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Georgia isn't so hot for a black-footed ferret, but the summer swelter had nothing on the fires that plagued our city that year. Before you might go and think southern folk are clueless about the shit that hits close to home, don't think for a damn moment Savannah doesn't have smart phones and coffee shops too. Matter of fact, I work in a coffee shop.

There's probably something else I ought to mention if you ever want to visit me at work in Savannah and grab a cup of joe -- don't, the coffee is shit. But do come for the independent films we show every Monday, Wednesday and Friday night for some of the best damn local entertainment you'll get your ungrateful paws on. My boss Alice makes the connections for the film rights and Shane takes care of the set-up-- seats, projectors, a wide-ass screen for that vintage graininess that weirdos in knitted caps and turtle necks like so much. But hey -- I just make the coffee. Which I must remind you is shit for my standards. But people keep buying it, so I can say with a certain confidence that I'm alright at steaming milk.

We do a matinee for the folks who aren't night people, but 9 o'clock is when the real show starts. There are a few things you have to know about Savannah-- a bustling tourist town and entertainment industry that's patron home to one of the biggest art machines in the world, mixed with southern hospitality and conservative sensibilities, makes for a thoroughly confused place. Want to slap your face in some old Mardi Gras beads and titties at a bar and pull out a dollar bill with your muzzle? I never would, but feel free to do so. Just don't get dinner after 9 o'clock, because that's when most of the businesses shut down. Maybe that's why we do so well-- we're one of the late night exceptions.

Our cafe does have a name by the way--The Midnight Oil-- but it sucks because you really don't want to tell folks that your coffee is greasy even if there is a grain of truth to it. Maybe that's why so many folks did come here. You'd get the truth all right, straight out of a SCAD student's mouth or from an eloquent coke head or from that social media guru you follow on twitter but never want to talk to in real life lest you become the night's embarrassing tweet.

We're a trendy place for night-time creatures, which is saying something considering the size of the place. The Midnight Oil takes up the bottom floor of a townhouse and Alice sleeps on the second floor above it. We have the foyer, which is an amalgam of swanky and kitsch: a polished pine wood bar with a counter, stools and a few cast iron tables and seats. It's cramped and long like a seedy subway tunnel. This room is all red brick walls. It has hanging terrariums made out of things that shouldn't be terrariums, like fishbowls. Mobiles of scrap metal jangle when you don't want them to, like when Shane's tall, pointy ears brush against them, making you crouch and search because you think you dropped silverware. Local paintings that mimic Rothko and Pollock hang on the wall with posted prices. I sit behind the counter, make folks their coffee and then kindly direct them to the BUS YOUR OWN TABLE sign which hangs above a brown cart over a trash can for dishes and garbage. A wide arch adorned with Christmas tree lights and hanging plastic curtains annexes the foyer and viewing room seamlessly. That room has two dozen tables scattered about. It has tall French panels that form a massive bay window where all manner of ferns and orchids sit squat on shelves, but at night they get hidden behind the big-ass screen that Shane and Alice are responsible for setting up.

Sometimes I watch them from the window in the back room, which is just a kitchen. It's kindly planned-- the sink is planted in front of the film to help us pass the time while we clean dishes. Alice is nice like that. The Border Collie works us hard, but the little things she does make us want to keep working here. Shane is an Arabian wolf, which is funny, because he was born in Texas. He's slim and soft-spoken, and doesn't have a trace of a Texan or Arabic accent. Maybe it's just an Austin thing. Or a movie geek thing. I saw his scruffy tail bat around the canvas while Alice trailed behind him. His deep grunts were quiet. While working the front desk, I heard the clicks and clangs of unfolding metal tripod joints screech just from out of my view until all I heard was Shane's soft whistle. When he came through the archway and sat on a stool to face me, I noticed he was dirtier than usual. "Those old bags work you pretty hard at that gardening store, don't they?" I turned from him to flick on the espresso machine switch, then crouched to pull out a jug of milk from the steel fridge. Shane took his coffee sweeter than I liked, but the wolf liked his caffeine as much as me. I could tell he needed it tonight.

He looked out the front window into the street, staring at nobody in particular. "It wouldn't be so bad if they were more lenient with my shifts. I don't like coming here with fertilizer on my sleeves, but I suppose it can't be helped." He sighed, but he didn't once slump. The door chime jingled, and a few students walked in. The early crowd was forming. I fastidiously steamed some milk and poured in some caramel syrup into Shane's porcelain cup to cut the bitterness. He made a motion to rustle through his pockets but I held up my paw. "Don't worry, I got it. I won't actually make you pay for this stuff after the day you look like you had." I put the porcelain cup on a saucer in front of him and poured in the espresso, then swirled the milk. He took it carefully into his grasp and his nose twitched before the first sip.

"Thanks." He looked over his shoulder at the building crowd. At least six of them were texting. He leaned in closer, whispering. "I wish some of these film students were half as interesting as the films that we show." "Spooky. I wouldn't have known they were there if it weren't for the vape steam." I waved my paw to clear it and narrowed my eyes, honing in on a cat wearing a cardigan. "Wait until you get to the lounge, okay? Now, who's first?" Shane slipped away at that point, taking his cup and saucer with him. From the back, I heard a lot of rustling, and the sink turned on. The wolf was always busying himself, rearranging things and cleaning. It's like his body didn't know how to relax. Reminding myself that my body knew how to relax all too well, I shifted my weight, letting my thick tail hit the floor, and carried out the orders as more of the crowd shambled in.

Pity I wasn't washing the dishes that night, though, which meant I'd be manning the cafe and be missing out on the film. I lost track of the time, sweating, my nose smelling caramelized sugar, as well as the evaporated milk that frothed in the metal steamer. Once during my shift I heard the train outside moan and the shop shook with it. The plastic curtains rustled as a stocky form pushed through them and took a seat at a bar stool. I thought it might be Alice at first, but I was wrong. "Sammy," I said a little too loud, giving away my pleasant surprise. The short, chubby black lab adjusted herself in the stool and flicked the red bow clipped to the side of her ear. "Burkley," she replied in her most mock-official tone, bugging out her eyes on purpose. I had to look away, snorting as I readjusted the syrups on the shelves and washed my hands. "Thought I'd pop by to say hello. Don't forget that you owe me a battle." Sammy was an MFA student at the Savannah College of Art and Design. She had majored in Sequential Art-- that's the art school term for comic books -- although it was definitely more to that. Storyboards and such. She was pretty damn good at it too. Her pen and ink pieces popped with such contrast and energy that you wouldn't even need to read BAM in bold Roy Lichtenstein letters to perceive the kinds of sounds her mechanical cartoon monsters smashing each other to death. "I can't play video games at work," I grunted. She blew air through her teeth flippantly. "Pssht. I know that. Just saying so because I know you'll forget otherwise." I started wiping down a mug that still had the spongy film from a macchiato on it that didn't make it to the bussing tray. Illiterates. "Well of course I'm going to forget. I have enough stress in my life without video games. Aren't they supposed to be about relaxing?" "Maybe if you're a scrub," said Sammy, altering her voice to be far deeper than her chirpy shrill, and her features lightened a bit. We both didn't take games very seriously, but I did have to credit her for putting more effort into multitasking playing games and watching movies with her professional life. Sammy didn't miss deadlines when it came to her art. I would have loved to go to art school, truth be told, but if I told my dad I wanted to go to school to make comic books for fifty grand a year he would have beaten my ass. I'd much rather have him beat my ass for legitimate things, like playing games at work. Or being one of those nasty kids who tortured bugs with magnifying glasses. Or starting fires.

I gave her a stern look when her Nintendo 3DS chimed the twee theme song. She wasn't intimidated "Hey man, I told you that you owe me a battle, not that I need one right now. Relax! I'm just here for the wifi. There's a special event going down. I can only get this one by mystery gift." "Doesn't your dorm have wifi?"

"O-house wifi can suck a dick!" She punctuated the final word by leaning forward and smacking her tiny paws on the counter, not making much of a ruckus at all. _"_Do you even know how many LAN parties are going on at one time when otakus congregate? We have enough nerds online at any given time to solve the conflict in the Digimon movie. They accidentally DDoS just by sheer force of numbers."

"Something tells me you aren't just here to get a Pokémon , though." I placed the cup on a warm towel to dry with the others. "Don't you want to see the movie?" "Already seen it," said Sammy, eyes glazing over. She reached into her coat pocket to dual wield her game console and her cell phone. "Pretty good timing, though. It's a documentary about serial killers." I wiped another glass clean, unsure about where she was going with this. "What do you mean, pretty good timing?"

She looked at me incredulously. "Dude, we have a serial killer in town. Haven't you heard about all of the burnings?" I grimaced. "Yeah. That's just not the phrase I'd use. It's a bit... sensationalist, maybe?" There's something you should know about ferrets-- when a mystery presents itself to us, it becomes like a very long game of Sudoku. I become obsessed, and I have to finish it. I have these impulses. but I try to keep them in check. There's been generation after generation of slinky folk like me who have been cast away as criminals and thieves... but we're just a curious bunch. Something unique gets in our line of sight, well... we just have to take it apart. Get our paws dirty, or prickly, or greasy until every aspect of it makes sense to us. Curiosity kills the cat-snake, or something like that.

"So then you know that all of the victims were SCAD students?"

I did recall their names and faces in the paper. Aubrey Mullis. Tory Felps. Milligan Macintyre. They were young. 20-ish. Different breeds of dogs. All male. Damn shames by the look of their faces. "I thought these were houses burned down, not dorms?" "Yeah," she said. "They were burned down in houses. All of them were rich locals."

I scratched my neck and frowned. If someone was going to commit homicide, arson didn't make any sense. "There are easier ways to kill people. Food poisoning for one." A dour looking doe with horn-rimmed glasses shot me a severe look over her book in the corner, then sipped her coffee deliberately. I grimaced nervously as an apology.

I heard Shane's voice carry past the curtain in the lounge. "No sir--you can't answer a call during the film. This is a showing." His voice was perfectly calm, and I had to marvel at his fortitude.

Sammy's voice brought me back to the topic at hand. "So maybe the arsonist cares more about destroying property than trying to kill anybody?"

I wiped down the counter with a lemon-scented cloth, mulling it over. "I remember reading how the attacks targeted historic homes only-- and you know how intense Savannah gets about its obsession with historic preservation."

"Yeah. Like some kind of culture war, you think?" Sammy puffed out her chest and put on a raspy, bass voice. "I'm gonna wreck all of your bay windows. Wreck it with counterculture. But mostly fire." Sammy plucked a shiny new sketchbook and a pen from her purse. "Mind if I draw?" "'Course not," I said as I nodded. Curiosity might as well be nibbling on my tail by the way it twitched. My paws found their way into my apron and I made casual glances at the page despite being entranced.

We both swapped stories about the rumors we had heard and a smattering of the stories came to life on the page.

Sammy was a true craftsman. How the pictures popped. The bodies of the victims and villain had no faces but the poses said it all. Throats clutched, and a shady figure ascending a staircase as an inferno burned below them. There were choking noises, then a blast. The killer stalks away-- looking rather bloody? "What's the deal with the killer?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow. "Not much. Just a killer," said Sammy. "He's covered in blood," I said. "The killer's an arsonist, not a slasher." Sammy sighed. "Well sure... but I'm just drawing what people said he looks like, potentially." "People have seen the killer?" I tapped my chin.

"Well, a SCAD student apparently saw them. I wouldn't put much stock in it. It's like that game-- you know, telephone? One person sees the truth, passes it on. After four or five people pass on the information, the details aren't the same anymore."

Shane burst through the curtains, looking rather damp from the heat of the lounge. It gave him a bit of a natural odor. I didn't mind.

"You look a little out of it," said Sammy.

The wolf tittered nervously. "Just a difficult person tonight. Doesn't help that the film's a bit eerie for me."

"But I thought your favorite movie is Jaws?" I said, bemused.

"Jaws isn't real," said the wolf, giving a simple shrug. "Besides, the real villain in that movie is the mayor, not the shark. It's about how frustrating people can be when there's a preventable crisis. Thought-provoking stuff. People's endless capacity for evil, on the other hand? That's more like a mood killer."

"I think it can be a sense of closure for some folks," I said.

"Sure." Shane took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "I'm going on break." The bells clamored as Shane shut the glass door, leaving the café.

"What's his problem?" said Sammy.

"SCAD existing." I grinned at her and she gave me the side-eye.

I pushed the discussion away from Shane's irritability, because he never hounded me with mundane, stressful shit--the wolf was fairly independent and solved his own problems, and I wanted to be more like that myself. Plus, it didn't look like he needed more stress. I talked with Sammy for the rest of the night as she drew. A part of me just thought she wanted to bring me weird things to think about because it entertained me as much as it entertained her. But we weren't policemen. We weren't detectives. We were just gossiping.

---

I planned to meet Sammy the next Tuesday for the game I owed her. I knew where her classes were. Norris Hall was the building, and it was bright pink, like a Barbie dream house. Pretty conspicuous.

But I never got there. On my way, I caught a whiff of the dogs that jogged past me. Bit swampy. They like to run in Forscythe park, sweat rolling down their backs, stride all rhythmic with their gait and strut. I'm a sucker for the handsome pups, I guess, but that sure as hell doesn't mean I gotta whistle "hey boy! Sure you ain't from a cart? Look like a hotdog to me!" Yeah, no, my bones are too brittle for that sort of business.

Pleasure turned to hair prickling down my neck as soon as an awful smell hit me and folks along the sidewalk were starting up a fuss. The scent of the paper mill wasn't all that stunk in the air that day. Smells of smoke and bubbling fat barged its way up my nostrils, rolling its way past the Spanish moss and dissipating into the sky like a spook leaving this world. Killed off the chiggers and the ticks nesting in trees, no doubt. Sorry to say it took an arson and murder to rid us of some parasites.

I snuck up on the commotion of the crowd and leaned against a palm tree, putting all of my body weight there as I smoothed the sweat right off of my brow. Across the street, firemen were putting the last of the flames out. My pants buzzed so loud, I thought I was being attacked by some kind of devil wasp. Just the fucking phone. I pulled it out and slid my paw across the cursor. There was an emergency text from the city police department about how that young man's body had been found already, burnt to a crisp. Golden retriever. The owner of the house died too. She was 75. Also a dog.

Emergency my ass. Bad news spreads through this community faster than public transit (which is shit even on days when we aren't having another parade) thanks to smart phones. Good thing everybody knew the owner of that pretty pink lady townhouse was good 'n dead and a boy's burnt carcass was all they could retrieve. You'd think an emergency text could say "sorry lady your house is on fire and you might want to wake up" as opposed to "dang, guess you're dead."

A piece of shit husky held his phone in front of himself to take a selfie with the fire while cougars holding cameras followed a smartly dressed Siamese cat chattering away into a microphone. "Forensic experts say that every door and window was locked from the inside. Turn locks were removed from doors. A gas line was ruptured."

A buzz went off in my pants again and I near-well squeaked. I really hate phones. A text message read you ok? Sort of a weird thing to ask somebody over text, and most surprising of all, it wasn't from Sammy. I could see Shane watching me from across the street. By the look of it, the wolf was at the end of his gardening shift, considering he was in the process of taking off his apron while getting smothered by a crowd of teens hoping to catch a look at the mess. Shane looked both ways before he crossed the street, and then bounded over with an expediency that made him a better table-washer than I'd ever hope to be. I could smell the stress in his sweat-- which I liked because it had some sweetness, but would never speak a word of it. I'm a bit hopeless I suppose. He looked down at my feet. My ankles were locked. He tried to mimic the posture but his feet were too big. I put on my best smirk. "Whatchu doin', spying on me bub?" I said, straightening my back and holding my hands to my hips, taking a more relaxed position.

I could hear him say "I'm pretty observant" as he tried to pull his gardening uniform off of his head, though it was a bit muffled, and I wanted to tease him.

I smirked, tapping my paw to my muzzle. "Sorry man, can't hear you. You got something in your mouth?"

Shane's ears vibrated for the trace of a second and he opened his mouth, front teeth shining in the sunlight, covering his sharp, canine teeth with a trace of lip. "The jet-black mask is a bit of a give-away. Saw you startled and then you answered your phone. Just seemed a bit worrying."

"No need for that frantic heart to race on my behalf," I said, with a sloppy sort of smile forming. "You headed to work today early?" said the wolf. He sounded bewildered. "What? No, sorry. I was just on my way to see Sammy when she gets out of her class." "One of these days we'll have you open the shop instead of me. You'll probably surprise yourself. You can make things look good when you want to." He winked at me and I rolled me eyes.

"Sorry buddy boy, but I don't actually work before tonight unless I'm getting paid overtime," I corrected.

Shane's ears twitched. It was fun to dance around him. Make him squirm. It's an easier trick on the rodent-folk, but it's thrilling when the larger predators watch us weasel types move. He might be the kind of guy I'd like to date, but mixing work and romance felt like a sure road to unemployment. Not to mention I'd feel a little anxious dating somebody so up-tight. The wolf smiled. "Alice thinks you're worth it, at the very least." "I just have places to be. Sometimes." "Of course!" Shane said as sincerely as he could. I could tell he was holding back a laugh by the way his ears stood up straight and his lip curled. He gave a curt salute and scampered away, puffy tail following like a perky cheerleader's pom-pom.

My phone buzzed again and my tapered tail twitched, banging hard against the palm tree. The dull spread of the pain trailed up my spine all the way to my whiskers, making me wobble. Plucking the phone once again from my pocket showed Sammy's number in the corner.

I pawed over the screen to answer when a sharp jab to the side made me jump. "I saw the news, so I thought I'd catch you before you'd have to come to me," boomed the squat dog. Sammy had my neck fur standing on end. "You brought your 3DS this time, right?"

Irate vibrations traveled up my vocal cords, emitting dissatisfied squeaks. Pity I'm a ferret. Your throat gives away what your face won't, and it's lousy during poker. "Yeah, I did."

"We can't go to the SEQUA department either--traffic that way is a mess and there's smoke everywhere. Could we play at your place?"

I thought of the dirty dishes and the packaging peanuts in my living room. "Uh... not without a full day's notice."

"Isn't the Midnight Oil open?"

"No."

Sammy wagged. "Perfect! We can have some privacy this time." I cursed to myself, internally. Looks like I would be opening today.

____________________________________________________________

We both sat at the counter in the Midnight Oil's foyer, 3DSs' opened as battle music blasted in synch out of the opposite ends of our consoles. "So we know that the killer had to know how to cut a gas line and make a separate explosion happen on the third story of that town house," said Sammy. Her monster made a water attack on mine. My monster's health bar went into the red, and the danger music started to play. "So that pairs it down to electricians and any person with a mild home improvement hobby."

"Right? So unhelpful. There's so much DIY shit on the internet these days, it could have been anybody" said Sammy.

I took my turn to switch monsters, but she used an ice attack this time, instantly killing my second monster. I muttered "fuck-cock-fiddle-dick" under my breath and Sammy just let out a cackle.

"The news said that police found parts of an electric detonator in tact. So maybe it was triggered by a trip wire?"

The shop bells jingled as Shane entered, dirty with soil as usual, and he flinched from surprise at hearing the battle music.

"I thought it was weird that the door was unlocked." He glanced at Sammy sheepishly and scratched his shoulder. Then he stared at me. "So uh, I guess work was the place you had to be... but not to work?"

I raised a finger, guiltily. "This was adamantly not how I planned it. And I'm off the clock... I figured maybe Alice might need the extra help tonight?"

Shane's tail wagged quietly at that--be it from pride or catching on to my nonsense, I couldn't tell. Sammy gave him a peace sign, still immersed in the game. Shane sighed and went to the kitchen sink to wash himself off. "Most people don't pay attention to the floor when they reach the top of the stairs," put in Sammy. It took me a moment to remember we were still talking about the arsonist. "Right," I agreed. "Especially if you're using it for an attic. Lots of stuff crammed in storage. Blistering heat in the summer. They're like an oven in these old town houses" I said. My third monster entered the battle. Instead of a water attack, Sammy's monster pulled an ice beam. My monster survived it but it was frozen solid. "Really!" "Sucks to suck," sang Sammy.

I sighed, my defeat in the game imminent. "But that just means we're not just dealing with a serial killer, we're also dealing with a stalker who plans their attacks way ahead of time. Maybe they planted a fertilizer bomb on the third story. You can hardly notice something out of place if you have a ton of junk up there anyway

"I think it would take way too much fertilizer to make a bomb, but maybe if they planned way ahead. It's possible." "Maybe this guy is a student, too, and he's jealous of younger guys who can draw better than him. Maybe there's an art motive." "Maybe the motive is just fear in general," said Sammy. I blinked. "So you think...?" Sammy looked uncomfortable. "Well... you know what the news is like these days. Shootings and bombings are almost like the default expectation, daily. And if enough people push you to extreme measures then... well, that's how atrocities get freaking normalized. People think it's okay to kill one-another, just for beliefs. Any belief. It's nuts." She took out another one of my monsters, but at this point, I was on-edge. I heard Shane turn off the water from the sink. "I don't feel comfortable making those kinds of presumptions... presumptions about motives, I mean. Maybe they lead to correct guesses, but you just look like an idiot for all of the incorrect guesses." "Well," she sighed solemnly, killing my last monster. The victory music played and our machines shut down soon after. "Fear begets fear and people are dumb. That's something you have to prepare for. " "What's to prepare for?" I made a bemused gesture with my palms. "If somebody decides to blow me up, that sucks. But until then I think I'm gonna be all smiles. Now, would you like to buy some fucking coffee?" I showed her every tooth in my mouth. She gave me a hard stare. "I didn't mean to start an argument. It's just weird how one moment your roommate is kissing somebody, and two years later that guy is dead. I still remember Sherry crying about how much she liked him. It's spooky. I feel spooky. I like dealing with the ghosts you hear about on the haunted tours in town from hundreds of years ago, not the recent kind." She shuddered, and then closed her 3DS, putting it away in her purse. "I doubt anybody's gonna catch this guy before the next fire... but I think I'm just paranoid right now, and that's the exact thing I should try not to be. I'm sorry if I got carried away." She pulled out from the table and hopped off her stool, planting stubby legs into the ground while her tail balanced the rest of her body.

"You've at least given me a lot to think about. I ought to go now. Thanks for letting me kick your sorry butt into the sand, too." I unclenched my paw and relaxed for a bit. "Well, I don't spend enough time on this stupid thing to make my monsters good anyway. You tore through them." I was tall enough to put an arm on her shoulder, even sitting. "Anyway, I just don't want to you to lose what makes you you. Unhappy things aplenty or no" "Yep yep," she said. The curtains to the lounge opened and Shane made his way through, carrying a few cartons of milk. "Seeya Shane," said Sammy quickly. "I'll see you some other time, Burkley." "Take care of yourself," I said, nodding before she left.

"One hour till opening, bucko," said Shane cheerfully behind me.

I vaulted over the counter with the heft of my arms and the swing of my feet, carrying my stupidly broad tail through the motion. After I landed I crouched to pull out a massive plastic container of coffee grounds from a shelf. From this low on the floor I could only see Shane's narrow snout behind the small kitchen window. "Did Alice say she was going to be back tonight?" I shouted back at him.

I could barely hear his cheery voice from over the running water. "No, she'll be back tomorrow, but she said we should be able to cover things. We won't get any Indy films to show tonight, and since Tuesdays are slower, we'll be playing Jiro Dreams of Sushi again." "That's a good movie though!" I shouted back. The wolf's tone got suddenly severe on me. "People have seen it before. It's not new, but we're making compromises until Alice brings in more films to show." "Well it's still a good movie." He didn't answer back. I opened the espresso machine and changed out the filter, then I started pouring in the beans. The smell was strong, but I was used to it. I liked strong smells, anyway. "Burkley, we need to talk."

I flinched and spilled some of the coffee grounds. They littered the counter and the floor and I cursed softly. "Jesus I didn't even hear you behind me." Wolves can sneak so quietly on those padded feet of theirs. "Yeah, sorry," said the wolf, sounding a bit rushed. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm considering putting in a two week's notice with Alice." That made me put down the carton of coffee beans. "Wait, you're quitting?" My hackles were raised. This was out of the blue and definitely pressure I didn't need. I could only work so much overtime, and it meant probably training a replacement. "Hey, easy fellah. I'll grab a replacement before I leave. I wouldn't leave you guys hanging like that. Plus, a coffee shop could use a few more cute girls around anyway." He put on that charming little smile of his that made me want to smack him.

I bit my lip and leaned in close to him on the table, looking up. I wanted to tell him that he was plenty cute, but I didn't make this weirder than it had to be. "I don't take that kindly to change, especially if it's flying at me like a roundhouse punch. Are you putting in more time at the feed store? What's up? Why didn't you tell me earlier?" My whiskers drooped. "Well, as your girlfriend so kindly put it... a lot of people are scared. We're in the South. There's a serial bomber and, um... let's just say people don't always assume I was born in Texas." The wolf held his own wrist, tight. I noticed now that he looked more tired than I'd ever seen him before, and somehow I couldn't shake that this time felt it was going to be the last, even if I knew that wasn't true. "You know, I never really wanted to do odd jobs like this. I can sell bumpkins peat moss and wash dishes for only so long before I think, fuck-- I'm going nowhere. So if I'm content to go nowhere, I'm gonna stay in nowhere. So I gotta go somewhere." He swallowed hard, and I just stared. Shane had never told me any of this stuff. I was losing him the minute I realized I should have been closer. Maybe I should have been more worried about being a friend than being a hornball. "Why do you have to go somewhere, Shane? You're already here!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and his splayed ears moved gracefully with his head shake. "I realized a long time ago that the only future in film for me here was as a projectionist. Doesn't it suck so bad that all the equipment and opportunities and networking you can make is right here in Savannah, but it's still so far out of your grasp?" His voice was deepening into lower, guttural tone. "My family is middle-class at best. I can't pay fifty-thousand dollars a semester to go to film school. I don't even make that much in a year!" Moisture pearled out the side of his tear ducts but he held his paw to his face, calming himself. He voice was calm, now. "Burkley... you've only ever been kind to me. But before I go back to Texas, can I show you something? I want to show you something." He was shaking and hurting bad. I couldn't say no, and he tugged on my sleeve, leading me to the dish washing room. His red apron from the hardware store hung on the coat rack, and he turned it around. Somebody painted _terrorist_in black ink.

I had to hug him, and he hugged me back. He was soft.

"Let's go for a walk."

We walked down a few blocks past beautiful town-houses the both of us would not likely be able to ever afford, and we eventually got to Forscythe Park. The fountain churned bubbles and foam, and chutes pushed crystalline water into the pools, splashing behind us and generating cool mist. He walked with me, letting his posture relax more than I'd ever seen on the job. "I don't want to fake another smile for a spoiled brat as long as I live. I don't want to serve them hot food on a plate only to hear them say 'My mom is too old and stupid to realize an education isn't important to the industry.' I just want to be around people who like learning... and making things."

I nodded, still thinking about the apron. The apron as red as blood and vibrant as fire. "Fuck idiots, in all honesty."

"You're not an idiot though," mouthed Shane.

"That's not entirely true." I thought about the talk with Sammy. I still wanted to help her, too, but then I thought about how almost everybody seemed to be stewing in their bad emotions as of late. In all likeliness, Savannah was a city full of vigilante detectives who don't know how forensics worked but knew all too well how to profile suspects already. It would be very easy to think somebody like Shane did such a thing.

But then I thought about his words a little longer, slow on the uptake. I was almost certain he was flirting me, but I was absolutely certain when I felt his paw on my lap.

I peeked to make sure the hand was there, then looked away, smiling, and balled my paw into a fist and coughed into it. "Well... I guess at least one of us has a spine."

He gave me a squeeze. I squeaked, and he smirked. "You're just not as sneaky as you think you are. Ferrets fancy themselves as spy masters or something when they're really just wriggly dorks. Plus, I think ferrets aren't supposed to have spines. Makes them flexible."

And he did make me wriggle. "So I guess this means I'm allowed suck you off?" I think I said this a little too loud, considering we were still in public, even if it was at a park during the night.

Shane looked me up and down, slowly. "We still don't open for another hour."

We were back in the dishwashing room. We were both sweaty from the walk and Savannah's humidity, but Shane's sweat always had a good smell. Still sweet, and there was that scent of earth he hadn't manage to washed out. We leaned against the wall, and I dipped my narrow muzzle into his broad, conical snout, careful to avoid the large, sharp canines. He had been chewing on spearmint from the taste of his tongue, and we both let out similar sounding grunts when our hard-ons touched each other through our clothes.

He pushed me harder against the wall, and planted a kiss on the crook of my neck, bumping me with his cold nose. That might've caused a jump from me. "Try not to be alarmed."

"Isn't that supposed to be my line? I'm the ferret, after all."

"I mean fucking on the job." Shane's tone was serious. "I know this job means a lot more to you than it means to me. Plus, I know you'd never fuck an employee."

"Maybe I'd make an exception if you stayed."

Shane sighed. He fumbled with his belt and unlatched it. "Maybe use your mouth for something else right now."

I felt a giddiness staring at the tip of his pink cock, poking out of his sheath. He wasn't fully hard yet, but I could already tell that my muzzle had its work cut out for it. I leaned in to sniff. Turned out that the earthiness wasn't just from the gardening, and I felt my pants get tighter. He put his paw on my head, guiding me to the tender head that was smooth and salty on the tip of my tongue, and I fully opened my jaw, letting my lips envelop more of his skin. I didn't suck hard at first, but I wanted to giggle. We weren't technically fucking in public, but my chest was heaving. I decided to try and swallow him, which was a mistake, and he laughed as his hard length slipped out the side of my mouth and brushed my cheek, leaving thin strands of pre connected to my indignant whiskers.

"Don't push me too hard," I groaned as my hips touched the cool siding of the industrial sink. "I might fall into this stupid thing. I only need to wash myself if I end up with your jizz all over my face."

Shane barked out a laugh. "Jizz on your face? You didn't seem like that type of guy."

"I'm totally that type of guy. Whatever that means."

He slid into my open mouth more enthusiastically, pistoning himself in and out while I slurped sloppily, but not for lack of effort, and he let out ragged breaths; his head tilted back. I let my finger slide under him, cupping his balls with my palm, enjoying the salty taste of his pre, which had just started to flow on my tongue. My finger trailed along his taint, making him shudder. I bobbed on his cock, and he pushed me down with his shaking hands, fucking my mouth. I dipped down to try and swallow.

My dook was on purpose. I could tell how he loved my throat vibrations as his snout pointed toward the ceiling. His high-pitched whine met my squeaky moans as I felt him shudder, then his retracting balls released such pressure. I felt the force of his spurts travel up his taint before the first hit my mouth, and he pulled out before I got to swallow a second burst. He aimed the splashes for my nose and my forehead, and I held his thigh with my paw, tight, until he stopped panting.

I waved my paw over the motion sensitive electric paper towel dispensary behind us, ready to wipe myself off, but he wouldn't let me. He put a finger to his lips, unzipped me and buried his head in my crotch. I flinched when I felt the front of his teeth, but he reassured me that he had done this before.

I closed my eyes and felt the long, delicate tongue start to polish my length, lathering it with warm, affectionate strokes up the shaft. I could feel my cock leak, and caught myself panting, smelling his jizz on my face as he lapped below my balls with his busy tongue. My flexible back sunk precariously lower against the wall, folding slowly as his strong arms and snout pushed me lower to the floor. I could smell my own musk on myself, ready to burst, as he took me through the side of his mouth, using the length of his muzzle to take me in completely. He only got the first surge of my jizz before he pulled out, making me watch my cum splatter his face and neck until I had finished completely. I only realized now that his paw was on my muzzle, forcing me quiet through the orgasm. I am a pretty squeaky fucker.

He pulled the paper towels from the machine above us and handed one to me. He gave me a goofy sort of grin, showing off the damp spots in his fur, then pointed out mine. "Now we can clean off."

Luckily, it turns out that having a cute boy come on your face doesn't really look discernibly different from working a service job for hours on end, anyway. Shane was back to his chipper self by the time we had opened and I wanted things to stay this way.

Since Alice was still out of town, we had to set up the projector screen by ourselves and move the tables in the lounge. A part-timer hare named Regina came in to help us, which we were grateful for, because the house was packed.

"She's supposed to be my replacement," said Shane.

I drooped a little. "Oh, right." I couldn't stare at him for long, because the coffee orders were piling up. Regina was a hard worker, and polite. I should have felt better about this. Shane was as good at running the full house as Alice by now.

When the movie started, I didn't bother trying to help with the dishes considering Regina tore through them, so I manned the register, waiting for new people as they waded in slowly while the film played in the other room. To my surprise, Sammy showed up again. She was out of breath.

"You don't look like you're here for coffee."

"What? No. Do you even watch the news?"

"Not while I'm working."

"Another person died. It wasn't a SCAD student. It wasn't a dog, either."

I swallowed hard. "Then who?"

Sammy took out her phone. She pulled up a news article on her phone and showed me the mug shot of a skunk with a nose ring.

"Her name was Tammy Self. She didn't go to SCAD."

"Weird."

"But she was romantically involved with one of the other guys, it turns out. They caught the killer."

"Oh." I was surprised by that.

"His name was Vince McKinley. He was an ex-SCAD student. Turns out he was screwed out of a project that did really well, and because of it, didn't get a high-profile film industry job that he needed. "

"So it was just a regular psycho. And it was art related."

"I also figured out why they thought the killer has a blood on his apron. There was a rumor--"

"That there was a red apron, not an apron with blood on it." I could feel myself scowling.

Sammy looked ashamed. "Yeah."

I let out a massive sigh. "Sammy, do you understand why I don't want to ever do something like this ever again?"

"I don't really either," said Sammy, her voice turning grave. "Also because... these started turning up all over the school."

They were prints of what looked to be a non-distinct animal in a red apron and a turban with a bomb-bomb from the Mario games in his hand. I didn't find it cute.

"I don't want to see this in this cafe ever again."

"You won't be, so long as I'm in town. Everybody I know in the department is livid." She crinkled it up and put it in the trash. "A professor is involved now. It's a big deal."

"Hope they were expelled," I growled.

"At the very least, suspended."

"I'm glad we both decided to stop."

Sammy nodded. "I don't even know if I was driven by the fear or the excitement. It was fun until... well, people got shitty."

"And we got shitty."

Sammy cupped her hands "...And we got shitty." I bent over the counter and gave her a hug. She hugged me back. For a mere moment in time, the café felt like it was as it should be, like some kind of sanctuary from the ugliness of world, but with vape steam instead of catholic incense.

Sammy sniffed the air after she released me from the embrace.

"Oh. So that's why Shane's weird around you."

The inside of my ears turned bright red. "It's complicated, actually."

She laughed. "Don't worry, I won't tell a soul. Is that Jiro Dreams of Sushi playing in the background?"

I blinked. "It is!"

"That's a good documentary!"

"I know!"

Sammy didn't buy a ticket this time, but she bought a soda out of politeness, as she always did, and we chatted as more customers waded in and out of the cafe throughout the night for a late cup of joe.

I watched Shane from the bar through the plastic curtains, as he stared at the projector, resting his face in his paw and smiling softly--the kind of comfortable grin you get from watching your favorite show in your own living room.

The light from the screen played against the wall behind him, flickering and flaring like firelight, but Shane's shadow stood steady and crisp, blocking it out.