surprise, it swung open easily, its lightness belying its solid appearance.

Kev stepped into the IT room, his eyes widening in surprise. It was a long, narrow space, the walls lined with humming servers that blinked and flashed with an array of colorful lights. Cable trays snaked along the ceiling, their wires and conduits a tangled web of digital connections.

Closer to the entrance, Kev noticed a makeshift living area on the left side of the hall. A single bed, its sheets rumpled, occupied one corner, while a towering bookshelf, overflowing with technical manuals and sci-fi novels, stood against the opposite wall.

On the right side, a sprawling computer setup dominated the space. Multiple monitors, their screens filled with lines of code and complex diagrams, sat atop a massive desk. Even more monitors were mounted on the wall above, their flickering images creating a mesmerizing display of information overload. Next to the desk, a small fridge and a microwave hinted at the long hours spent in this digital sanctuary.

The overall impression was that of a cyber hermit. The desk and bed were littered with empty food containers and discarded coffee cups, a testament to the relentless work ethic of the IT department's sole occupant.

Sabrina, perched in a wheeled office chair, was glued to the monitors, her fingers flying across the keyboard with impressive speed. Talon stood beside her, his arms crossed and his expression stern. Kaiote, her feathers ruffled and her movements frantic, darted back and forth, desperately trying to restore some semblance of order to the cluttered space, tossing old soda and energy drink cans into a trash bag.

The scene was a bizarre juxtaposition of high-tech sophistication and domestic disarray, a reflection of the unique challenges faced by those who maintained the club's digital infrastructure.

Kev, taking in the chaotic scene, cleared his throat awkwardly. "Sorry for the intrusion, Kaiote," he apologized, his voice a gentle murmur. "We thought there was a whole department for IT, and we were just curious to see what it was like."

Kaiote, her movements still frantic as she attempted to tidy up, offered a weak smile. "It's fine," she said, her voice a raspy caw. "I just... don't really have time for guests right now."

Talon, sensing Kaiote's unease, stepped forward. "My apologies as well, Ms. Kaiote," he said, his voice a low rasp. "My sister here persuaded us to come."

Kaiote's gaze shifted to Talon, and her hands fumbled, dropping the trash she was carrying. She quickly bent down to retrieve it, her feathers ruffling slightly in embarrassment. "It's really no problem," she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

Sabrina, her attention still glued to the computer screens, chimed in without turning around. "Thanks, girl," she said, her voice a cheerful chirp. "Your setup is really killer. Which one of these screens has the 240 refresh rate? I didn't even know you could get a monitor like that."

Kaiote's eyes widened in surprise, her feathers momentarily fluffing up. "All of them," she replied, a hint of pride in her voice.

"No way!" Sabrina exclaimed, her excitement palpable. "That's nuts! Do you have Vapor? What games do you have? I've gotta test this beast out!"

"It's on the desktop monitor," Kaiote directed, pointing towards the bottom left screen. "Bottom left."

Sabrina wasted no time, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she navigated Kaiote's impressive game library. Talon, meanwhile, wandered further down the hall, his gaze fixed on the rows of humming servers.

"Did you work all night?" Kev asked Kaiote, his voice filled with concern.

She shrugged, a tired smile playing on her beak. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "It all kind of blends together, you know." 

She glanced back at Talon, then leaned closer to Kev, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Who's the eagleman again?"

"That's Talon," Kev explained, "Fang's new bodyguard."

Kaiote's gaze lingered on Talon's retreating figure, a flicker of something in her eyes. She sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, her feathers rustling softly.

"The frame rate on this thing is insane!" Sabrina exclaimed, her voice filled with awe. "Who did you have to kill to get this computer? And who do I talk to about getting a copy of the hit list?"

Kaiote chuckled dryly. "It's a work thing," she explained with a yawn. "I'm allowed to get whatever I need to keep the club's systems running smoothly."

"It would be cool if you needed a second one," Sabrina said, her voice a playful chirp. "Then I could kick your butt at Immortal Battle."

Kaiote smirked, a hint of challenge in her eyes. "I'm more of a Might & Battle Bros girl myself," she retorted.

"I'll kick your butt at that too," Sabrina declared.

"Very confident, aren't we?" Kaiote remarked, raising an amused eyebrow.

Sabrina leaned back in her chair, a smug look on her face. "After my accident," she explained, "all the brainpower that used to control my legs now amplifies my reflexes and hand-eye coordination. I'm practically a cyborg."

Kaiote burst into laughter, her raspy caw echoing through the room. Sabrina basked in the attention, her grin growing even wider.

"Guess you'll never know unless you get me a rig," she said, challenging Kaiote with a playful wink.

Talon, drawn back by the sounds of his sister's laughter, approached the group with a cautious step. He cleared his throat, his voice a low rasp. "I apologize for my sister, Ms. Kaiote," he said, his gaze fixed on the floor. "She can be... an idiot."

Kaiote glanced at Talon, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "It's fine," she replied with a smile. "She's certainly... lively."

Talon turned to Sabrina, his tone firm but gentle. "Sister, let's not waste Ms. Kaiote's time. We should leave and visit again when we're invited."

Sabrina groaned, her grip tightening on the mouse. "Brother, you don't understand," she whined. "This computer is amazing. I can finally play Immortal Battle at a decent frame rate!"

Talon rolled his eyes and reached for the back of the rolly chair. "Come on, Sabrina," he said, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

"No!" Sabrina protested, her voice rising in pitch. "You're killing me, brother!"

Talon, ignoring her protests, gently but firmly wheeled her away from the desk, back to the well-shaft.

Kev, feeling a pang of sympathy for the frustrated eagle, turned to Kaiote. "Sorry for barging in on you like this," he apologized, his voice sincere.

Kaiote looked between Kev and Talon, a thoughtful expression on her face. "It's alright," she finally said, her voice a soft caw. "You're welcome to stay longer, if you'd like."

Kev smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Kaiote," he replied. "But we should probably let you get back to work." He paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "These two live in the mansion now, like me," he added, gesturing towards Talon and Sabrina. "So if you find yourself with some free time, just come find us. It's not like we have much to do during the day."

Kaiote nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her beak. "Maybe I will."

With a final wave, Kev, Sabrina and Talon left the IT department, the heavy metal door closing behind them with a resounding clang.

Kev, his muscles aching from the climb, finally reached the top of the rope ladder and emerged into the warm afternoon sunlight. Talon was already carefully helping Sabrina into the van.

"I want to go back!" Sabrina whined, her voice echoing through the quiet woods. "I was just getting started!"

Kev chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Maybe next time, Sabrina," he said, climbing into the front passenger seat.

Talon secured Sabrina's wheelchair, then joined Kev in the front. He started the engine, the van sputtering to life with a familiar rumble. They drove back along the perimeter road, the trees blurring past the windows as they retraced their earlier journey.

Back at the mansion, Talon expertly maneuvered the van into the garage, parking it beside his newly acquired wheelchair-accessible vehicle.

As the van rolled to a stop in the garage, Kev glanced at his watch. "3:30," he noted, a sigh escaping his lips. "I've got a bit of time to kill before I need to get ready for tonight."

He turned to Talon and Sabrina. "I'm going to head to the backyard for a smoke before I go back to my apartment," he announced. "You guys are welcome to join me, or you can explore the mansion a bit more."

A mischievous glint sparkled in Sabrina's eyes. "Ooh, exploring sounds fun," she chirped. "Maybe we'll find some more secret passages or hidden rooms."

Talon, however, seemed less enthusiastic. "I think I'll just stay here and relax for a bit," he said, his voice a low rasp. "I'm still a bit tired from this morning's... adventure."

Kev chuckled, remembering Talon's clumsy attempts at swimming. "Suit yourself," he said with a shrug. "I'll see you later."

He grabbed his cigarette case and headed out to the backyard, leaving Talon and Sabrina to their own devices.

Kev settled onto his favorite bench by the pool, the warm afternoon sun a comforting embrace. He lit a joint, savoring the smooth, fragrant smoke as he gazed out at the sprawling backyard. The peace and quiet of the garden offered a welcome respite from the bustling energy of the club, a chance to relax and gather his thoughts before the evening's festivities.

He glanced at his watch, the silver hands pointing to four o'clock. It was time to start getting ready. He extinguished his cigarette, a pang of regret at leaving the tranquil garden behind.

He made his way back inside the mansion, his footsteps echoing in the quiet hallways. He climbed the stairs to his apartment, eager to prepare for the night ahead.

As he entered his apartment, he was greeted by the scent of old coffee and the soft snores of Horns, still fast asleep on the couch. A smile played on Kev's lips as he tiptoed past the slumbering mooseman, careful not to disturb his rest.

In the shower, hot water cascaded over Kev, washing away the lingering scents of the day. He stepped out of the shower, feeling refreshed and invigorated, ready to face the night ahead.

As he entered the living room, he found Horns sitting up on the couch, a joint dangling from his lips, a hazy smile on his face.

"Thanks for letting me crash here, Kev," Horns said, his voice a raspy rumble. He grinned sheepishly. "I might have had a bit too much of that oil last night."

Kev chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "No worries, Horns," he replied. "It's 4:30 now. If you want to take a shower, feel free."

"Thanks, buddy," Horns said, taking a long drag from the joint.

Kev retreated to his bedroom to change, his mind buzzing with anticipation for the evening's events.

Kev emerged from his bedroom, dressed in a sharp, tailored suit. The fabric, a deep shade of midnight blue, accentuated his slender frame and complemented his piercing blue eyes. He felt a surge of confidence, a sense of readiness for whatever the night might bring.

From the bathroom, he could hear the sound of running water and Horns's muffled voice, humming a tune he'd likely picked up from Asmodeus's rehearsals. Kev smiled, picturing the mooseman's off-key rendition of the complex melodies.

He set about preparing a fresh pot of coffee, the rich aroma filling the apartment with a comforting warmth. He lit a few candles, their flickering flames casting a soft glow on the room, and turned on the player piano, its gentle music adding to the ambiance.

Just as the coffee finished brewing, Horns stepped out of the bathroom, a fluffy towel wrapped around his waist. Kev's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the mooseman's bare chest and arms. He'd only ever seen Horns in his oversized suits, and he hadn't realized the extent of his physique.

Horns's shoulders and chest were massive, his muscles rippling beneath a thick layer of dark fur. His stomach and hips, in contrast, were surprisingly narrow, creating a V-shaped silhouette that accentuated his imposing upper body. The thick fur around his shoulders and upper arms further enhanced the impression of sheer size and strength.

Kev couldn't help but feel a shiver of awe mixed with a touch of apprehension. Horns was truly a formidable creature, a reminder of the primal power that lurked beneath the civilized facade of the club's inhabitants. He was also grateful that the mooseman was so friendly and easygoing.

"Kev, my friend," Horns boomed, his voice echoing through the apartment, "can I trouble you for a cup of that delicious coffee?"

Kev, his cheeks still flushed, quickly poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Horns. The mooseman gratefully accepted the mug, settling back onto the couch with a contented sigh. His legs were spread wide, the towel precariously stretched around his waste.

Horns, oblivious to Kev's discomfort, picked up his half-smoked joint from the ashtray and relit it, taking a long, satisfying drag.

"Want some food?" Kev offered, trying to cover his own awkwardness.

Horns shook his head, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Nah, I'll wait for the restaurant to open," he replied with a grin. "Tonight's my night off, remember? Time to indulge in some fine dining!"

Horns took another leisurely drag from his joint, his gaze sweeping across the cozy apartment. "I don't know why Fang isn't spending the night up here with you," he remarked. "This is quite the nice little nest you've made here."

"Thanks, Horns," Kev mumbled, averting his gaze.

Horns chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that filled the room. "If Fang doesn't make his move soon," he teased, "maybe I'll have to keep you company instead."

Kev's blush deepened, his heart skipping a beat at the unexpected proposition. 

Sensing Kev's flustered reaction, Horns burst into laughter. "Relax, kid," he said, slapping Kev's shoulder playfully. "I'm just messing with you," he added, his tone turning more serious, "but you should bring out that oil before I say anything too crazy."

Kev let out a nervous laugh, his cheeks still flushed from Horns's teasing. He quickly retreated to his bedroom, seeking refuge from the mooseman's playful advances. He retrieved the water pipe and the bag of oil from his safe, a sense of anticipation building within him. He'd only tried the potent concentrate a few times, and the memory of its intense effects still lingered. 

He returned to the living room, placing the pipe and oil on the coffee table in front of Horns. The mooseman's eyes lit up, a grateful smile spreading across his face.

"Thanks, Kev," Horns said, expertly loading the pipe and taking a deep, satisfying hit. He exhaled a cloud of fragrant smoke, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "Good stuff," he mumbled, offering the pipe to Kev.

Kev hesitated for a moment, then accepted the offer. He inhaled cautiously, the potent vapor filling his lungs with a familiar warmth. He exhaled slowly, feeling a pleasant buzz settle over him.

Horns, his eyes twinkling with amusement, watched Kev's reaction. "Feeling good?" he asked, a playful grin on his face.

Kev nodded, a relaxed smile playing on his lips. "Yeah," he admitted, sinking back into the couch cushions. "This is nice."

Horns stood up, stretching his massive frame. "Well, I better get dressed," he announced. 

Kev chuckled, watching as Horns disappeared into the bathroom, the towel still wrapped loosely around his waist. Kev's gaze lingered on the mooseman's retreating figure, appreciating his broad shoulders and powerful physique. Horns was undeniably handsome, his gentle nature and playful spirit a stark contrast to his imposing size.

But as Kev's thoughts drifted back to Fang, a warmth spread through his chest. The wolfman, with his enigmatic charm and fierce protectiveness, held a special place in Kev's heart.

"Fang is just... something else," he thought to himself, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

A shadow fell across the doorway, and Kev looked up to see someone sauntering into the room, his muscular frame radiating an air of predatory confidence. The tigerman's gaze swept across the apartment, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as they landed on Kev.

It was Rex.

Chapter Text

"Door's unlocked, human," Rex growled, his voice a low rumble as he stepped into the apartment.

Kev, still feeling the pleasant effects of the weed oil, offered a lazy smile. "Hello, Rex," he replied, his voice a bit slurred.

Rex's eyes landed on the water pipe and the bag of oil sitting on the coffee table. A predatory grin spread across his face. "Getting high, little human?" he purred, his voice laced with a suggestive undertone.

He sauntered over to the couch and plopped down beside Kev, his arm casually draping over the human's shoulders. Kev shifted uncomfortably, the tigerman's proximity and forwardness making him nervous.

Rex leaned closer, his hot breath tickling Kev's ear. "If you need to relax before the club opens," he whispered, his voice a seductive growl, "I can help you with that."

He traced a finger down Kev's arm, his touch sending shivers down Kev's spine. "A good little homemaker like you deserves to be... mated," Rex continued, his grin widening. "You could clean up my apartment, and I'd make sure you were begging me not to leave for work every day."

Kev's cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and annoyance coloring his face. He was too high to formulate a witty retort, his mind foggy and his limbs heavy.

Rex, sensing Kev's vulnerability, pressed his advantage. "The wolf hasn't even claimed you yet, has he?" he asked, his voice a knowing purr.

Horns emerged from the bathroom, dressed in the same clothes he'd worn the night before. His fur was still damp. "Howdy, Rex," he greeted, his voice booming. "What brings you here?"

Rex turned, his predatory grin widening. "I could ask you the same thing," he retorted, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Even with the candles, I can smell you were here for a while." He glanced at Kev, his grin turning suggestive. "Human, are you playing with the moose?"

Horns laughed heartily, his chest heaving with mirth. "Rex, you've got the dirtiest imagination," he said, shaking his head. He plopped down on the couch and reached for the water pipe. "I just crashed here," he explained, taking a long drag. "It's my day off, you know."

Rex's grin remained fixed on his face. "Human," he purred, his voice a low rumble, "I'll spend my day off with you too. I'm sure you'll enjoy my company much more than this grass-head's."

Horns exhaled a cloud of smoke, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Don't be so sure, kitty cat," he retorted. "Kev here appreciates a man who knows how to relax and have a good time."

Rex, ever the instigator, leaned closer to Kev, his grin widening. "Human," he purred, his voice a low rumble, "tell us. If it were Fang, would you rather him be lazy and stoned or aggressive and dominant?"

Kev's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, his gaze dropping to the floor. He couldn't meet Rex's eyes, the tigerman's suggestive tone and predatory stare making him acutely uncomfortable.

"See?" Rex crowed, turning to Horns with a triumphant smirk. "The human needs a real man to take care of him."

Horns leaned back on the couch, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Kev's not interested in you, cat," he said. "Can't you tell he's waiting for Fang?"

Rex laughed "If Fang takes too long," he retorted, his gaze returning to Kev, "who's truly to blame?"

Horns shook his head, a hint of disapproval in his eyes. "Kev seems to be good for Fang, haven't you noticed?" he asked, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "He's calmed down a lot since Kev arrived."

Rex scoffed, his ears flattening against his head. "All I've noticed is that Fang is passive around the human," he countered. "He needs to get over this funk and start acting like the boss again."

Horns laughed again. "You're such a hothead, Rex," he said, shaking his head in amusement. "Fang hasn't done anything crazy since Kev arrived. And just because that means you get fewer messes to clean up, it isn't a bad thing."

Rex, his pride seemingly wounded by Horns's words, rose from the couch with a huff. "In two days, I'll have my day off," he announced, his voice a low growl. "And if Fang is still stringing you along by then, human, I'll just have to show you what you're missing." 

Horns, his amusement fading, raised an eyebrow. "Why did you even come up here, Rex?" he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

Rex shrugged, his gaze sweeping around the apartment with a bored expression. "Boss told me to be here at the start of my shift," he replied, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Who knows why the old wolf wants me babysitting the babysitter."

Horns chuckled, taking a long drag from his joint. "You got someone good covering for you?"

Rex scoffed. "Everyone on my team is good," he declared, puffing out his chest. "That's the thing about guards, they ain't good if they are afraid of trouble. My security guards are great because they want trouble."

"Well, stop looking for trouble in my bedroom," Kev retorted, a hint of annoyance lacing his voice.

Rex grinned, slowly pulling his gaze away from Kev's bedroom door. "Such a nice little nest, though," he purred, a suggestive undertone in his voice. "Can't help but think about what I could do to you in there."

Kev rolled his eyes, a wave of exasperation washing over him. "Does it ever get boring, Rex?"

Rex looked at Kev, a genuine curiosity in his golden eyes. "What?"

"Being an asshole," Kev clarified, his tone flat.

Rex smirked, a flash of predatory amusement in his gaze. "No," he replied, shaking his head. "And how about you, human? Does it ever get boring being so... uptight?"

Kev sighed, deciding to ignore the bait. He turned to Horns, a question in his eyes. "So, your big day off," he began, changing the subject. "Why are you sticking around instead of heading home?"

Horns took a long drag from his joint, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "I can smoke here," he explained, gesturing with the joint. "Also, the ceilings here are higher. Don't have to duck just to walk down the hallway."

Kev chuckled, picturing the massive mooseman trying to navigate a building with standard ceiling heights, his impressive rack of antlers likely causing chaos with light fixtures and sprinkler systems.

Rex's ears twitched, his attention drawn to the fragrant smoke curling from Horns's joint. "You gonna share that, moose?" he growled, his gaze fixed on the smoldering herb.

Horns looked at the joint, then back up at Rex, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Thought you didn't like smoking on the job, kitty cat," he rumbled. "Said it made you too easygoing."

Rex growled, a low sound in his chest. "If I'm going to be following Fang around tonight, it might be for the best," he conceded, a hint of reluctant wisdom in his tone.

Kev was surprised at Rex's uncharacteristic self-awareness. The tigerman seemed to have a fleeting grasp of his own abrasive tendencies.

Horns held up the joint for Rex to take. "You're probably right," he agreed. "That's why I smoke. Drinking too much just ends with me putting a hole in the wall."

"We know," Rex grunted, plucking the joint from Horns's massive fingers and taking a long drag.

Kev's eyebrows rose slightly. Horns had always been the epitome of laid-back kindness. This glimpse of a more destructive side, albeit hinted at, was unexpected. Perhaps the constant haze of weed smoke was more than just a casual vice.

Rex blew a cloud of smoke in Kev's direction, a smirk playing on his lips. "How 'bout you, human?" he purred. "Do you get feisty when you drink?"

"Not really," Kev replied, his voice slightly slurred. "I'd get sick before I tried to fight someone."

Rex acted genuinely disappointed. "Aww, shucks," he purred. "I was hoping maybe you'd try and hit me some night."

"What?" Kev asked. "So you could restrain me?"

Rex just nodded, a simple, matter-of-fact gesture.

"You know what happened last time I danced with someone," Kev pointed out, a shiver running down his spine at the memory of Pedro's fate.

Rex gave Kev a questioning glance. "What? You think I'm a punk like that llama?"

Kev leveled a flat stare at the tigerman. "Yes."

Rex's playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a flash of genuine anger. "Hey!" he growled, his ears folding back.

"You saved me from the enforcers," Kev conceded, his tone softening slightly. "But other than that... why do you think I'd like you?"

Rex seemed genuinely surprised, his mouth slightly agape. "Look at me," he said, his voice a low rumble filled with disbelief. "Haven't the others told you? I'm undefeated." He lifted his shirt, revealing his striped, furry stomach, devoid of any scars. "You won't find a scar on me. I'll let you look anywhere."

"Me either," Kev slurred, a lazy smile playing on his lips. "But for me, it's nothing to brag about."

Horns chuckled. "He got you there"

Rex scowled, taking another long drag from the joint before handing it back to Horns. "You just haven't been around long enough, human," he purred, his golden eyes fixed on Kev. "You'll learn soon enough that I can have anyone I want."

"Then why don't you hit on someone else?" Kev retorted, his voice slightly sharper despite the haze of the weed.

Rex considered Kev, a flicker of something akin to genuine interest in his gaze. "I don't need to hit on anyone else," he corrected, a smug look returning. "They just spread their legs for me… But you." He paused, his eyes raking over Kev's body. "That wolf has good taste… and I wanna have a bite too."

Horns finished the joint, a thoughtful expression on his face. "No biting, Rex," he warned, his voice a gentle rumble.

"Why not?" Rex challenged, his eyes narrowing. "The human might like it."

Kev lit a cigarette, his hand slightly unsteady. "You'd probably have to bite me to wake me up," he drawled, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Rex growled, a low sound in his chest. "'Cause I'd put you in a coma in the first place."

Horns laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "Rex, you should probably smoke some more before Fang gets here," he advised, "or he's gonna rip you a new one."

Rex grinned at Horns, a hint of defiance in his eyes. "That old dog is all bark now." He accepted another joint that Horns offered, lighting it with a flourish.

"Horns," Kev slurred, his gaze drifting towards the moose, "is there any catnip in we can use to keep Rex quiet?"

Rex growled, smoke pouring from his nostrils. "You're so lucky Fang fancies you, human," he hissed. "I'd have you screaming for me in minutes."

Kev rolled his eyes, a dismissive gesture. The tigerman's bravado was starting to wear thin.

"Horns, is Rex always like this?" Kev asked, his voice a low murmur, still feeling the lingering effects of the weed.

Horns chuckled, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "More or less," he replied with a shrug.

"What's that supposed to mean, moose?" Rex growled, his golden eyes narrowing.

"The way I look at it is this," Horns said, gesturing vaguely, putting down his mug. "Rex draws out the people who are looking for a fight." He hovered his massive hands in the air, as if illustrating his point. "They're like moths to a flame, and then..." He clapped his hands together with a loud thwack. "Rex takes care of them."

Rex beamed, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "Brave or stupid," he purred, his gaze flicking towards the door. "Both types are fun to use as a scratching post."

"Sounds like entrapment," Kev muttered, shaking his head.

Horns laughed, a deep rumble in his chest. "If they pick a fight with Rex or his crew, then they were trouble in the first place, Kev."

Rex puffed out a cloud of smoke, his eyes half-closed in contentment. "Don't make it sound so simple, moose," he said, a hint of warning in his voice. He looked down at the joint in his hand. "This is some good shit."

"If you think Ralph's finest flowers are good," Kev offered, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "why not try the oil?"

Rex narrowed his eyes, considering the offer. "I'll pass," he said flatly.

Horns chuckled. "Kev had some, Rex," he teased. "You scared?"

"I'm not scared," Rex retorted, his gaze hardening. "I'm working."

Horns picked up the water pipe, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, I'm not working," he rumbled, taking a long, slow drag. Kev laughed, the tension in the room momentarily broken by Horns's easygoing defiance. After exhaling a thick cloud of smoke, Horns offered the pipe to Kev.

Kev hesitated, then shrugged. "Why not?" he said, grabbing the pipe. "Rex is here to keep me safe," he added with a slightly slurred laugh before taking another hit.

Rex scoffed. "I still don't know why I'm here," he grumbled. "Maybe Fang wants me to take care of you when he wakes up."

Kev coughed out a plume of smoke, his eyes watering slightly.

"Or he's gonna ask Kev what he wants you to do to apologize," Horns said, a knowing look on his face. "Dale said you were pushing Fang's buttons last night."

Rex stubbed out his half-smoked joint, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. "That horse should just stay behind the bar where it's safe."

Kev giggled, the weed oil amplifying his amusement.

Rex's golden eyes narrowed. "Got something to say, human?"

"Dale's got enough real man to put you in the hospital," Kev slurred, a defiant grin spreading across his face.

Rex loomed over Kev, placing a leg on the edge of the couch, his powerful muscles flexing. "I put people in the hospital every day."

Just then, a sharp knock echoed through the apartment. Rex snapped his head towards the door, his aggressive posture instantly shifting to one of alert attention. He peered through the peephole, his eyes widening slightly.

"Mr. Fang," Rex announced, quickly pulling the door open.

Chapter Text

Fang entered, his presence immediately commanding the room. He looked striking in a classic black and white suit, a vibrant orange pocket square adding a subtle touch of flair. His eyes found Kev, and a warm smile softened his features. He walked over and settled beside Kev on the couch, pulling him close and kissing the top of his head.

Kev leaned into the embrace, a wave of contentment washing over him. The lingering tension from Rex's earlier pronouncements seemed to melt away in Fang's presence, a familiar sense of comfort settling in. Even from that very first night, despite Fang's initial intimidating aura, there had been a current of unexpected tenderness, a moment of surprising gentleness when Fang had offered him the bed.

"I dreamt about you last night," Fang murmured, his voice a low rumble against Kev's hair.

"Was I there too?" Horns chimed in, a hopeful grin on his face.

Fang glanced over at the mooseman, a hint of amusement on his muzzle.

"Ignore that space cadet," Rex growled from his spot by the door. "He's been smoking Ralph's oil since before I got here."

"Geeze, I just wanted to know if I was there too," Horns said, feigning offense. "Maybe I had super powers or something." He picked up the water pipe and took another hit, a cloud of smoke swirling around his head.

Rex sighed, his impatience evident. "Why have you called me up here tonight, Fang? The first cars should be rolling through right about now."

"You're guarding Kev tonight," Fang stated, his arm tightening around Kev's shoulders. "Talon is busy."

"Busy?" Kev echoed, looking up at Fang in surprise. "He was just with me an hour ago."

Fang rubbed Kev's head affectionately. "Well, he's got something else to do, so Rex is taking over for tonight."

Kev nuzzled into Fang, a small pout forming on his lips. "Fine," he murmured, "but you're walking me back here tonight."

Fang's tail thumped softly against the couch cushions.

"I don't mind walking you back," Horns offered, reaching for the water pipe again.

Fang's growl was low and warning. "I think you've had enough for now, Horns. Shouldn't you be doing roll call?"

Horns waved a dismissive hand. "Today's my day off, boss," he explained, a lazy smile on his face. "Wanda's running the show tonight."

"Wanda. Who's Wanda?" Fang asked, a puzzled frown creasing his brow.

"Come on, Fang, the turtle woman," Horns elaborated, taking another hit from the pipe. "Does most of the procurement for Cindy. You just talked with her two weeks ago about the candles."

"Oh, yes… Wanda," Fang said slowly.

Horns chuckled. "You have no idea who I'm talking about, do you?"

Fang growled.

"If Cindy trusts her, then she must be capable," Kev interjected, trying to smooth things over.

"Yes, she must be," Fang agreed, giving Kev's shoulder a final squeeze before standing up and looking around the apartment. "It does look different in here, sense the night…."

Kev, still comfortably numb from the weed oil, smiled dreamily. "A bit more like home," he murmured.

Fang's tail gave a small wag as he walked over to the piano. To Kev's surprise, Fang ran his fingers across the keys, pulling out a quick, surprisingly melodic phrase. "It's out of tune," Fang declared, a slight frown creasing his brow.

"I haven't even noticed," Kev admitted. "Guess my guitar is too."

Fang looked over, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "You have a guitar too?"

"Asmodeus got it for me after you introduced us," Kev explained. "He's been very kind."

"Really?" Fang said, his gaze sharpening. "I'll have to invite him over tonight, to thank him properly."

"Don't praise him too much, boss," Horns interjected, a playful glint in his eyes. "That bird will start treating everyone like his musicians."

"I have asked a lot of him, Horns," Fang countered, his tone thoughtful. "You know he could tour the world."

"That bird can't even leave the grounds," Horns muttered, taking another hit from the pipe.

"Watch it," Fang barked, his patience wearing thin.

The wolfman looked at the inebriated moose. "Working or not," Fang said, his voice firm, "that's enough, Horns."

Horns grumbled, "But it's my day off."

"And I'll get you some food," Fang retorted.

Horns's ears perked up. "Food does sound pretty good," he admitted. "Slept all day and haven't had anything since work ended this morning."

"You really should've just slept in my bed," Kev offered sleepily. "That couch is way too small for you."

Fang's growl was loud and possessive. "You slept in here?"

"Yeah, he crashed here this morning," Kev explained. "Probably his body knowing he had a day off and he could actually sleep."

Fang stalked over to Horns and picked up the water pipe. "This is Kev's," he stated, his gaze unwavering. "If you want some, talk to Ralph."

"Kev said I could have some," Horns protested, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Relax, Fang."

Fang narrowed his eyes. "Why don't you go downstairs," he suggested, his tone leaving little room for argument. "We'll meet you at the table."

Horns stood up, towering over Fang. "If Reepia complains about my order," he warned, "you're telling her to make it."

Fang growled softly. "Fine."

Horns grinned, clapping Fang on the shoulder. "See you down there, boss." With a final nod to Kev, Horns lumbered out of the apartment.

Fang sniffed the water pipe, a grimace twisting his handsome features. "This is really just weed?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Rex nodded from the doorway. "Concentrated stuff, boss."

Fang looked down at Kev, a hint of concern in his eyes. "Did you have this tonight, Kev?"

Kev looked up, a sheepish smile on his face. "A little," he admitted. "If I had as much as Horns, I'd probably be dead."

Fang's expression softened. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, pretty good," Kev replied, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

Fang grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. "Let's get this... evidence... put away, then get you some food." He gestured towards the pipe. "Where does this go?"

Kev reached into his pockets and pulled out his keys, a slight sway in his stance. "Follow me," he said, his voice a bit slurred. He stood up, the room swimming for a fleeting second before Fang's steadying hand appeared on his back. "Grab the goods," Kev instructed with a lazy smile, "and follow me."

He led Fang to his bedroom and opened the closet, revealing the small safe tucked away in the corner. Fang's eyebrows rose in surprise. "When did this get here?"

Kev fumbled with the key, finally managing to unlock the safe. Fang carefully placed the pipe and oil inside. Kev sat down on the edge of the bed, a wave of drowsiness washing over him.

"Max and Cindy got it for me," Kev explained, his eyelids drooping slightly. "Everyone's been really supportive."

Fang looked down at Kev, a tender expression softening his features. He remembered the scared, lost human from his first day and contrasted it with the relaxed contentment before him. He gently pushed Kev back onto the bed and leaned down, capturing his lips in a soft kiss.

Kev's arms wrapped around Fang's neck, pulling him closer. "You know," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper, "we could..."

His sentence trailed off as he noticed Rex leaning against the doorframe, his long tail twitching rhythmically, a knowing smirk on his face.

Fang looked back at Rex, a hint of annoyance in his eyes. "What?"

"Will this take long, boss?" Rex drawled. "I need to tell the boys out front that I'll be busy for a few hours tonight."

Fang stood up, straightening his suit jacket. "No," he said firmly. "Once we're at the VIP table, you should be free to go inform the security team." He looked down at Kev, still lying on the bed, and offered him a hand.

Kev allowed himself to be pulled up, a contented sigh escaping his lips. They left the apartment, Rex trailing behind them.

Kev looked back, a shiver of unease running down his spine as he saw Rex locking his apartment door. "How'd he get a key to my apartment?" Kev asked Fang, his voice a low murmur.

Fang shrugged, his arm still protectively around Kev's shoulders. "Rex is the head of security, Kev. There aren't many rooms he can't get into."

Rex caught up to them as they descended the grand staircase, his presence a silent shadow behind them, much like Talon's. Kev allowed Fang to lead him towards the VIP table, Skippy offering a respectful nod as they passed. Kev noticed Rex exchange a few hushed words with Skippy before the tigerman finally departed, presumably to inform his team of his temporary assignment.

Fang settled into the booth, pulling Kev close. "Horns," Fang called out, his voice a low rumble, "go fetch Asmodeus."

Horns, his eyes still bloodshot, looked over at Fang, a hint of defiance in his gaze. "Day off, remember?"

Fang scowled after the departing tiger, then looked down at Kev with a sigh. "I'll be right back," he mumbled, before getting up and disappearing into the newly forming crowd.

"This day off thing is awesome," Horns declared, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Kev chuckled. "When's the last time you had a day to do whatever you wanted to do?"

Horns counted on his massive fingers, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Hell if I know," he finally admitted with a laugh.

Just then, Rebecca approached their table, her feline grace a welcome sight. "Hello, Kev," she purred, her gaze sweeping over him. "Where is Mr. Fang tonight?"

"Hey, Rebecca," Kev replied. "Fang just went to find Asmodeus, I think."

"Oh," Rebecca said, pausing. "Should I come back then?"

"No, it's fine," Kev assured her. "I'll take a Cape Cod and the fish. Fang will do a coffee, Bloody Mary, and his steak and eggs."

"Rare and runny," Rebecca confirmed with a knowing smile. "You got it." She turned to Horns. "And you, Mr. Horns? Have you decided what you want?"

Horns nodded, his eyes lighting up. "Pancakes and a stuffed pepper," he began, then added with a grin, "and oysters."

Rebecca pulled out her pad and scribbled down the order, reading it back to Horns to ensure accuracy.

"Tell Dale to make me a drink, too," Horns added. "His choice."

Rebecca nodded. "Of course, Mr. Horns," she replied, before departing towards the bustling bar.

"That was quite the order," Kev remarked, a smile playing on his lips.

Horns chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest. "I let the universe guide my decision."

Kev chuckled. "You're a brave man, Horns."

"Speaking of the brave ones," Horns said, his gaze sweeping across the bar, "where did the little kitty go?"

"Rex went to let the security team know he is my guard dog tonight," Kev explained, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Horns looked over at Kev, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I'm surprised you don't like Rex," he commented. "Thought he'd be your type."

Kev raised an eyebrow and giggled. "He's too forward," he replied, shaking his head slightly. "Where I'm from, relationships between men aren't exactly popular, so stuff like that makes me uncomfortable."

"Really?" Horns said, his ears twitching with curiosity. "You don't seem to mind cuddling with Fang, though."

Kev's cheeks flushed slightly. "That's different," he murmured, his gaze softening.

Horns chuckled again. "Humans are so weird."

Rebecca returned to the VIP table, a slight tremor in her paw as she placed a glass of water in front of Horns. "Mr. Horns," she said hesitantly, "Miss Reepia has, uh, requested your presence."

Horns stared at the glass of water, his brow furrowed. "What the hell is this?"

Rebecca's cheeks flushed slightly. "Dale said he made it… just for you," she explained, barely containing a nervous giggle.

Horns glared over at Dale, who was polishing glasses behind the bar, a wide, innocent smile on his face. "Thanks for the drink, buddy!" Horns yelled, his voice laced with mock enthusiasm. Dale just laughed and waved in return.

Horns turned back to Rebecca, a resigned sigh escaping his lips. "Sorry, sweetheart," he said, his gaze softening slightly. "But Reepia will have to wait a bit. If she tries yelling at you, just tell her it was Fang's order."

Rebecca still looked apprehensive but her shoulders relaxed slightly. "I'll just wait on some other tables before I head back there again," she murmured, her tail twitching nervously.

Kev chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink, enjoying the unfolding drama.

Kev had only taken a couple of sips of his drink before Fang returned, a flamboyant figure trailing in his wake. Asmodeus, his suit a riot of colors that somehow managed to complement his equally vibrant feathers, followed Fang into the booth.

"Hey, Asmodeus," Kev greeted with a smile. "Looking sharp tonight."

Asmodeus tilted his beak regally. "Yes, I am," he declared, striking a dramatic pose.

Putting his arm around Kev, Fang addressed the toucan. "Asmodeus, I hear you've been kind to Kev. Got him a guitar and what not."

Asmodeus nodded, his eyes twinkling. "It was for selfish reasons, to be honest," he chirped. "And I'm quite happy to have discovered his human music is so... exotic."

"Regardless," Fang interjected.

"That guitar has helped me kill a lot of boredom during the day," Kev added with a grateful smile.

"See?" Fang said, turning to Asmodeus. "Now tell me, is there anything that I can do for you?"

Asmodeus lowered his beak, his gaze sweeping around the table with a calculating glint. "Did you not hear me, darling?" he said, his voice a melodic trill. "I gave the human the guitar only so I could hear his music."

"I'm fine with that," Kev assured Asmodeus. "What's the point of having an instrument if not to make music for people to hear?"

Fang nodded at Asmodeus. "I know you take the stage soon. If you can't think of anything now, feel free to let it stew for a bit."

Asmodeus's eyes widened, his beak pointing towards the ceiling in a dramatic gesture. "Pipe organ!" he yelled, his voice a melodic trill that resonated through the booth. "A big one! Can you imagine? Me, sitting there, dramatic lighting, the brass pipes raising to the heavens, that first note causing an eruption of life! Earthquakes themselves would tremble before the vibrations on the dance floor!"

Asmodeus took a deep, theatrical breath before abruptly sitting down again, reining in his dramatic outburst with a visible effort.

"I don't know if we can install something like that," Fang replied, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "But thank you for letting me know there are still things you want. I'll ask Cindy about it in the morning after closing."

Asmodeus waved a dismissive wing. "It is fine either way, darling. What I gave away in no way matches the price of a pipe organ."

"The price of Kev's happiness is even greater than that," Fang said, his gaze softening as he looked at his assistant. "Think about it. You may go."

Asmodeus stood with a dramatic flourish. "Gentlemen," he declared, his voice a melodic trill, "enjoy the performance tonight." With a bow, he exited the booth.

"See?" Horns chuckled, shaking his head. "Asmodeus can't keep things in perspective, asking for an instrument the size of the elevator."

Fang began to reply, but his words were cut short by a sharp hiss. Reepia approached the table, a small slip of paper clutched in her hand, her eyes blazing with fury. She waved the paper in the air. "Pancakes?" she snarled, her gaze fixed on Horns. "Is this some fucking joke?"

Skippy, ever the watchful guardian of the VIP section, quickly stepped aside as Reepia approached, her small stature radiating an intense fury. Horns visibly shrank in his seat under her glare, his usual booming confidence replaced by a nervous cough.

"Yeah, Fang," Horns stammered, his voice a weak imitation of its usual rumble. "Pancakes. Like... wow."

Reepia whirled on Fang, her eyes narrowed to slits. "This is the Chief of Staff? Blasted off his ass?!" she hissed, her voice a low growl. "What's wrong with you, Fang?"

Before Fang could respond, Reepia's attention snapped to Kev, her gaze accusatory. "This is your fault, isn't it?"

Kev, still feeling the pleasant haze of the weed oil, chuckled sheepishly. "Yeah, my bad."

"I knew it!" Reepia declared triumphantly.

"Reepia," Fang barked, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Sit down."

Reepia shot Fang a venomous glare before grabbing a nearby chair with surprising force and plopping down, her arms crossed and her jaw clenched. She lit a cigarette, her teeth grinding audibly.

"Reepia," Fang began again, his voice a low rumble, "this is Horns's day off. You know how hard he works."

Reepia's gaze flicked to Kev, still smoldering with indignation. "It is your fault," she muttered.

Kev sat up a little straighter, trying to appear more sober than he felt. "Yes," he admitted. "I brought up the day off thing." He glanced over at Horns, who was now completely engrossed in the crowd forming on the dance floor, seemingly oblivious to the brewing conflict. "He's not the Chief of Staff tonight," Kev added, his voice a bit slurred. "Just a happy customer."

Reepia crumpled the slip of paper into a tight ball and tossed it with surprising force, hitting Horns square in his massive chest. Horns jumped slightly, more surprised than anything, a startled "oof" escaping his lips.

"Hey, happy customer," Reepia snarled, leaning over the table, her eyes blazing. "I'm going to stab you."

"Not again," Horns mumbled, shrinking further into his seat.

"Pancakes!" Reepia hissed, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You want red ones? Blue ones? Big ones? Small ones? The fuck? You should know better. It's like saying I want eggs. What type of eggs? What if someone said you needed to hire an employee? Wouldn't you like to know a bit more? Well, sorry, you gotta fuckin' guess now. And if you don't get your shit together when you order off-menu, I will find you." Horns had practically disappeared into the plush cushions, his eyes wide with a primal fear. Reepia took a long drag from her cigarette, the cherry glowing ominously.

Fang laughed. "This is why we don't have you in front of our happy customers, Reepia."

"Happy customers are useless," Reepia spat, her eyes still narrowed at Horns. "I want hungry customers. I want thirsty customers. They'll be happy when they leave."

"Why not both?" Kev interjected, trying to defuse the situation with a placating tone. "All customers that don't pick a fight should be fine."

Reepia sighed disgustedly, rolling her eyes. "Then I'm going to get my knife," she muttered, pushing herself up from the table, "because this idiot ordering pancakes is picking a fight."

"I just wanted some pancakes," Horns mumbled, his voice barely audible.

"What type?" Reepia hissed, leaning down towards the mooseman.

"Fluffy," Horns squeaked, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and longing. "Stacked high, with that little butter square on top... and lots of syrup."

Reepia stubbed out her cigarette with unnecessary force, her nostrils flaring. "So boring," she declared, her gaze sweeping over Horns with utter disdain. "You disgust me."

"Reepia, if this is about Ralph, don't take it out on Horns," Fang interjected, his voice a low rumble.

"I'm working," Reepia snapped back, her eyes flashing. "Don't say that name to me." She shot one last venomous glance at Horns before stalking away, the sharp click of her steel-toed boots echoing across the floor.

"Ugg," Horns groaned, relaxing back into his seat. "Why does she always have to be so rough with me?"

"She's only that honest with people she knows can take it," Fang replied with a shrug. "Besides, you might have deserved a little bit of her wrath."

Horns chuckled, taking a long drink of his water. "Maybe," he conceded.

As they waited for their food, the dance floor came alive. Asmodeus, now seated at a grand piano, led a string quartet in a mesmerizing performance, the elegant melodies weaving through the club's vibrant energy.

Chapter Text

A few songs later, Rebecca returned, skillfully carrying their plates. "Here you are, Mr. Fang," she said, placing a steaming steak and eggs before him. 

"I was wondering where she was," Fang murmured, his gaze following Rebecca. "You ordered for me?"

"For us," Kev corrected gently, a warm smile on his face.

Finally, Rebecca placed an odd assortment of food in front of Horns: a stack of fluffy pancakes, a vibrant stuffed pepper, and a small plate of glistening oysters. "And for you," she announced with a cheerful smile, "the happy customer special."

Horns's eyes lit up. "You're amazing!" he exclaimed, diving into his unusual meal with gusto.

Kev laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "Thank you, Rebecca," he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. "You're great as always."

Rebecca smiled, her tail swishing playfully. "I'll be back if I see your drinks are empty," she promised, before heading back towards the bustling bar.

They settled into a comfortable silence, the sounds of the music and the happy murmur of the crowd filling the air as they ate their meals.

After eating, Kev leaned into Fang, a playful glint in his eyes. "So, what's on the agenda tonight, big guy?"

Horns, his gaze already fixed on the dance floor, swaying slightly in his seat, declared, "I'm gonna dance!" He stood up with surprising enthusiasm, promptly tripping over the edge of the VIP rope, but quickly regained his balance, offering a sheepish grin back at Fang and Kev before turning and heading, with a slight wobble, towards the throng of dancers.

Fang watched Horns disappear into the crowd, a wry smile playing on his lips. He turned back to Kev, his gaze softening. "Well," he murmured, his voice a low rumble, "I think that gives us an idea of what Horns's agenda is. As for ours..." He leaned in closer, his arm snaking around Kev's shoulders, his amber eyes sparkling with a familiar warmth.

Kev looked up at Fang, his warm smile softening the wolf's somewhat rugged features. The lingering buzz from the weed oil loosened his inhibitions. "Do you want to go for a walk?" he blurted out, then quickly took a sip of his drink, a wave of embarrassment washing over him at the thought that Fang might interpret his invitation as something... dog-like.

However, Fang's expression remained warm, a hint of curiosity in his amber eyes. "Where would you like to walk, my dear?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "Around the grounds? I've heard you enjoy the pool."

Kev shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Let's go somewhere else," he suggested. "I can walk the grounds anytime."

Fang nodded, a smile returning to his lips. "That sounds nice," he agreed. "It's been a while since I've gone out to stretch my legs." He looked up, his gaze scanning the bustling barroom. "Where is Rex, anyway? He should have been back by now..." A low growl rumbled in his chest. "Let's go, Kev. We'll find Perry."

As they left the VIP section, Fang's low growl directed an order at Skippy. "You watch my assistant here while we walk."

Skippy's gaze flickered towards Kev, a subtle protectiveness hardening his features. "Yes, boss," he replied, his posture immediately becoming more alert.

Fang draped a possessive arm over Kev's shoulders, his large hand resting reassuringly near Kev's neck. Together, they began to navigate the throng towards the front entrance, Skippy trailing a few steps behind. Kev felt a strange sense of ease amidst the press of bodies. The usual anxiety that prickled his skin as he moved through the unfamiliar crowd seemed dampened, the lingering haze from the weed oil and the undeniable force of Fang's presence creating a protective bubble around him. It was like being a salmon swimming upstream, yet shielded from the turbulent currents by the overwhelming charisma of the powerful wolfman beside him. The vibrant energy of the club, usually a source of mild unease, now felt like a backdrop to the comforting weight of Fang's arm.

They passed through the heavy doors into the twilight, the last vestiges of sunset painting the sky in hues of deep purple and fiery orange. Torches, mounted on ornate iron stands, lined the entrances and walkways leading from the bustling parking lot. A steady stream of cars, their headlights cutting through the dim light, could be seen pulling in, a few particularly sleek and futuristic-looking vehicles queued near the front door, their wealthy occupants eager to begin their evening at Club Fang. Valets, their movements a well-rehearsed ballet of efficiency, scurried back and forth, whisking the expensive cars away to their designated spots.

Perry, the owl man, stood at a polished wooden podium not far from the door, his head resting on his folded arm, his gaze lazily observing the arriving vehicles. Suddenly, his hand shot out, seemingly at random, into the air. A pair of keys, glinting in the torchlight, landed neatly in his waiting palm. He glanced at them briefly before bending down to place them on the podium.

"Perry," Fang called out, his voice a low rumble. "Go get the car."

Perry straightened up instantly, his bored expression vanishing at the sound of Fang's command. He turned, his sharp eyes locking onto his employer. "Any preference tonight, sir?"

"Driver's choice," Fang replied, his tone impatient. "Just make it snappy. I'm going out for a walk."

Perry nodded, his movements now swift and decisive. He turned and yelled, "Hey, Tessa, come take point!" An opossum woman, her fur sleek and her eyes sharp, hurried over to the podium. "I'll be back eventually," Perry said to her with a knowing grin.

Tessa laughed, a soft, hissing sound. "Have fun, Perry."

Perry nodded again, then with surprising agility for his size, he crouched low and leaped into the air, his powerful wings unfolding and carrying him in a swift, silent flight over the top of the mansion, a direct shortcut to the rear garage. A few of the arriving guests stopped in their tracks, pointing and murmuring in astonishment at the sight of the flying valet.

Fang growled, his patience clearly wearing thin. "The excitement is inside, not up there," he stated, his voice a low rumble that brooked no argument. "Move along." The few beastfolk who had paused to watch Perry quickly averted their gazes and hurried inside, eager to avoid the wolfman's displeasure.

"Kev, leaning on Fang, said, "Why is flying illegal?"

Fang looked down at Kev, a wry smile on his lips. "Jealousy."

Kev looked up, a knowing glint in his eyes. "You know, I kinda figured it would be something like that."

Fang grinned and looked back up. "If I had wings, I would fly."

Kev nodded. "Me too."

After only a minute, Perry arrived in one of Fang's classic cars, its black paint gleaming under the torchlight. Perry skillfully weaved between the other valets and parked in front of the entrance. Kev followed Fang into the back seat. Before Fang shut the door, Skippy approached and asked, "Uhh, boss?"

Fang growled, a low rumble. "Sit up front," he instructed, closing the door.

Kev leaned into Fang, watching as Skippy joined Perry in the front. They exchanged a quick nod. Perry pulled out into the parking lot, cutting off a few impatient drivers and pedestrians alike. Kev watched as the club disappeared from view, the exit now empty while the entrance road remained bumper to bumper with arriving guests. Perry only slowed as the security checkpoint came into view.

 A panther woman stood in the road, holding a glowing baton, signaling for them to stop. Perry rolled down his window. The panther woman approached and leaned down, her eyes meeting Skippy's in the rearview mirror. She glanced into the back and said, "Mr. Fang, there is something you might want to see."

Fang growled, his patience wearing thin. "It can wait. I'm busy at the moment."

The panther woman winced. "Rex is talking with someone you wanted to see."

Fang's eyes narrowed. "How badly do I want to see this person?"

The panther woman hesitated. "Rex is asking very, uh, detailed questions."

Fang looked down at Kev, a conflicted expression on his face. "My apologies, Kev," he murmured, "but I'll be right back."

Kev, still nestled into Fang's warm side, mumbled sleepily, "I can come with you."

Fang rubbed Kev's back reassuringly. "No, you wait here. This shouldn't take too long." He exited the car, the panther woman following him towards the small security checkpoint building.

Kev looked through the window and asked, "So, where do you put everyone's phones once they go through the metal detectors?"

Skippy glanced back, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Phones? We don't take 'em."

Kev leaned over, surprised. "But how do you keep people from using them inside?"

"They don't work," Skippy replied matter-of-factly.

Kev waited for an explanation, but Skippy offered none. Perry, however, glanced back from the driver's seat. "When you enter the grounds, a screen pops up on your phone that says 'Club Fang.' You can't do anything with it until you leave the grounds."

"Then what are the metal detectors for?" Kev inquired, still puzzled.

"Oh,," Skippy said with a shrug. "Old school cameras, tape recorders. I remember one time Rex confiscated a paint set and a canvas."

Perry laughed, a soft hoot. "Glad you boys are keeping us safe."

"We find needles every once in a while, blades once in a blue moon," Skippy added. "Most of the customers know better."

"I appreciate what you do," Kev said sincerely. "Can't be easy trying to tell if someone is a threat or just a bit too drunk sometimes."

Perry chuckled. "Well, being a valet is technically more dangerous, much higher chance of injury. Some people drive like animals."

Skippy looked over at Perry and quipped, "Yeah, you." Perry and Skippy shared a laugh.

A sharp rap on the window interrupted their conversation. It was Rex, standing outside Skippy's seat, his expression impatient. Rex beckoned Skippy with a curt finger.

Skippy quickly exited the car. They exchanged a few muffled words before the kangaroo headed towards the security checkpoint building, and Rex opened the car door, sliding into the front seat next to Perry. Rex adjusted the seat, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "What," he grunted, his tone impatient.

Perry kept his eyes forward. "Didn't think I'd ever be driving you around, Rex."

"Yeah, me either," Rex replied, a hint of annoyance in his voice. The car fell silent, the only sound the low hum of the engine.

After a minute, Kev broke the silence. "So, who's Fang talking to?"

"A troublemaker," Rex stated flatly, his jaw tight. He glanced back at Kev. "Speaking of trouble, where's the moose?"

"Horns is at the club still," Kev replied. "Enjoying his day off, I hope."

"Good," Rex muttered. "One less liability I have to worry about."

"I don't know why Fang insists that I need a bodyguard," Kev said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "He's more than capable of protecting me."

Rex scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You're so clueless it's cute, human."

"Enlighten me," Kev challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Rex glanced out the window. "You already look quite light."

Fang entered the car, breathing slightly heavily, his expression a mix of determination and lingering anger. He looked at Kev and pulled him close, his arm wrapping around the human's shoulders.

"Everything alright, big guy?" Kev asked, concern lacing his voice.

"Yes," Fang replied, his jaw tight. "It will be."

Perry glanced at Rex, who was still looking forward, a muscle twitching in his jaw, and put the car in drive. As they rolled down the road, Perry glanced at Fang in the rearview mirror. "Where to, sir?"

"Anywhere you want to go," Fang replied, his arm tightening around Kev.

Kev thought for a moment. "I don't know the city other than where you've taken me," he admitted. "Why don't we go to the park? It's basically your property, right, Fang?"

"The park it is," Fang agreed, his voice softening. He looked up at Perry. "Sorry, Perry, not much excitement tonight, but if you wanted to do a lap on the perimeter road, that would be okay."

Perry glanced over at Rex, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "How do you feel about headlights off?"

Rex looked over at Perry, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Are you nuts?"

Perry chuckled and pulled onto the perimeter road, the tires crunching on the dirt and gravel.

Perry stopped the car abruptly and flicked the headlight switch off, plunging them into near total darkness. "Give me a minute," Perry murmured, a strange intensity in his voice.

Kev looked up at Fang, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure," Fang replied, "but it feels... exciting."

"Really," Rex scoffed from the front seat, a hint of unease in his tone.

Perry rubbed his eyes, his pupils now large and luminous in the faint moonlight filtering through the trees. "If you're scared, you can get out, Rex."

Rex glanced back at Fang, his golden eyes narrowed. "You really trust this bird?"

Fang growled, an edge in his voice. "Yes."

"Welp," Perry said, a manic grin spreading across his face, "times up." He slammed his foot on the accelerator, the car lurching forward and speeding down the winding perimeter road, swallowed by the darkness.

Kev gripped the armrest, his knuckles white as the car barreled down the dark perimeter road. The trees lining either side were mere blurs in his peripheral vision, the oppressive darkness ahead offering no warning to the sudden twists and turns Perry was executing with unnerving precision. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, a knot of fear tightening in his stomach.

He chanced a glance to his side and saw Fang, his head thrust out the window, a primal howl tearing from his throat and disappearing into the blackness. The sound, though wild, held a strange note of exhilaration. In front of Kev, Rex was a tense silhouette, leaning intently into the dashboard, his golden eyes seemingly able to pierce the impenetrable darkness, anticipating curves and obstacles that remained invisible to Kev.

Perry, despite the reckless speed, maintained a deceptively relaxed posture. Only the subtle adjustments of his hands on the steering wheel, the almost imperceptible shifts in his weight, betrayed the minute calculations and lightning-fast reflexes that kept the car hurtling through the night with a terrifying yet somehow smooth momentum.

Fang pulled his head back inside the car, his amber eyes meeting Kev's in the dim light. "Remember the last time we were on this road?" he murmured, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Kev grinned and leaned over, giving Fang a quick peck on the cheek. "Last time I was here was earlier today, actually."

Fang looked down, a puzzled frown creasing his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Remember the other night?" Kev prompted. "Sabrina said she wanted to find the IT department?"

Fang's tail stopped its rhythmic thumping against the leather seat. "But she's in a chair. How did…"

"Talon's van," Kev explained with a shrug.

"Boss, should you be talking about the IT department in front of this valet?" Rex interjected sharply from the front seat, his gaze fixed on the dark road ahead.

"Rex," Fang growled, his patience wearing thin, "I trust Perry to drive while Kev is in the car. What is more sensitive than that?"

Rex glanced over at Perry, who remained focused on the dark road ahead, seemingly oblivious to their hushed conversation. Rex grumbled under his breath. "Bringing all sorts of feathered freaks into the fold. Keeping that toucan here was crazy enough."

"Quiet, Rex," Fang snapped, taking a deep breath and rubbing Kev's arm reassuringly. "The club is a meritocracy. If there was an avian who I thought could do your job better, I would hire them to do it."

Rex grumbled again, but remained silent.

Fang turned back to Kev, his gaze softening. "Now, you were saying?"

"Well," Kev began, a touch of sheepish excitement in his voice despite the previous rebuke, "Talon's van was a bit of a wreck, but it got us around the perimeter road just fine. Sabrina was complaining about the lack of AC, and then I remembered seeing an old well near the road, no weeds around it. Talon and I thought it looked a bit too clean, so we went to check it out."

Fang's arm, still around Kev, tensed slightly. "The well?"

"Yeah," Kev continued. "Concrete tube, lights at the bottom. Talon went down first – just flew, which was cool to see. Then Sabrina, then me with a rope ladder Talon found. It's a whole setup down there! Servers, big computers… Sabrina was in heaven. And then Kaiote showed up."

Fang's concern was palpable. "What did Kaiote do?" he asked, his voice a low, serious rumble.

Kev shifted slightly. "Nothing. She seemed… surprised, maybe a little scared at first, especially when she realized Talon and Sabrina were there. But she was nice about it. We could tell we weren't supposed to be there once she arrived, though, so Talon got Sabrina and we left pretty quickly."

Rex hissed from the front seat, a sound like air escaping a punctured tire. "She didn't hit the alarm. I've been over this with her. Unauthorized access to IT is a direct alert."

Fang's gaze, which had softened slightly listening to Kev, hardened again, though not directed at the human. "Kev, the IT department is off-limits," he stated, his tone firm but not angry towards Kev.

Kev looked down at his hands, which were still intertwined with Fang's. "Sorry," he murmured. "We were just bored during the day and wanted to explore a bit. Talon hadn't met Kaiote yet either, and he wanted to know all the managers."

Fang sighed, a long, weary sound that seemed to carry the weight of his responsibilities. He rubbed Kev's arm gently. "No, it's my oversight. I should have introduced Talon to the managers properly, like I did for you." He looked out at the dark, rushing trees. "Another thing to add to the list."

Kev shifted uncomfortably. "Well, the introductions are done now," he said, trying to sound light, "no need to think about it too much."

Rex grumbled from the front seat, a low, guttural sound.

Fang's head turned sharply. "Is there something you want to say, Rex?"

Rex twisted in his seat. "Oh, of course not, sir," he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Just spill your secrets without even telling me."

Fangs eyes narrowed. "What I tell, to whom, is my business."

Rex's head snapped forward, and he yelled, his voice cracking with frustration, "Well, it's my business too! You want me to do my job, well, you got to let me do my fucking job!"

The car was plunged into a thick, heavy silence. Kev could feel Fang beside him tense, every muscle coiled like he was about to pounce. Before Kev could even think of a way to diffuse the explosive atmosphere, Perry spoke, his voice quiet but carrying a distinct edge. "Don't yell in my ear when I'm driving, Rex."

Another few moments of strained silence passed, punctuated only by the sound of the tires on the gravel. Fang finally spoke, his voice dangerously quiet. "Rex, apologize to Perry."

Rex stared stonily ahead. "If his feelings are hurt, he can take it up with Horns."

"My ear hurts," Perry corrected calmly, not taking his eyes off the approaching main club road. "Not my feelings."

Fang's voice rose, though still controlled, each word sharp. "Rex, I told you to apologize to Perry."

The car finished its loop around the perimeter road, returning to the winding asphalt path that led up to the club. Perry flicked the headlights back on, the sudden brightness making Kev blink. Perry paused for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the light before he started driving again.

Rex scoffed. "Why bother with headlights if you don't need them?"

"Not everyone can see in the dark," Perry replied evenly. "If they don't see me coming, how can they swerve out of my way?"

"I still haven't heard an apology, Rex," Fang said, his voice flat and cold, a promise of retribution hanging in the air.

Rex let out another low growl, a sound of defiance that vibrated through the car.

Kev, feeling the tension escalate, gently rubbed Fang's arm. "The park is close, right?" he said, his voice soft and deliberately cheerful. "I can't wait to see it."

Fang was still glaring at Rex's silhouette in the front seat, his jaw tight. Kev squeezed Fang's leg, a small, insistent pressure. "You should take me to your favorite spot in the park," he murmured, his eyes fixed on Fang's profile.

Slowly, Fang tore his gaze away from Rex. He looked down at Kev, the anger in his eyes receding, replaced by a flicker of something softer. "It's alright," he said, his voice still a bit rough. "My favorite spot is a bit odd… Why don't I bring you to the fountain? There are usually buskers."

Rex coughed pointedly from the front seat. They were pulling up to the side of the road now. The entrance to the club's winding driveway effectively cut the sprawling park in half. This side road, maintained by the club, led into the deeper, less manicured sections of the park. Perry pulled the car to the side and turned off the engine.

Rex took a deep, deliberate breath and got out, walking around to open Fang's door with a stiff formality that was almost comical.

Fang helped Kev out of the car. "Welcome to my grounds, Kev," he said, a sweep of his arm indicating the vast, dark expanse of trees around them. "These used to be hunting acres but," Fang looked up at the bright skyline of Dala'Bon peeking over the treetops, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy, "hunting isn't very popular anymore."

Perry walked around the car, twirling the keys on his finger. "Any timeline, Sir?"

"No," Fang replied. "Just stick around and be ready for us. We are going to the fountain."

Kev stepped closer to Fang, looking up at him earnestly. "Fang, let's go to your favorite spot," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "I don't care if it's odd. I want to see things that are important to you."

Fang looked down at Kev, a small, almost hesitant smile touching his lips. The sincerity in Kev's eyes was disarming. "You'll wish you saw the fountain," he chuckled, a hint of warmth returning to his voice. "But okay."

Kev took a deep breath, the cool night air scented with damp earth and pine. The park unfolded before them, a tapestry of winding paths that disappeared into the shadows of an old-growth forest. Wrought-iron lampposts, their light soft and golden, punctuated the darkness at regular intervals, illuminating the pathways and the occasional bench or trash can nestled amongst the trees. A few beast people strolled along the paths, their forms indistinct in the distance, their quiet conversations a murmur in the stillness of the night.

Chapter Text

As they began to walk, Fang gently ushered Kev deeper into the forest, the crunch of leaves underfoot a soft counterpoint to the distant hum of the city. Rex, a silent sentinel, fell into step a few paces behind them, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings.

"Before this was a park," Fang said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to blend with the sounds of the forest, "I used to come out here to destress. Running around always cleared my head."

Kev nodded, understanding the need for such an escape. "Swimming helps me," he offered, picturing the cool embrace of the pool back at the mansion.

Fang glanced down at him, a hint of surprise in his amber eyes. "Swimming, huh? Can't say I've ever used the pool much."

As they rounded a bend in the path, a small group of beastmen approached, their laughter echoing through the trees. Rex, his instincts kicking in, immediately moved to position himself between Fang and Kev and the approaching group, his posture radiating a subtle warning.

"Path's taken," Rex scoffed. "Find another."

A hyena man at the front of the group let out a derisive laugh. "You gonna do something about it, kitty cat?" he taunted, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of arrogance and amusement.

Kev, called out, "Rex, it's a public place! They can walk where they want!"

Rex spun on his heel, his golden eyes blazing as he glared back at Kev. Fang looked down at Kev, then at Rex, a muscle twitching in his jaw. With a curt gesture, Fang signaled for Rex to stand down. Rex's lip twitched, his whiskers quivering with suppressed aggression, but he reluctantly stepped aside.

The group of beastmen swaggered past. The hyena, emboldened, jeered, "Looks like kitty's on a leash. Probably some freak from that sex dungeon." The group erupted in laughter, their voices echoing through the trees as they continued down the path, quickly forgetting the encounter.

Fang and Kev started walking again, passing Rex, who remained rooted to the spot, his glare now fixed on Fang's back.

"This place is the only forest in the city," Fang said, his voice a low rumble, seemingly unfazed by the hyena's insult. "You'd need to drive an hour to find something even close."

Kev giggled. "Me driving or Perry driving? I'd probably take three times longer."

Fang laughed, the sound a welcome release of tension. "Perry driving," he confirmed. "You shouldn't have to worry about something like that."

"Yeah, I'd rather not," Kev said. "The driving here seems crazy compared to what I'm used to… I heard Talon's sister was in a car accident." He looked up at Fang, but the wolfman's attention was elsewhere. Fang was glancing around, his brow furrowed. Kev followed his gaze and began to notice the park's deteriorating condition. The trash cans were overflowing, litter strewn carelessly along the path. Some of the iron lampposts were dark, their lights extinguished, while others flickered erratically. A few benches were broken, their wooden slats splintered and askew.

Fang continued to walk, his pace steady, but his tail was now held rigidly out, a clear sign of his displeasure. The deeper they ventured into the park, the worse the neglect became. The once-manicured pathways were now cracked and uneven, encroached upon by weeds and untamed undergrowth. The air, once fresh and invigorating, now carried a faint, unpleasant odor.

Fang stopped abruptly, his head snapping up as he took in the dilapidated surroundings. "Kev, this is not right," he said, his voice tight with a mixture of anger and concern. "Something must be wrong." He whirled around, his gaze fixing on Rex. "What is going on here?"

Rex, still simmering from the earlier encounter, met Fang's glare with defiance. "I don't know," he growled.

"This place is a mess!" Fang's voice rose, echoing through the neglected trees. "Who's getting fired?"

Rex looked away, his jaw clenched. "Why don't you ask your little pecker-face valet?" he sneered. "Seems like he's privy to everything."

"Rex, shut your mouth!" Fang barked, his patience finally snapping. The fur on the back of his neck bristled. "If any of the other managers said something like that about you, what would you have me do?" Fang stalked towards Rex, his movements predatory. "You would want me to punish them, wouldn't you?"

Rex flinched, unable to maintain eye contact with the furious wolfman. He looked down, his ears flattening against his head.

"You are watching Kev right now, so I can't punish you," Fang said, his voice dangerously low. "But if I hear one more fucking word like that, I'm going to lose it. You should be happy Kev is here, or else I'd already have posted a job listing."

Rex trembled, his bravado crumbling under the weight of Fang's controlled rage. He tried to look back into Fang's eyes but couldn't.

"Shut up and do your job," Fang commanded, his voice cold and final. He reached out for Kev's hand, his grip surprisingly gentle, and stalked down the path, leaving Rex to trail behind them, his earlier arrogance replaced by a sullen silence.

Fang's pace quickened, his hand gripping Kev's tightly as he led him through the increasingly overgrown and poorly maintained paths. The air grew heavier, the scent of decay mingling with the damp earth. Finally, they emerged into a clearing.

It was bathed in an almost oppressive darkness, the moonlight struggling to penetrate the dense canopy above. Small, weathered rectangles of stone, their inscriptions faded and obscured by moss, stood unevenly spaced in the tall, unkempt grass. In the very center of the clearing, a bare, rusty flagpole stood forlornly, its metal groaning softly in the slight breeze.

Fang stopped at the edge of the clearing, his breath catching in his throat. "The city said they would maintain this," he whispered, his voice raw with a grief that startled Kev. "As part of the park deal." He looked around, his eyes hardening, the earlier anger returning with a fresh, painful intensity. He let go of Kev's hand, his touch lingering for a moment before he strode purposefully towards the flagpole in the center of the small, forgotten graveyard.

A guttural howl, filled with rage and anguish, tore from Fang's throat, echoing through the silent clearing. He slammed his fist into the rusty flagpole, the metal groaning in protest.

Kev, standing at the edge of the cemetery, flinched at the raw display of emotion. He glanced back at Rex, who offered only a contemptuous sneer. Kev sighed, a familiar weariness settling over him, and walked towards Fang.

"Maffa! I'm going to end you!" Fang roared, his voice shaking with fury, his gaze fixed on the distant, glittering lights of the city.

Kev reached out, his hand gently touching Fang's arm. "Fang," he said softly, "this is your favorite spot?"

Fang's pained eyes locked onto Kev's, the anger momentarily receding, replaced by a profound sadness. "This isn't my favorite spot," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "This is a disgrace."

Kev's gaze swept across the neglected graves. "Can you tell me who this graveyard is for?" he asked gently. "Is it your family?"

"Family?" Fang yelled, his voice cracking. "The men in these graves are more important than just family! They gave their lives during the war, following my great-great-grandfather! Their loyalty will never be forgotten by me, and it should never be forgotten by the city!"

Kev looked around, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. He could now see the extent of the neglect. The graveyard was littered with trash – discarded bottles, crumpled wrappers, faded plastic bags. The graves themselves were overgrown with weeds, the headstones tilted and weather-beaten. Even the flagpole, the centerpiece of this hallowed ground, was bent and rusted, a symbol of the city's broken promise.

"They were brave," Kev said, his voice filled with a quiet respect. "Now that we know, we can do something about it."

"This is disrespect," Fang seethed, his anger returning. "Something will be done about it." He began to stalk back towards Rex, his fists clenched, his body radiating a barely suppressed fury.

"Fang, wait," Kev called out, his voice calm but firm. Fang paused, his back still to Kev. "Why not sit here for a bit and enjoy the night?" Kev continued. "I know the sight of this place might make you upset, but if this place is really that important to you… I want to sit for a bit and spend some time here."

Fang's shoulders, which had been rigid with anger, softened as he looked at Kev. The raw honesty in the human's eyes, the quiet understanding, seemed to soothe some of the wolfman's fury. "Yes," Fang said, his voice hoarse. "I can still pay my respects."

Kev nodded. "Take as much time as you need." He found a bench that was still relatively intact, its ironwork surprisingly resilient against the years of neglect, and sat down, facing the flagpole. He lit a cigarette, the small flame a fleeting point of light in the surrounding darkness.

The night air was cool and crisp, a welcome change from the oppressive heat of the day and the stuffy, smoky atmosphere of the club. Kev watched as Fang moved slowly through the graveyard, his large form a somber silhouette against the moonlit sky. Fang paused now and then at different graves, his head bowed, a silent communion with the fallen warriors. Kev could only imagine the weight of history and responsibility that Fang carried, the deep connection he felt to these forgotten heroes.

Kev smoked his cigarette, the silence of the clearing broken only by the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets. He carefully stubbed out the butt and tucked it into his pocket, not wanting to add to the litter already despoiling the sacred ground.

After a while, Fang returned to the bench. 

"I'm sorry you had to see this, Kev," Fang said, his voice heavy with a mixture of shame and anger. "I am going to make sure someone pays for this."

Kev gestured for Fang to sit down beside him.

Fang sank onto the bench beside Kev, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "This was supposed to be a fun walk," he said, his voice laced with regret, "and I've just embarrassed myself. I never would have imagined the city would stoop so low."

Kev reached out and gently took Fang's hand, his touch a silent reassurance. "Why don't you tell me about your great-great-grandfather?" he asked, his voice soft and inviting. "If this is your favorite place, I want to learn more."

Fang's tail gave a small, involuntary wag as he looked at Kev, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and surprise. He hadn't expected Kev to show such genuine interest, such a willingness to understand the depth of his connection to this place.

"Kev," Fang began, his voice a low rumble, "my great-great-grandfather was the first president of the unified Continent. These men," he gestured towards the surrounding graves, "they all fought against the unified mammal rule. Their own kind. They fought to give avians and reptiles equal rights."

Kev's eyes widened in surprise and admiration. "That's amazing," he breathed, his voice filled with awe. "I couldn't imagine how hard it must be to do something like that… how brave some men can be." He squeezed Fang's hand, a silent testament to the respect he felt for these fallen heroes and the legacy they represented.

Fang looked down at Kev, his amber eyes filled with a profound emotion. He pulled Kev close, his strong arms wrapping around the human in a tight, almost desperate hug. "A man is most brave when he fears," Fang murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears.

Kev hugged Fang back with equal intensity, the raw emotion of the moment, the potent weed oil, and the weight of Fang's family history overwhelming him. He felt a deep connection to the wolfman, a shared understanding of the burdens they both carried.

Then, a troubling thought surfaced, a dissonant note in the symphony of their shared grief. He pulled back slightly, his voice a hushed whisper against Fang's fur, "If you care so much about freedom, then how could you do that to Pedro?"

Fang's embrace loosened, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. "Who?" he asked.

Kev looked up, his own eyes now filled with a mixture of pain and accusation. "You sold him at the auction," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "And you've already forgotten? How could you say you respect men who fought for freedom when you stole freedom with your own hands?" The words hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the earlier warmth and intimacy of their shared moment.

Fang's embrace tightened, his expression shifting from grief to a kind of bewildered defensiveness. "Pedro?" He pulled back just enough to look into Kev's eyes, his brow furrowed, not in forgetfulness of the llama, but in a clear dismissal of his importance. "Kev, that... llama? That wasn't about his freedom. Don't you see? That was about you."

His hands moved to cup Kev's face, his thumbs gently stroking his cheekbones. His amber eyes, though still holding a trace of the earlier pain, now burned with a fierce, possessive intensity. "He tried to make a spectacle of you, Kev. He wanted to win you as a prize, to parade you around. He disrespected you. And by doing so, he disrespected me."

Fang's voice dropped, becoming a low, almost hypnotic purr. "What I did to him... that was a message. A very clear, very public message to everyone in that room, to everyone in this city who might hear about it." He leaned closer, his breath warm against Kev's skin. "It was to show them that you are mine. That you are under my protection. That anyone who even thinks of laying a hand on you, of disrespecting you, of trying to take what is precious to me, will face a fate far worse than being sold to the highest bidder."

He searched Kev's face, a flicker of something almost vulnerable, almost pleading, in his eyes. "Can't you see that, my love? It was a demonstration. A demonstration of how far I will go to ensure your safety, to ensure you are respected as... as mine." He stumbled slightly over the last word, as if the depth of his own possessiveness surprised even him. "He learned a lesson. They all learned a lesson. About what happens when you trifle with what belongs to Fang. It was for you, Kev. To keep you safe, to show the world you are valued beyond measure."

Kev pushed back slightly, his brow furrowed, the logic not quite landing. "But... slavery, Fang? Would the men buried here, these men who fought for equal rights, approve of you selling someone into slavery, no matter the reason?"

Fang's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching along his cheek. His grip on Kev's face softened, but his eyes remained intense. "Kev, these men," he gestured again to the weathered stones, "they weren't saints. They were soldiers. They fought in a brutal, bloody war. Freedom wasn't won with polite words and good intentions. It was won with sacrifice, with difficult choices, with actions that, in another context, might seem… unsavory." His voice was low, strained. "They did what they had to do to protect what they believed in, to secure a future for others. They understood that sometimes, to protect the innocent, you have to be ruthless with those who would cause harm."

Kev pulled away further, stepping back from Fang's embrace, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. "But this isn't a war, Fang. Pedro was… an idiot. A hustler. He wasn't a threat to my life."

Fang's hand shot out, grabbing Kev's arm, his fingers digging in slightly. "Every day is a war when you're fighting for something, Kev!" His voice cracked, the raw emotion in it startling. "Fighting for this club, for my legacy, for... for you! Do you think the city council plays fair? Do you think those enforcers were just out for a casual stroll? They see weakness, and they pounce. Pedro was a lesson, a necessary one, to show them I am not weak, and what I value will be defended, fiercely!"

Kev looked up at Fang, and his own anger faltered. The wolfman's eyes, usually so sharp and commanding, were welling with unshed tears, a vulnerability exposed that Kev had never witnessed. The sight was disarming, heartbreaking.

With a soft cry, Kev lurched forward, wrapping his arms around Fang's waist, burying his face in the wolfman's chest. The scent of sandalwood and something uniquely Fang, something wild and comforting, enveloped him. "I don't understand," he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. "This place is so different from where I'm from. At first, I thought it was just the club, but..." He couldn't articulate the rest, the overwhelming sense of cultural dissonance, the feeling of being adrift in a world with rules he couldn't comprehend.

He pushed away again, just enough to look up at Fang, his own eyes now wet. "Fang," he said, his voice trembling, "I've been lying to you."

Chapter Text

Fang went utterly still. The raw emotion that had been radiating from him moments before seemed to retract, replaced by a chilling quiet. He took a deliberate step back from Kev, his eyes, still glistening, now held a dawning suspicion. A low growl rumbled in his chest, not of anger, but of something deeper, more unsettling. "Explain yourself," he commanded, his voice flat, devoid of its earlier warmth.

Kev flinched at the shift in Fang's demeanor. He pulled his hands back, clutching them tightly against his own chest as if to ward off a blow. He couldn't meet Fang's gaze, his eyes fixed on the overgrown grass at their feet. "The first day," he began, his voice barely a whisper, "I woke up in that... that little room. I didn't know where I was, how I got there. And then... then you barged in."

Fang's brow furrowed, his confusion evident. "Get on with it," he demanded, his voice regaining some of its earlier sharpness, though now laced with a different kind of tension.

Kev shuddered, the memory of that initial terror still vivid. "I'm not... I'm not who you think I am," he choked out. "I'm not whoever they hired to be your personal assistant. I don't know who that person is, or how I ended up in their room." He risked a glance at Fang, whose expression was now unreadable, his eyes hard, his tail perfectly still. The sight made Kev's stomach clench.

He quickly looked away again, turning his back on Fang and sinking onto the cold iron bench, his shoulders hunched. "I was lost," he continued, his voice trembling. "And you... you gave me a home. A job. I didn't know what to do, how to tell you. Everyone... Horns, Cindy... they were all telling me I was doing a good job, that I was good for you. I was so scared." He buried his face in his hands. "Scared of telling you the truth, scared of what you'd do. Scared of being homeless, out on the street in a place I don't understand, knowing nothing."

The silence stretched, broken only by Kev's quiet, shuddering breaths. Then, he felt the bench dip beside him. Fang had sat down, still silent, his presence a heavy weight in the darkness.

Kev kept his face hidden, the words tumbling out now, a torrent of fear and confession. "And you were so... kind. Not always with your words, no," a small, watery chuckle escaped him, "but with your actions. You... you offered me the bed on my very first night. When I was terrified, and you looked like you wanted to eat me."

He felt a large hand settle on his shoulder. He looked up, his vision blurred by tears, to see Fang looking at him, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Then, slowly, Fang pulled him into an embrace. It wasn't the fierce, possessive hug from before, but something softer, almost hesitant.

"And I couldn't even let you sleep in it," Fang said, his voice a low, rough murmur against Kev's hair.

Kev hugged Fang back, clinging to him. "It's the thought that counts," he whispered, the simple truth of it anchoring him in the swirling chaos of his emotions.

Fang held Kev for a moment longer, then gently pulled back, his hands still resting on Kev's shoulders. His gaze was searching, the earlier hardness softened by a bewildered concern. "Tell me where you are from, then," he said, his voice quiet, almost a whisper.

Kev rubbed at his tear-streaked face with the back of his hand and coughed, trying to compose himself. "It feels like... it feels like I'm from a different world," he confessed, the words tasting strange on his tongue. "But that would be crazy, right?" He let out a shaky laugh. "Where I'm from, there are only humans. Beastmen... beastmen are just things that sing and dance in animated movies."

Fang's brow furrowed deeply. "What?" he breathed, the single word laced with utter confusion.

"Beastmen were just a myth," Kev elaborated, his voice still trembling. "Like... like unicorns or dragons. I don't know." He looked at Fang, his eyes pleading. "And you don't know how you got here?" Fang pressed, his voice still low, but with a new urgency.

Kev shook his head vehemently, fresh tears spilling over. "No. Please, believe me. I'm so sorry for lying to you."

Fang pulled Kev tight against him again, a low sound, almost a whimper, escaping his throat. He held Kev for a long moment, his large body a solid, comforting presence in the darkness. "None of the staff can recall who brought you into that room," Fang said, his voice muffled against Kev's hair. "The records from Lanon all seem correct. I've gone over them personally… but none of the paperwork is for you..."

"I don't blame anyone from the club," Kev whispered, his voice raw. "I just... I feel like I'm going crazy." He pulled away from Fang again, needing to see his face, needing to gauge his reaction. "I've been trying so hard to avoid thinking about this," he confessed, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Trying so hard to fill my daylight hours with activities, with cleaning, with playing guitar, with talking to people... anything so I didn't have to sit and think about how I got here. Every time it creeps into my head, I feel like I'm insane. It's so hard to stop thinking about it, like... like some cosmic, planet-devouring entity just decided to really fuck with me." He shuddered, then his gaze softened as he looked at Fang. "But then you laid down next to me and all the fear vanished... I was thinking about you."

At that, Fang's tail gave a single, almost imperceptible wag.

Kev took a deep, shaky breath. "If you want, you can try to track down where I'm from," he said, his voice gaining a sliver of resolve. "But I don't care. I don't want to care, and I don't want to think about it. I just want to keep moving forward and not go insane."

Fang was still quiet, his brow furrowed as he absorbed Kev's chaotic, heartfelt confession. The only sound was the distant city hum and the rustling of leaves in the neglected graveyard.

Kev looked up at him, his eyes red-rimmed but earnest. "I don't want to lie to you anymore, Fang," he said, his voice steadier now. "You can try to figure out what's going on, but I feel like I'm really far from home." He looked back down again, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Maybe I am the assistant and I've got amnesia or something," he offered, a small, humorless laugh escaping his lips.

At that, Fang chuckled, a low, soft sound that surprised Kev. Kev looked up at him, his expression questioning.

Fang smiled down at Kev, a genuine, gentle smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "You wouldn't be the only member of my family with an interesting past," he said, his voice a low rumble, devoid of the earlier tension.

Relief, so potent it was almost dizzying, washed over Kev. He leaned into Fang, his head resting against the wolfman's broad chest, the steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm. "Can you forgive me?" he whispered.

Fang's large hand came up to pet Kev's head, his fingers gently carding through his hair. "Don't let it happen again," he said, his tone firm but with an undercurrent of affection that spoke volumes.

"Do you believe me?" Kev asked, his voice small, almost childlike, his face still pressed against Fang's chest.

Fang held Kev tightly, his chin resting on the top of Kev's head. "There is something odd about you, I know that at least," he said, his voice a low, thoughtful rumble. "I don't care... If this is your truth, then who am I to question it? If you're not lying, then nothing will change the fact that you are here now."

"I'm not hiding anything else," Kev said, his voice gaining a little more strength. "I just didn't know how to tell you because it's insane."

"I am sorry, though, Kev," Fang said, his tone shifting, a note of seriousness entering his voice.

Kev pulled back slightly, looking up at Fang in confusion. "Why?"

Fang sighed, his gaze sweeping over the dark, neglected graves before returning to Kev. "You may not want to think about how you arrived," he began, "but others will." He paused, his expression growing grim. "Rex stopped a troublemaker earlier, at the security checkpoint before we left the club grounds. The troublemaker… it was Abe."

Kev's eyes widened. "Abe? The raccoon city enforcer? The one who was with Bryan?"

Fang nodded. "He was trying to tell the security team that the city is interested in you. Apparently, you've shown up on CCTV cameras out in the city with me."

Kev frowned, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. "I haven't done anything wrong, other than smoke a little bit," he said, his voice laced with a hint of frustration. "Why do they care about me? You associate with much more dangerous people than me."

Fang's grip on Kev's shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly. "You're not in any databases, Kev," he explained, his voice grave. "You're a phantom, with no identification, no history they can access. It just gives them another reason to harass us, another angle to exploit."

Kev looked down, a wave of guilt washing over him. "I always seem to be making trouble for you," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Fang gently tilted Kev's chin up, forcing him to meet his gaze. "You are just existing," he said, his voice firm but kind. "The city is making trouble."

Kev, overwhelmed by Fang's unwavering kindness and the sheer strangeness of his own situation, found he had no words. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed Fang, a deep, heartfelt kiss that conveyed all the turmoil and gratitude swirling within him. Fang responded with equal intensity, his arms wrapping around Kev, pulling him close. For a long moment, they were lost in the embrace, the neglected graveyard and the distant city forgotten, only the raw connection between them existing in the moonlit clearing.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Fang didn't need to say more, and neither did Kev. The understanding that passed between them was more profound than any words.

Fang grasped Kev's hand, his touch firm and reassuring, and led him back towards the overgrown path where Rex waited. As they approached, the tigerman straightened, his earlier sullenness replaced by an air of watchful anticipation.

"Let's have that talk with Abe tonight," Fang said to Rex, his voice now carrying a steely resolve. "I hope he's awake soon."

Rex grinned, a flash of sharp teeth in the darkness. "We have smelling salts, sir."

Fang waved a dismissive hand at Rex. "Spare Kev the details. It's been a rough night."

Rex's eyes flicked to Kev, a predatory smirk returning. "Is that what took so long? You were rough on him?"

Kev, his emotions still raw and his nerves frayed, glared back at Rex, the earlier vulnerability hardening into a flash of anger.

Fang growled. "Kev, have a smoke." He gestured towards a dilapidated bench just off the main path, shaded by an ancient oak. "Rex, we need to talk."

Chapter Text

Kev, grateful for the reprieve, moved to the bench and lit a cigarette, his hands still trembling slightly. He watched as Fang turned to Rex, his back to Kev, but his voice, though lowered, carried clearly in the stillness of the park.

"Kev... is not who we thought he was," Fang began, his tone devoid of its usual bravado, replaced by a grim seriousness. Rex's ears, which had perked with interest at Fang's summons, now twitched, his head tilting slightly.

"He isn't the assistant Lanon hired," Fang continued. "He woke up in that room with no memory of how he got there. He doesn't know this city, this world." Fang paused, and Kev could imagine Rex's usual smirk faltering, replaced by a frown of confusion. "He says... he says he's from a place where there are only humans. Where people like us are... fiction."

Rex let out a short, incredulous snort, and Kev saw him glance quickly over his shoulder at him, a flicker of disbelief in his golden eyes.

Fang's voice dropped lower, more intense. "There's no record of him. Lanon's paperwork for the original assistant is in order, but it doesn't explain Kev. No one remembers bringing him in. He's a ghost." Fang's hand gestured vaguely in Kev's direction. "And now, because he's an unknown, because he doesn't exist in any system, the city sees him as a weakness. A way to get to me."

Kev watched as Rex's posture shifted. The tigerman was no longer leaning casually; he stood straighter, his head angled as he listened intently. The smirk was gone, replaced by a calculating, almost predatory focus, but this time, it wasn't directed at Kev with flirtation. It was the look of a security chief assessing a new, unpredictable variable. Rex's gaze flicked to Kev again, this time longer, more analytical. He was no doubt weighing the security implications, the potential threat Kev represented, or the leverage he might provide.

"So," Fang concluded, his voice firm, "your priority, even more so now, is the club's safety. Abe showing up, Bryan trying to snatch him... it's not random. They're probing. And Kev is the point they've chosen to press."

Rex let out a low growl, his golden eyes narrowing as he looked over at Kev, who was now nervously puffing on his cigarette. "He's dangerous to keep around," Rex stated, his voice a flat, pragmatic assessment.

Fang nodded slowly, his gaze unreadable. "I know."

Rex turned his full attention to Kev, his earlier flirtatious demeanor completely gone, replaced by a sharp, accusatory tone. "Were you going to tell us, human?" he demanded, his voice rising. "Or just wait until you hurt the club? Until your... strangeness brought more trouble to our doorstep?"

Fang growled, a warning rumble in his chest. "Rex."

Kev flinched, drawing his knees up slightly on the bench. "It's insane!" he cried out, his voice thin with desperation. "I didn't want to get thrown into an asylum!"

"At least you'd be safe there!" Rex yelled back, his frustration boiling over.

Kev stared at him, speechless, the bluntness of Rex's retort stealing his breath.

Fang stepped between them, his presence a heavy shield. "Rex, Abe wasn't bluffing," he said, his voice low and intense. "We need to get more out of him. The city is interested."

Rex growled, pacing a short distance away. "You should have let me talk with him instead of knocking him out!"

Fang's voice rose, echoing Rex's frustration. "He was with the rabbit!"

"And they both were with the enforcers!" Rex shot back. "It's a pattern, Fang!"

"And that is for you to deal with!" Fang declared, his authority ringing clear.

Rex whirled back, his fur bristling. "I tried! But you won't let me!" He stalked closer to Fang, his movements agitated.

Rex took a deep, ragged breath, his chest heaving. Then, he exploded. "Fuck you, Fang!" he roared, the sound ripping through the quiet park. "Why the fuck am I not guarding Kev instead of that scrawny eagle?! I would have had this situation figured out by now! I could have had an identity forged for him! We could all tell on that first night that you can't even talk straight around him, and yet you just left yourself open to get bitten!"

Kev, stunned by the ferocity of Rex's outburst, watched as the tigerman stalked towards Fang, his body coiled with a primal rage. Rex stood over Fang, his voice a torrent of pent-up frustration. "You want me to protect what's important to you? Then why don't you let me?! And now that pathetic bird comes out of nowhere, and you have him following your boyfriend around, just because he had one good round in the fighting pit! I would destroy that scrawny eagle!"

The air crackled with tension. Fang remained still, his expression unreadable, letting Rex vent his fury. Finally, when Rex's heaving breaths were the only sound, Fang spoke, his voice calm, almost eerily so.

"Are you finished?"

Rex's chest heaved, his golden eyes still blazing with a fierce intensity. "Let me fight Talon," he growled, his voice a low, guttural challenge.

Fang met Rex's gaze, his own expression unyielding. "Rex," he said, his voice calm but firm, "Talon is not your equal. He is far beneath you."

A frustrated roar ripped from Rex's throat. "Then why is he guarding Kev and not me?!" he demanded, his voice echoing through the graveyard.

Fang's voice remained steady, a surprising contrast to Rex's explosive anger. "Rex, I trust Perry to drive my car."

Rex hissed, his ears flattening against his head. "What does that have to do with it?"

Fang took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. "Rex, I trust you to run security," he said, his voice resonating with an undeniable authority. "You are responsible for every single person who enters this club. You know every one of your security staff, and all the security staff trust you. You are undefeated." He placed a heavy hand on Rex's shoulder, his grip firm but not aggressive. "I don't want you driving my car... I want you punishing disrespectful customers."

Rex looked away, the fire in his eyes dimming slightly, his shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly. The raw anger began to recede, leaving behind a flicker of bruised pride.

Fang's voice softened, the sharp edge of command replaced by a more conciliatory tone. "I hired Talon to help you, Rex," he explained. "I wanted to take one thing off your plate. With the mafia deal, all the security changes lately... it's a lot. I never meant to offend you. I wanted to help you."

He paused, his gaze still fixed on Rex. "If something happens to Kev on Talon's watch," Fang continued, his voice low and serious, "it will be my own fault for hiring Talon. I could not put that pressure on you, Rex. Not for this."

Rex remained silent for a moment, then he slowly met Fang's gaze. "Next time you want to help me," he said, his voice rough but less aggressive, "just ask. I need to know what I'm supposed to protect."

Fang nodded, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. "I know you work hard, Rex," he said, his voice regaining some of its earlier warmth. He then reached out his hand towards Kev, a silent invitation.

Kev took Fang's offered hand, his fingers lacing with the wolfman's. The earlier emotional storm had passed, leaving a strange calm in its wake. As they walked back through the park, Rex now a few paces ahead of them, his posture still stiff but with less overt aggression, Kev's mind replayed the intense conversation between Fang and his head of security.

Fang must trust Rex a lot, Kev thought, his gaze drifting to the tigerman's broad back. Rex's outburst, his raw frustration, hadn't been about insubordination, not really. It had been about a perceived slight, a feeling of being undervalued, of his protective capabilities being overlooked. He seemed genuinely, deeply upset about not being Kev's primary bodyguard.

A small, involuntary shiver ran down Kev's spine at that thought, and he silently thanked Fang for choosing someone other than Rex for the more intimate security role. While Talon was intense, Rex's predatory focus on Kev was… unsettling in a different, more personal way.

He was also struck by Fang's reaction, or lack thereof. Rex had yelled at Fang, had challenged him, and Fang, while initially furious, hadn't lost control. He'd reasoned with Rex, explained his decision, even offered a form of apology. How long has Rex been working for Fang? Kev wondered. Their dynamic was clearly complex, built on years of shared history, loyalty, and a surprising degree of mutual respect, even amidst the explosive arguments.

As they neared the club road, Kev noticed a distinct change in their surroundings. The overgrown weeds gave way to more manicured patches of grass. The flickering and broken lampposts were replaced by steadily glowing ones. The overflowing trash cans were now neatly contained, the litter cleared from the pathways. It was as if they were stepping back into a different, more orderly section of the park, the disrepair of the deeper woods a forgotten anomaly. The contrast was stark, and Kev couldn't help but wonder if the state of the graveyard was a deliberate, targeted neglect by the city, rather than a general lack of upkeep.

Fang's pace suddenly slowed, his head snapping up, ears swiveling. Kev, still holding his hand, felt the wolfman tense. Up ahead, near where Perry was parked, a cacophony of rough laughter and taunting yells pierced the night air. Kev strained his eyes in the darkness but could only make out indistinct, shifting shapes around the dark form of the car.

Then, a sharp, agonized hoot cut through the noise, followed by a sickening thud.

"Perry!" Fang roared, his voice a furious thunderclap, and he began to stride forward, his leisurely pace abandoned.

The yelling and laughing intensified. As they drew closer, Kev could now see a group of about five or six beastmen – the same hyena from earlier was distinctly visible, his cackling laugh unmistakable – clustered around Fang's car.

Rex, who had been walking slightly behind, moved with astonishing speed, a tawny blur rushing past. He reached Fang just as the wolfman was about to charge into the fray.

"Boss, no," Rex growled, his voice low and urgent, placing a restraining hand on Fang's arm. "This is beneath you. Let me handle it." Without waiting for a reply, Rex continued forward, his body language shifting from tense guard to coiled predator.

As Rex approached the group, Kev's blood ran cold. Curled up on the ground beside the car, his feathers dirtied and one wing bent at an unnatural angle, was Perry. The owl man let out a soft, pained whimper.

The hyena spotted Rex approaching, his earlier bravado amplified by the presence of his pack. "Well, well, look who it is!" he sneered, his packmates chuckling and spreading out, forming a loose, menacing circle around Rex. "Your owner finally let you off your leash?"

The others laughed, jostling each other, their eyes gleaming with malice in the dim light. They began to close in on Rex, their movements confident, predatory.

Fang pulled Kev close, his arm a band of steel around his shoulders. "Watch," he said, his voice low.

Kev, his heart hammering, could only nod, his gaze fixed on the unfolding scene.

Rex didn't waste time with words. The instant the hyena finished his taunt, Rex exploded into motion. It wasn't the lumbering charge of a brute, but the swift, lethal grace of a true apex predator. He lunged, not at the hyena first, but at a burly boar-man who was closest, his right arm a blur as his claws, gleaming like polished daggers, raked across the boar's snout. Blood sprayed, and the boar shrieked, stumbling back, clutching his face.

Before the others could fully react, Rex spun, his powerful legs propelling him in a low, evasive crouch under a wild swing from a lanky wolf. He came up inside the wolf's guard, and Kev heard a sickening crunch as Rex's elbow connected with the wolf's ribs. Another yelp of pain.

The hyena, enraged, charged from the side. Rex met him with a terrifying agility, sidestepping the clumsy attack and delivering a brutal, open-palmed strike to the hyena's temple with his left hand. The hyena staggered, his eyes glazing over. Rex didn't hesitate. His right hand, claws extended, flashed out again, leaving four deep, crimson gashes down the hyena's chest. The hyena howled, collapsing to his knees.

Rex was a whirlwind of controlled fury. His movements were economical, each strike precise and devastating. He wasn't just brawling; he was fighting, using his size, speed, and natural weaponry with a terrifying efficiency. Claws tore at flesh, not haphazardly, but targeting vulnerable points – faces, limbs, exposed flanks. His blocks were solid, turning aside clumsy punches and kicks, and his counters were immediate and brutal. Kev saw him duck under a blow from a badger-like creature, then pivot, his powerful tail whipping around to trip another attacker, sending him sprawling.

It was bloody. Kev winced as claws connected, as fur flew, as pained snarls and whimpers filled the air. Yet, amidst the brutality, there was a strange, almost terrifying grace to Rex's movements. He flowed like water, then struck like lightning. He took hits too – a glancing blow to his side, a kick to his leg – but he absorbed them with a growl, his focus never wavering.

Kev watched, mesmerized and horrified. Rex was systematically dismantling the group, his skill undeniable. He wasn't just strong; he was a highly trained, incredibly effective fighter, turning their numbers against them, using their aggression to create openings. One by one, the attackers fell, either incapacitated by pain or scrambling to get away from the furious tiger.

The last two fighters, a wiry jackal and the badger creature Rex had tripped, saw their packmates fall, their bravado evaporating like mist in the morning sun. With panicked yelps, they turned and fled, disappearing back into the shadowy depths of the park.

Rex didn't pursue them. He stalked over to the kneeling, whimpering hyena and delivered a swift, contemptuous kick to his ribs. "Just some punks," he spat, his voice a low, dangerous growl. He then turned his attention to Perry, who was still curled on the ground, moaning softly.

Kev watched, surprised, as Rex's demeanor shifted. The raw fury of the fight was replaced by a focused professionalism. He knelt beside Perry, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he helped the injured owl man into a sitting position. "Easy, birdy," Rex murmured, his voice losing its harsh edge. He carefully examined Perry's injured wing, his brow furrowed in concentration. Perry hissed in pain as Rex prodded the broken bone.

Kev was struck by the contrast. Moments ago, Rex had been a whirlwind of claws and fury, a brutal instrument of violence. Now, he was assessing Perry's injuries with a calm, practiced efficiency, his movements surprisingly deft as he used a strip of cloth torn from one of the fallen attacker's shirts to create a makeshift sling for Perry's wing. It was a side of Rex Kev hadn't seen before, a glimpse of the skilled professional beneath the aggressive exterior.

Fang, his own anger still simmering, surveyed the remaining thugs who lay moaning or trying to crawl away. "If you don't want to die, you better leave," he snarled, his voice a chilling promise. The injured beastmen, terror etched on their faces, scrambled to their feet and hobbled off into the darkness, leaving behind only the scent of blood and fear.

Rex carefully helped Perry to his feet, supporting his weight. "His wing's definitely broken," Rex announced, his gaze meeting Fang's. "He needs to see Vlad, now." He then guided the injured owl man towards the car, carefully settling him into the backseat.

Fang let out another angry howl, his frustration and rage still palpable. Kev, sensing the wolfman was on the verge of another outburst, gently took his arm. "Fang," he said softly, "let's get Perry taken care of." He led the still-fuming wolfman to the car.

Rex, without a word, slid into the driver's seat, his earlier defiance forgotten in the face of the immediate crisis. The engine roared to life, and the car sped back towards the club, the urgency of the situation overriding any lingering animosity.

"Perry, what happened?" Fang growled, his voice tight with anger as the car sped towards the club.

Perry, cradling his injured wing, wheezed, his voice strained. "They... they were trying to mess with your car, boss. Said it looked expensive. Wanted me to give them the keys."

"Fucking punks," Fang snarled, his fist clenching. "The park has turned into a cesspit in my absence."

They screeched to a halt at the security checkpoint. The panther woman on duty looked surprised to see Rex behind the wheel, her eyes widening slightly.

"Emergency," Rex barked, his voice all business. "Send an orange alert and get a crew to get this car inspected. I'm driving up to the entrance."

Without waiting for a response, Rex slammed his foot on the accelerator, the car lurching forward and speeding up the winding entrance road to the club.

Kev felt a surge of relief that they didn't have to stop for the usual security protocols, the metal detectors and questioning. Perry looked truly awful. His left eye was already swelling shut, turning a nasty shade of purple, and the way his wing hung limply at his side, despite Rex's makeshift sling, spoke of a serious break. Small trickles of blood oozed from several cuts on his face and head, staining his ruffled feathers. The owl man was clearly in a lot of pain, his breathing shallow and raspy. Every bump in the road seemed to send a fresh wave of agony through him, and Kev could only imagine how much worse a delay at the checkpoint would have been.

Rex pulled the car to a screeching halt directly in front of the club's main entrance. The once-bustling parking lot was now significantly quieter, most of the patrons having already disappeared inside to begin their night of revelry.

Tessa, the opossum valet woman, looked up from her podium, her eyes widening in shock as Rex emerged from the driver's seat and carefully helped the injured Perry up the wide stone steps. The sight of the usually dapper owl man, now battered and bleeding, clearly startled her.

"Security will be up for the car shortly," Rex snapped, his voice curt and authoritative. He tossed the car keys towards Tessa, who fumbled for a moment before catching them. Fang and Kev followed close behind, their expressions grim. The usual playful banter and charming smiles were absent, replaced by a focused urgency as they hurried Perry inside.

They hurried through the dimly lit entrance hall, the usual throb of music and laughter from the main club floor now carrying an undercurrent of something else – raised voices, a distinct commotion. As they passed the wide archway leading into the main bar, the sound of yelling became undeniable.

Rex, still supporting the groaning Perry, glanced back at Fang, his golden eyes questioning.

Fang's jaw tightened. "Take Perry to Vlad, now," he commanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I will deal with this."

Rex nodded curtly, his focus immediately shifting. He carefully guided the injured owl man towards the east wing, his movements surprisingly gentle for such a large and formidable creature.

Fang then turned, his hand resting on Kev's back, and steered him towards the source of the commotion in the main bar. As they stepped into the familiar, smoky atmosphere, Kev's eyes widened. In the center of a hastily cleared space near the bar, Horns and Dale were locked in a struggle. It wasn't a fight, not in the brutal way Rex had dispatched the thugs, but a grappling match, two massive forms straining against each other. Dale held Horns in a clumsy headlock, and the moose was trying to leverage his powerful legs to break free, his face flushed and his usual dopey grin. Patrons had formed a loose circle around them, their expressions a mixture of shock, amusement, and apprehension. The music had faltered, Asmodeus and his band momentarily silenced by the unexpected spectacle.

"Let me go!" Horns roared, his voice a desperate bellow as he struggled against Dale's iron grip.

"No way, buddy!" Dale shouted back, his own voice strained with exertion. "You're staying right here!"

Fang pushed through the throng of onlookers, his presence immediately commanding attention. "What the hell are you two doing?!" he yelled, his voice a thunderous crack that momentarily silenced the chaotic scene.

Horns, his face flushed and his eyes wild, looked over at Fang, his chest heaving. "It's my day off!" he yelled, his voice raw with indignation. "And this horse is trying to boss me around!"

Dale, still focused on subduing the massive moose, gritted his teeth. "Calm down, Horns!" he urged, his voice strained.

"You calm down!" Horns retorted, redoubling his efforts to break free.

With a sudden surge of strength, Dale shoved Horns away. The moose stumbled back, his antlers nearly catching on a low-hanging chandelier. Dale, wincing in pain, clutched his own shoulder, his face contorted in a grimace.

Horns, however, quickly regained his footing. He stood up, his massive frame looming over Dale, his earlier desperation replaced by a simmering rage. "That wasn't very nice," he growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble.

"Horns! Look at me!" Fang yelled, his voice cutting through the tension, sharp and authoritative.

Horns finally tore his gaze away from Dale and looked over at Fang. Kev felt a knot of dread tighten in his stomach. He'd only ever known Horns as a gentle giant, his usual demeanor a comforting blend of jovial warmth and laid-back calm. But the mooseman standing before him now was a different creature entirely.

His usually soft, brown eyes were narrowed and bloodshot, blazing with an unfamiliar fury. The fur on his massive neck and shoulders bristled, making him appear even larger, more imposing. His nostrils flared with each ragged breath, and a low, guttural growl rumbled deep in his chest, a primal sound that sent shivers down Kev's spine. His impressive rack of antlers, usually a symbol of quiet dignity, now seemed like a formidable weapon, sharp tines glinting menacingly in the dim light of the bar. The easygoing slouch was gone, replaced by a rigid tension that radiated pure, unadulterated rage.

"I looked at you," Horns said, his voice a harsh rasp, devoid of its usual warmth. "I'm leaving now." He turned, his movements stiff and deliberate, and began to walk away from the confrontation.

"Don't be sour just because I cut you off!" Dale yelled after him, his own anger still evident.

Horns spun back around, his voice a thunderous bellow that shook the chandeliers. "It's my day off!"

Dale looked over at Fang, his expression a mixture of exasperation and concern. "Day off or not, I know Horns," he said, his voice still raised. "He had enough. Way too much, if you ask me."

"Shut up!" Horns roared, taking a menacing step towards Dale.

"Horns! Enough!" Fang's voice cracked like a whip, his own anger finally erupting. "Go up to my office. Now. I need to have a word with you."

Horns whirled to face Fang, his massive chest heaving, his eyes still burning with fury. "No!" he bellowed, the word a defiant challenge that hung heavy in the suddenly silent bar.

Fang's tail went rigid, shooting straight out behind him. His lips peeled back, baring a terrifying array of sharp, white teeth. A low, guttural snarl ripped from his throat, a sound that promised swift and brutal retribution.

Kev's heart hammered against his ribs. He looked frantically between Horns and Fang. They had always been so easygoing, so friendly in front of him. Now, they looked like two cornered beasts, seconds away from tearing each other apart. The air crackled with a terrifying, primal energy.

Fang took a menacing step forward, his body low and coiled, ready to spring.

"Horns!" Kev yelled, his voice surprisingly loud and steady in the sudden hush. "You said you'd walk me back to my room tonight!"

Both Fang and Horns froze, their heads snapping towards Kev. Horns, his eyes still blazing with anger, looked utterly confused. "Did I?" he mumbled, his brow furrowed.

Fang let out a low, incredulous sound. "What?"

Kev didn't hesitate. He quickly walked up to Horns, standing on his tiptoes to get closer to the massive mooseman's ear. He could smell the sharp tang of alcohol on Horns's breath, a scent that hadn't been there earlier in the day. Horns was still radiating fury, his body a taut spring of aggression.

Kev whispered loudly, his voice urgent, "There's still some of that oil left. Let's get out of here. It's too loud anyways."

At the mention of the potent weed oil, a subtle shift occurred in Horns's demeanor. The fiery rage in his eyes flickered, replaced by a flicker of something softer, more muddled. "It is kind of loud in here," Horns rumbled, his voice losing some of its harsh edge. He glanced around at the ring of patrons still staring at them. "And all these people are looking at me. It's… creeping me out."

Kev nodded emphatically. "Yeah," he agreed. "And I got some bagels still, I think."

A faint, almost dopey smile touched Horns's lips. "I like bagels," he mumbled.

Kev looked back at Fang, his expression a mixture of amusement at Horns's sudden shift and a longing, apologetic look for the wolfman.

Fang's fur, which had been bristling, slowly began to settle. His tail, no longer rigid, twitched once, then relaxed. He glanced at Dale, who was watching the scene with a bewildered expression, then his gaze returned to Kev, the anger in his eyes softening into something akin to weary affection.

"Good night, my love," Fang said, his voice a low rumble, surprisingly gentle after the earlier outburst. "Do not forget, this is your home." He then turned and walked over to Dale, presumably to address the situation.

Kev looked back at Horns, who was now swaying slightly on his feet. "Let's go," Kev said, taking the mooseman's massive arm and gently guiding him towards the exit.

Kev carefully guided the still-grumbling, slightly unsteady Horns out of the bar and towards the grand staircase. The mooseman was undeniably drunk, his usual lumbering gait now a more pronounced sway. Kev kept a firm hold on his arm, offering a steadying presence as they ascended the steps.

Reaching his apartment, Kev fumbled slightly with the keys before unlocking the door. Horns immediately stumbled towards the couch, collapsing onto it with a groan of relief. "Oh man," he sighed, his voice thick and slurred. "It's much better up here." He looked around the dark living room, his eyes unfocused but appreciative.

Kev went to the kitchen and poured a large glass of water. "Sorry, I don't have anything other than coffee, tea, or water," he said, handing the glass to Horns.

Horns took the water and drank it down quickly, his thirst apparently immense. Kev then went to his bedroom and retrieved the water pipe and the bag of weed oil from the safe. He returned to the living room and placed them on the coffee table in front of Horns.

"Here you go," Kev said, gesturing towards the offering.

Horns's eyes, though still hazy, lit up at the sight. He fumbled with the oil and the pipe, his large hands clumsy with intoxication. Kev lit a cigarette, leaning back against the armchair, watching as Horns finally managed to load the pipe and take a long, deep hit.

As Horns exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, his usual blissful, dopey smile spread across his face. Kev, meanwhile, headed back to the kitchen and began toasting bagels, the familiar scent of warm bread filling the apartment.

"So," Kev asked casually, flipping a bagel in the pan, "how was dancing?"

Horns let out a long, contented sigh, the smoke mingling with the scent of toasting bagels. "Dancing was amazing," he declared, his voice still thick but now infused with a dreamy enthusiasm. "Everyone was so… happy. Music was good. Felt great to just… move."

Kev laughed, flipping another bagel. "That's good, Horns. You won't be able to say your day off was all bad then."

Horns grumbled, his blissful expression faltering slightly. "Dale cut me off," he muttered, his gaze drifting towards the floor.

Kev brought over a plate with a toasted bagel and another glass of water. "You seem a bit drunk, if I'm being honest," he said gently, placing the offerings on the coffee table.

Horns glared at Kev, a flash of his earlier belligerence returning, but it quickly faded. "Yes," he admitted with a sigh, his shoulders slumping. "I am." He took another long hit from the water pipe, his eyes closing in momentary bliss.

He then reached for the bagel, groaning with satisfaction as he took a large bite. "Thank you," he mumbled around a mouthful of bread, his eyes still hazy but now filled with a genuine gratitude.

Kev smiled, settling back into the armchair. "You're free to crash on the couch again," he offered.

Horns didn't need to be told twice. He lay down, his massive frame overflowing the small sofa, half a bagel still sticking out of his mouth as he chewed slowly, his eyes already drifting shut.

Kev lit one of the joints Horns had rolled earlier, taking a slow, thoughtful drag. The player piano was silent, and the only sounds were Horns's rhythmic, heavy breathing and the distant, muffled thrum of the club below. "It was a wild night, Horns," Kev said softly, more to himself than to the sleeping moose, the smoke curling towards the ceiling in the quiet apartment.

Kev looked around the apartment. The only light came from the moon filtering through the windows and the dying embers of his joint. He realized he hadn't even bothered to light a candle or a lantern since Horns had arrived. The darkness, usually comforting, now felt a little oppressive, amplifying the strangeness of his thoughts.

With a sigh, he got up and locked the front door, the metallic click echoing in the sudden silence. He then padded to the bathroom, the cool tiles a contrast to the warmth of the living room. After a quick wash, he retreated to his bedroom.

He slid into bed, the sheets cool against his skin. His mind, still hazy from the oil and the joint, replayed the earlier conversation with Fang in the graveyard. Telling him the truth... It had been terrifying, a colossal weight lifted, yet a new, more insidious fear had taken its place. Fang had been surprisingly understanding, even kind, but what if that changed? What if the full implications of Kev being from… somewhere else… truly sank in?

A cold dread snaked through him. He thought of labs, of scientists, of being a specimen. He hoped he wouldn't be taken and dissected, his body picked apart to understand the mystery of his arrival. The thought was absurd, something out of a B-grade sci-fi movie, yet in this world where beastmen were real and magic might as well be, it didn't feel entirely impossible.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the unsettling images. Fang wouldn't let that happen, a small voice in his head insisted. But the fear lingered, a cold knot in his stomach. He curled onto his side, pulling the covers tighter around him, and eventually, Kev fell into an uneasy sleep, his dreams a chaotic jumble of dark forests, gleaming scalpels, and Fang's unreadable amber eyes.

Chapter Text

Kev woke with a gasp, his heart pounding, the remnants of vivid, unsettling nightmares clinging to him like cobwebs. He sat up in bed, his eyes heavy, his body slick with a cold sweat. He took a few deep, shaky breaths, trying to dispel the lingering images of sterile rooms and sharp, gleaming instruments.

He glanced at his watch: 7 am. Another day.

He dragged himself out of bed, the weight of his anxieties making his limbs feel like lead. As he stepped out into the living room, the familiar scent of marijuana smoke greeted him. Horns was already awake, perched on the edge of the couch, a lit joint dangling from his lips. The mooseman still looked rough, his earlier intoxication, though, was replaced by a more alert demeanor.

Horns looked over as Kev entered, a faint smile on his face. "Morning, Kev," he said, his voice a low rumble.

Kev just nodded, his throat too tight for words. He made his way to the kitchen and poured himself a large glass of water, gulping it down in an attempt to wash away the lingering taste of fear. He then slumped into the armchair opposite Horns, his body feeling drained and heavy. He fumbled for his cigarette case, his hands still trembling slightly, and lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply as if it were a lifeline.

Horns took another drag from his joint, exhaling a plume of smoke. "I, uh, finished off the oil at some point last night," he admitted, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Sorry about that."

Kev managed a weak smile. "It's fine, Horns," he said, his voice still a bit raspy. "That stuff was a bit too strong for me anyways."

Horns chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "You seemed to enjoy it well enough last night," he remarked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I did," Kev conceded, "but it made me a bit too… relaxed. Made me say too much… Had some weird dreams too." He shuddered, the unsettling images from his nightmares flashing through his mind.

Suddenly, Horns's face paled, his eyes widening. He clapped a massive hand over his mouth and, with a muffled groan, lurched to his feet and bolted towards the bathroom. The sound of violent retching echoed through the small apartment.

Kev winced sympathetically. It seemed the potent oil, combined with whatever Dale had served him and the lingering effects of his earlier intoxication, had finally caught up with the mooseman.

Shaking his head, Kev headed to the kitchen. He wasn't particularly hungry, but the familiar routine of preparing food offered a sense of normalcy. He started toasting some bagels and brewing a fresh pot of coffee, the domestic sounds a welcome distraction from the unsettling start to his morning.

Just as the coffee finished brewing and the bagels were turning a golden brown, a familiar knock echoed through the apartment. Kev opened the door to find Cindy and Max, their usual cheerful smiles gracing their faces.

Cindy, with her usual brisk efficiency, swept past Kev and headed straight for the kitchen. "Good morning, dear," she chirped, her voice a cheerful melody. "Smells like you're already making breakfast."

Max, meanwhile, settled onto the couch with a contented sigh, his gaze sweeping across the apartment. "Morning, Kev," he said, a playful grin on his face.

Kev couldn't help but smile. "You two are early today," he remarked, gesturing towards the player piano. He selected a lively scroll, and soon the apartment was filled with the cheerful strains of a ragtime tune. "Figured I'd get the music going before the day really started."

He turned to Cindy, who was already bustling around the kitchen, inspecting the contents of the fridge and cupboards. "Cindy," he said, "could you cook for one more? We have a guest."

Cindy's eyes lit up, a knowing smile spreading across her face. "Oh?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of excitement. "Is Fang on his way?"

Kev chuckled, a warmth spreading through him at the mention of Fang's name. "Not this time," he replied. "Horns is here. He crashed on the couch last night."

Just then, Horns emerged from the bathroom, looking pale and slightly green around the gills, but considerably less volatile than the night before. He offered a weak wave to Cindy and Max.

"Max, old buddy," Horns croaked, his voice still hoarse, "mind if I reclaim my spot?" He gestured towards the couch.

Max, ever obliging, hopped up from the couch and moved to the armchair Kev had vacated. "No problem at all, Horns," he said with a grin. He then turned to the mooseman, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "So, how was dancing on your day off? Hear you really cut a rug."

Horns groaned and plopped down onto the couch, his massive frame sinking into the cushions. "Amazing," he mumbled, his eyes closing wearily. "Until this morning."

Cindy's expression softened slightly as she looked at Horns. "I'm happy you had a good time, dear," she said, her voice gentle, "but you need to be careful you don't drink too much. Dale had some choice words about the situation last night."

Horns sheepishly looked down at his large hooves, a flush creeping up his neck. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Cindy brought over a tray laden with steaming mugs of coffee and a fragrant pot of tea. She set it on the coffee table with a soft clink. "It's alright, dear," she said, her voice reassuring as she poured Horns a cup of black coffee. "Just be sure to let Dale know that. He won't hold it against you."

Horns nodded, gratefully accepting the offered mug. He took a long sip, the hot liquid seeming to revive him slightly.

Cindy's gaze then fell upon the glass water pipe still sitting on the coffee table from where Horns had been using it earlier. Her brow furrowed slightly. "Is this yours, Horns?" she asked, her tone neutral but with an underlying hint of disapproval.

Horns glanced up from his coffee, his eyes still a bit bloodshot, and said, "Yes."

Cindy sighed, a soft, almost maternal sound. "I kind of had a feeling it was." She looked over at Kev, a pointed but not unkind expression on her face. "Where do stinky things go, dear?"

Kev put down his drink with a small smile. "I'll be right back," he said. He grabbed the water pipe and the bag of oil and took them to his bedroom, placing them securely in the safe.

When Kev returned, the atmosphere in the apartment had subtly shifted. Candles were lit, their soft flames dancing and casting a warm glow, and the windows were open wide, allowing a gentle breeze to circulate, carrying the fresh scent of the morning. Cindy was now perched on the piano bench, a delicate teacup in hand, swaying gently to the lively ragtime tune.

Kev leaned against the kitchen counter, observing the scene with amusement. Max kicked back on the armchair, stretching his legs out. "Got a long day ahead of me," he remarked, his voice a lazy drawl. "Hope you're not gonna cause me any extra trouble today, Kev."

Kev grinned. "I can't help myself sometimes."

Just then, a strangled groan emanated from the couch. Horns lurched to his feet again and made another hasty retreat to the bathroom, the sounds of his distress echoing through the apartment.

Cindy sighed, shaking her head, though a hint of amusement played on her lips. "Boys and their fun," she said, taking a delicate sip of her tea.

Max looked over at Cindy and chuckled. "Hey, not all of us are lightweights like that moose."

Kev chuckled, finishing his coffee. He glanced over at the stove where Cindy had taken over breakfast preparations. The aroma of sizzling bacon and eggs was beginning to fill the air. Cindy, with practiced efficiency, moved around the small kitchen, her movements graceful and sure.

Horns returned from the bathroom once more, looking even paler than before. He collapsed onto the couch, letting out a long, suffering groan.

Kev, feeling a pang of sympathy, said, "Horns, I'm using the bathroom real quick. Just knock if you need it."

Horns just groaned in response, his eyes closed.

Kev quickly cleaned up in the bathroom, then returned to find Cindy plating up the food. She handed him a generous portion of scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and perfectly toasted bagels. "Here you go, dear," she said with a warm smile.

"Thanks, Cindy," Kev replied, his stomach rumbling in appreciation.

They ate, Cindy and Max chatting quietly while Kev enjoyed his meal. Horns managed one weak bite of a bagel before laying down again, his eyes closed, a pained expression on his face.

Kev collected the empty plates and rinsed them in the sink. Cindy stood up, her movements graceful. "Well, dears," she announced, "we'll be leaving. It's good to see Kev is doing so well despite everything." She walked over to the couch and gently rubbed Horns's arm. "Rest up, Horns. Your shift is in nine hours."

Horns nodded weakly, his eyes still closed. "Thank you, Cindy," he mumbled.

Max finished his coffee and passed the empty mug to Kev. "Make sure the big guy takes it easy," he said, a playful grin on his face. "He's got to be ready for the real world again tonight." He then followed Cindy out of the apartment.

Kev diligently cleaned the breakfast dishes, the warm water and soap a surprisingly soothing sensation against his skin. With the apartment tidy once more, he changed into the black swim trunks Horns had procured for him. He grabbed his cigarette case and a towel, ready to enjoy the pool.

Just as he was about to head out, a knock sounded at the door. He opened it to find Sabrina, already clad in her vibrant red bikini, her sunglasses perched atop her fiery hair. Talon stood a respectful distance behind her, his black suit looking slightly out of place in the bright morning light.

"Morning, Kev!" Sabrina chirped, her voice bright and energetic. "You're glowing as always." She skillfully maneuvered her wheelchair into his apartment, her gaze sweeping around the room with approval.

Talon nodded a polite greeting at Kev as he followed his sister inside.

Kev turned to say "Good morning," but Sabrina was already chattering, her eyes wide as she spotted Horns on the couch. "Who's the big guy?" she exclaimed, her voice a stage whisper. "Did you have a sleepover? Oh, the drama! Do we have to keep this a secret from Fang?"

Talon walked past Sabrina and into the kitchen, selecting a piece of fruit from the bowl on the counter. "Quiet down, sister," he said, his voice a low rasp. "That is Mr. Horns. I've told you about him." He glanced over at the mooseman, a frown creasing his brow. "He doesn't look good. Is he okay?"

Horns, his eyes still closed, let out a dramatic groan. "I'm just dying," he mumbled. "Don't mind me."

Sabrina rolled her wheelchair closer to the couch, peering down at the ailing moose. "Well, come die outside at the pool," she suggested brightly. "It's nicer out there."

Horns cracked an eye open, looking up at Sabrina. "Outside is so far away, though," he groaned, his voice weak.

Sabrina tapped her chin thoughtfully. "You're too big to ride on my chair," she mused, then turned to Talon with a bright idea. "Brother! Carry your boss down to the pool!"

Talon, who was calmly eating another piece of fruit, paused mid-chew. He looked at his sister, then at Horns, a flicker of exasperation in his sharp eyes. "I apologize for my sister, Mr. Horns," he said, his voice a dry rasp. "She can be an idiot."

Horns chuckled, a weak, wheezing sound. "Some fresh air would be nice," he conceded, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position.

Sabrina rolled her wheelchair over to Talon and, with surprising speed, snatched the piece of fruit from his hand. She took a large bite and handed it back. "Brother, I am going down to the pool," she announced, her voice echoing with mock urgency. "If you take too long and I accidentally roll myself in and drown, it will be your fault." She wheeled herself expertly out of the apartment, calling back over her shoulder, "Hurry up, slowpokes!" and then she was gone.

Kev grinned, shaking his head at Sabrina's theatrics. "You getting changed, Talon?" he asked, gesturing towards the eagleman's impeccable suit. "Might be hard to swim in that."

Talon glanced around the apartment, his gaze lingering on Horns for a moment before returning to Kev. "Yes," he said, a slight hesitation in his voice. "I'll meet you down there in ten." His eyes flicked back to Horns, a serious expression on his face. "Mr. Horns, you will keep eyes on Kev, correct?"

Horns, still looking a bit green, waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, already sinking back into the couch cushions.

Talon nodded curtly and exited the apartment, leaving Kev and Horns alone once more.

Kev looked at Horns, a sympathetic smile on his face. "If you don't want to go outside, it's no big deal," he said gently.

Horns groaned, pushing himself up from the couch with considerable effort. "I want to," he insisted, his voice still a bit shaky. "My body just doesn't want to." He slapped his legs a few times, as if trying to coax them into cooperation, then slowly stood up.

Horns and Kev exited the apartment, the mooseman walking at a slow, deliberate pace. They descended the grand staircase, Horns leaning heavily on the railing, and finally made their way out to the pool area.

Chapter Text

Sabrina, already basking in the sun by the poolside, looked over as they approached. "Welcome to the daytime oasis, Mr. Horns!" she called out, her voice a cheerful chirp.

Horns managed a weak smile. "You must be Talon's sister," he said, his voice raspy. "The resemblance is uncanny."

Sabrina clutched her chest in mock offense. "Ouch!" she exclaimed. "To say I look like that brute." She then fixed Horns with a mischievous grin. "You must be the mean second-in-command, the one who cracks the whip."

Kev laughed and settled onto a nearby lounge chair. Horns, with a weary sigh, claimed another one, his massive frame sinking into the cushions.

Kev lit a joint and took a hit, the familiar scent of the herb mingling with the poolside air. Sabrina's eyes lit up. "So, spill it," she said, wheeling her chair closer. "What happened last night? Talon wouldn't tell me anything."

Kev coughed slightly, passing the joint to Sabrina. "What do you mean?"

Sabrina took a quick, appreciative hit. "The security was different when we got back," she explained, her voice laced with curiosity. "And some hot tiger grabbed my brother, dragged him off, and talked to him for like, half an hour. What was that all about?"

Kev passed the joint over to Horns. "Uhh, I don't know," he said, trying to sound casual. "Could be anything, really. And 'hot tiger guy'... you don't mean Rex, do you?"

Sabrina's eyes widened. "So hot tiger guy has a name!" she exclaimed. "Who is he? I need to know!"

Horns passed the joint back to Kev. "Rex is the head of security," he rumbled.

Kev took a hit and passed the joint to Sabrina. "Rex is good at his job," he said, "but he's an asshole. Totally not hot."

Sabrina took a hit, her eyes sparkling. "Not hot? Are you crazy? Did you see those shoulders? Holy shit."

Kev passed the joint over to Horns. "Who cares, if he makes you want to unlearn language?"

Horns laughed and finished the joint. Kev lit a cigarette. "And what about you, my feathered friend?" he asked, turning to Sabrina. "Where did you and Talon run off to last night? You just disappeared after we got back from our little drive around the mansion."

Horns's head snapped up, his earlier lethargy momentarily forgotten. "You drove around the mansion? How? In Fang's car?"

"No," Kev replied, "Talon has a car here. And Fang showed me the perimeter road on my second night."

Horns glanced over at Kev, a frown creasing his brow. "You shouldn't go exploring out there."

Sabrina scoffed. "I knew you were the mean one."

Just then, Talon arrived, clad in his black swim trunks. He walked over to the group, his sharp eyes assessing the scene. "I hope my sister hasn't gotten me fired, Mr. Horns," he said, his voice a low rasp.

Horns looked up, a faint smile playing on his lips. "She's okay," he replied. "Hasn't even threatened to stab me."

Talon frowned. "I hope not."

Kev stood up, a grin spreading across his face. "Swimming time!" he declared.

Kev and Talon splashed into the pool, the cool water a welcome relief from the morning heat. Talon, clearly more comfortable in the water now, showed off his growing confidence with a few surprisingly graceful strokes. Kev, ever the patient instructor, then taught him how to dive, demonstrating the technique with a clean entry into the water.

A few minutes later, Reepia appeared at the edge of the pool, two steaming mugs of coffee in her hands. Her usual stern expression was softened by a hint of amusement. "You all seem to be working hard," she remarked, her voice a low growl.

Horns, who had been dozing on his lounge chair, groaned and rolled onto his side, facing away from the formidable chef. "Oh no," he muttered under his breath.

Kev climbed out of the pool, water dripping from his hair and swimsuit. "Morning, Reepia," he greeted her with a smile. "Did you just clock out?"

Reepia sat down at the patio table and lit a cigarette, her sharp eyes fixed on Kev. "Yes," she replied. "Now sit."

Kev, feeling a bit exposed in just his swimsuit, sat down next to Reepia. "I'm not going to apologize for the day-off thing," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

Reepia scowled, taking a long drag from her cigarette. "Shut it," she retorted. "That's not what I want to talk about, and now you've got me upset." She clicked her steel-toed boot against the pool pavers, the sound a sharp punctuation to her words.

Kev waited in silence for her to speak, glancing at Sabrina, who was blissfully sunbathing with her sunglasses on, seemingly oblivious to the tension. Horns remained facing away, and Talon continued to mechanically practice his dives, his focus unwavering.

Reepia finally broke the silence, her voice a low rumble. "Kev," she said, her gaze intense, "the heart of a restaurant is the kitchen, right?"

Kev glanced at Reepia, then back at the pool. "Yes," he replied, "I think so."

Reepia took another drag from her cigarette, the smoke curling around her like a shroud. "So, the kitchen and the cooks are where the true soul of a restaurant reside," she stated, her voice firm.

Kev nodded slowly. "I guess you could say that."

"And since the eyes are the mirror to the soul," Reepia continued, her gaze unwavering, "the kitchen is really the brain as well."

Kev, a bit bewildered by her philosophical turn, managed a hesitant, "Uhh, sure. What are you-"

Reepia cut him off, her voice gaining intensity. "And the stomach too! The kitchen is basically the whole thing!" She leaned forward, her sharp eyes locking onto Kev's. "You better make that park restaurant happen, human."

Kev blinked, surprised by her sudden demand.

"If I get a second kitchen," Reepia declared, a fierce determination in her voice, "then I'll have the same amount as that duck!"

Kev nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'll push for it like I pushed for the day-off policy," he promised. "Because I think it's a good idea." He reached for one of the coffee mugs on the table.

Reepia swiftly pulled it away. "This isn't for you," she said, her tone firm. She stood up and walked over to Sabrina, handing her one of the steaming mugs. Then, she placed the other beside the still-slumbering Horns.

Reepia turned back to Kev, a sly grin spreading across her face. "You get coffee when Fang sleeps," she stated, her voice a low growl. With a final, enigmatic look, Reepia turned and strode back towards the mansion, leaving Kev to ponder her cryptic words and the unexpected alliance she seemed to be forging.

Sabrina took a tentative sip of the coffee, her eyes widening in surprise. "She's so nice," she declared, a genuine warmth in her voice.

Kev shook his head, a bemused smile playing on his lips, and dove back into the cool embrace of the pool.

They spent the next couple of hours swimming and relaxing, the earlier tension replaced by a comfortable camaraderie. Kev, mindful of the sun's intensity, retreated to the shade of the umbrella now and then, enjoying the playful banter between Talon and Sabrina. Horns, meanwhile, snored loudly from his lounge chair, his massive frame oblivious to the poolside activities. Sabrina, her earlier boredom forgotten, giggled as she tossed pebbles into the pool, watching with delight as Talon expertly dove to retrieve them.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, its rays beating down with relentless force, they decided it was time for lunch. Talon, his feathers still slick with water, turned to Kev. "We just got groceries," he said, his voice a low rasp. "We can make something in our apartment."

"Sounds good," Kev replied, climbing out of the pool and toweling off. He walked over to Horns and gently shook his shoulder. "Horns," he said softly, "wake up. Lunchtime."

Horns groaned, his eyes fluttering open. He sat up, stretching his massive frame, and looked around, a bewildered expression on his face. "Lunch already?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"Come on, big guy," Kev said with a grin. "Let's go eat."

They gathered their belongings and headed back inside, leaving the tranquil oasis of the pool behind.

Talon carefully maneuvered Sabrina's wheelchair towards the elevator, their laughter echoing through the quiet hallways. Kev and Horns, their steps a bit slower due to Horns's lingering fatigue, headed back towards Kev's apartment.

Once inside, Kev quickly changed out of his wet swim trunks and into a comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Horns, meanwhile, had reclaimed his spot on the couch, a sleepy sigh escaping his lips.

"Ready to head over to Talon's?" Kev asked, emerging from the bedroom.

Horns nodded, pushing himself up from the couch with a groan. "Lead the way, little guy," he said, his voice still a bit raspy.

As they walked down the hallway towards Talon and Sabrina's apartment, Horns turned to Kev, his expression serious. "Have you told Fang that you were snooping around the perimeter road, Kev?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "The IT department is classified, and you shouldn't be bothering Kaiote."

Kev winced, a pang of guilt stinging his conscience. "I'm sorry, Horns," he said, his voice a bit sheepish. "I did talk about it with Fang last night. He knows."

Horns nodded, a hint of relief in his eyes. "Good," he said. "Just... be careful, alright? Fang trusts you, but that doesn't mean you should go poking your nose where it doesn't belong."

Kev looked back at Horns, his brow furrowed in concern. "It was a really crazy night, Horns," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I really need to tell you what happened."

Horns nodded, his expression softening. He opened the door to Talon and Sabrina's apartment, gesturing for Kev to enter. "You can tell me anything," he said, his voice a gentle reassurance.

As they walked into the apartment, Talon greeted them with a nod. He was sitting on the couch, engrossed in the history book, but looked up as they entered. "Sabrina is just getting changed," he said, his voice a low rasp.

Horns looked around the newly furnished apartment, his gaze sweeping across the comfortable seating area. He attempted to settle into one of the armchairs, but its delicate frame seemed to protest under his massive weight. He shifted uncomfortably, his large antlers dangerously close to a nearby lamp.

Talon, noticing Horns's predicament, rose from the couch with a graceful movement. "Mr. Horns," he said, his voice a respectful rasp, "please, take the couch. It's much more comfortable."

Horns grinned, a grateful smile spreading across his face. "Thanks, Talon," he boomed, settling onto the plush cushions with a contented sigh. "Don't mind if I do."

Kev watched them, a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach. He wanted to confide in Horns, to share the burden of his secret, but the words caught in his throat. The fear of Horns's reaction, the possibility of shattering their easygoing friendship, held him back. It was still so new, so raw, so utterly unbelievable, even to himself. He didn't want to risk upsetting Horns, didn't want to see that familiar, jovial warmth in his eyes replaced by confusion or, worse, disbelief.

"Excuse me for a moment," Kev mumbled, gesturing vaguely towards the balcony. "Just need some fresh air." He retreated to the small outdoor space, the cool breeze a welcome contrast to the sudden warmth that had flooded his cheeks. He lit a cigarette, the familiar ritual a small comfort in the midst of his inner turmoil.

A few minutes later, Sabrina emerged from her room, her vibrant personality instantly filling the apartment. She spotted Horns on the couch, her eyes widening in mock surprise. "Oh," she declared dramatically, "I'm cooking for the big meany now too?" She gave Horns a playful glance, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Horns chuckled, a weak, wheezing sound. "I just hope I don't throw it up," he mumbled, his face still a bit pale.

Sabrina laughed, a bright, infectious sound. "Are you sick?" she asked, wheeling her chair closer.

Horns shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "It was my day off yesterday," he explained. "Might have had a bit too much fun."

Sabrina began bustling around the kitchen, her movements surprisingly efficient despite her wheelchair. "There's no such thing as too much fun," she retorted, her voice a cheerful chirp as she started preparing lunch.

There was a curt knock at the door. Talon put the book down and checked the peephole, then opened the door. "Mr. Gus, please come in," he said, his voice a respectful rasp.

A Crocodile-man walked into the apartment. He was powerfully built, his muscular frame evident even beneath the tight black tee-shirt he wore. A utility belt, adorned with many keys and a holstered hand-held metal detector, was slung low on his hips.

"Sorry to bother you, Talon," Gus said, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble. "Just wanted to know if the human, Mr. Kev, is here." Talon nodded and looked towards the balcony.

Hearing his name, Kev came back inside, the cigarette still smoldering between his fingers.

Gus cocked his head to the side when he saw Kev, his reptilian eyes narrowing slightly. "Human, huh?" he grunted. "They weren't lying when they said you had a look."

Kev looked down and smiled, a hint of self-consciousness in his expression. "Guess I'm a bit unique here," he said.

Horns looked over from the couch, his earlier lethargy vanishing. "Hey, Gus, what's going on?"

Gus looked over at Horns. "Mr. Horns, good to see you are upright today," he said, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "I'm just doing some follow-up from the Orange Alert last night. Standard procedure."

Horns sat up straighter, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Orange Alert? What? What happened?"

Kev, sensing the shift in atmosphere and wanting to dispose of his cigarette properly, excused himself and went back out to the balcony to stub it out in the makeshift ashtray. As he did, he could hear Gus's deep rumble explaining the situation to Horns.

When Kev returned, the mood in the apartment was noticeably more somber. Gus was recounting the events of the previous night – Perry's attack, Rex's swift intervention, and the urgent return to the club.

Sabrina, who had been listening intently, slammed her hand on the armrest of her wheelchair. "I knew something happened!" she exclaimed. "That hot tiger would never waste his time talking to my brother unless it was work-related."

Horns's face was grim. "Shit," he muttered, his voice laced with concern. "Is Perry doing alright?"

Gus nodded. "I saw him not too long ago. Lucky he got the one mammal doc that knows how to set a wing."

Talon, who had been silent, looked up sharply. "His wing's broken?"

Sabrina gasped. "Oh, Perry!" She turned to Kev and whispered, her voice filled with concern, "Who's Perry?"

"Fang's driver," Kev replied softly.

Horns looked over at Kev, his expression serious. "Kev, what happened last night?"

Kev looked at the concerned faces around him – Horns, Talon, Sabrina, even Gus seemed to be waiting for his account. "A lot," he said, the single word carrying the weight of the previous night's chaotic events.

Horns nodded slowly. "Damn."

Gus cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence. "Well, I don't want to be in you folks' way for too long," he said, holding up the hand-held metal detector. "Do you mind?"

Kev nodded and said, "Sorry for the trouble."

Gus waved a dismissive claw. "Think nothing of it, Mr. Kev. Gives me a reason to get up for something other than checking a delivery truck." He approached Kev, the metal detector held loosely in his hand.

Kev, anticipating the procedure, took his silver cigarette case out of his pocket and unclasped his watch, placing them on the coffee table.

Gus waved the detector over Kev's front, then had him turn around and ran the detector over his back. The device remained silent. Gus nodded, a grunt of satisfaction escaping his lips. "All clear," he said. "Sorry to interrupt." He started to leave, then paused in the doorway, letting out a soft hiss of air. He turned back, a slightly sheepish expression on his scaly face. "Are those the clothes you were wearing last night, Mr. Kev?"

Kev shook his head. "No, why?"

Gus scratched the back of his head, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I hate to do this," he said, his voice a low rumble, "but I'll need you to let me inspect the clothes too."

Horns looked over at Gus, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Come on, Gus. Lunch is almost ready."

Gus shook his head, his expression firm. "Sorry, Mr. Horns, but them's the rules."

Sabrina, ever mischievous, piped up, "Careful, Gus. That moose is a mean one. He might bite you."

Gus glanced at Horns before letting out a deep, rumbling laugh. "Little miss, I've been daytime security here for nearly ten years, and this will not be the first day that I let something slip."

Horns sighed, resigning himself to the situation. "Fine. If Rex hears I was telling his people to slack off, I'd never hear the end of it. Do what you got to do."

Kev shrugged. "It's really not a big deal. Not like it's far. I'll be back." He walked towards Gus and the door.

"Careful with the human, Gus," Sabrina called out. "Even the sunlight hurts him."

Gus raised an eyebrow and looked at Kev, then gestured for him to exit the apartment. Talon, ever the silent guardian, put his book down and followed Kev out. "I'll be back, sister," he said, looking back at Sabrina. "Don't bully Mr. Horns."

Gus exited and closed the door behind them.

Chapter Text

They walked in silence back to Kev's apartment, Gus's heavy footsteps a counterpoint to Talon's lighter tread.

Talon, his curiosity apparently piqued by the earlier mention, broke the silence. "Mr. Gus," he began, his voice a low rasp, "what is an Orange Alert?"

Gus glanced back at Talon, his reptilian eyes narrowed slightly. "Didn't Rex train you?" he grunted.

Talon's feathers ruffled almost imperceptibly. "It must have slipped his mind," he replied, his tone carefully neutral.

Gus shook his head, a dry chuckle escaping his lips. "An Orange Alert means Rex is overriding protocol. Something so important has happened that Rex needs full autonomy."

Talon absorbed this information, his sharp gaze thoughtful. "Does this happen often?"

"Not recently," Gus admitted, his voice a low rumble. "A few years back, Mr. Fang stopped going out on the town, and things have been quiet." He paused as they reached Kev's apartment door. "Relatively quiet, anyway."

Kev unlocked the door and they entered. Gus looked around Kev's now familiar living room. "When I couldn't find you here earlier, I panicked," Gus admitted, his voice a low rumble. "Didn't know if I'd need to check every room. Glad Talon over here mentioned where his room was."

Talon nodded. "When I invited you over, I didn't think it would be for this," he said, his voice a dry rasp.

Gus chuckled. "I'm here for work. If I'm up here in the club, that means something needs working on."

Kev went to his room to find his discarded clothes. From the living room, Talon asked, "Do you get bored down at the security checkpoint?"

Gus shrugged his massive shoulders. "I've got a radio down there, so it's not so bad. Got a good book I've been reading."

Talon's interest piqued. "Oh, I've been reading a bit lately too," he said. "What are you reading?"

Gus coughed and looked away, a faint flush creeping up his scaly neck. "Oh, nothing you'd be interested in," he mumbled, his gaze suddenly fixed on a non-existent spot on the wall.

Kev returned, holding the clothes he wore the night before – the sleek black suit with the silver pinstripes. "Good thing I haven't dropped my laundry off yet," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Gus nodded. "The cleaners would find anything," he said, his voice a gravelly rumble. "I've just got to confirm it." He gestured for Kev to hold out the clothes. Kev complied, and Gus waved his detector over the suit, both front and back. The device remained silent. "Looks like we are all set," Gus declared.

Kev nodded and put his clothes back in his bedroom.

Talon, who had been observing the process, spoke up. "Can I do this next time?" he asked. "It seems simple enough."

Gus looked at Talon, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Let's hope there isn't a next time."

"Mr. Fang has gone out quite often recently," Talon persisted. "It might be easier."

Gus patted his handheld detector. "Only one of these in existence, and I'm responsible for it. Sorry, Talon, but this is my job."

Talon inclined his head slightly. "I did not mean to intrude."

"Don't worry about it," Gus said, his tone becoming a bit more confiding. "Kaiote made this, and she told me if it breaks, then I'm responsible. Easy enough for me to understand."

Kev returned from his bedroom, his arms now full of dirty laundry. "Might as well drop this stuff off now," he announced.

Gus nodded. "Well, you two get back to it," he said. "I'm back to the checkpoint to fill out the report."

"Thank you, Mr. Gus," Talon said, his voice a respectful rasp. "And sorry again for my sister."

Gus chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling. "She's a feisty one." With that, Gus exited the apartment.

Kev chuckled as the door closed behind Gus. "How do you know Gus?" he asked Talon.

"He works here, like us," Talon replied simply, holding open the door for Kev, who was still laden with laundry.

As Kev stepped out into the hallway, Talon continued, his voice a low rasp, "Sabrina can't roll her chair through the metal detectors, so she needs to be hand-scanned. You can imagine how she reacts."

"Oh, okay," Kev said, picturing the scene with amusement. "Good thing Gus seems professional."

Talon locked Kev's door and followed him to the laundry chute. "Sabrina gave him a real earful yesterday when we left," he admitted, a hint of a smile in his voice.

Kev dumped his clothes down the chute. "So where did you go?" he asked, turning to Talon. "I would have really rather had you around than Rex last night."

Talon shifted his weight, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Oh, uh, sorry," he mumbled, his usual confidence faltering slightly.

Kev frowned, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "You two just vanished. I thought we had a pretty good time yesterday."

"Yesterday was good," Talon confirmed, his voice still low. "I just, uh..." He hesitated, his wings twitching almost imperceptibly.

Kev looked at Talon, waiting for him to continue.

Talon finally met Kev's gaze, his expression earnest. "Sabrina doesn't like to talk about her appointments," he explained, his voice a soft rasp. "She says they are a bummer."

Kev felt a pang of sorrow for Sabrina, imagining the frustration and tedium of constant medical check-ups and procedures. "I don't need to know the details," he said gently, understanding Talon's reluctance to elaborate.

"I will let you know if I won't be around next time," Talon promised, his gaze steady.

Kev nodded, appreciating the gesture. "Should we not bring her to see Perry?" he asked, his thoughts shifting to the injured owl man. "I was thinking about checking in on him after we eat."

Talon shook his head, a definite no. "No, she doesn't know him anyways," he said, his voice firm. "I don't want her causing any problems."

Kev grinned. "I don't think she could one-up your introduction to Vlad," he teased.

Talon frowned, his feathers ruffling slightly at the memory. "I know," he muttered, clearly still embarrassed by the incident.

"Well," Kev said, a playful glint in his eyes, "why don't we go check on him now? Horns should keep Sabrina's interest for a little while."

Talon considered for a moment, then nodded. "I would like to see Perry too," he admitted, his voice a low rasp.

They descended the grand staircase, the usual vibrant energy of the club still a few hours away. As they passed the bar, Kev remembered the previous night's commotion. "Horns and Dale got into a little scuffle last night," he remarked.

Talon's head turned slightly. "Is Mr. Dale okay?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of concern.

"I think so," Kev replied. "He was talking with Fang when I brought Horns upstairs." They continued their walk, passing the grand theater and the imposing entrance to the fighting pit.

Talon glanced back at Kev. "Mr. Horns looked pretty rough," he observed. "How did Fang subdue him?"

Kev glanced back at Talon, a small, almost proud smile on his face. "I broke up the fight before it started," he said.

Talon's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That is impressive," he admitted. "Mr. Horns is..." Talon paused, searching for the right word. "...big."

They reached Vlad's office door. This time, Talon stepped in front of Kev and knocked firmly.

Vlad opened the door, his slender frame draped in his long white coat. Kev couldn't help but shudder; there was something about the bat man's quiet intensity and nocturnal habits that reminded him of a vampire. Vlad looked at Talon, a dry, almost amused expression on his face. "Look who learned how to knock."

"Hello, Vlad," Kev greeted, stepping forward. "We were hoping to check in on Perry."

Vlad sighed, a soft, papery sound. "Perry was just about to rest. Gus barged in not too long ago and interrupted." He shot a pointed look at Talon. "Guards." He then gestured for them to enter.

The medical room was cool and sterile, the scent of antiseptic hanging faintly in the air. A simple cot had been set up in one corner. Perry was lying on his stomach on the bed, his broken wing strapped tightly against his back with clean white bandages. He looked over as they entered, his one good eye focusing on them. "Hoo-hello, Kev. Talon," he hooted softly, his voice a little weak.

Talon sat stiffly on the small wooden chair near the door, his sharp eyes darting nervously towards Vlad, who was now tidying some instruments on a metal tray. Kev walked over to Perry's bedside. "How are you holding up?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Perry let out a raspy chuckle that turned into a series of coughs. "Hopefully better than those car thieves," he wheezed.

Kev placed a reassuring hand on Perry's good wing. "Don't worry about them. Rex handled it."

Perry grinned, a faint but genuine smile. "That's good. I'd rather be in here than having to fight Rex."

Vlad, who was meticulously cleaning a pair of forceps, looked over. "Someone should tell that cat to rein it in," he said, his voice a dry whisper. "Can't think of a week where I haven't had to stitch someone up from his claws."

"Still," Perry hooted softly, "at least he doesn't go all out. Stitches are easier than amputations."

"Indeed," Vlad murmured in agreement, his gaze flickering towards Talon.

Talon shuddered visibly, his wings twitching slightly. He looked at Perry, his sharp eyes filled with a rare display of guilt. "Mr. Perry," he said, his voice a low rasp, "I'm sorry I wasn't around last night."

Perry managed another weak smile. "Don't worry about it, Talon. I don't think there's anything anyone could have done. I was watching the car when it happened."

Kev felt a fresh pang of guilt. If I hadn't insisted Fang pay his respects at the graveyard, he thought, if I hadn't told Fang my secret, we might have been back at the car before Perry was attacked. The weight of his choices pressed down on him.

Talon leaned forward, his voice hushed. "Did... did they target your wing because you're a bird?"

Perry was silent for a long moment, his good eye clouded with a distant pain. Vlad sighed, the sound like dry leaves skittering across pavement. "You know how it is, Talon," he said, his voice heavy with a weary understanding. "There are so many who are envious of flight."

Vlad nodded, his gaze distant. ". It's... a deeper resentment. Flight is a freedom many crave but cannot attain. They see it, they envy it, and for some, that envy curdles into malice." He paused, his thin lips forming a grim line. "An easy target, a broken wing. It's a cruel way to ground someone, to bring them down to their level."

Talon's feathers rustled. "But why? Why such bitterness?"

Perry let out a soft, pained hoot. "They don't understand it," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "The sky... it's a different world. They're stuck on the ground, looking up."

Vlad, however, interjected, his voice a dry counterpoint. "It's not solely a mammal-on-avian issue, Talon," he stated, setting down his forceps with a click. "As a bat, I've encountered similar hostility. Mammals, reptiles... it makes no difference to some. They see wings, they see something they don't possess, and they lash out." He gestured with a delicate, clawed hand. "It's not about being a mammal. It's about the lack of flight. The grounded ones often resent those who can soar above their limitations."

Talon ruffled his feathers, a ripple of unease passing through him. "I have heard passing comments while helping my sister," he admitted, his voice a low rasp. "No one has dared to confront me about such things to my face."

Perry hooted softly, a note of admiration in his voice. "Because you're tough. I've never seen anyone but the managers challenge Rex like you do."

Talon's sharp gaze flickered to Perry. "Do you really have to deal with such... patheticness often?"

Vlad sighed, the sound like rustling parchment. "Years ago, when I first started here," he said, his voice a dry whisper, "just working for Mr. Fang offered relief from those sorts of things. Everyone in the city knew of Fang. He was in the news nearly every day."

Perry nodded, his good eye looking distant. "It's been a while," he hooted softly. "I usually forget about it. Working at the club every day is so different than city life."

Kev finally spoke, his voice quiet. "I'm glad it wasn't worse. Fang was really upset when he saw what was happening."

Perry looked at Kev, his one good eye filled with a surprising intensity. "I'm sorry," he hooted softly.

Kev was confused, shaking his head. "Sorry? You were brilliant, Perry. I would have given up those keys if I was confronted like that."

Perry managed a faint smile. "Thanks, but once I heard those thugs say they thought it looked nice, I knew I couldn't. That isn't just a nice car, it's a fully customized WX-900 with a full custom suspension and stab-proof tires. Those lowlifes wouldn't even know how to treat a vehicle like that."

Kev grinned, a sudden, irreverent thought striking him: Perry was more in love with the car than loyal to Fang.

Vlad, who had been silently observing, interjected, his voice a dry rasp. "And that mechanical contraption cost you. Mr. Fang can always buy new things, but I cannot fix every ailment." He looked pointedly at Perry's injured wing.

Perry let out a soft, appreciative hoot. "Don't sell yourself short, doc," he said, his voice gaining a bit of strength. "I wouldn't have anyone else fix me up."

Vlad smiled, a rare, almost gentle expression. "I've worked on many birds, but never a Strigiformes," he mused, his gaze shifting from Perry's wing to Talon, then lingering on Kev. "It's always exciting to understand a new skeleton."

Kev looked away, a shiver running down his spine for at the implication. "Well, Perry," he said, his voice a little too bright, "I'm glad you're going to be okay. I think we'll leave so you can get some rest." Talon nodded and stood, his sharp eyes also avoiding Vlad's.

"Vlad," Kev said, turning to the bat man, "maybe I'll swing by tomorrow for a shave. Seems like you've already done a lot today."

Vlad nodded, a faint smile playing on his thin lips. "I look forward to your visit. Hopefully, no one ends up in the chair before you."

Talon stepped forward, his posture protective. "I'll be guarding Mr. Kev tonight," he stated, his voice a low rasp. "If someone is hurt, it won't be one of ours."

Perry hooted softly. "Give 'em hell for me, Talon."

Vlad's gaze drifted back to Kev, a clinical curiosity in his dark eyes. "If the human is injured," he said, his voice a dry whisper, "I don't mind taking a look."

Kev laughed nervously, a feeling of unease prickling his skin. "Bye!" he said quickly and exited the medical bay, wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and Vlad's unsettling interest in his anatomy. Talon nodded a curt farewell to Vlad and followed Kev out.

Chapter Text

Kev and Talon walked back through the quiet corridors, the earlier tension from the medical bay slowly dissipating. "Let's head back to your place for that lunch," Kev said, his stomach rumbling.

Talon nodded, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings as they moved. Once they were back in the relative privacy of the east wing corridor, Talon spoke, his voice a low rasp. "Rex mentioned something happened last night. He then... informed me for nearly twenty minutes that it's my job to protect you and that if anything happens to you, he's going to take it."

Kev winced. "Ouch. Twenty minutes of Rex is too much for anyone."

"He seemed agitated," Talon observed, his brow furrowed.

"Last night was crazy," Kev agreed as they began to ascend the stairs to the second floor. "We went for a walk in the park, and when we returned to the car, Perry was getting beat up. Rex stepped in and saved him, though."

Talon's interest was immediately piqued. "So you saw him fight? What were his weaknesses?"

Kev laughed, shaking his head. "He was moving too fast for me to see. He took on like five or six guys, though. Scratched them up and sent them packing."

"Were they big?" Talon pressed, his analytical mind clearly dissecting the scenario.

Kev shook his head again. "Everyone is big compared to me," he said with a wry smile.

Talon considered this for a moment. "Ms. Reepia is your size," he remarked. "She scared me."

Kev chuckled. "Me too."

They reached Talon's apartment, the eagleman still peppering Kev with questions about Rex's fighting style as he unlocked the door. "So, did he favor a particular limb for striking? Any noticeable tells before he attacked?"

As the door swung open, Kev saw Horns still sprawled on the couch, a low snore rumbling from his massive chest.

Sabrina looked up from a brightly colored magazine she was flipping through. "Took you two long enough," she said, her voice a playful chirp. "Did Gus need to do a cavity search?"

Kev chuckled nervously. "No, we just, uh..." He hesitated, not wanting to bring up visiting Perry in the medical bay, thinking it might upset her. "We just got distracted talking about last night. I saw Rex fight."

"Who?" Sabrina asked, her head tilting with curiosity.

"Hot tiger guy," Kev replied with a smirk.

Sabrina rolled closer, her eyes lighting up. "Oh, go on then!"

Talon walked past them and picked up a sandwich that was sitting on the counter. "I still haven't seen his skills yet," he said, his voice a low rasp as he took a bite. "They are quite legendary."

Horns mumbled from the couch, his voice thick with sleep, "He's undefeated."

"Oh, that is so hot," Sabrina declared dramatically. "Brother, why do you have to get your butt kicked so often?"

Talon pulled the sandwich out of his mouth, a frown creasing his brow. "I do not."

Kev picked up the other sandwich from the counter and stood next to Talon, taking a bite. "Talon is really vigilant," he said, defending the eagleman. "And he's not an asshole like Rex is."

Talon took another bite of his sandwich and said, "Thanks."

After they finished their meal, Horns sat up on the couch, looking a bit more alert. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his familiar pouch.

"Horns," Kev said quickly, "they don't smoke in here."

Sabrina's eyes lit up. "You can smoke as long as you share it with me," she declared, wheeling her chair closer.

Horns looked around the apartment, then at Talon, who was meticulously wiping crumbs from his suit. "You don't smoke, Talon?" Horns asked, raising an eyebrow. "It might help you relax."

Talon shook his head. "No."

Sabrina sighed dramatically. "Brother is so pure."

Kev stood up. "Come on," he said, gesturing towards the balcony. "Balcony isn't far."

They gathered on the small balcony, the city sounds a distant hum below. Horns lit the joint, the familiar scent mingling with the afternoon air. "That food hit the spot, Sabrina," he said, a contented rumble in his voice. "Thanks." He passed the joint to her.

Sabrina took a hit, her eyes sparkling. "You're so scary," she said to Horns, a playful grin on her face. "Fear must make me cook better." She passed the joint to Kev.

Kev took a hit, the smoke smooth and relaxing. "It's only two," he remarked, exhaling slowly. "Anyone up for a game of pool?" He passed the joint back to Horns.

Horns took a thoughtful drag. "It's been a while," he mused. "I never get the chance to play now." He passed the joint to Sabrina.

Sabrina took another hit. "I wonder if hot tiger guy is good at pool," she said, her gaze distant and dreamy.

Kev groaned. "Oh God, please stop with that."

They finished the joint, the remnants of its sweet smoke dissipating in the afternoon breeze. "We're heading down to play some games in the private pool room," Kev announced to Talon, who was still engrossed in his book.

Talon nodded, not looking up.

Kev, Horns, and Sabrina made their way to the elevator. As they stepped inside, Sabrina piped up, "Does Horns count as two people? This elevator says it can only hold ten."

Horns chuckled. "Good thing there are only five of us then, right?" he said, playfully nudging Sabrina's wheelchair with his foot.

They reached the private billiards room. Kev unlocked the door with his key, and they spread out, each drawn to a different corner of the inviting space. Sabrina pulled a brightly colored magazine from a pocket on her wheelchair and began flipping through its glossy pages. Talon, who had silently followed, immediately gravitated towards the dartboard, selecting a set of darts with a practiced eye. Kev and Horns, meanwhile, chose cues from the rack and began chalking the tips.

"This is a nice table," Horns commented, running a massive hand over the smooth green felt. He walked around it, his gaze appreciative, then picked up the brush.

"Max picked it out, I think," Kev said.

Horns brushed the tabletop meticulously. "I bet that fox comes up here and plays a rack or two every day now," he rumbled, a knowing grin on his face. He then looked over at the bookshelf nestled in the corner. "That's a door, right?"

"Yeah," Kev replied. "Secret doors are pretty cool."

"I can spot them now," Horns said, his voice laced with a hint of pride. "Don't remember them all, but there's one in almost every room."

"Really? That's crazy," Kev said. "How many books does one house need?"

Horns laughed and put the brush away. "Not all of them are bookshelves; it would get too suspicious. Who wants a bookshelf in the bathroom?"

Kev frowned, a flicker of unease crossing his features as he wondered why they would need secret doors in the bathrooms.

Horns, oblivious to Kev's momentary discomfort, expertly racked the balls. "Let's just warm up with a rack each before we play," he suggested.

Kev nodded, still slightly preoccupied by the thought of hidden bathroom doors. "Uhh, okay. Do you want to break?"

Horns raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Uh, sure, I'll go first." He centered the white cue ball and took aim, leaning low over the table. With a powerful thrust of his long arm, he broke, the cue ball smacking into the others with a resounding crack. Three balls immediately disappeared into pockets. Horns continued his run, pocketing ball after ball with an effortless precision that belied his earlier claims of being rusty. Finally, after sinking several more, he attempted a long, full-table shot and missed, leaving only six balls remaining.

"Ugh, it's been so long," Horns grumbled, shaking his head as he walked over to the couch and sat down.

"That was really good, Horns!" Kev exclaimed, genuinely impressed.

Horns sighed, a hint of frustration in his voice. "That was a great break, and I just lost it on a simple shot. Didn't even need to bounce it or anything."

Kev stood at the table and took aim. "Horns," he said, glancing over at the mooseman, "I don't think we can even play against each other. You'd kill me." He focused and made his shot, pocketing one of the remaining balls.

"Maybe when I first started here," Horns said, a nostalgic look in his eyes, "but not anymore."

Kev lined up his next shot, but missed, the cue ball rolling harmlessly past its target. "How long have you been working here?" he asked, turning to Horns.

Horns counted on his fingers, his brow furrowed in concentration, before letting out a hearty laugh. "Hell if I know." He chuckled again. "I've been here for about twenty years now."

"That's a long time," Kev said, watching as Horns, despite his earlier complaint, stood up, walked back to the table, and effortlessly took aim at the remaining balls. "How'd you learn to play pool?"

Horns grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Oh, I learned here," he said, sinking a ball into a side pocket. "Trying to win money for drinks." Another ball disappeared. "I found out about this place when I was younger. Snuck in when I was underage." The cue ball clicked against another, sending it into a corner. "For some reason, they never carded me, so it wasn't really sneaking, I guess." Two more balls sank into separate pockets with practiced ease. Horns lined up the last one. "And there are a lot of good players in the city." The final ball landed softly in the pocket.

Horns stood and began racking the balls again, a satisfied look on his face.

"These are just kid games, anyways," Talon said from across the room, his voice a dry rasp as he pulled three darts, all clustered tightly in the bullseye, from the board.

They continued to play, Horns patiently giving Kev pointers, his earlier rustiness replaced by the practiced ease of a seasoned player. Sabrina, never one to be left out, coaxed Talon into a game of darts, gleefully insisting he play with his left hand. The room filled with their playful banter and the rhythmic click of billiard balls.

Around five o'clock, Kev glanced at his watch and reluctantly set his cue down. "I should probably head back and get ready for the night," he said, a hint of regret in his voice.

Horns sighed, stretching his massive frame. "Me too, I guess," he conceded, his day off drawing to a close.

Talon, having just won another round of lefty darts against a surprisingly competitive Sabrina, turned to his sister. "Sister, I need to go to work now."

Sabrina sighed dramatically. "Bring me back to the tower if you must," she declared. "I will be done braiding my feathers for escape soon."

Talon chuckled, shaking his head at her theatrics. "I'll be over soon, Kev," he said, his gaze shifting to the human. "Mr. Horns, please keep an eye on him until I get there."

Horns rolled his eyes playfully. "I'll be sure to," he rumbled, a knowing grin on his face.

They exited the pool room, Kev carefully locking the door behind them. At the hallway intersection, they went their separate ways – Kev and Horns heading towards Kev's apartment, while Talon and Sabrina made their way to the elevator, Sabrina already outlining her next grand escape plan.

As they reached Kev's apartment, Kev's brow furrowed. "So, about last night," he began, his voice low and serious. "It was really crazy."

Horns sighed, running a massive hand through his already rumpled fur. "My first day off, and shit goes down," he grumbled. "Am I lucky or unlucky?"

"A bit of both, maybe," Kev said with a small smile. "But, when Fang said he wanted to talk to you in his office last night…"

Horns's face looked grim. "Don't remind me," he muttered, a shiver running down his spine. "I need to get ready." He quickly disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the shower starting moments later.

Kev tidied up the living room a little, then set about making a fresh pot of coffee, the rich aroma a welcome comfort. He went into his bedroom and picked out the clothes he wanted to wear for the evening – a sleek, dark suit Marybelle had tailored for him. Marybelle really is amazing, he thought, admiring the craftsmanship.

He walked back out of his room to see Horns, clad only in his trousers, pouring himself a cup of coffee. His fur was still damp from the shower. "You know, you're really the best, Kev," Horns said, his voice a warm rumble.

Kev grinned, grabbing a mug for himself. "You too, buddy."

Horns sipped his coffee, his expression turning more serious. "No, really," he said. "If you didn't drag me away last night, I probably would have headbutted Fang again."

Kev chuckled. "Come on, you two woulda figured it out."

Horns laughed, a deep, hearty sound. "Yeah, after we both were black and blue."

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Kev, expecting Talon, was surprised to see Cindy standing on the threshold. She was dressed in a very nice, if plain, dark blue dress that fell just below her knees. A simple string of pearls adorned her neck, and she carried a small, elegant handbag. She looked both refined and slightly out of place in Kev's doorway.

Chapter Text

"Cindy, what a surprise! Come in," Kev said, a warm smile spreading across his face. "You look wonderful tonight."

Cindy walked into the apartment, her presence radiating a quiet elegance. "Good evening, Kev. Horns," she greeted, her voice a gentle melody. She settled onto Kev's couch with a contented smile, her handbag resting neatly in her lap.

Horns downed the last of his coffee in one gulp. "Well, I got to go get dressed," he announced, already moving towards the door. "If I don't leave now, the customers might see me shirtless." He grinned at Kev. "I'll see you soon, Kev." He paused at the door, turning back to Cindy with an appreciative look. "You look great tonight, Cindy," he said before exiting the apartment.

Kev stood in the middle of the living room, looking at Cindy, who sat happily on his couch, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The unexpected visit, and her unusually formal attire, piqued his curiosity.

Kev sat down on the armchair opposite Cindy. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company tonight, Cindy?" he asked, his voice tinged with a friendly curiosity.

Cindy smiled, a soft, almost shy expression. "Oh, I just thought I'd get here a bit early so I didn't have to worry about parking," she replied, her gaze sweeping around the cozy apartment.

Kev nodded. "That's good. You look a bit more dressed up than usual."

Cindy looked down at her dress, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "I'm glad you approve," she said with a gentle smile. "But you should get yourself ready. Fang will be awake soon."

"Alright," Kev said, rising from his seat. "Feel free to anything in the kitchen." He grabbed his suit from the bedroom and headed into the bathroom to change, leaving Cindy to enjoy the quiet ambiance of his apartment.

As Kev showered, the familiar, gentle notes of the player piano drifted into the bathroom. He smiled; Cindy must have found a scroll she liked. While Kev changed into his suit, he heard the distinct sound of his apartment door slamming shut. Who was that? he wondered, a flicker of unease passing through him.

He emerged from the bedroom to find Cindy sitting happily on the couch, her teacup resting on the coffee table, seemingly unperturbed. Kev poured himself another cup of coffee. "So," he began, settling into the armchair, "you mentioned talking to Dale earlier. Is he okay? It looked like Horns might have hurt his shoulder."

Cindy took a sip of her tea, her expression calm. "Dale is a tough man," she said. "That shoulder injury is from a long time ago."

"Oh, okay," Kev said, relieved. "I'm glad Horns didn't hurt him. I think Horns would feel really bad about it."

Cindy smiled. "They are like brothers. Of course he would."

"Horns just needed to blow off some steam, I think," Kev mused. "I just hope he takes it easy on his next day off."

Cindy nodded, her gaze serene. "I'm sure he will. And if he doesn't, I will have a talk with him."

A chill ran down Kev's spine at the quiet certainty in her voice.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Kev looked up. "That must be Talon," he said. He walked over and opened it, surprised to see both Fang and Talon standing there. Fang was in the middle of growling something at Talon, his fur slightly bristled, but he stopped abruptly when he turned and saw Kev.

Fang’s growl cut off mid-syllable as his eyes landed on Kev. The wolfman's expression immediately softened, a warm smile replacing the stern lines around his mouth. "I've missed you," he purred, stepping forward and sweeping Kev into a passionate kiss. His strong hands clasped Kev close, the familiar scent of sandalwood and citrus a comforting anchor.

Cindy clicked her teacup down onto its saucer with a distinct, sharp sound.

Kev and Fang, startled by the noise, pulled apart slightly, their gazes shifting towards Cindy. The head of housekeeping sat serenely on the couch, a single, quiet cough escaping into her delicately held hand. Her eyes, however, held a knowing glint.

Fang quickly straightened, a faint blush rising on his furry cheeks. "Cindy," he said, his voice a touch flustered. "Good evening. What are you doing up here? The doors are opening."

Cindy smiled, a picture of serene confidence. "It's my day off today," she announced, her voice a gentle melody. "And Kev is going to be my date to the Opera.”

"What?" Fang exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"What?" Kev echoed, equally bewildered.

Talon chimed in, "What opera are you going to?"

Cindy smiled, a hint of excitement in her eyes. "Oh, it's a classic," she replied, her voice a melodic trill. "And I've never had the chance to go before."

Fang's gaze flicked between Cindy and Kev, a frown creasing his brow. "You're taking Kev?" he asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and possessiveness.

Cindy smiled sweetly. "Oh, hush now," she chided, waving a dismissive hand. "You've had him every night. I want him to see some of the city's real culture, not just Ralph's ridiculous vanity projects."

Kev, intrigued by the unexpected turn of events, said, "I've never been to an opera before either." He looked at Fang, a playful glint in his eyes. "Why don't you join us too? We can't disappoint Cindy, can we?"

Fang was trapped. He looked from Kev's hopeful expression to Cindy's unwavering smile, a silent battle of wills playing out in the small apartment.

Cindy, sensing her advantage, delivered the final blow. "And what are you wearing, Fang?" she asked, her gaze sweeping over his impeccable attire. "Those aren't good going-out clothes. This is a nice place we are going to."

Fang looked down at his sharp black suit, the vibrant orange undershirt a stark contrast to its dark fabric. He then looked back at Cindy, a resigned sigh escaping his lips. "I'll be right back," he mumbled, his voice a low grumble.

He turned to Kev, his eyes filled with a mixture of exasperation and affection. "Don't go anywhere," he instructed, his voice firm but gentle. He then turned to Talon, his growl returning. "Keep your eyes on him," he commanded, before disappearing out the door, presumably to find a more opera-appropriate ensemble.

Kev looked at Talon, a bewildered expression on his face. "What was that about?"

Talon glanced quickly at Cindy, who was now calmly sipping her tea, before replying, "Mr. Fang just wants to make sure I keep you in eyesight."

Kev sighed and sat down on the couch. "I can understand out in the city," he said, his voice laced with a hint of frustration. "I can even understand down in the club. But we both live up here." He looked at Talon, his brow furrowed. "It feels so weird mixing where we live and work. I just don't want to lose all of my autonomy because of…" Kev trailed off, not wanting to say "because I'm an alien" and sound completely insane. He finished lamely, "...what happened last night."

Talon met Kev's gaze, his sharp eyes unreadable. "I will do what Mr. Fang asks.”

Kev sighed, a resigned look on his face. "I understand."

Cindy set her teacup down, her expression gentle. "Kev, dear," she said, her voice soft, "I can talk to Fang if you like."

Kev sat up straighter, shaking his head. "No, that's okay, Cindy. If I felt strongly enough about it, I would talk to Fang myself."

Cindy sipped her tea. "This is your apartment," she remarked. "I still think the cleaning crew is more than well enough equipped to keep an eye on you during the day." She glanced subtly at Talon. "Discreetly."

Talon looked down at his feet, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

A knock sounded at the door. Talon, his reflexes sharp, was there in an instant. He opened it. "Mr. Fang."

Fang entered, and Kev's breath caught. He was wearing a dark purple suit, the rich fabric clinging to his powerful frame. Beneath it, a black shirt and belt created a striking contrast. He even wore a hat that matched the suit, tilted at a rakish angle. On anyone else, Kev might have laughed at the sheer audacity of the ensemble, but on Fang, it looked dangerous, alluring, and utterly captivating.

Cindy beamed. "Much better," she declared with satisfaction.

Fang walked over to Kev and put his arm around him, pulling him close. "What time is this show at, Cindy?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

Cindy stood up, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "It's at nine," she announced, clapping her hands together excitedly. "Just enough time to eat before we go."

Kev smiled and looked up at Fang. "Dinner it is," he said, his voice filled with a playful enthusiasm that mirrored Cindy's.

They left the apartment, Talon silently falling into step behind them, and made their way down to the bar. The first patrons were already trickling in, their excited chatter and laughter a prelude to the night's festivities.

Cindy greeted Skippy and Twitch with a warm smile as they entered the VIP section. Fang, his arm still possessively around Kev, pulled him into the familiar booth. As they settled in, Kev noticed Talon engaged in a hushed conversation with Skippy and Twitch at the velvet rope, their expressions serious.

Rebecca approached their table, her feline grace a welcome sight. "What can I get for you all?" she purred, her gaze sweeping over the group.

"Rebecca, dear," Cindy greeted, her voice a gentle melody, "I heard your day off was good."

Rebecca's face lit up. "It was wonderful, Cindy," she replied, her eyes sparkling with genuine joy. "I hear tonight is yours."

Cindy smiled. "It is," she confirmed. "I hope everyone helps Max out tonight."

Rebecca chuckled, a soft, melodious sound. "Oh, he's a riot," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Already ran into him when I was doing side work."

"That's good," Cindy replied with a nod.

They placed their orders, the anticipation of the evening ahead mingling with the familiar comfort of the VIP booth.

Kev leaned into Fang, the wolfman's warmth a comforting presence. Dale arrived with their drinks – a whiskey for Fang, a Cape Cod for Kev, and a Martini for Cindy – his usual smirk firmly in place. He stared at Kev for a few moments, his gaze lingering, before turning to Cindy and placing her drink on the table.

"I see you are finally going to that show you always talk about," Dale said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Cindy smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Oh, you always are such a good listener."

"A gift and a curse," Dale replied with a theatrical sigh, then passed the other drinks around. "And a Cape Cod," he announced, placing Kev's drink before him. "I understand the 'Cape' part, but what makes it fishy?"

Kev raised an eyebrow, a confused frown on his face. "It's... a place," he said slowly.

Dale turned to Fang, a look of mock innocence on his face. "Never heard of it. Hope you have a good night on the town."

Fang growled, his gaze fixing on Dale. "Have you talked with Horns yet?"

Dale sighed, shaking his head. "He's being a baby and avoiding me."

Cindy interjected gently, "Horns is just upset with himself, Dale."

"Can I never be the upset one?" Dale grumbled good-naturedly.

Kev, remembering the previous night's scuffle, looked at Dale with concern. "I hope your shoulder is okay."

Dale looked at Kev, his expression softening slightly. "I'll live," he said. "That was some quick thinking last night, Kev. Glad someone around here can keep a cool head." He let out a hearty laugh. "I gotta go. Enjoy the show." With that, Dale exited, leaving the trio to their drinks.

"What time is it? I don't want to be late," Cindy said, her excitement bubbling to the surface.

Kev checked his watch. "Seven. Is it far?"

"It's two blocks down. I don't want to be late," Cindy repeated, a touch of anxiety in her voice.

Fang chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "We have plenty of time," he assured her.

Another few minutes passed, filled with Cindy's animated chatter about securing good seats and her anticipation for the opera. Soon, their food arrived. Kev breathed a silent sigh of relief that Reepia hadn't made an appearance to critique their choices. They ate, Cindy's excitement infectious. Kev couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm.

Once they finished, Kev lit a cigarette. "Just let me have a smoke," he said, "and then I'll be an even more charming date."

Fang looked down at him, his voice a low purr. "Whatever you want, my love."

Cindy playfully swatted Fang's arm. "Kev is my date tonight, Fang."

Fang's ears flicked back, a possessive glint in his eyes. "It's just a loan," he grumbled.

Rebecca arrived to clear their plates. Kev, stubbing out his cigarette, said, "Hey Rebecca, can you tell Horns I'll be back later?"

"Sure thing, Kev," Rebecca replied with a smile, skillfully gathering the dishes.

As Rebecca departed, Kev turned to Fang. "You really should leave a tip. Rebecca is great."

"Yes, you did say I would," Fang replied. He pulled a thick wad of bills from his pocket and peeled one off, placing it on the table.

Kev's eyes widened as he looked at the bill. The denomination was unfamiliar, but what truly caught his attention was the image on it: a fierce bear, mid-roar, its fur bristling. Is this the first time I’m actually seeing money in this world? he thought, a strange sense of detachment washing over him. The intricate design, so different from the familiar currency of his own world, was another stark reminder of just how far from home he truly was.

Cindy raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Is that all you are giving little Rebecca?" she chided, her voice gentle but firm. "She has been waiting on you for two weeks now."

Fang looked surprised. "Really? She did look familiar." He pulled another two bills from the wad and slapped them onto the table with a decisive thud. "Let's go."

They exited the booth, Talon falling into step silently behind them. They reached the main entrance, which was now a flurry of activity. Cars, sleek and expensive, lined the driveway, their occupants spilling out onto the torchlit walkway. The air buzzed with excited chatter and the thrum of the club's music. Fang looked around, his gaze sweeping over the scene. Tessa, the opossum woman, stood where Perry normally did, efficiently directing the flow of vehicles and guests.

Fang scowled and barked, "You! You're driving tonight."

Tessa looked over, startled. "Who, me?"

Fang growled, "Yes, you. Go get a car. We are going to the opera tonight." A pair of keys flew past her and landed with a metallic clink on the ground. She picked them up hurriedly and put them in the podium. "Mr. Fang, of course," she said. "Just give me a minute."

Fang growled again, his impatience evident.

Cindy intervened smoothly. "Tessa, dear," she said, her voice a gentle melody, "go let the others know. It will be nice to catch up on the drive."

Tessa noticed Cindy and smiled. "Oh, Madam Cindy, I am surprised to see you. I'll be right back." Tessa ran to the other valets, exchanging a few quick words before disappearing inside the club.

Fang watched her go, his frown deepening. "I wanted to check on Perry," he said, his voice a low rumble, "but I'll have to wait till we get back.”

Kev, remembering their visit earlier, said, "Perry seemed okay when we saw him today. Vlad was taking good care of him."

Fang's expression softened, a flicker of relief in his eyes. "As long as he is alright, then I'll let him rest."

Kev looked around the entrance, the torchlight flickering on the faces of the arriving guests. Beastmen walked in, their expressions animated, looking happy and excited for the night ahead. "Is the city dangerous?" he asked, a note of concern in his voice.

Fang looked down at him, a confident smile on his lips. "Not with me."

Cindy, who had rejoined them, added, "The city is very big, but once you have too many boys crammed together, trouble is bound to happen."

Fang growled, his gaze sweeping over the edge of the park grounds visible beyond the driveway. "It appears that some people have forgotten that I still own the park.”

Cindy smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. "I'm sure they will remember soon."

As they waited for the car, Kev's eyes widened, his gaze fixed on the driveway. Talon's dented, faded, wheelchair-accessible van slowly rounded the corner of the mansion, its unassuming presence a stark contrast to the sleek, expensive vehicles that usually graced the club's entrance. Kev looked up at Fang, who, engrossed in his thoughts about the park, hadn't yet noticed the approaching vehicle. He then glanced at Talon, whose sharp eyes were wide with a mixture of shock and disbelief as his van sputtered to a slow, undignified stop directly in front of them.

Chapter Text

Kev stood there, rooted to the spot, the beat up van looked so out of place… he didn’t know what to say.

Fang growled, his gaze finally landing on the dilapidated van. "What the hell is that?"

After a few moments of stunned silence, two little, hesitant honks sounded from the van. Kev coughed awkwardly and said, "I think that's us." He slowly began walking towards the van, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement bubbling up inside him.

"What?!" Fang yelled, his voice echoing across the courtyard. "Where did that thing come from?!"

Kev glanced at Talon, who was still stock-still, his eyes fixed on his van with a look of utter mortification. "Uhh, it's the club's, I guess," Kev mumbled, not entirely convincingly.

Fang howled, a sound of pure indignation. "I'd never be caught dead driving in a piece of junk like that!"

Cindy promptly smacked Fang with her handbag. "Don't you be causing a scene on my day off," she chided, her voice firm. "Let's go. Tessa is waiting."

Fang's tail drooped, and he muttered, "Perry is waiting too."

As they approached the van, Tessa waved happily from the driver's seat, her earlier nervousness replaced by a cheerful grin.

Talon reached for the back seat door, intending to let Fang and Kev in, his face a mask of mortification at the sight of his van being used for such an occasion.

Cindy coughed, a delicate but pointed sound. Talon froze, his hand hovering over the door handle, and looked up. Cindy was standing near the front passenger door, a serene smile on her face, her gaze expectant. Talon glanced at Kev and Fang, a flicker of panic in his eyes, then walked past them and opened the front door for Cindy.

"Thank you, dear," Cindy said, settling gracefully into the front seat next to Tessa.

Talon avoided looking at Kev and Fang as he hurriedly opened the sliding back door of the van, the modified ramp extending with a slight groan.

Fang looked down at the extended ramp, his lip curling slightly. "What is this, for deliveries?" he growled, but he got in nonetheless. The middle seats of the van had indeed been removed, leaving only a bench seat in the back. Talon closed the door, the sound a dull thud, and then slid in next to Kev, who found himself in the middle. Kev felt a bit squished between Fang's imposing frame and Talon's lean but surprisingly solid form.