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Chapter 3 – Be Good To Yourself

(_ CONTENT WARNING: _ F-Slur)

The Ryans’ apartment, Friday, 7:30pm

“Are you sure about this, Ash?” Dylan asked, a little breathless as he strained. He was currently laying on Ashley’s bed again, his legs hanging off the edge, while the stoat knelt between them. However, far from doing what many would have assumed they were if hearing they were in such a position, they were actually trying to get the canine’s pants on, rather than off.

Specifically the pair of jeans that the stoat had given Dylan when he got to his place an hour ago. Ash had stood by, clapping his hands excitedly, as Dylan opened the package and pulled them out to look them over. He said he’d ordered them over a month ago off Betsy, when he knew they’d be celebrating summer break together. They were a pair of soft, pastel pink bellbottoms, but with a rather particular design feature: On the outer and inner thigh, the fabric was elastic, and split into wide gaps covered only by a crisscross thread pattern of bands, which were decorated with rainbow colored beads. These gaps stretched as the jeans were put on, leaving a wide band of fur, inside and outside the leg, as well as up the buttocks, exposed. The latter wasn’t too much of an issue, especially for someone with as thick a tail as Dylan had, but it still felt like a bit… much, to the canine. Plus, there was the fact that these had been designed with a female figure in mind.

“Of course I am, shug!” Ashley said, grinning, as he helped to keep wrinkles from forming in the jeans, as Dylan finally managed, by taking a deep breath, to get the button in the front to close. The coyote let out the breath and felt the waistband dig into him a bit, frowning as he sat up.

“But… I dunno, Ash, they’re a bit… revealing, ya know?” He said, looking down at the exposed fur on the outside and inside of his thighs, fluffing out a bit and overlaying the bands.

“That’s the point, bitch!” Ash said, laughing. “You wanna look good, right?!”

“Well, yes! But, Ash, I’m not built like you! I don’t think I really have the figure to pull this off.” Dylan said, crossing his arms over his chest and blushing a bit.

Ash huffed, picking up the vest he’d bought to go along with the pants and shoving it into the canine’s arms. “Oh, seriously, Dee, just put that on!” He stood, tapping one booted paw on the floor while Dylan slipped into the vest. It was quite nice, too, a light silk and velvet design with the main color being black, but having a fancy, paisley print pattern that was picked out in a deep, redder pink that paired with the light rose color of the jeans nicely.

For his part, Ash was wearing a pair of short-short overalls over a long sleeved linen blouse, with a pair of thigh highs and his usual high heeled punk boots, a canvas messenger bag bouncing on one hip. It was a slightly mismatched, thrown together look that really worked for him, giving him a cute, CottagePunk vibe, especially with the little, ruffled silk choker he was wearing and the finely applied makeup that helped accentuate his naturally androgynous appearance.

Dylan did not have such luck with his looks. He wasn’t manly, really, and he was certainly attractive enough, but he was definitely more just a twink than a femboy. He had a slender, but still athletic figure, mostly from jogging, light calisthenics and eating a healthy diet, and while he absolutely wanted to look attractive, he did focus more on simply being healthy. When compared to Ash, who had not only been born with the right genes to have a softer appearance naturally, but also worked crazy hard to keep a certain figure and to accentuate all the more feminine aspects of it, Dylan felt like he was better off just sticking with his usual style. He didn’t have the right curves, the right lines, to pull off something girly, even if it was something as relatively neutral as these jeans.

Such were his thoughts as, when he finished buttoning up the vest, the stoat grabbed his arm and pulled the larger man to his paws, dragging him over to the full length mirror on the back of his closet door. Dylan took one look, and his mouth fell open. The jeans fanned out around his paws, swaying as he moved, giving almost the same sort of graceful, flowing effect as a dress, while from the knee up they hugged tight, almost uncomfortably so with his fur (hence the half hour the pair had spent in the bathroom, trimming his legs, he now realized). But, the mild discomfort suddenly seemed worth it as his strong, firm legs were perfectly on display, all the way up to the swell and curve of his hip and buttocks. For all that he liked to think he didn’t work out for a certain build… he did like it when guys noticed his butt, and it probably did effect what exercises he chose to do, when it came time for leg day.

And then there were those gaps in the thighs which… actually didn’t reveal anywhere near as much as he thought. Ash had told him he could’ve ordered them to be extra revealing, but knew that might be too much, both for Dylan as well as for Amplify’s ever patient staff, so he had resisted the urge. As it was, they left everything to the imagination, while revealing just enough to be tantalizing. Plus, having been made with a feminine figure in mind, and being as tight as they were… Dylan bit his lip, blushing slightly at the obvious bulge in the front of them.

As for the top, it was a suit vest, custom ordered, again, and it fit him well, leaving a plunging neckline that gave an almost scandalous view of the space between his pecs, as well as leaving his arms completely uncovered. He wore a necklace featuring a pair of moons and a small feather around his neck, along with traditional beadwork. He was wearing one of his kandi bracelets on his right wrist, sporting the full rainbow pride colors, and as he stood there, Ash stepped around, reaching up to slip a pin onto the vest’s lapel, sporting the same colors, smiling up at him as he stepped back. He had a similar pin on the left shoulder strap of his overalls, though his was in the shape of two overlapping Mars symbols, while the one he’d given Dylan was shaped like a heart.

Dylan took a breath and let it out. “Well… okay, I’ll give it to you, Ash, you were right… I do look good.” He said, cocking his hip slightly and watching how the movement sent the belled cuff of the pants leg swaying, while also showing off the curve of his back and thigh even more. “But… still, isn’t this a bit much? We’re just going to Amplify, we do this every week!” He said, blushing slightly again as he looked away from the mirror.

Ash rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, Dee, I swear… for someone who’s usually so sex positive, you turn into a total prude when it comes to showing off in public!” He said, before noticing the awkward look on the coyote’s face, and softening his tone. “Dee… this isn’t just another night at Amplify. It’s Summer Break! Finals are over! All that stress is done, AND you passed with flying colors! This is a celebration!” He said, hugging his friend, who hugged him back, both squeezing tight. “And, also,” Ashley continued, leaning back to look into the larger man’s eyes again. “This is me and Tal’s three year anniversary for going to Amplify in the first place!” He said. “He and I first started going there because he wanted to celebrate Finals in a big way, once he was old enough to drink, and I had just heard about the new karaoke bar that had opened up, so we went! And, then it became a thing, every week. We wound up meeting Troy there, drinking alone at the bar. Imagine drinking alone at a karaoke bar! Only Norman.” He said, rolling his eyes, before smiling broadly. “And then, you and Mandy got old enough to come along too! It’s like, we owe our whole little circle of friends to that place! We’ve been doing this for nearly a year together now, and this is our first chance to help you really celebrate, in the way we did when we first went!”

Dylan took a breath, letting it out and smiled. “Okay, Ash. I get it. This is a special night, and I need to treat it as such.” He said, turning to look at himself again. Idly, he thought about Michael. He hadn’t heard a peep from the tiger, hadn’t seen him anymore, either, since that night downstairs in the pub. He wondered if he would actually show up, tonight, and, if he did, what he’d think about this outfit….

He stopped himself really quickly on that line of thought. Michael was straight, and had zero interest in anything of the sort. Dylan had his rule for a reason: Don’t Flirt With Straights. All it did was reinforce old, harmful stereotypes and, besides that, it was also just uncomfortable for the straight in question and… a waste of time, for the gay guy. Why flirt with someone that wasn’t interested, when you could just find someone who was? That was Dylan’s logic about it, and it worked well for him. Plus, in the case of Michael….

Michael was attractive, physically, there was no denying that: He was an athlete, a quarterback who had every chance of going pro. He wasn’t terribly tall, especially for a tiger, only coming in about five-eleven or so, which still put him a couple inches taller than Dylan, but he was broad, built like a Greek god and it was all muscle. Any other guy built that way would have Dylan salivating like an old cartoon character.

But this was Michael Tsang. Michael had always been physically attractive, but all the good looks in the world couldn’t make up for an ugly personality, and Michael’s had been hideous, for all the time that Dylan had known him. Five days to think and ponder had left some doubts in Dylan’s mind. He was going through with this, if Michael bothered showing up. He wanted to help, or try to, at least. He really thought that Michael might want to change, might be trying to on his own. Plus, he was clearing in pain. But… Michael would have to prove just how much he wanted to change.

If, and it was a big if in Dylan’s mind, he did want to change, and he made good progress… then, maybe, Dylan might lament the tiger’s sexuality. But only then. And, honestly, he’d just be too proud at that point to worry about it.

He didn’t question whether he would be more proud of Michael for making such a big change, or of himself for helping him.

Ashley’s phone pinged, letting him know that Mandy was here to pick them up, and he giggled, texting back that they’d be right down. Dylan stuck his wallet and phone into his shoulder bag, throwing it on as he and the stoat headed downstairs to meet their ride. Mandy didn’t drink, so she was always the designated driver.

Dylan couldn’t stop himself from chewing his lip and wondering, again, if Michael was even going to show.

* * * * *

D: Where are you at, boy?!

M: Sorry, Dad. Coach kept me really late working on plans for next season, and I’m just now getting into town. I’ve gotta meet the guys soon, so I’m probably gonna just go straight there. Sorry, again. I’ll tell you all about it later. I should be home by 10 or 11.

D: Alright, fine. You be careful if you’re the one driving, though. Don’t want you scratching the car I bought you, after all.

M: Right. Yeah. Love you, Dad.

D: See you later, son.

Truth was, Michael had been back in town since a little before seven o’clock. He’d taken a drive down Cree Falls Boulevard, then turned down Kenosha Ave and then again down Tolliver Street, which was the main drag of Deepwater. He had driven down it, until his eyes caught on the glow of blue and purple neon, and he had slowed down, seeing a large karaoke machine made up of neon tubes, sitting right on the front of the old McClaren theater, above a sign that read AMPLIFY. “Huh. Son of a bitch.” He said, shaking his head. He’d just never bothered to really go out into Deepwater, after high school, not even on breaks when he was home. He had told himself there was no point. Nothing to do, here.

Now, he pulled into the empty lot next to the building, a public parking space that didn’t just serve the bar, found a spot and pulled his Charger in. He killed the engine, but kept the radio playing, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes as Three Days Grace played through the speakers. He had a half hour to wait, so he might as well get comfortable. But, comfort proved hard to attain, as his mind kept bickering with itself.

Why are we doing this?

Because I want to.

Why? None of it matters. You don’t matter. Just stop trying.

Fuck you.

Back and forth, on and on, one voice telling him to stop, to stop caring, stop trying, just give up, give in and accept that everything was over. The other voice pushing back, and in the middle of it all that sickening tone telling him he shouldn’t be here because his father wouldn’t like him going to some pussy little music club, to hang out with a bunch of freaks and fairies.

He needed a drink.

“Here ya go.” The voice said, deeper than he remembered it, though still with a light, soft air to it. He glanced over to see Dylan leaning on the bar next to him, pushing a glass of whiskey towards him with a small smile. His eyes were sad, but kind, as Michael took the glass and gulped down a drink. He felt it, then, the coyote’s hand on his arm, the touch burning him, feeling like a high voltage wire had been placed directly on his nerve endings, but he didn’t pull away. He looked at him, looked into those soft, amber-gold eyes.

“Why are you doing this?” Michael asked, tears running down his face, now. “Why are you helping me?”

“Why would I help you?” Dylan asked, smiling confusedly, before pushing another glass towards him. “Why?” He repeated, smiling wider, his mouth stretching more than it should.

“Why are you HERE?!” Another voice came from behind him, a voice that was familiar. That was powerful, and commanding, that told him it was in charge and he must obey. “Sitting with this little FAGGOT?!”

He turned, like a leaf in a storm, shaking his head, tears running. “No! Please! Daddy, I-I’m not- It’s not what you think!” His father was there, reaching out and grabbing him, shaking him. His hand went up, and then came down, striking Michael in the snout, which made a loud, harsh beeping sound as it was hit-

Michael jerked awake with a start, slamming back in his seat and clutching his nose. It was throbbing slightly. He looked down at the steering wheel, his back and neck hurting. The song had changed on the radio, and it was almost eight. “Fuck.” He grunted.

He glanced up, catching movement outside the car, seeing a pair of humans coming over, looking concerned. He rolled his window down as the guy came up, pulling his sunglasses down to see better. “You okay, dude?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Michael replied, shaking his head. “Just… waiting on some friends. Fell asleep and hit my snout. I’ll be fine.” The guy nodded, laughing a little, and he and his girl continued on, heading for the door into the bar. Michael leaned back in his seat, turning his radio down and pulling out his phone. He needed to do something to stay awake.

He started scrolling TukTuk, swiping through short after short on his recommended. Mostly football related stuff, with the occasional music short or rando thing he had no interest in. He frowned, thinking about how much of his life was taken up by the sport. It was to the point that, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d gone out like this, to just hang out with anyone, in a way that wasn’t related to his team or his training. He sighed, looking back down at his phone, before the sound of an engine drew his eyes back up.

“Holy shit.” He said, as a gold, 1973 Chevy Nova Sedan pulled into the parking lot, driving past him, the sound of the radio belting some kind of pop-rock song from his parent’s day as it went down a little ways and pulled into a spot facing opposite him. The car sat there until the song, really just blurry riffs and half heard high notes from Michael’s perspective, came to an end. The engine shut off and, a minute later, the driver’s door opened.

Out stepped a white tail deer, female by the lack of antlers and the soft lines of her face, though she certainly wasn’t dressed like a doe: She was wearing a pair of black cargo pants and a white t-shirt with a big middle finger on the front and some caption he couldn’t read. Over that she had a checked flannel lumberjack shirt, like it was 1999 or something, and had a ballcap turned around backwards on her head.

Amanda White.

He took a breath and let it out. He glanced down at his hands, which had gripped the steering wheel nervously, clenching so tight he could see his knuckles standing out white under his fur. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, and glanced back up at the rear view mirror. She was standing next to her car, and staring at his. What the fuck? How’s she know? He asked himself, before the answer became obvious, seeing other people stepping out of the sedan behind her, and he sighed.

Right. Dylan must’ve told her what kind of car he drove, or else recognized his car when they passed it.

No backing out now.

You could. You could just leave. Fuck them, they don’t care about you, anyway. Look at her. She hates you.

“Yep. And it’s time to fix that.” He said, growling low in his throat at his own thoughts, before reaching over and opening the door and stepping out. Still wearing the blue jeans and t-shirt of his own, he had the old army jacket slung over his shoulder as he stepped out, a pair of cheap sunglasses he bought on the way here covering his eyes, hoping to hide any sign of his bender. He lifted his chin a bit, and started walking towards the group as they climbed out of the doe’s old car. As he came closer, he saw Mandy cross her arms, cocking her hip, glaring at him. He pressed his lips together, smothering a sigh, before another girl…. No, no. That was the guy that Dylan said he’d been sitting with at the bar, that night. Fuck, he looks just like a girl! How is that fair!? He thought to himself, as the slender stoat came over, talking animatedly to Mandy, before noticing where the doe was looking, and turning, the smile falling a bit from his face, though it didn’t fully leave. He was not dressed in any way that a man ought to be dressing, looking more like some cute little anime character. Michael shut those thoughts down, trying to remind himself he had to be nice tonight. He didn’t want to ruin his chance of apologizing to either Dylan or Mandy by pissing off their friends.

Behind her- him, came a few other figures, piling out of the car. From the back seat, along with the stoat, came a human with sandy blonde hair and pale skin, dressed rather plainly in a white tee and tan cargo shorts, a pair of sandals on his feet. From the far side another anima came, sliding along the rear bumper of the car like he was dodging traffic. He was a canine of some sort, but it took Michael a moment to place the species. The large, satellite dish ears and the chaotic, splotchy fur pattern settled it for him. An African Painted Dog, or Wild Dog. He was dressed in a pair of really baggy, wide legged black pants decorated with various bright strips, stickers, chains and pins, and had on a fishnet shirt under a white cropped tanktop, as well as a spiked dog collar around his neck. He had multiple piercings visible in the neon light from behind the tiger, as did the stoat.

Michael took a breath, letting it out, trying to find a friendly smile to put on his face, if only to hide his worry and awkwardness, when the final member of the group stepped out from around the front of the car. Michael’s eyes turned, and immediately slid down, over the vest that was doing very little to hide the rather surprising amount of slim but still very present muscle in the coyote’s chest and arms, to the canine’s legs. The pants he was wearing hugged them so tight, the tiger thought he could see the individual lines of each muscle in his thighs and buttocks. It was like looking at a figure skater and wondering how the hell they managed it. And then there was the borderline indecent way the pants were cut, exposing the fur of his thighs-

Michael suddenly felt his paw catch itself on the asphalt and he nearly tripped, stumbling, his sunglasses slipping down his muzzle before he caught himself, stumbling to a halt about ten feet or so from the group, who all stopped and stared at him. He stood up, staring straight ahead and clenching his jaw as he felt heat fill his face. Did they notice? Wait, notice what? Notice I was staring- NOT staring, no, no. I wasn’t staring. Why the fuck would I be staring? Did they notice that… I… tripped? Of course they fucking noticed that! A bat would’ve noticed that!

This internal argument was interrupted by the sound of a snicker, and he blinked, realizing his sunglasses were still half hanging off of his face, and the slim stoat currently had his hand over his muzzle, clearly trying to quell a laugh. Mandy was staring at the tiger like he’d done something crazy. “Are you okay?” He heard Dylan ask, and turned, clenching his jaw again as his eyes flicked down then back up, as the canine came up to him, concern on his face.

Michael snatched the sunglasses off his face, clearing his throat. “Yeah! Yes! Uh, y-yeah, I’m fine.” he said, waving the glasses in the air. “Shouldn’t try to wear sunglasses at night, it’s… it makes it hard to see where you’re going.” He said. That was a lame fucking excuse. Excuse for what? I don’t need an excuse! It’s the truth!

“Right. Uh… I wasn’t sure you were actually going to show up.” Dylan said, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck. Michael cleared his throat, awkwardly.

“Yeah… I… I almost didn’t.” He said, looking down. Before glancing around at the others. “I… feel like I might be a bit under dressed, to be honest.” He said, trying for a self-deprecating joke and having no idea if it worked.

“No, no, you-” Dylan started, but the stoat jumped in before he could finish.

“Are you kidding!? You look sick!” He said, grinning and stepping forward, holding out his hand. “Hiii, I’m Ashley, Dylan’s friend!” Michael looked down at the hand, feeling conflicted as he stared at it as though it had fangs. He stood staring for too long, though, and the stoat slowly drew his hand back a bit. “Oh, um….”

“What?” A harsher, female voice said, and Michael blinked, looking over as Mandy curled her nose slightly. “Afraid you’ll catch something if you touch us, Michael?” She asked, sneering slightly.

Michael looked at her, then at Dylan who was watching him with a concerned expression, and the stoat who was moving to step back, his smile dying a bit on his face. Taking a breath and looking again at Mandy, a little pointedly, he turned and reached out and took the stoat’s hand. There was an instant sensation, like little tingles, pinpricks of electricity shooting through his palm pads and up his arm. He ignored it, or tried to, as he smiled. “Sorry. It’s actually not you, I just… don’t really like touching.” He said, a little stiffly, still shaking the stoat’s hand.

The mustelid blinked, before shaking his hand back, quite vigorously, actually, smiling wider. However, when Michael explained the situation, he pursed his lips, drawing his hand back quickly. “Oh! Oh, that’s okay, honey you don’t need to make yourself do anything you’re not comfy with!” He said, smiling.

Don’t call me ‘honey’! The voice snarled inside Michael, but he tamped it down, taking his hand back and rubbing it gently, glancing aside at Mandy, seeing her staring at him, mouth quirked thoughtfully, while Dylan was also looking a bit thoughtful, but also had looked aside at the doe.

“Mandy, please….” The canine said, softly. The doe took a breath and held up her hands.

“I know, I know.” She said. “But I told you.” She said, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“It’s okay, Dill… Dylan.” Michael said, taking a breath and stepping forward, squaring off with Mandy. “Amanda.” He said, opening his mouth again to say something more. To apologize. To do what he came here to do. It was like the words hit a brick wall in his throat, just stopping instantly, making him feel almost choked. He stood there, looking at her, mouth open but nothing coming out.

She quirked an eyebrow, before shaking her head. “Whatever. I don’t care. Let’s just get inside.” She said, turning and brushing past him. He turned, wanting to stop her, but also not sure how, or if he should. His shoulders slumped and he sighed. Then, someone put a live wire against his back, the sensation only slightly dampened by his shirt, and he jumped, turning to see Dylan taking a step back, his hand in the air.

“S-Sorry!” The ‘yote said, looking startled. “Sorry! I didn’t-”

“Stop.” Michael said, holding up a hand. “It… it’s okay, Dylan. Just… what is it?” He asked, putting his jacket on, to at least create an extra layer between him and everyone else as they started making their way towards the bar.

Dylan looked at him for a moment, before lowering his hand and reaching across himself to hold his arm, even as they started walking with the others, trying to catch up to Mandy. “I tried. I talked to her, but… she, um….”

“It’s okay, Dylan.” Michael said, looking down at his paws as they walked along. He noticed, for the first time, the toe ring on the coyote’s left paw. Walking side by side like this was… weird. He could smell the coyote, from here, the scent of… vanilla, and jasmine, underscored by a faint musk. He blinked, shaking his head and looking back up. “I don’t blame her… I treated her, treated both of you, like shit.” He said.

“Well, at least ya got the balls to admit it.” Came a voice from his left, and he turned, finding the wild dog walking there, looking at him. He was quite a bit shorter than Michael, probably only around five-six or five-seven. When their eyes met, the canine grinned. “Heya.”

“Uh, hi.” Michael, said, blinking, and Dylan jumped.

“Oh, right, Michael. This is Taliesin Jackson.” The coyote said, smiling, looking a bit nervous as he made the introductions.

“Hey, call me Tal.” The wild dog said, holding his hand out, fist closed. The tiger looked at it, then him, then reached out and just quickly tapped his fist against the other man’s. Tal made an explosion sound with his mouth, wiggling his fingers as he pulled his hand back, leaning away from Michael with a grin.

Michael couldn’t help himself. He snorted in laughter at the ridiculous little show, and the dog’s grin widened. “Nice to meet you, I guess. Call me Mike.” He said, before leaning away as the human suddenly poked his head in the middle, grinning.

“Hi.” He said, nodding. “Troy. Troy Brown.” He said, holding out a hand, before that hand was grabbed by the wild dog, who swung it around and put the man’s arm around his shoulders. Michael clenched his teeth as the two men leaned into one another, trying his best to stamp down hard on that voice in his head as he glanced away.

“Norman.” Ashley said, falling back and turning, so he was walking backwards in front of them all.

“What?” Michael asked, frowning in confusion.

The human snorted, laughing. “Oh, Ash likes to call me ‘Norman’, cuz I’m the normie of the group.” He said, and the wild dog poked his head out from around the taller man, grinning.

“Yeah, Troy here is our token straight guy!” He said, and Michael blinked, turning to stare at them, as the two men continued to hug each other around the shoulders. Troy seemed to not have a single problem in the world with being held by another man like that.

“… Right.” Michael said, not sure if he actually believed it.

“Is that, like, a sexist comment?” Troy asked, frowning and looking at the wild dog quizzically. Tal pursed his lips, looking thoughtful.

“Uh. I don’t think so. I mean, I wasn’t insulting you, or your sex, right?” He asked.

“Well, would it be considered speciest if I called you the groups token African?” Troy asked, and Ashley snorted and giggled, his eyes wide.

“Jesus, Christ, Troy! Just goin’ in there, huh? Honestly, I think that was just kinda racist!” The stoat said, voice shocked, even while Tal was fighting to not laugh.

“I mean, it IS true, y’all motherfuckers a buncha white bred European species. Except Dee, he’s my native homie.” He said, grinning at Dylan, before looking at Troy. “Thing is, I could say the same shit about you, Troy… Not only are you our token straight guy, you’re also the token human.”

“Yeah, humie, so keep up!” Mandy yelled back from the front of the group. “Or you get to go first at the Gauntlet.”

“I think you mean… The Tuneite.” Tal said, looking ahead towards her and narrowing his eyes.

“I am not fucking calling it that.”

“I don’t care, bitch! I was the one that came up with that shit, so it’s mine to name! And I’ll be fucked in the ass dry before I call it some lame ass bullshit like ‘The Gauntlet’.”

“What are we talking about? What’s the ‘Tuna-tay’?” Michael asked as they all stepped up to the bar’s front entrance, entering a line. Ahead of them, a bouncer, a large bear in a black tee and jeans, was stopping people and checking IDs.

“The Tuneite, dude!” Troy said, grinning. “You versus the singer of your choice! Loser buys the next round!” he said, grinning.

“Said with the rabid conviction of a man who has had to buy every round he’s fought for.” Ashley said, turning and grinning at the human, who tipped his head up into the air.

“I will have you know that’s not true! I’ve won before!”

“Once.” Tal said, grinning. “On a technicality.”

Troy glared at him, before glancing at Michael, who looked confused still. “Oh, okay, so, see, here’s how it works. We all take turns, passing the menu around the room. Whoever has the menu is the Challenger!” He said, pitching his voice down into a decent impersonation of a fighting game narrator for that last word. “And the Challenger picks one of the others to step up and take the mic. The Challenger then picks a song they think’ll be hard for the Singer to… well, to sing! Comedic outcomes aren’t required, but are preferred. If the Singer flubs it and can’t get through the song, they lose. If they make it through, though, they win. Loser buys the next round of drinks!” Seeing that Michael seemed a bit worried, and uncomfortable, Troy held up his hands, smiling. “Don’t worry, dude. Since it’s your first time, you can sit out the first few rounds, ‘til you get a feel for how it works, right Tal?”

Tal looked over, smirking. “Hell yeah, man, no pressure! And don’t worry. If you ain’t got the money to pay, you don’t gotta play anymore. You’re effectively ‘out’ at that point.” He said, nodding, as Mandy showed her ID to the Bouncer.

Michael could tell the Bouncer knew them all, as he was chatting with Mandy in a friendly manner for a moment, before moving on to Ash, who bounced up and leaned forward, biting his lip as he offered his ID. The bouncer rolled his eyes and grinned, while Dylan reached out and, much to Michael’s surprise, actually swatted the stoat on the butt. Ash jumped, turning and glaring at the coyote, before sticking his tongue out. The coyote stepped up, smirking at him, before offering his ID as well.

It came to Michael’s turn and he fished out his wallet, digging out his ID and passed it to the bouncer, who opened it up and looked at it. The bear blinked, leaning forward and looking closer, before looking up at him, wide eyed. “You’re Michael Tsang?” He asked, lip quirking up.

Oh, fuck. Michael thought, sighing slightly. “Y-Yeah.” He asked, eyes going a bit wide. Oh, fuck, what if he knows my dad?! What if he tells him he saw me here?! What if-

“You play for Dulsee State, right?” The bear asked, and Michael sighed again, looking down, before smiling and nodding, clearing his throat a bit uncomfortably.

“Uh… Y-Yeah. Yeah.” He said, and the bear grinned.

“Holy shit, I knew it! You’re a great quarterback! What are you doing up here in Deepwater?” He asked, before there was a shout of complaint from further down the line behind them.

“Hey! Can we get a move on! Some of us wanna party, ya know?!”

“Hey! You can mind your damn manners or I’ll throw you out of this line myself!” The bear growled back, before looking back to Michael. “Sorry about that.” He said, and Michael waved it off quickly.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m just out of school up here to hangout and relax. Hey, uh… could you… not tell anybody you saw me here?” He asked, pressing his lips together. The bouncer looked around, at Tal and Ash and the others, then back at Michael, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead, a look of realization on his face.

“O-Oh! Oh, of course! Not a peep outta me, my word! Uh… Could I have an autograph, maybe? L-Later, when I’m off the clock, of course.” He said, looking hopeful.

Michael, in a hurry to just get inside and away from this interaction, waved his hand. “Y-Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever big guy, you can come find me when you’re off and I’ll sign whatever.” He said. “Can I go in, now?” he asked, and the bear nodded, stepping aside.

“Oh, sure! Of course, Mister-, uhhh, sir!” he said, grinning as he caught himself, and tapped the side of his muzzle. “Your secret is safe with me!” He said, and Michael nodded, hurrying inside.

Instantly the atmosphere changed around him, going from the slightly warm, muggy early summer evening outside, to being overly warm, with the smell of alcohol and sweat mingling with perfumes, colognes and aftershaves. The air was filled with a simple, but rhythmic base filled beat, electronic dance music pumping away, as they stopped out of the short hallway and into the open air of a two story high club floor, the dance floor crowded with people all swaying under the flickering, hypnotic lights and lasers that pulsed with the beat of the music. A raised stage at the far end of the room, where the old movie screen used to be, back when this was a theater, held the DJ booth, and there was a bar against the wall to their right as they came inside, running almost the full length of the place.

Michael frowned, leaning towards Dylan and raising his voice to be heard over the music. “I thought you said this was a karaoke bar!” He said, glancing again at the dancing, moving bodies, many of whom were dressed similarly to Taliesin, showing a lot of skin, and even had neon, glow in the dark paint and jewelry on, as though it was an actual rave.

Dylan leaned in as well. “It is! The karaoke booths are upstairs!” He said back, smiling, and pointing up at a balcony that ran around the entire perimeter of the room, looking down on the dance floor. “We gotta go pay for one, first, though!”

They all walked over to a small desk where a man smiled, looking up at them. “Hey, gang!” He said, the small koala bouncing on his feet behind his desk as he recognized the group of repeat customers. “Number 5 is available, tonight!”

“Oh, sick!” Tal exclaimed, while Ash gave a whoop. Michael looked at Dylan who grinned.

“Booth 5 is our favorite, it’s in the back of the building, down the hall.” He said, pointing towards the stage. “And upstairs, so it’s well away from all this noise and crowding. Uh, hang on, I gotta help here.” He said, as everyone had started digging out their wallets, billfolds, or what have you, fishing for cards or, in the case of Troy, actual cash.

Michael frowned. “Uh, what’s up?” He asked, hesitantly reaching for his wallet again.

“Oh, no, no, you don’t need to worry about it, Michael.” Dylan said, holding up a hand. “We’ve got it. We just have to kinda pool our money for this.” He said.

“We’re broke ass college bitches!” Tal said, grinning. “Or, well, ex-college bitch, for my part. Gotta pinch our pennies if we wanna get the most out of the night!”

Michael looked back and forth between them all, putting their heads together and talking. They seemed like they were trying to figure out how long they could rent the booth for, while still having money for drinks and snacks, and it also seemed like they were steadily getting more disappointed with what they were coming up with….

He looked at the wallet in his hands, frowning, thinking about the money his Dad had given him. Even with everything he’d done up in Avon, he still had nearly half of it, in there. He looked up at them all again, thinking. “… How much is the booth?” He asked, stepping forward and glancing at them all. Mandy looked up at him, narrowing her eyes.

“Dylan told you not to worry about it, Michael.” She said, and Dylan glanced at her, frowning, before looking at him.

“You really don’t need to, Michael,” the ‘yote said, smiling. “We can do this, we do it every week. We’ve just gotta get it figured how much everyone-”

“Hey, buddy?” Michael asked, turning and looking at the Koala, who lifted his eyebrows. “How much does the booth cost?”

“Oh, um… for Booth 5, it’s 40 dollars an hour, plus drinks and snacks.” The koala said, smiling helpfully.

“Michael!” Dylan said, and the tiger looked at him, pressing his lips together, before turning to his wallet. “I said you don’t need to-”

Michael opened his wallet and fished inside and pulled out the entire wad of cash he had left. Dylan and the rest all went quiet, just staring as he flicked through it, peeling out 46 dollars to keep and held the rest out to the coyote. “There. That’s four hundred dollars. I told my Dad I was going out with some old classmates tonight and he gave it to me.”

“… Michael… I-I can’t take this. We can’t take-” Dylan started, prompting Tal to look at him with his mouth open, as though wanting to smack the ‘yote upside the head.

Michael spoke up, shaking his head. “I don’t want it. I didn’t want it when he gave it to me, but if it can help make all of your nights better, then… just, take it. I want you to have it.” He said, holding it out to them. “Rent the booth as long as you want, get whatever you want, I don’t care. It’s not my money, anyway.”

Tal reached in, grabbing the cash up before Dylan could try to lodge any more complaints. “Okay! You heard the tiger!” He said, turning around, flipping off 160 dollars and slapping it down on the counter. “Four hours, if it’s not booked past that!” He said, grinning, and the koala smiled, taking the cash and depositing it in his drawer.

“Michael?” The tiger turned, looking at Dylan, who was hovering his hand in the air, near to Michael’s arm, but wasn’t touching. He had a warm smile on his face, even while it seemed like his eyes were shining a little. “Thank you! That’s really nice of you!” He said, withdrawing his hand slowly. The sight of him, hovering there, close but not touching, and deliberately drawing away slowly, was odd to Michael. But it left him feeling warm, as did the smile on the canine’s face.

“It’s fine, Dill Pickle.” He said, softly, before seeing the canine’s ears flick, and realizing what he’d said. “Ah, shit. I didn’t… I….” Again, that word was sticking in his throat. Why the fuck is it so hard to say?

Men _ don’t _ apologize!

He felt his teeth clench as he closed his mouth, looking down, and looked back up at the coyote, who was watching him. “Dylan. It’s fine. I… I really meant it. As far as I’m concerned, it’s not my money and I’d rather you and your friends take it.”

Dylan took a breath, before nodding. “Thank you, Michael. Thanks.” He said, turning as Tal stepped away, laughing.

“Let’s go grab the first round of drinks and head for the booth, bitches!” Tal said, as Ash ran over and put and arm around the wild dog’s shoulders, leaning in to kiss his cheek as they made their way for the bar. “Let’s get fucking white boy wasted!” The dog shouted, and Troy threw his head back and laughed loudly.

Dylan jogged over to join them, leaving Michael standing there, feeling strange as he watched the coyote walk away, his bushy tail wagging behind him.

“That shit isn’t gonna work, ya know.” Mandy’s voice cut in, and Michael frowned, turning to see her standing there, glaring at him.

“What?” He asked, honestly confused.

“You think you can just fucking buy our friendship, Tsang?!” Mandy snapped, tail flagging up as she stepped forward, pressing herself closer to him. “You think you can buy forgiveness?! Is that it?!”

Michael, who hadn’t once thought of it that way, shook his head, eyes wide. “N-No! No, Mandy, that isn’t what I meant-”

“I don’t give a fuck what you meant, Michael Tsang!” She said, voice hard, trusting the pounding music and distance to cover her from the others overhearing. “Cause from what it looks like, it seems you have a rich Daddy and so you think you can just throw money on a problem until it goes the fuck away!”

“No!” Michael snapped back. “Mandy! I-I… I came here to apologize, tonight! To you! To Dylan! For everything!” He said, frowning. “I-I just, it’s hard! I don’t… know what to say!”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about ‘I’m sorry, you guys, for being such an absolute piece of filth that tried to make your lives a living hell for four years’!? How about ‘I’m sorry I was a waste of space on this green earth of ours’? Anything along those lines might do it! But more importantly than that.” She stepped forward, getting right in his face, putting a finger on his chest. “Even if you somehow find the balls to say those words, Michael Tsang, saying them to me will get you no where.” She turned, pointing to Dylan where he was at the bar with Tal and Ash, ordering the drinks. “Not until you say them to him!” She stepped back, eyes blazing. “Do you have the slightest idea what you put him through?! Can you even begin to understand, or is their not enough of a conscience in that sociopathic little brain of yours to grasp it!? It’s not my place to say, that’s his story to tell, but I will say this: After that fucking stunt your pulled at graduation? Two weeks, I might add, after his fucking father had passed away! He disappeared for a whole week! I had to call his Mom to find out he’d locked himself in his room, not eating, not bathing! She heard him in there, crying and talking to himself, and I had to be the one to go talk him down!” She snapped, tears welling in her eyes before she turned away, breathing heavily, hugging herself tightly.

Michael stood there, leaning back on his paws, eyes wide. “… I… I didn’t know, Amanda.”

“No! You didn’t! And you didn’t fucking care! People like you don’t care! You don’t give a shit if the things you do hurt others!” She said, glaring at him again, tears on her cheeks, before turning away and taking a shaking breath. “For some stupid fucking reason, he wanted you here tonight, Tsang.” She said. “I told him it was a bad idea, I told him he’d be lucky if he didn’t pay for it, and I told him that if you hurt him,” she turned, locking her eyes on him. “I would knock your teeth down your throat and watch you choke on them.” She glanced over, seeing that Dylan had noticed them talking. “Personally, I’d prefer it if you just fucked off and never came back.” She said, turning and walking away, towards the ladies restroom that was behind the front desk, ducking inside.

Michael stood there, staring after her, feeling the blood rushing through his temples, his vision going hazy around the edges as his ears burned. It wasn’t anger, or fear. This was something else, something different that it took him a moment to recognize. Not because he’d never felt it before, but because he was more used to feeling it when his father would light into him, for failing at a competition, for disappointing him. It was the feeling he’d been expecting to have to feel all week, while his father stood over him, chewing him out for losing Kelly, for losing everything, for being a failure and worse, but instead it had come at him from a small doe, frightened for her best friend and rightfully angry for the wrongs of the past. Wrongs he had committed.

It was shame.

He should leave. She had said it herself. She would prefer if he did. They all probably would. He didn’t belong here. These people were better off without him around, without him in their lives. He felt like a weight was being pushed down onto his head and shoulders from above. He wrapped his arms around himself, for just a second, before lowering them, huffing out a breath. He should just leave. Go find a ditch to die in already. It was all he-

“Michael?” A voice. Deeper than he remembered, but still familiar, still light, airy, soft like a summer rain storm. He turned, seeing those big amber-gold eyes looking up at him, and he swallowed roughly. “Are you okay?” Dylan asked, stepping up and reaching out a hand, before stopping, leaving it hanging in the air between them. “What did Mandy do?” He asked, frowning, turning to look at the women’s restroom door, as though wondering how likely it would be he could barge in there without getting thrown out.

“Nothing.” Michael said, and the coyote turned to look at him. It was obvious by his expression he didn’t believe the tiger. “She was just letting me know to tell you she was headed to the bathroom and would be up in a minute.” He said, before pausing. Dylan turned, facing him fully, and Michael took a breath, those scent of the coyote filling his senses for just a moment, and the oddest thing happened. Michael felt himself relaxing. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling as though that weight lifted from him, even if only slightly.

“Michael?” He opened his eyes at Dylan’s voice, looking at the slim canine, and licked his lips, as though wanting to taste that scent on the air.

What the fuck?

The thought came through the fog of relaxation sharply, and he sucked in a breath, stepping back and turning away, shaking his head. “I’m fine!” He said, before turning and looking back at Dylan. He looked at him, and opened his mouth, and he felt as though he could almost say it. Almost say what he had come here to say. They both stood there, eyes locked, as though feeling something. He saw confusion and worry in the face of the canine, mirroring what was in Michael’s own mind at that moment.

“Yo! Come on, ladies, what the fuck are we waiting for?!” Tal’s voice interrupted, and the tiger and the coyote turned, the spell broken, and Michael stepped fully away, turning to glance at Dylan, almost afraid to look at him fully again, scared that whatever that was would happen again.

“Michael? Are you… alright?” Dylan asked, breathing a little heavily.

Michael, looked away, thinking about it for a minute. He was scared, uncertain. What had just happened? It was like he’d been… no. No, it was just… Dylan had been kind to him. He had been kind, when no one else had. That’s all.

That was all it was.

He glanced back at the canine and smiled slightly. “Yeah. I’m fine. C’mon, let’s head up to the booth.” He said. Dylan looked at him a moment longer, before nodding with a slight smile, though it never quite go rid of the frown on his brow, and lead the way back to the others.

“Hey, hang on!” Troy said. “Michael, you’re straight, right, man?” He asked.

Michael looked at the human, lifting his eyebrows, before smiling a little awkwardly. “Uh, heh. Yeah! Yeah, I’m straight, man.” He said.

“Holy shit!” Troy said, pumping his fists in the air. “I’m not the token straight guy anymore! Ha! Take that, Taliesin!” He said, cheering, as they made their way upstairs and back to booth number 5.

* * * * *

Dylan was worried. He had been for most of the night, really. He had started off being worried that Michael wouldn’t show up, and he’d felt so relieved when he saw the tiger’s car sitting in the parking lot outside Amplify. But then he’d gotten a good look at Michael, walking across the parking lot, and that relief had evaporated like dew off a field.

Michael looked bad. He was trying to play it off, and act cool, but that did nothing to hide the fact that, while he’d showered, his fur still looked like it needed a trim and a comb run through it. Worst of all, just in the five days since Dylan had seen him last, he had visibly lost weight, his muscles standing out against his skin sharper than ever, his cheeks looking hollow. The clothes he was wearing didn’t fit right, and the jacket still had a tag from a thrift store hanging inside it. When his sunglasses came off, his eyes were bloodshot and baggy, worse than that night at Ryan’s.

And then there had been that stumble. Just walking across a parking lot and tripping over himself. Michael was an athlete, there was no way he should be tripping over his own paws like that, and the excuse with the sunglasses had been such an obvious cover it had hurt to hear. He was clearly not doing well, and it had Dylan concerned, more than ever.

So, when he had looked up from the bar where he and the others were ordering drinks and seen Mandy standing in Michael’s face while the tiger looked like he was about to run away or throw up, one or the other, the coyote had felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Especially when Mandy glanced over and saw him staring, and quickly looked away and headed for the restroom.

Michael had, to Dylan’s surprise, tried to cover for Mandy, albeit with about as much luck as he had doing so with his own stumble out in the parking lot. It had made Dylan want to slap him. Why would he cover for her? But, after a bit of thought, the answer seemed obvious: Mandy was one of his old victims, and Michael seemed like he was genuinely trying to at least act better than he had. Of course he would cover for her, rather than try and accuse her of anything, for fear that the later would seem like he was simply targeting her.

And then there had been… that. Dylan wasn’t sure what that had been about, but Michael had looked like he was about to pass out, his eyes drifting shut and his body relaxing. And… and Dylan was still trying to decide if this had been real or simply his mind playing tricks on him, but it had sounded like Michael was purring for a moment. Then the tiger had opened his eyes and looked at him, trying to act like he was fine, only to stand and just stare at Dylan, his pupils wide, before he shook himself and stepped away.

The only thing any of this had confirmed for Dylan was that Michael was absolutely not fine, and absolutely needed help.

Dylan looked up as the group made their way up the stairs. Michael was still walking beside him, a few feet away. It felt strange, knowing the man who had made him miserable for so long was right there, walking quietly along with his head down and his hands in his jean pockets. The coyote leaned over, clearing his throat. “You’ve still got a sale tag, in your jacket, ya know?” He said, softly, and the tiger jumped, looking at him, then glancing down, into his jacket. Spotting the tag, he cursed under his breath and unsheathed a claw, using it to cut the piece of string holding the tag in place.

“Thanks.” He said, giving a tight smile as he pocketed the tag.

“No prob.” Dylan said, biting his lip. “You look….” He paused, frowning, before clearing his throat. “Um, I mean. The jacket’s nice.” He said, tail flicking slightly, before glancing back at the tiger to see him looking away, with a slight flush on his face. Better to not risk coming across the wrong way with a poor choice of words.

“Oh. Uh. T-Thanks. Thank you.” Michael said, glancing towards him, then away. “I, uh… Heh. To be honest, I was a little worried I’d under dressed when I saw you.” He said, turning and looking fully away, coughing into his hand.

“Oh, um. Well, thanks.” Dylan said, feeling his own face heat up, and quickly glancing away. Don’t be an idiot, Dee! Remember what you told yourself! Maybe AFTER you help him, you can feel bad about how hot he is, but until then, no! Bad ‘yote! Clearing his throat again, he glanced back, smiling a little awkwardly. “It was Ash’s idea. To celebrate summer break and stuff. He bought the outfit on Betsy, I think.”

“Huh. I guess that makes sense.” Michael said, looking ahead at the slender stoat. “He’s… he definitely seems like he’d know how to get clothes like that.” He said, stiff and awkard, pressing his lips together. Dylan tried to read his expression, but it was hard in the low, flickering light of the club.

Just then, their attention was drawn to the front of the group, as they reached the door to booth number 5. Tal swiped the keycard that Jerry at the front desk had given him, the light turned green and the wild dog pushed the handle down, opening the door. The group filtered in, pretty much everyone carrying stuff in their arms: Ash had a bag of snacks bought from the bar and a bottle of whiskey under one arm, while Troy was carrying a twelve pack of beers, fresh out of a refrigerator, and a stack of plastic cups as well.

Tal, Troy, Ash, Michael and Dylan all walked into the booth, and Dylan looked around, smiling. The booth was about ten feet by fifteen feet, longer than it was wide. A pair of sofas, each big enough for four people, sat against either wall, separated by a long, narrow coffee table running down the center of the room, overlooked by a large monitor, currently flashing the bar’s logo as a screensaver. A tablet and two microphones lay out on the table. The party drifted inside, finding places for their personal belongings as well as the drinks and snacks from the bar.

Dylan glanced back at the door, wondering if Mandy was okay, and if he should go down to look for her. He still didn’t buy Michael’s excuse that she had simply gone to the restroom, and found himself worrying. What if she was upset? What if she had left?! She wouldn’t do that. She knows she’s the only one who can drive all of us home. She wouldn’t ditch like that.

He was in the middle of these thoughts and worries, and was getting ready to head back downstairs to see if he could find her, when the buzzer by the door sounded, and Mandy’s voice came over the speaker. “Let me in, dweebs.” Dylan rushed over, opening the door and looked up at his friend. She met his eyes, and he saw her jaw clench, before she blinked and glanced away. Not quickly enough to hide that she’d been crying though, not from him.

“Are you okay?” He asked, catching her as she came in. She looked back at him, meeting his eyes again, and for just a minute that vaguely bitchy look she always had on her face seemed to lighten, before she frowned.

“Yeah. What’d he tell you?” The doe asked, cheeks flushing slightly.

Dylan shook his head. “Nothing. Just that you said you needed to go to the bathroom.”

Mandy frowned, looking into the room, towards Michael, who glanced over seeing her. Dylan looked as well, seeing the tiger flush and look down towards his paws, his tail tucking slightly, ears folding back. “Do you trust him, Dee?” Mandy asked, softly.

Dylan looked back at her, frowning. “I… I don’t know if I’d go that far, Mans. But I trust that he is genuinely upset. I can tell that much. And I really do think he wants to change. That he’s at least trying to.”

Mandy took a breath and nodded. “Fine. I won’t push, or prod. Just… Be careful, okay?”

Dylan gave a soft smile and hugged the doe, kissing her cheek. “Of course, girl. When am I not?”

Mandy snorted, rolling her eyes, and actually smiled. “Do you have all night?”

Dylan rolled his eyes back, shaking his head with a smile of his own. “Shut up and go sit down. It’s time to celebrate, right guys!?” He said, looking to the group, and all of them cheered, except for Mandy, who walked over to flop onto the left hand sofa, next to Taliesin, and Michael, who just gave a slightly awkward smile as he stood, hands in his pockets, staring at the sofas.

Troy looked up, spying Michael standing there, and held up a hand. “Oh, hey, Michael! We didn’t ask what you wanted to drink. Sorry, man! Any preferences? I can call down to the bar and get them to send somethin’ up.” He said, smiling. Michael looked at him and blinked, glancing around.

“Uh. No, no. That’s fine, I’ll just take a beer, please.” The tiger said, stepping over as the human offered him a bottle. Michael popped the top off of it and took a swig, glancing back at the human and giving a nod, before frowning at the sofas again. Dylan came over, stopping a few feet away.

“What is it, Michael?” He asked, and the tiger glanced at him, frowning.

“I’m… not sure where to sit.” The tiger said, flushing and rubbing the back of his neck. Dylan looked over, seeing Ash had chosen to sit next to Tal and Mandy. While it was true each sofa could hold up to four people, you would have to be pretty comfortable with those people to do so, as it would basically put you thigh-to-thigh with them. Dylan looked at Michael again, thinking about the issues the tiger seemed to have with touch. He said it wasn’t anything to do with them, personally, that he just didn’t like it. The coyote wasn’t sure about that, though it was making him wonder…. He shook his head. It didn’t matter. He wanted Michael to be comfortable here.

“I can sit over there, with Mandy and the others. If you don’t mind sitting with Troy, it’ll give you more space on the couch.” He said, smiling, and looking at Troy, who perked up.

“Oh, sure man! I can just chill on my side and we can put down the snack station!” The human said, grinning, and, walking over, folded down one of the central backrests on the sofa in question to show off a table, of sorts, complete with cup holders and everything you’d need to keep track of your snacks and drinks.

Michael stood for a second, before smiling awkwardly, swaying a bit from side to side, and nodded at Dylan. “If you don’t mind…? I would appreciate it.” He said, and Dylan smiled, reaching out a hand, and pausing, to just let it hover over the other man’s arm. He had noticed earlier that Michael seemed to appreciate the closeness, without the actual contact. It made him wonder again, even as he saw the smile on the feline’s face turn a bit warmer as he nodded. “Thank you.” He said, and Dylan smiled back.

“Of course, Michael. It’s not a problem.” He said. Watching the tiger step back and sit down on his side of the divider. He was holding his bottle in his hands, one foot tapping the floor nervously, looking like he wasn’t sure what to do or what was going to happen. The coyote, for his part, turned away, walking over and sitting down between Mandy and Ash, the latter of whom was eating a cupcake from the snack bag. Mandy, for her part, was looking at Dylan a little curiously. “What?” The coyote asked.

“You’re really going out of your way for him.” She said, frowning.

“We’ve all had a bad breakup at some point, Mans, and the longer things lasted the worse it was.” He said, softly. “I don’t care if his girlfriend was a bitch. He’s clearly going through a lot and I just want to help.”

“You really think it was just losing Kelly Hu that’s bothering him?” Mandy asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“… No. There’s something else, but he won’t talk about it.” Dylan said, tapping his chin as he popped the top off of a beer and took a sip. “Whatever it is, I feel like it’s the real reason he’s in the state he is.”

Mandy was opening her mouth to reply, when Tal stood up. “Okay, dweebs and dweebette!” He said, grinning and giving a wink at Mandy, who narrowed her eyes and flipped him off. He stuck his tongue out at her, before holding up the tablet in his hand. “Herein lies the Tome of Power.” He said, pitching his voice deeper as he said that, much to the amusement of all but Mandy and Michael, the former of whom rolled her eyes, while the later just looked mildly confused. Taliesin continued. “Whomever holds the Tome in their hand, controls the fate of the others! In so much as they get to pick what song y’all are singin’!” He grinned, turning and pointing a finger gun at Michael. “We got a new guy with us, sooo, lemme break down a few rules for ya! No picking genres that you already know the other person likes, you’ve gotta pick something you think might be unknown to them, or at least outside their comfort zone. Remember, song choices shouldn’t be mean or cruel, nothing that’s gonna open up any wounds or genuinely upset anyone. Keep it fun, and aim for something you think’ll make them trip over their own tongue! That said, if you’re not sure, just ask the folks sitting next to you! We’ll happily let you know what we think. And, if everyone is agreed, let ‘em have it! Oh, uh, you also get to pick who’s doing the singing, if you hold the… Tome of Power!” He said, grinning like an idiot, and Dylan rolled his eyes, smiling along with him. “So! Let’s figure out who’s goin’ first, excluding our new guy of course. Michael, you get to sit out the first round, so you can get an idea of how it works, sound good?” The tiger gave an awkward, vaguely nervous thumbs up, before glancing aside at Troy as the human said something to him softly. Dylan, even with his sharp ears, couldn’t catch it, though, as Tal was talking again. “Ok! Let the bones decide!” He said, bending down, taking a hand out of his pocket and shaking it about, before dropping something onto the table.

A D20 dropped from his palm, hitting the table with a clatter. It was a heavy thing, made from resin and colored like bone, the numbers scratched into the surfaces and painted in with blood red paint. It bounced and spun and flipped, before coming to a rattling halt on the table. The number 16 showed itself in bright, bold red, and Tal stood up, grinning, and held out the tablet towards Mandy. “Lady Amanda of the Tome!” He said, grinning, as the doe sighed, rolling her eyes, before smirking slightly and taking it from him.

“You are such a fuckin’ dork, Taliesin.” She said, looking down at the tablet, before casting her eyes over the group. Dylan saw them linger a moment on Michael, before she looked away, back down to the screen in front of her.

Tal simply grinned wider at the accusation, bounding over to sit back in his seat next to Ashley. “Let the games… begin!” He announced, tapping his fingers together and laughing deviously.