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"I really don't like all this get-up." It's our anniversary; four years and counting. My weasel frowns while folding his arms. The only crease in His Grace's trusted personal servant is his frown.

"I've been planning this for a long time now," he says. "I've approved you for a day off from your duties, and you're spending it with me. And I want to go."

"I know," I groan. He has wanted to go to the Kafana over on the north side of town since it opened last winter.

"So, put on your spats," he says. "And if you're on your best behaviour, maybe I'll give you an anniversary surprise."

"But Kit," I plead, shaking out the offending spats and inspecting them for dirt and blood stains.

"You've managed perfectly fine until now," Kit says. Like last year, you took me on that trip across to Ravena. That went well, didn't it?"

"I did enjoy that," I said. "But we went on a navy cutter, and even then, you didn't see the looks I got."

"Just be happy that we're allowed to walk the streets here like a couple." Kit puts his paws on his hips. "You know, where I was born, in Castellania, they'd put a noose around our neck just for holding paws."

"That's not much of a silver lining." I grumble, buttoning up my shirt, tucking it into my trousers. He snatches my belt before I can put it on, removes the hoop for the sword, and the knife sheath, before turning it over to me.

"It is to me," he says. "Ignore the stares, Kieran. This place is a gift to people like us, don't let others ruin it for you."

"You know perfectly well it's not out of shame that I dislike going out."

"Plus, you could stand to get some sunlight, you creature of the night."

"You know it's not that, either."

He sighs, turns to me, and takes me by the shoulders.

"Kieran, you don't have to labour the point, alright. I know. You're a fox; they don't like that. They might, one day, but that won't happen by magic. Can you just... give me an inch here?"

"I can give you an inch-"

"Don't-"

"-but you always beg for more."

I grab at my crotch, and earn myself a slap across my wrist, but the joke helps me lighten up a little.

"I mean," I say, taking my cufflinks from a desk, and buttoning them into my shirt sleeves. "They're not going to just... let me inside that place, you realise that?"

"Of course they will. Who would dare deny a royal Coltellino? Flash that ring, and you can have anything you want, don't tell me that's not kinda nice."

I sigh, turning up my collar and brushing off fur from my lapels. I take my cravat from my bedside table and wrap it around my neck.

"Come, Kieran," he continues, leaning in to tie my cravat properly. "I just want you for myself for a day, is that too much to ask?" He strokes my cheek, gazing at me with his big green eyes.

"More than you think," I mumble. "It's not being with you that bothers me, Kit. Please don't make my words sound like that, alright?"

"I know, but try not to let it bother you," he says. "I think it'll be nice. Go on, fox, put on a smile for me, hmm?"

I shrug into my black coat, and fasten the buttons around my waist, making sure it's clear of white fur. I hand him the stiletto I keep in my inside pocket. He also takes the garotte too, and all my vials of poison.

"Oh, that's where I left those," I mumble, as he discards the tools in our shared dresser.

Along with the ruby ring, I keep a signet on my left paw, a promise ring with his name inscribed next to it, and two ornamental gold bands on my right paw to, as he puts it, balance it out. I turn to my mirror for a last glance. A black fox with clean brushed, washed fur, half of an ear missing, a pink scar running around my neck which my cravat only just covers, a stark white shirt, gold on nearly every finger, and pants which are tailored to my fit by the court's own tailor. My reflection looks clean, rich and successful despite hardship. That'll only annoy them more.

Kit wears his clothes more comfortably than me. He's selected a pale blue jacket of the same fit and style as mine, dark blue trousers, and a soft, pale pink cravat which accentuates his spring-fresh brown and white patterns. He's sharp as a portrait.

As we cross the old castle moat into the city, he hooks his arm into mine and leans closer, drawing a steady wag from my tail. His light rose-scented perfume titillates me with all the memories of moments we've spent together. Behind his ears, the soft fur that feels so lovely when I kiss it. On his slender neck, his dainty wrists, and his sheath. My mind wanders through recollections of all those memories, just like we wander through Dalmatia's narrow cobbled streets.

"Kieran," Kit says. "You... have forgotten your perfume, again."

"So?" I whisper. "They'll let me in regardless, remember? You said as much, didn't you?"

"I can smell... all of you," he mumbles, looking around as his ears grow red. "Tell me you're not-"

"Oops," I whisper in his ear. Petty, sure, but also constantly fun. My otherwise mild scent allows Kit to discover it, but most people around us smell stronger than I do. I let my tail stroke against the back of his leg. "Maybe we should find a dark alley somewhere, and... get to the point?"

"Kieran," he tugs at my arm, "behave yourself! If we don't get in there because you smell like a sailor's bedsheets, I'll teach you a whole new meaning of being chaste."

"As if you could possibly go without for more than a week."

"This isn't funny," he grumbles. "You've been complaining all morning, and it's tiresome. I just want us to enjoy ourselves."

"I want to enjoy you, too."

"Dream on, fox," he huffs. He may look annoyed, but the scent of him isn't. Kit cannot hide from me.

We round a corner, and head down the Via Centurio, which is one of the city's main arteries. Here, people mill up and down, trade with vendors along the side of the road, or sit at tavernas, on benches outside.

Passing through a crowd, I feel someone bump into me, and a weight transitions to one of my jacket pockets. I flick my left ear, as if I've not noticed anything, but Kit does.

"What was that?" he asks, looking me up and down while we walk.

"Oh, nothing," I tell him.

"Do you think I was born yesterday?" He sticks his paw in my jacket pocket and pulls out a small, rolled up paper. "Then what's this?"

"I... don't know?"

"Yes you do." He unrolls the paper, then sighs. "Code. Go on fox, explain."

"It's nothing, Kit, just a contact... just doing his job. There's a big thing going on right now, people might try to get a hold of me. I can't make them take days off just because I do, can I?"

"I'm taking this," Kit says. "Today, you're nobody's servant but mine." He sticks the paper note in his inside breast pocket. "Did you tell anyone you'd be disposable today?"

"I... might have mentioned it."

"Kieran!"

"Sorry, sorry. It's just a message. Don't worry about it."

"Oh, trust me, Kieran. I won't. I'll make sure you don't either."

Kit tugs me along to one of the stalls along the street, where a local wine farmer, a woolly ram with an expression as sour as his whites, is selling off his poorer vintages. I've tried his wines, and found them lacking, but Kit gives him a few coins, and takes a bottle.

"I don't suppose you mean to drink that today, do you? It's too sour."

He nods, with a smirk. "Well then, don't drink it." He raises his snout high. "I enjoy the acidity. And feel how cool it is. The farmer had ice left over to chill it with.

"Ice?" I ask, slowly trying to read the mood of the conversation. Maybe I have been a bit difficult this morning. "I might just... have a little sip. The sun is a bitch today."

"There you go, Kieran. That wasn't so hard, was it?" he smiles. "A fine day indeed."

He points out one of the benches at a plaza along our route, covered by the dappled shade from a stunted oak tree. While I watch over his bottle, he runs over to the landlord of the nearest establishment and borrows a pair of wine glasses.

"Let's have a taste, shall we?" he says, while pouring out a measure for me. I feel the coldness of the glass, the coldness of the liquid within, and the heat of my desperately uncomfortable Sunday clothes. But the wine, though exactly as sour as I remember, cools me down, taking away some of my poor mood with it. It also helps that I'm doing something Kit approves of.

"Alright, you've got a point," I tell him, sipping at the wine. "This is nice."

"Oh, it's so nice," he says as sipping, leaning his head on my shoulder.

"Kieran?" he says, after a while. "Want to know something?"

I straighten up, and look across to him. "What is it?"

"I don't mind if you complain. I love you, and I need your opinion sometimes, even though I won't let it get in the way of us having fun together." He shoots a goofy smile.

"I love you too, Kit." I smile. "You've got wine on your lips."

"Oh, I-"

I interrupt him with my kiss. It's a good thing Dalmatian citizens, in general, don't look down on public displays of affection. Even between men. Because I do enjoy these little moments. The few looks I get are reserved for me, and me alone. The pretender fox daring to kiss this fine gentleman of standing.

A shade moves across my vision. A strange cat with brown and black spots and intense eyes passes by, then hesitates when he sees us.

"Excuse me... how you say... je suis perdu."

Kit looks up at the stranger, decidedly unimpressed as he sips his wine.

"I need to get to Servile Avenue; can you point it on my map?" the cat continues.

He holds a rolled-up paper at my eye level. As he unrolls it, something slips from it and lands in my breast pocket. With Kit's eyes following me like daggers, I point on some random place on the paper to make the stranger go away.

"Thank," he says, bowing at me, not even looking where I point. "Very good byes to you."

Oh, the amateurs I have to deal with sometimes.

"Kieran..."

I feel my ears go back, and bury my muzzle in my wine glass. With two fingers, I pull the note out of my breast pocket, and hand it to him. He pockets it while staring at me.

"Look, Kit, it's just a few notes. I already know what they've got to say, anyways. It won't get in the way."

Kit looks across to me, then sighs. His shoulders sag.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Let's just get moving," he says, downing his glass and corking the bottle. He sticks out a paw, which I first imagine is for my paw to hold, but he nudges it away, instead taking my wine glass from me. "Are you going to finish it?"

"I-"

Kit puts it to his lips and downs it in one go.

"Apparently not," I mumble. But I have to watch my steps here. Kit returns the glasses and pays the landlord a couple of coins for the bother, before we proceed, mood considerably dampened.

From Via Centurio, we turn onto the narrow, winding Via Bocca, which emits us onto the Plaza of Dreams where a lovely statue fountain draws coins from hopeful lovers. Kit takes a copper from his pocket, kisses it, and flicks it into the water to nestle among a small fortune in coppers and silvers.

From there, it's a short climb up some staircases, onto a steep street. It's an effort, even leaving us short of breath. It gets better as the day wears on and we approach the north side of town. I suspect the wine is the reason why Kit softens up, but I help him along by making observations about the nicer houses in this part of town, and how clean the streets are here, and wouldn't it be particularly funny if we bought a house here one day, in this very proper neighbourhood.

I don't mention long stares I get from old nonnas in second story windows, or why I keep to the middle of the road to avoid being struck by "accidentally" thrown out trash or plant pots. He picks up on my mood though, and tugs me closer as if to show everyone that the wayward fox has decent company.

The road hangs onto a slight cliff, built up with stone and mortar, and at points it feels more like a balcony. At a railing, I stop to enjoy the view of the Dalmatian bay beneath. The trees sway more here, the cool breeze, unobstructed by buildings, is a welcome relief.

Other places are nice to visit because of the people, but Dalmatia is beautiful despite her inhabitants. A great city of brick and limewash buildings old as the stones, and industry and science and art, and a bunch of moral privateers, coasting on the Empire's success while they hate everyone in it. Blind or resentful to all the good that is done for people other than them, they'll mutter about their Prince and their government whenever some outsiders are afforded the smallest boon.

This is the nature of progress, Kit once told me. Old people will resist, but to their children, the progress of today will be the good old times when they are elderly. It makes me wonder how many generations I will have to wait before they take down the "no foxes" signs.

I let my paw slide down to Kit's lower back, holding him close to me.

"Wish we had a painter that could capture us now," he says. "What a sight to behold."

"And what better subjects to complement such a view such as this than ourselves?"

Kit giggles. "That's true, fox. Let's go, it should be right around here."

"After you, my dear."

I let him lead the way, taking his arm. It's an unspoken agreement: we stand better chances if he leads, than if I do. I don't mind. We're not like other couples, we share equally in all burdens.

The coffee house_,_ "The Sense of the East", looms ahead. Outside, the scattered few tables for drinkers to enjoy the fresh air are all occupied. And it's got one of those damned signs up besides the door.

"We'll find a table inside," he reassures me, as we head over to the entrance. "If luck is on our side, they won't mind."

Luck is rarely on our side, in that regard.

A lanky hare with greying fur around his muzzle meets us at the door. I don't pay him any attention, letting the weasel speak while I gaze towards the horizon. Even a glance is enough to set these people off sometimes .

"We'll have a table for two, please."

"The tables outside are all taken." The hare looks my way, I can tell from the corner of my eye.

"Then we'll have a table on the inside." Kit smiles his placating pretending-not-to-hear-your-insulting-tone smile, and looks at the hare insistently.

"I'm afraid we have no tables on the inside." The hare folds his arms.

"I'm afraid," Kit says steadily, "that I can see beyond you, sir. And I see several."

"They are all reserved."

"Who has placed a reservation on them, might I ask?" The weasel keeps up the act, but the hare is stubborn.

"That's none of your business, boy."

"Excuse me, maybe you don't realise-

"Away now, I have paying customers to see to. I have no time for your kind."

"Alright, I've heard enough." I turn to the hare, my good ear perked forward, staring right into his eyes. "Do you take issue with my man?"

"I take issue with-"

"I recognize you, don't I?"

He's taken aback, as is Kit.

"You do?" The hare asks.

"I recognize every friend of Vito Veneno," I tell him.

The mention of the name of one of the most prominent opium smugglers on our lists makes the hare's eyes widen, which means I've just hit the nail on the head. With a quick motion, I grab the hare's collar before he manages to get away. He's thin and so very light.

"Hold it, there," I bark. "You know that name, don't you?"

The hare shakes his head, but I grip his collar tighter. With my left paw, I grasp all the whiskers on the left side of his muzzle, so that he has to look my way, whether he wants to or not. I can see his eyes straying from mine, to my ruby ring, and then back to my eyes. Then my left paw reaches over to Kit, before diving down the front of his jacket, fishing out one of the secret messages from earlier.

"Dear old Vito has been placed under arrest, and he's been in a talkative mood. Maybe he even mentioned you?"

"Oh... Oh, Vito?" he stammers. "What... what has he gotten himself into now?"

"Quit the act, Caco. He spat out every name he knew, once he was done spitting out his teeth. From the top brass down to the measliest scrounger. Your name came up, too. We've been going around gathering up his associates for the last few days now. Did you think we'd forget about you?"

From the corner of my eyes, I see Kit stick his paws in his pockets, an expression of annoyance on his muzzle. But if he wants me to use my position as leverage against an unfair world, then I'll make sure he understands what that entails.

"What do you want?" the hare asks. "I swear, I haven't seen-"

"Did you not hear my beloved speak to you just now?" I ask him steadily. "What did he ask you?"

"A... A t-table for two?"

"And what will you do, when he asks you about a table for two?"

"F-find one?"

"That's right, Caco." I nod at him, then glance at Kit. The hare puffs softly.

"And then? What will you do when we get to our table?" I ask him, painfully slowly, while I tighten my grip on his collar even more. "There's something very important you have to do."

"I... I will serve you coffee."

I hold his gaze for just long enough that he starts to breathe faster. "And chocolate?"

"O-O-Only th-the finest!" The hare nods, his eyes darting from me, to Kit, and back to my ring, before I force him to look into my eyes again. My grip around his whiskers tighten too, making him wince.

"Will we be getting a discount for that sign you've got there?"

"Kieran," Kit says. "That's probably more than enough."

"Today is your lucky day, Caco," I tell him. "It's my day off, and you have one chance to keep that hide on your back. You get to serve us delightful coffee, and you get to make my man's day."

"I... I do?"

"Yes. It's our anniversary, quite the special occasion. We might even drink so much that we forget about your role in this mess."

"You will?"

"Caco. Caco, Caco, Caco. You ask me so many difficult questions, and it's trying my patience. I will forget today. I might remember tomorrow. Would you rather I forget tomorrow too?"

The hare nods in a frenzy. "I swear I had no part in that business with Vito. I don't even know what it is. I didn't want to do it. I didn't even make much money. It was poor quality, and I disagree with it on principle, swear on my sainted nonna. I-"

"I find..." I sniff loudly, drawing in the smell of coffee. "I am at my most forgetful when I have my own table here, which I can take whenever I like."

Kit rolls his eyes. Caco, desperate for anything he can say to avoid the whip, nods frantically. I let go of him, and he looks like he wants to run. I point at my eyes with two fingers, then point at his, and then at the door. The rest goes smoothly.

Once we're seated, and I've been given my cup of hot chocolate, we're left in peace.

Kit doesn't look upset, but he's clearly not happy either.

"What is it?" I ask him, "We have our own table now. Better than nothing, right?"

"I didn't want you to... I mean... I mean I didn't expect you'd still be..." He sighs, in a rare failed attempt at finding the words he's looking for. "You ruined the mood, alright?"

"What did I do wrong? Come on. You told me I should get us in here if you couldn't. What did you expect?"

"Less violence... I suppose."

"What? That was violence to you? What do you think my job is?"

He pouts in response. "At least you didn't hurt him, I guess."

The way he says it, he makes me sound so... uncontrollable.

I throw a glance over to Caco, who responds immediately, coming over to our table at a sprint to refill our cups.

"I don't think that's fair, Kit. Sure, I didn't expect to meet a target here, but I let him go. It could've gone much worse."

"What's unfair is that they wouldn't allow you in," Kit says with his ears drooping. "But you don't have to be so heavy handed. It's embarrassing."

"Maybe not with Caco, but sometimes, I really have to. The ring doesn't just magically grant me access to places. It's meant to intimidate, because it hints of... what happens to people who doesn't... respect me. And nobody does that."

"Well, what about that time we ate at the taverna?" His gaze returns to me. "We stepped straight through the door. Everything was fine. Nothing happened."

"You stepped through that door," I say, hesitating and swallowing. "You arrived after I did, remember? I didn't want to tell you, because you were enjoying yourself. I had to really do a number on the owner. I'll be honest with you, Kit." I clutch my cup with a sigh. "That... That didn't just ruin my mood, it ruined my day."

"You didn't seem upset to me," he says in a tone of uncertainty. "I remember us both having a nice time. You didn't tell me you were upset."

"I didn't want to ruin the mood."

"You could've been honest with me."

"I wanted a picnic in the countryside!"

"It was raining. You weren't being serious, right?"

"The point is, you knew I wasn't welcome there, but you insisted that we go. I can't say no when you ask me like you do. I knew they'd prevent us going in if we came together. I didn't want you to feel like I do. It's not something I'd wish upon anyone. So I took care of it on my own."

Kit seems like he wants to speak up, but then he looks down to the floor again. When he finally says something, it's slow, hesitant and quiet. "I'm sorry... I didn't... I was... Look, I just want it to not be a problem, fox. I want us to be able to go where everyone else goes. Just you and me together. No hindrances or restrictions. That's all I want. And to get that, you have to first show them that there's nothing wrong with you. It's so hard to just sit back and watch them treat you like that, and I want to change it."

"I want that too, Kit." I bite my lip. "But I'm not the fox to change their mind. Most people here recognize me on sight, and not for being a hero or servant of the public; but as a killer."

"Not so loud," Kit murmurs with his ears down.

"You ought not to look to me for the fox who will change the mind of the masses. They need their minds changed for them, so that those who come after us have it easier."

I understand he feels a responsibility towards making the world more accommodating for me. He has a bleeding heart, the dear weasel of mine, but he just doesn't know how it feels. I can tell him that he's going about it the wrong way, that me being places I'm not wanted isn't changing the world for the better. I could just call it a day, go home, and make sure we don't visit such unpleasant haunts again.

But he already looks thoroughly ashamed, with his ears and whiskers drooping. I can tell he really wants to tell me about how nice his coffee was, because he stares fixedly into his cup, stirring in it with a small spoon occasionally.

"Kit, listen." I breathe out, lifting his muzzle up with my index. "Coming here was a good idea, I don't regret it. But I need you to understand that this..." I gesture to the coffee shop in general. "This is work for me now. And if I'm told that taking a day off will make you happy, then I'd like to have a day off. Not a compromise."

He sniffles. "You'd work yourself to death if I wasn't here..." He's trying at a jovial tone, but instead lands right smack on the darkest note.

"Don't worry, Kit," I respond with a smile. "At least my work comes with some benefits we can enjoy on our way to our grave."

That cracks him up, and he draws a sniffle back inside, while I giggle along, sipping my chocolate.

"But you know," I continue. "You can take the issue up with Duke Reis' brother."

"The prince?" Kit asks. "What makes you think he'll listen to me? I've never spoken directly to him."

"I'm not allowed near him." I turn my good ear down. "You know."

"Even if he will let me speak," Kit mumbles. "The populous aren't ready for more... progressive laws, I think. Not for a long time. That's what I guess he'll say, at least."

"If he knows about it, maybe... I don't want to spend the time I've set off for you, trying to change the world. Sometimes, I just want to... not have to worry about it, you know? If you want to make me happy, try that, instead. I promise you, it'll work."

"Alright, fox, alright," he says, wiping his eyes. "Let me apologize for those times I asked too much from you. I'll find better places for us to go, where you can feel as welcome as I do. And I promise I'll request an audience with His Majesty."

"Apology accepted," I lean over to nuzzle his snout with mine. Our whiskers brush. I close the distance and peck his lips. "In return, I promise to take my work with me only when it's strictly necessary, I'll let you know when that is, and otherwise let nothing come between us."

"And I promise I'll listen better to what you feel," Kit says, lighting up more. "I won't take you any place before having it cleared with you first."

"Same." I tell him, smiling a winning smile. "And I'll promise to think about taking more frequent breaks from my job, so that you don't have to feel so restricted when you want me for yourself. Seeing the desperate desire in your eyes breaks my heart."

"Oh, stop it you," Kit says, slapping at my shoulder and laughing. "Only one of us smells of desperation here."

"Only one of us, hm? You think that sour wine you bought somehow stopped up my nose?" I lean over to him and let a paw slip down past the edge of the table, brushing against his belt buckle. "Since we're in the promising mood... I promise I'll find a nice place for you to hide your scent tonight."

"Then, I'll promise to not to buy so many sour wines, as they go straight to your head," Kit giggles. "I know what wines you like."

"And I promise to never tell you what... wines... I'd rather have, when in truth, I don't care what I have so long as I'm having it with you."

We click our cups together, laugh, and finish them.

The Sense of the East turns into a pleasant little nook when we sink into its atmosphere. After a few cups each, Kit and I empty the wine bottle he bought, and try some of the baked sweets they serve here.

With the evening comes a travelling fiddle player, who beats up some folk tunes from his homeland. A Lion and his Persian cat friend from the table over engage us in a political discussion, which I'm not even slightly capable of following. My politics is my work, and I've decided to put all my work down for today. But I enjoy hearing Kit talk about something he actually does understand, with people who understand him, so it's all fine by me.

Once the sun sets, we leave the establishment. A glance across to Caco makes sure he remembers our little agreement. Because this place is one I'll probably keep visiting, judging from how much joy it brought my weasel.

We stagger home together, the wine taking hold of us, and keeping us nice and warm when our fourth anniversary comes to a close. I can't wait for our next.