FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

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Hallo, altzusammen!

Hier is ze next Chapter of ze Story of ze Red Panda und ze Tiger, which I started so long ago and which has been in ze makingk for so long, I apologize für this Delay, there's just been so much to do und...yes, indeed. But hier it is, and I hope You enjoy it and I wünsch to read your Feedback and what You think about it.

Deze ist also ein Birthdaygift für Baikal whom started it all. Keep on rocking, Böbbi. ^^

Tsheers!

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"Verdammt!"

Hinrich ran his paws through his head furs and stared at the image looking back to him on the mirror.

It wasn't a fancy one, just a simple square one with somewhat yellowed plastic frames that had been saved from an East German flea market by his mother, probably, because somehow it had ended up into his apartment. The red panda's current gentleman's dressing room was his bedroom, and with the addition of an ironing board, there was very little extra room even for thin red pandas. Hinrich didn't even have a hope of having a full body length image of himself, no matter if he backtracked until he collided with the bedroom wall. He'd still only manage to observe himself from the torso up, or so, which showed the newly ironed white shirt, the unbuttoned black jacket, and his narrow, belted waist.

"Buh..." Hinrich rumbled to himself as he slowly walked forward until his nosepad almost touched the mirror. His snuffle caused the surface to fog up briefly before the mist dissipated.

"Humph."

Hinrich rubbed his pointed chin softly and let out a little rumble. His bushy tail snapped against his calves. He'd attempted to do neat presses onto his pants legs but he wasn't sure whether he had been very successful. His "nice" leather shoes looked a bit dull even despite his best efforts, too. Somehow he expected Warrick to appear like something out of one of the fashion magazines Hinrich would never want to be caught reading. Maybe something like a deodorant ad...one of those that showed casually stylish guys...ties half-undone...buttons open to show a mane or a chest ruff, maybe...murrr...

The red panda swallowed. He was unsure what to expect of this middle-of-the-week date with his co-worker-cum-fuck-buddy-and-then-something. He had tried to made careful inquires as to the plan for the night, but to no avail. The tiger had remained tight-lipped ever since he had announced that Hinrich better be ready for a grand night out in the city or else he'd get punished.

"Hurmph."

Hinrich wondered what kind of a punishment the tiger could come up for not living up to expectations when it came to the date. The possibility of paw cuffs, paddles and whipped cream came to his mind, and prompted him to snort at the thought.

"Funny Boy," the red panda grumbled to himself, and shook his head again, his fluffy ears flicking about on their own accord.

Hinrich decided that he would not button up yet. He'd already made sure that the coat fit, but it still felt slightly unnatural for him to be in such apparel. He hadn't worn it since Professor Glaube's 60th birthday party, which was not something he remembered fondly. He had been the youngest there by a couple of decades, he had decided early on upon arriving. He'd been standing there and clutching a canapé and trying not to hear the already drunken voice of Frau Voss telling some poor helpless soul how she was yet again planning to go for the holiday of a lifetime in Turkey where alcohol was cheap and the men were handsome...a fearful combination that made Hinrich want to flee even before it would be considered impolite to bolt from the party.

He collided with the ironing board on his way out of the bedroom and the iron almost fell to the floor, if not for him catching it. Hinrich rubbed his banged up hip and rumbled to himself on his way. If only he could afford a nicer, bigger apartment...but with his income, that would mean moving to somewhere like...Marzahn...and he wasn't that desperate yet to exchange his hovel into something bigger, if that would be the price to pay with his sanity.. No...he would make do with what he got.

The wall clock said that it was almost seven, and Hinrich knew that the tiger could be there at any moment now.. He wasn't quite sure how much Warrick valued punctuality, but then again, he tended to nag to him on purpose even when he didn't do anything wrong. He tried to concentrate on making sure everything was alright for now. Electric appliances turned off? Yes...a quick survey told him as much. Teeth brushed? Uh huh. A puff of air against his palm told him that he was proper minty. Tail combed and brushed...it was nice and fluffy, he decided, after a quick glance over his shoulder, his tail obediently lifting up for inspection. Very nice, he thought, as good as it'd get. Maybe his fur could be a bit shinier...but it was alright. He wasn't stinking of shampoo, either, just a gentle fragrance from the conditioner that had been carefully applied. So many furs took offense to strong scents that it'd be impolite to prance around stinking of noxious chemicals.

Keys...wallet...phone...all sitting on the dining table...lined up...he liked neat things. And things placed neatly...not like Warrick's enviably large but still cardboard box-littered apartment. He didn't seem to have the interest to truly unpack whatever possessions he had brought over from the States...except the one containing jockstraps, perhaps, since the tiger seemed to have so many.

Hinrich cursed the blush appearing on his cheeks as he thought about that fact, and that the tiger had even promised to wear one for the date...damn...he shouldn't be thinking about that, he should rather be worrying whether the restaurant Warrick had promised to take him to was very expensive. He did expect them to pay their own bills, after all, and if eating out one night would cost him his weekly food budget...well...Knäckebrut it would have to be...and Makaroni...oh dear...

"Worry nicht," Hinrich reminded himself, even though he chastised himself for not checking up the restaurant on Google. That way he could've at least budgeted himself...as it was, he couldn't really be sure where they were going...and anyway...it's not like he was meant to be the girl whom Warrick would treat to a free meal to make sure he'd be sweet on him before...expected payback?

Hinrich's ears drooped a little as he glanced at the mirror again, seeing his own dapper reflection, all big ears and big eyes and the pointy muzzle tilted towards...himself, his own image. His tail swished back and forth. He could just imagine the tiger suddenly sneaking up to him...yes...big, thick arms closing around him and pulling him flat against his big broad chest...grinning ever so naughtily while maybe licking the red panda's crown...a rough paw likely fondling his tail or his crotch...

He snuffled as he felt a twinge in that particular part of him that was now well-enclosed in black boxer briefs and his dress pants. Even thinking about the dirty striped geologist was enough to get his...magma...going. And looking at himself on the mirror, it was almost like a confirmation to his previous thoughts. Compared to the tiger, physically, in character, he was definitely the girl...but Hinrich didn't believe in those kind of roles in gay relationships. There were just men and some were more manly than others, right? He wasn't a...a...a sissyboy....not even if he probably had the tendency to abide by Warrick's perverted whims a bit too easily, easy enough that someone less kind could probably call him a man-slut for offering his fluff-butt so easily for groping tiger-paws and...and more.

Hinrich swallowed.

He wondered if this was going to be a full-course dinner...complete with a good helping of the tiger's special Wurst. Knowing the tiger's seemingly endless libido, he'd probably end up with his tail up or his legs in the air before sunrise. The tiger seemed to think that kind of an outing would be best topped off with a healthy session of buggery. Or at least so it had gone so far, whenever they had met intimately...and oh Gott, that time in his office with the tiger playing some kind of a kinky medical fantasy...how could Hinrich face his own family doctor without blushing now, with the memory of the tiger wearing a lab coat and...making Hinrich polish his thermometer?

The red panda shook his head again, rubbed his chin, worried the edge of his ear between his fingers and shook his tail again to make sure it was all neat and nice. It probably wasn't a good idea to be filled with so many sexual thoughts before encountering the tiger...it'd probably make him even easier a catch...just the mere suggestion and he'd be on his knees and unzipping -

Well hold on, he thought, and shook his head miserably. If he'd let himself go like this, the tiger would probably tease him about smelling like a "red panda in heat" throughout their night out.

"Buuuuh," Hinrich gargled.

---

"...reality is a bore you ask me to believe in...something fake well I can't bring myself to - "

_ _

Hinrich's tail flounced once again when he heard his phone ring and vibrate on the table, causing the tabletop to thrum as well. He shuffled over and picked the phone up to see that the screen was flashing the name "Warrick" on it.

Gulp.

A click terminated the punk music and the phone was brought up to his ear.

"Hallo?"

"Why don't you speak E-N-G-L-I-S-H, German boy, you know who's calling!"

_ _

The red panda's tail flagged.

"Euuuhm...hello, Warrick?"

"What took you so long, sweetcheeks, still doing your makeup?"

_ _

"Uhm...no?" Hinrich rumbled.

"You ready then? I'm waiting down here in a cab and the guy smells like a stable boy, come on!"

_ _

"I'm ready, I'm ready!" Hinrich assured the tiger, "I just need to grab my keys."

"Well hurry up, this taxi driver only speaks foreign, I'm not sure how to explain that I'm waiting for my booty call to arrive."

_ _

"You..."

"Get your ass down here German boy!"

_ _

"Okay, okay, I just grab my stuff, yes?"

"Okay. You've got a minute."

_ _

"See you soon then."

"Don't get girly with me, German boy!"

_ _

"Okay, just a moment then," Hinrich said, "bye."

"BYE!"

_ _

Hinrich frowned and hurried to stuff his necessary items into his pockets before he scaled the steps down and onto the pavement. The parked Mercedes stood there between an Opel and an Audi, its lights burning invitingly in the darkness. Hinrich could see a dark shape on the backseat of the car, and felt his tail stir again. For one hysterical moment he fantasized about Warrick stepping out of the car and opening the door for him like a true gentleman...but that idea did not linger on for very long. Instead he hurried across the pavement and opened the door and got in as quickly as he could without slamming his tail with the door.

"Guten eveningk", Hinrich spoke quietly to the taxi driver, whom was a camel, before he turned his head carefully to the left, well knowing that this would -

"Goot evveningy to you too German boy!" the smirking tiger grinned.

Hinrich's cock twitched against his better judgment, and it didn't help that paws were around that region of his body, in the process of pulling the seatbelt on. The tiger's breath smelled of peppermint and tiger, and his eyes were glinting in the light provided by the street lamps.

"Euhhmm...hello, Warrick," Hinrich said, switching back over to English now, after Warrick's mangled German made his ears hurt.

The tiger tapped the driver's seat and spoke an address which Hinrich couldn't recognize, to which the camel replied "Yes, sir" in accented English, and the car rumbled into life.

"You look like a Mormon," Warrick said to Hinrich.

"Euhmm?"

"What's this black suit and tie thing you've got?" the tiger poked Hinrich's chest.

"My suit?" he replied.

"Well it'll have to make do," he said, "but I'm not taking you to Mac von Donalds if they turn us away at the door."

Hinrich frowned and wondered whether the tiger was just teasing or if the restaurant he had in mind really was fancy enough that they would actually turn away clients who didn't adhere to their dress code. That made him observe the tiger more carefully in the changing light inside the taxi. He was wearing black pants and a dark suit jacket, too, but the waistcoat underneath it was a deep shade of green instead, and Hinrich's keen eye, not to mention his nose, could tell that it was actually made of leather. The sudden realization made him feel his cheeks heat up - how many times had the tiger teased him about one day showing up dressed in all leather and making the red panda crawl in front of him with collar and leash...

Ahem.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Hinrich replied, ears drooping a little so that they wouldn't brush against the car ceiling.

"Well I spent an hour googling for restaurants so it better be good," the tiger rumbled loudly.

"I'm really looking forward to it," Hinrich spoke with a kind smile.

"I bet you are," the tiger licked his lips. "Need to put some meat in you..."

Hinrich thought his eyes were going to bulge out of his sockets.

"...in your stomach, you're like a stick!" the tiger grinned and nudged Hinrich's tummy with his huge knuckles.

"I have the slim gene, I suppose," Hinrich defended himself, "I eat and eat, but I never gain much weight."

"You should eat the right kind of stuff, then!" the tiger grumbled. "Put some meat around your bones. Work out some muscles!"

Hinrich's balls started to suggest a very particular kind of push-ups they could do together, and he had to chastise himself for thinking such things in the relatively public place of a taxi zooming along the streets of Berlin, and he huffed instead.

"Just haven't seemed to have found the time," he said.

"Maybe we should start going together after work," the tiger flashed him another dangerous grin, "I know a place where to do it...hard."

Hinrich wasn't sure whether his cheeks could get any hotter, but perhaps there was still room to perform there.

"I'll have to think about it," he said.

"Bet you are thinking about it right now," the tiger winked.

"Uh..."

"Well I presume you are not thinking about latitudinal shift in the Pleistocene vegetation belts, are you?" Warrick rumbled.

"Euuuhmm...no?"

"Thought so," the tiger flashed a minty smile at him that looked like a disturbing Colgate commercial.

Hinrich straightened his coat lapels indignantly and raised his head up high, as proud as he could muster under the scrutiny of the particular tiger.

"Just so that you know, I'm wondering what you have in mind for the dinner," he said, "You have not told me anything about it yet."

"That's because it's a surprise, you doofus," the tiger replied, "what's the fun otherwise?"

"Well I could have prepared for it properly - "

The tiger grunted.

"What kind of preparation do you need for a restaurant?" he said. "You just go in, order food and eat it. That's about it."

"But - "

"Why do you make this sound like some sort of a military operation that has to be planned to the last detail and scheduled to every minute?" the tiger suggested. "That something Germans must do to have fun?"

"Euhmm...no?" Hinrich said. "I just don't have any idea what kind of restaurant it will be and - "

"Are you questioning my taste?" the tiger glared.

"I'm sure whatever they serve will be perfectly fine for my palate," Hinrich hurried to placate.

But possibly not for my wallet, he dared to think.

"I bet you'll be able to swallow it down," the tiger said.

Hinrich shook his head softly - was there anything the tiger said that wasn't a barb, a jibe, or a...come-on, of some sort? He probably missed half of them due to his imperfect fluency in the more subtly kinky nuances of the English language, that bastard offshoot of his own variety of vernacular.

It still gave him a boner, though.

"Okay," he said.

"Relax," Warrick chuckled roughly, "you look like you sat on something and it went straight through."

Hinrich's tail swished against the suspicious floor of the taxi, while he made a conscious effort to slump a little on the seat to make himself appear less tense with the situation at paw.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yep," Warrick smirked.

Hinrich pulled his eyes away from the tiger and glanced out of the window instead. The traffic was as heavy as one could expect, and a lighted traffic sign gave him some idea on their direction.

"We're heading to city center," he said.

"What did you expect, the...ah...Mensa?" the tiger's tongue seemed to struggle with the German word for the university cafeteria, before he expelled it with a gruff rumble.

"No, but..."

"So let me do this my way," the tiger harrumphed. "Really now..."

"Alright," the red panda replied softly, tail bristling quietly between his footpaws.

*

The taxi drawled on in the evening traffic, the buildings growing older, and more ornate, as they passed. Hinrich eyed it with only mild interest, curiously mostly about where they might be going, while the tiger was gawking out of the window.

"Hmmm...hmm...so where's the Wall?" the tiger suddenly asked.

"Euuhm?" Hinrich's ears prickled with trepidation.

Warrick glanced at the red panda, eyes glinting in the streetlight coming in.

"The one the Commies built to keep the Commies from escaping Commieland?" the tiger drawled. "Thought it's still here or something."

Hinrich decided that wasn't even worth a facepaw.

"Only little bits remain," he said, "they're tourist attractions. We're not really there now."

The tiger did a bad-tempered huff and slumped on his car seat.

"...we don't need no education..."

_ _

Hinrich's ears perked at the sudden badly rendered singing grumbling from the tiger's throat. His gesture must've been sudden enough to prompt Warrick's attention, too, since the tiger instantly gave him a look.

"Never heard Pink Floyd?"

"Of course but - "

"Another brick in the wall!" the tiger gawked. "Seriously, German boy..."

"Sorry, sorry, that was just...sudden, you know?"

"Don't like surprises?" Warrick glared.

"I do but - "

"How about that?" the tiger lurched towards his window and pointed out a building they were slowly passing in the crawling traffic. "Is that where Hitler lived?"

Hinrich hoped he could've jumped out of the car window and directly into the Spree.

"That..." he huffed, "is the Faculty of Theology of the Humboldt University."

"How'd you know?" the tiger grumbled.

"We're right next to the Museum Island," Hinrich observed, an ear flicking through the window to display the lighted vista to their right, "I'm a geek. Of course I've been around this part of Berlin before. It's tourist trap territory."

"So where is Hitler's house?"

Hinrich hung his head.

"Can we not talk about that, Warrick?"

"I asked you a simple question!" the tiger grunted. "I just wanted to know, since we're on a city tour now and all!"

Hinrich didn't quite buy it, but he didn't want to fall into a further circle of games with the tiger at that point.

"It doesn't exist anymore," he said.

"Did you blow it up too like the Wall to forget it?" the tiger accused.

"No, I think someone else did the blowing up," Hinrich replied quietly.

Warrick chuckled roughly and nudged Hinrich's thigh with his knee.

"You blaming us for bombing down your beloved Berlin?" the tiger snarled. "'Murica to the victory?"

"It's not my Berlin," Hinrich said, "and no, I think the Russians did most of the blowing up."

"I'm half Russian!" Warrick yelped.

Hinrich gulped. His expression must've been noticeable enough, since next thing he knew was Warrick poking his arm with his index finger, hard enough to actually thrust to the bone.

"Just kidding," the tiger winked, "I'm actually half Scottish."

Hinrich hoped to high heavens and Spaghetti Monster that the tiger wasn't going to try to start talking with a Scottish accent, but the camel driving the taxi ended up any such attempts to mutilate ye olde tonge, by announcing that they were at the address Warrick had specified before.

"Alright, German boy, dinner time!" Warrick announced as he began to dig into his pocket for the fare.

"Uhm...okay..."

The taxi soon joined the throng of traffic, which left Hinrich's tail bristling in the cool evening air, and with the big tiger glaring about.

"Hmm...this way, I think."

Hinrich had to take two steps for each one the tiger did, following him with his tail swishing about behind him as he struggled to keep up.

"Is it near?"

"You tired already?" the tiger glanced at him down his shoulder. "Thought I give you enough exercise..."

The cold evening air was just enough to keep his blush down...what happened in his dress pants, not as much. Hinrich sped up.

"I'm fine."

"Well you're lucky because we're there now," Warrick said.

The tiger lifted a paw and pointed out the lighted front of a small restaurant, a few pointy-eared heads visible through the windows, and above them was emblazed the name of the establishment, in warm-hued letters.

"The Golden Cockerel", Hinrich read aloud, eyes agape.

"I found it on Google," the tiger commented from his side. "It had 4.5 stars out of 5."

"Are you sure you didn't choose it because the name has 'cock' in it?" Hinrich asked.

Warrick shook his head.

"You just don't think about anything else, do you?"

Hinrich's neck felt hot as he quietly admitted to himself that when it came to Warrick, he might as well confessed to such an indiscretion. He did manage to keep his face for most part, though, and just smiled sweetly.

"Right now I am thinking about dinner," he said.

"So get walking!" the tiger swatted his butt. "I've even got a table reserved and we're mostly on time, so let's go in before some Nazi waiter gives it up to someone else."

"That's offensive, you know," Hinrich said.

"Whut?"

"Calling a German a Nazi," Hinrich replied quietly in the hopes that no passerby would hear his mumblings.

"Jawooohl," the tiger replied.

"Urgh..."

The restaurant was a myriad of lovely scents, the clatter of cutlery on plates and some soft jazz music, all of which pleased Hinrich's senses. Even their table was located nicely to the side and not in the immediate vicinity of the kitchen door, which reduced the inevitable traffic alongside.

"Now we start to drink," Warrick said, "pick something from the list. It's on me."

"On you?" Hinrich gawked.

"Well what did you expect?" he grunted.

"Euuuhm..."

"Whatever you like, even if it's fruity. I'm having a martini."

"A martini?"

"Well I'm not gonna start drinking vodka right away," the tiger replied, "or that infernal stuff we had for New Year's..."

"Stroh," Hinrich winced at the memory of the Katzenjammer that the vicious Austrian liquor had caused.

"Sounds as vile as it tastes," the tiger made a ridiculous face. "Jesus Christ..."

A waitress appeared, a pleasantly smiling wolfess with a little notepad and a very traditional apron.

"Hallo, Gut evenink, vat wuld you vant to orderen this nicht?"

The tiger glanced at Hinrich.

"You order, he said, "we want a martini and whatever wussy you're drinking, a bread basket, and tonight's salad."

"Kann weh habe ein Martini und ein Rum wit Cola und ein Breadbasket und für both ze salad für tonight, please?" Hinrich relayed. "Und just ein half portion Rum wit ze Cola, please?"

"Natürallich," the wolfess smiled perkily. "Vill be vith you in ze moment."

"Dank you," Hinrich spoke with a polite smile.

The waitress went on her way, which left Hinrich once again feeling under scrutiny while the big tiger in his leather waistcoat stared at the black-dressed red panda.

"I'll never learn this stupid language of yours," the tiger huffed and puffed.

"I learned yours," Hinrich said. "And English makes much less sense. It's just practice."

"I'm already doing research all day and I have a lot of hobbies," Warrick said. "Don't have the time for it."

Hinrich wasn't really sure whether the tiger had any hobbies besides 'sink the sausage', but then again, his mind always went into that direction. He blamed the tiger's endlessly kinky mind for that. Maybe it really was contagious.

"The Language Center has some very good courses for foreign learners, from A1 to C2 levels," Hinrich said, "that's where I took Spanish and French."

Warrick chortled.

"Knew I shouldn't have taken Assyrian in high school, some other world language would've been much more useful," he said.

Hinrich's ears flip-flopped.

"Euuuuhm...what?"

Warrick gave him an eye-bulging glare.

"Do you Germans have your sense of humor surgically removed at birth or something?" the tiger retorted.

Hinrich tapped his pads against the handle of a knife and fork wrapped in a white linen napkin on the table.

"Perhaps mine's been irreversibly damaged by the geologist humor that pours into my mailbox," he said, "you're too subtle for me."

The tiger's resulting expression wasn't really one suitable for a polite restaurant.

"So you'd prefer me to joke about how big bones get your rocks off easily and that I'd like to investigate your fault line and see the magma spurting - "

Hinrich's tail tucked under the chair and he tried his damn best to will his cock not to get so hard so damn fast, but it was a battle he could never win. His flesh was too weak when it came to the tiger and his antics.

"Like I said, maybe I've been reading the stuff too long," he said.

"Yesterday I tried to watch How I Met Your Mother but it was all in German. What a fucking joke!"

"It's just how it works here," Hinrich said. "Synkronisation is how we do things."

"And don't let me get started what happened when I realized I can't watch my DVDs on your DVD players..."

"Well, yeah," Hinrich said, "the area codes and different television technologies..."

"Weird," Warrick grunted, "we invented TV, shouldn't it be the same everywhere?"

Hinrich could imagine his own eyes flashing with pleasure.

"It was actually invented in the United Kingdom," he said, "and technical innovations were also made in Germany."

The tiger growled.

"No way you invented TV!" he snapped. "German TV sucks so bad, you can't have invented it."

"I didn't say we invented it, we were just the first country to have regular TV broadcasts. During the Third Reich."

The tiger's lips curled up with vicious pleasure.

"Are you saying Hitler invented TV?"

"Not personally, I'd imagine."

"Must've sucked," the tiger mused. "You've already spoiled TV, can't imagine what kind of programs Hitler would've ordered to make."

"Likely...orderly ones?" Hinrich suggested.

The tiger's ears jumped.

"Don't start with me, German boy," the tiger said.

"I thought I already did," Hinrich replied, deadpan, "when I told you that Americans didn't invent the television."

The tiger folded his arms over his chest.

"At least we invented programs furs really wanted to watch instead of... Fritz the Nazi's Ultimate Uniform Makeover."

Hinrich cringed.

"Okay, okay, I forfeit," he said. "We might've helped to invent it but you made sure everyone started watching it like a zombie, is that an acceptable compromise?"

"You'll pay back for this later," the tiger hissed ominously.

"For the dinner?" Hinrich said.

"What's up with you tonight?" the tiger questioned. "You're...feisty..."

"When am I not?" Hinrich replied.

"Something's up," Warrick rubbed his chin quietly, "something weird..."

"I'm just eager to eat," Hinrich said, "been hungry for hours now thinking about this meal. I've been looking quite forward to it."

"I know how much you need meat," the tiger said.

Hinrich swallowed through a suddenly thy throat.

"I'm an omnivore," he replied, "I like vegetables, too."

"Let's hope they've sliced the cucumbers on that salad carefully then, otherwise one might suddenly disappear," the tiger said.

Hinrich felt himself blush. He just didn't want to go there.

At least the waitress was there, then.

"Hie ist your Saladen," the wolf smiled broadly again as she placed the plates in front of them, "I vill bring ze Breat in aze Moment."

"Danke you," Hinrich replied, "ze lookest vonderful."

"Aw, they've grated the carrots...poor you..." Warrick commented.

"Oh shut up," he grunted.

"Have ein nice Meal!" the wolfess said before heading away.

"Hmmm...not a very big salad is it?" Warrick glared at his portion.

"It's only meant to be an appetizer," Hinrich replied as he opened his napkin roll of utensils and folded the piece of cloth over his lap.

"But I'm already hungry," Warrick complained. "Don't need to tease it...up."

*gulp*

"So just enjoy it," Hinrich picked up the fork and speared a piece of lettuce, "it looks nice and fresh."

Warrick sniffed his plate loudly.

"And with creamy sauce, too..."

Hinrich's ears drooped a little and felt hot on the inside while he observed the tiger's lurid expression, and realized that a hint of the said sauce must've already passed onto his lips, judging by the oily texture and the taste of vinegar. He licked his lips quickly in the hopes that any residue was removed before the tiger could get any further ideas. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Warrick noisily slurping down about a third of his salad in one rapid forkful.

"Crunch, crunch, crunch..."

"Seems to have found your appetite," Hinrich said.

"It's just teasing for now," the tiger slurped.

The wolfess appeared soon enough, this time with a basket of delicious-smelling bread and the menus.

"Hier ist für your Main Course und ze Winelist für your Viewing," the wolfess smiled brightly.

"Finally," Warrick grumbled as he took the menu, "uhh...dankju."

"Bitte, bitte," the wolfess smiled.

"Humppph...it's all in foreign..." the tiger said.

"I can read you the most interesting things if you like," Hinrich offered.

"I just want steak and some of those creamy potatoes you do here," Warrick said, "they do offer that here do they?"

Hinrich leafed through the menu and scanned it with is eyes.

"Hmmm...yes...yes they do alright."

"Medium rare, then," the tiger said, "and big."

"I'll keep that in mind," Hinrich replied.

The tiger smirked.

"I know you like it raw and big, German boy. You gonna take that too?"

Hinrich almost coughed up a piece of radish.

"Euuuuhm...I was thinking of a soup maybe..."

"Why do you plan to eat like a sick granny on our night out?" the tiger questioned.

Hinrich's tail shuffled against his ankles under the table.

"Well I just don't know...uh...if I can afford it..."

"I told you, it's all on me," the tiger said, "take whatever you like. And also ask for a bottle of red wine, too. Need something to wash that meat down."

"Really?" Hinrich gasped.

"You don't drink wine with meals?" the tiger suggested.

"Of course we do but - "

Warrick folded his arms over his chest.

"Or is this about me treating you?"

Hinrich felt his ears drop a little.

"Uh...maybe...?"

"Stop bellyaching about it. Just want to have a good time, okay?" the tiger mrowled. "Want to do this right."

"Alright..." Hinrich decided to swallow further complaints for now. "Just...okay."

"Just order up, then," Warrick harrumphed. "Or ain't I good enough for ya?"

"Stop it," Hinrich huffed, one paw tugging on his ear.

"So order up. I'm getting impatient."

Hinrich made the order for the steak and then added his own, and Warrick's wine and water for himself, and the smiling wolfess went her way again.

"I couldn't understand a thing of what you were ordering," Warrick huffed, "sure you got mine right?"

"Yes, I did."

"And you? What'd you get? Hope it's not some five euro kiddie portion..."

"No, I shall have calf's liver with pears and bacon," Hinrich replied, "It's very nice."

Warrick smirked.

"Like nice, bloody organs, do you?"

"On my plate, yes," the red panda replied.

"And in your maw," the tiger spoke as he lifted a forkful of salad to his muzzle.

Hinrich bit his tongue, softly, and felt his lips purse.

"Don't they taste like piss though?" the tiger mused. "Being piss factories."

Hinrich cringed.

"We're in a restaurant," he hissed, "everyone's trying to eat."

Hinrich shrugged.

"We're talking in foreign, not like they're going to understand."

"Germans known excellent English," Hinrich said. "Don't underestimate us."

"We occupied you long enough, of course you should," the tiger winked.

"Euhhmm..." Hinrich's ears wobbled.

"You didn't answer, though."

"They wash them first, they just taste nice."

"Not that you mind a splash or two..." the tiger proposed.

Hinrich groaned.

"Don't start with that," he bit his teeth together. "Besides, you made me."

"You didn't say no, either."

"I don't want to discuss it now," Hinrich bristled, "probably never."

"Awww, shucks," the tiger grinned, "shy German boy..."

"Hungry for most part, now," Hinrich said.

"Well at least there's this bread here until that," the tiger complained. "Smells good..."

"It sure does," Hinrich smiled. "Really nice and fresh."

"Better than Mensa at least," he grunted.

"Seeing those prices on the menu, I'd be shocked if the food quality here was the same," Hinrich said.

"Missing Wienerschnitzels?" the tiger proposed.

"No," the red panda said.

"And where's the wine?"

"It'll only take a moment, I'm sure," Hinrich said.

"Well I need some booze."

"You wanted to come here to get drunk?"

"What's the best place but 'The Golden Cock' to do that," he said, "maybe you'll even get something golden from a cock if you're nice..."

Hinrich frowned.

"Can you stop talking about that while we're in polite company?"

The tiger's 'whut?' expression was remarkably aggressive.

"So I'm not polite enough?" he proposed. "What more should I have done, pull you a chair or something?"

"That might be a bit excessive," Hinrich opined, though his tail wagged behind him as he imagined such a gentlemanly gesture from...well, anyone, really, but especially from the bad-tempered tiger.

"Well I want to have a nice drink and a nice meal and then we'll see what happens," Warrick said, "nothing more, nothing less."

"Uhhh...alright?"

*

My, my, how shall this date with the unruly tiger continue? Tune in soon for the next chapter of Ball-Shaped Objects, and I do hope to read your comments!

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Cheerio!

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