Love's Battlefield - Volume 6
Love's Battlefield: Volume Six - Guardian Angels
By Joseph Raszagal
"Hello, Martha? This is Joseph Demeter from the office, could I speak to your husband?" Asked Dex in his best impression of someone either failing to impersonate a New York accent or someone intentionally mocking one. Regardless, a genuine Irish accent, thick and highly aggravated, shouted a derogative or two and was soon followed by someone shouting something that was likely very similar but in starkly contrasting, completely unfiltered French. The rabbit snickered and covered the receiver with his paw.
"Don't you have some children to terrify, woman; go wave a needle in front of some poor bugger's face and leave me be!" Growled the French accent from before as a door slammed in the background. "Jean here, how can I help you kill me? If necessary, I can pay you in scars and emotional baggage; I have quite a lot of both and they just have to be worth SOMETHING by now."
"Well, aren't we in a chipper mood?" Laughed Dex, dropping the cheap charade with a grin. "It's nice to hear that things are as lively as ever on your end. Did I call at a bad time?"
"Oh no, you merely woke the beast and fueled her fire, nothing major." Smirked Jean dryly, half joking and half serious. "But she's already on her way to the hospital; it's the little ones who need to watch their backs now, not me. So, what can I do for you at the crack of dawn, boss?"
"First of all, can you tell your wife who you work for, or at the very least make something else up so I can stop faking that horrendous accent? I'm tired of pretending like I'm some politically incorrect cartoon character from 1950's New York; my pride shrinks every time I have to force that irritating sound from my throat1. Hell, that alone would be so great that I could probably accept it all by itself as my next birthday present." Said the hare, rolling his scarlet eyes. "You might work for an accounting firm, but that in no way means that I do or that I'm your coworker... from the part of the Bronx that makes fun of the way other people speak in the Bronx. Are you getting any of this?"
An indignant snort echoes from the other end as Jean replies, "The tyrant's cheated on me four times now and she's lied about each and every one of her little affairs up until I caught her in the act, and I did, each time. Not only that, but I caught her stealing whole bills from my wallet just a week ago too, as though I wouldn't notice the sudden disappearance of my fucking MONEY; I only have a little bit so I tend to keep track of it fairly well, you know, kind of like what I'm paid to do by other people. Christ, the least she could have done was try to steal a little less and not insult my intelligence along the way. Ten bucks wouldn't have been too bad, I could have forgiven the demoness for snatching something as small as that, but she took a ten and then a dozen more of the same!" Sighing, the Frenchman took a drink of what must have been coffee, given the early hour, and then continued. "No, I think I've earned the right to lie about my job, thank you very much. I came to this country for the promise of greater freedom and when your government quickly showed me that I wouldn't be getting anything along those lines anytime soon, I took to reveling in what little freedom I had and lying to the bitch is most certainly included among those few privileges."
"Careful now, you're a pretty big guy and if you keep this rant going then I might just mistake you for one of those spouse abusers." Spoke Dex with a chuckle that he just couldn't hold back. "You wouldn't want me to send a couple of shiny badges up there to handcuff your talons behind your back, now would you? I might be something of a criminal myself, but domestic violence is just deplorable."
"Please, she beats the sanity from my head and the marrow from my bones every day and every night; why is it that only the wives get to complain? We husbands get our asses kicked too, you know!" Mused Jean; a smacking sound in the background more than likely his palm as he slapped it across his own brow in exacerbation. "But that's all besides the point. First of all, no, I'm not going to stop pulling the wool over her eyes, nor will I change the brand of wool that I've been using. You might call the shots and sign my checks, but you deserve this much for all of the nights that I spent chauffeuring your wealthy butt around this blasted city in whatever new car you'd just recently bought at the time. And to add to that, fuck you for simply owning a Ferrari; that's a brand of car that middlemen like myself only dream of! And second of all, get to the point! Dear lord, if you called just to wake her up and listen to me complain about the aftermath, I will slap the grin that I just KNOW you're grinning right now right off of your smug face! I will embed my wedding band, God only knows why I still wear it, into your brain, bunny-boy, I swear it!"
The muffled snickers that followed those harsh words killed any intimidating effects that they might have carried otherwise.
"But, dad, that's not fair!" Whined Dex, purposefully imitating a needy, spoiled teenager. "Molly and Eddie don't have to lie about their professions; they don't have to walk on eggshells around their employees!"
Laughing outright this time, hearty and strong, the French voice answers, "Molly and Eddie don't manage the profits and proceeds of a underground prostitution ring, do they?"
"Ha ha, fair enough." Responded the charcoal rabbit merrily. "I guess it's okay to keep certain secrets bottled up."
"So what is it, Dex?" Asked Jean in a more melancholy, businesslike tone. "Given the time of day at which you deemed it necessary to call me, I'd say that whatever you've got in store for me must at least be somewhat important. Should I go get my tools or is this a job for my calculator?"
Shaking his head, Dex answers, "No, no, I don't ask you to do those sorts of things anymore. I just need my accountant; that's what I pay you for these days."
"Where are you and when should we meet up?" Inquired Jean through a yawn.
"I'm at Elaine's Cafe on Monmouth Street." Answered the bunny as he picked up a cup of hot tea and took a prolonged sip. "You know, the one with a billion hanging flower pots and those pink menus with the gaudy, needlessly huge roses on their covers? My favorite."
After a few seconds of listening to zippers zipping up and down and the clatter of keys hastily being grabbed, Dex smiled knowingly as Jean returned with an affirmative grunt. The rabbit remembered those keys well and the junky old motorcycle that they went to; he remembered the number cruncher's bad habit of leaving them zipped up in an inconvenient pocket that he wouldn't likely be wearing the next day too.
"Sometimes you're flamboyant and sometimes you're not; there's just no pinning you with one particular stereotype, is there?" Laughed the Frenchman.
"Not if I have anything to say about it."
"Elaine's, eh? I still have to shower so I'll be there in a little over a half hour."
"Dress formally; it's a pretty ritzy cafe, remember?"
"Are things ever anything less than ritzy when you're involved?"
Upon completing that last thought, Jean hung up his phone. On the far end of the city, clasping in one talon the cellphone he'd just finished using, in the other talon a black leather jacket, still wearing only the boxer shorts he'd likely woken up in and nothing else at all, stood the tall gryphon that had made up the other side of the conversation; sharply-tipped fingers just beginning to wipe the sandy sleep from his eyes. Much to his chagrin, Jean's chronology dated somewhere around his late 30's, perhaps even his early 40's, though the deep swirls of maroon, violet, lavender, and indigo making up his thick coat of fur had yet to gray in the slightest. Lucky him. The plumage of his wings, much like his pelt, displayed a wide range of varying purples and blues too, the many different hues forming a feathery aurora borealis. Yawning and stretching the stiffness from his arms, he glared disdainfully towards the coffeemaker in the kitchen and then over at the open bathroom door in the opposite direction. The cup sitting on the table below him had been emptied of every last drop and, as every early riser knows, NEEDED to be refilled. Debating going back and forth between the two, Jean eventually resolved to take his shower first and grab his coffee second, then stalked over to his tiled lavatory and closed the door behind him. Despite his age, the gryphon clearly favored an active lifestyle and had the athletic frame to prove it; his taut muscles neither too small and flimsy nor too bulky and obtrusive. The running shoes and depleted water bottle in the bathroom's furthest corner, along with two sweatbands and a pair of elastic jogging shorts, only served as added proof of his strenuous health regimen. They did not, however, provide a very manly mental image and Jean himself cringed a bit as he spied the discarded items through the corner of his eye, imagining what others must think of him when they see the airtight spandex shorts hugging his hips, the nerdy wristbands wrapped around his arms, and the ancient 1980's pair of headphones booming They Might Be Giants into his lion-like ears. Sure, he was in better physical shape than most of the middle-aged men that obeyed similarly ritualistic early morning exercise schedules, but that didn't in any way disprove the fact that he looked just as ridiculous as the rest of them. Sighing, he quickly gulped down a multi-vitamin of some kind, gargled a beak full of minty mouthwash, spat the green liquid back out, and then stripped from his polkadot boxers. With his tail lashing back and forth more energetically than the rest of him, Jean stepped into the shower and turned the hot water faucet as far as he could, summoning a steamy stream seconds later. After ten glorious minutes beneath the comforting waterfall, the mythological fur stepped back out and shook himself, spattering the room's walls. Glancing at himself in the mirror, Jean nodded once in approval and then sauntered off, completely nude, to his bedroom.
"A mauve speedo?" Groaned Jean as he sifted desperately through the rest of his dresser. "Are these the only clean unmentionables I have left? Come to think of it, why do I even have these? This one's hot pink... Where the Hell are these things coming from?"
Shaking his head with a sigh, the violet gryphon begrudgingly slid the revealing garment up his legs and over his downy nethers. The skintight fabric did little to cover him and quite clearly displayed the outline of his sheath and sack, though in all honesty, that's pretty much what the humble speedo was designed and invented to do. Embarrassed even by his own eyes as they watched him through his adjacent bedroom mirror, Jean quickly covered himself with a pair of black denim jeans and a matching black t-shirt. Adding a long sleeved button-up to his ensemble, jet black as well, the Frenchman grinned at his reflection, applied two spritzes of some spicy, cinnamon-scented cologne, then strode back downstairs to the kitchen to fetch the coffee he'd previously promised himself. Guzzling the unsweetened drink in one swift and practiced motion, the bitter taste barely even registered, Jean grabbed his keys from the table and twirled them around one finger with a smile. Darting through the den, he swept up his dark leather jacket from the couch that he'd disposed of it onto without so much as slowing down and exited the building just as quickly; hopping onto an old Triumph motorcycle that looked for the world as though it had just been bought and peeled off into the blinding rays of post-dawn.
Possibly 40-something years old and a business accountant on top of that, the indigo gryphon somehow managed to exude more style and smoothness than Rock Hudson, Arthur Fonzarelli, and James Dean combined. Sadly, all of the smoothness in the world couldn't save him from the opinions of a close friend.
"Jesus Christ, I asked you to dress FORMALLY, not like a greaser." Laughed Dex as Jean sat down at the table. The rabbit had to hide his face with his menu lest his enormous grin be seen and therefore threaten to grow even wider.
"What, you don't like it?" Asked the gryphon as he cocked a single eyebrow.
Taking another sip of tea, the hare replies, "No, no, you look fabulous, really you do, I just wasn't expecting it. If there was a problem, and I assure you that there isn't, it would be that you look a bit out of place, that's all. Fortunately for you, you're dinning with me and I've been accompanied here by accomplices in far stranger getups before; you might stand out like a sore thumb, but in a world full of sore thumbs you're barely even a blip on the radar."
"So, is that a thumbs-up or a thumbs-down?" Questioned Jean with a smirk.
"Let's go with a thumbs-sideways." Replied Dex, covering his face with his menu again.
Scowling melodramatically, the Frenchman rumbles, "Jackass."
"Am I capable of anything less?" Chuckled the handsome hare with a grin. "But alas, that's enough pleasantries for now; on to business. After all, I did summon you at the crack of dawn and at the risk of waking Satan's sister for a reason."
"I'm just going to pretend that you didn't make it sound as though I'm some sort of bellhop or maid."
"You mean to say you're not? Then what have I been paying you for all these years?"
"Entertainment it seems."
"If that's the case, then I'd best be getting my money back."
"No refunds; company policy." Smirked the gryphon with a smug grin. "Now, if we REALLY have all of that out of our systems this time, what is it that you need?"
Stirring a small packet of sugar into his tea, the fifth so long as the graveyard of empty sugar packets sitting in the ashtray to his left is to be taken into consideration, Dex nods his head once and states, "I need you to go over my assets once or twice, thumb through the numbers, and make sure that I have enough in reserve to hold me over for a while; I need enough to maintain my house, pay the bills, and keep the club afloat, but that's all. Outside of those three things, liquidate the rest entirely; I'm willing to sell off some of the property I've accumulated throughout the city as well."
It took a few seconds for the rabbit's words to set in, but the end result was still as expected. Jean's beak dropped open and his eyes widened in a mixture of shock, confusion, and perhaps even a little bit of awe.
"What the fuck did you just say?" Inquired the lavender creature in a quiet but no less flabbergasted and unbelieving tone. "Did YOU even hear what you just said?"
Sipping his further sweetened drink, Dex licks his lips and chortles, "Can't say that I didn't see that reaction coming."
"Now just what is that supposed to mean?" Exclaimed the gryphon, a bit louder than before. "I'm your accountant and your friend and I've been both for a LONG time; you can't tell me something like that and expect me to just placidly nod my head. What happened to bring about this insane decision?"
After setting his cup down, Dex gazed into the near empty container at the shallow puddle of tea remaining and grimaced; his crimson eyes swirling with a mixture of emotions and reflecting back to him off of the liquid surface. Sighing, he finished off the drink and waved to a waitress to have it refilled, then turned his focus towards Jean.
"Quite a lot, actually." Answered the bunny at last, his expression despondent as he drummed his fingers down along the table. "I knew that there was a reason behind Thomas's actions, why he sold himself on the street and why he'd continued to do so under my employ, but I guess that I wasn't fully prepared to learn those reasons. I never knew that someone his age could face such trials and tribulations."
Scooting his chair over, Jean sits down beside his dragonic friend, gently places a talon on the younger man's charcoal shoulder, and softly inquires, "The Lucario I've been seeing around the club recently; the one with the million dollar smile and that holier-than-thou attitude whenever he's around anybody other than you?"
"I do believe you hit the nail on the head." Replied Dex in a strained, forced laugh. "It seems that he's been saving up every single dollar and dime for a friend of his, a young bat named Adam. Now when most people pinch their pennies for a friend, it's normally for the sake of a birthday or Christmas gift, and although what Thomas has in mind would make for one of the greatest gifts anyone could ever offer, it isn't something that his compatriot can really stand to wait for; it isn't something that he'd merely LIKE to have, it's something that he NEEDS. Adam's sick, very sick it seems, and he's without any form of reliable health insurance plan. Thomas wants to pay for the tests that Adam needs done and the mandatory hospital time that will no doubt result from said tests as well; he wants to earn enough money to save his friend's life."
With wide eyes, the feathered Frenchman absorbed that information for a moment before rubbing his forehead and sighing something in his preferred language.
"How did you learn about all of this?" Questioned Jean evenly.
To which the hare hurriedly replies, "How else? Thomas told me himself."
Mulling that factoid over in his mind a few times, the gryphon narrowed his gaze as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from one of his jacket's inner pockets. Lighting one up, the foreign hybrid puffed on it a few times, exhaled a small cloud of smoke, and then stubbed the tobacco out in a nearby ashtray. Sighing in a way that displayed neither complete frustration nor remorse, but rather a combination of the two, he leveled his eyes with the bunny's deep crimsons and shook his head slowly.
"I don't want to overstep my boundaries here, really I don't, but this is all very confusing to me." Spoke Jean, assuming a more forceful and almost fatherly tone. "If I offend you in any way with what I'm about to say, feel free to stop me, but I think that it needs to be said. If you really care about this kid as much as I'm lead to believe you do, and given how much money you seem willing to throw out the window for him I can only assume that, indeed, you do, then why on Earth are you only just now doing something like this to help him? Dex, there were a thousand other things that you could have done for him before this whole scenario unfolded and yet you've only just NOW chosen to throw your hat into the parental ring? Sure, there's no such thing as 'too late', but this is cutting it pretty damn close. Right off the top of my head, I can think of a few good things you could have done for him, the most obvious of all being simple prevention; you could have stopped him from selling himself entirely, had him placed in one of those shelters that you've been building for kids and teens suffering from domestic violence, but instead you chose to allow him to sell himself exclusively under your employ. Why did you continue to condone his choices and behavior; why did you let him remain a prostitute?"
Closing his eyes, Dex shakes his head sadly and says, "He's a stubborn boy, Jean; I could have taken him on as the club's janitor and he'd still have found a way to make a business out of getting cornholed in the broom closet whenever my back was turned. At the very least, I took him off of the streets; my club is clean, everyone working for me receives a monthly check-up to ensure that they're clean too, no drugs or diseases, and I do my best to protect all of them from the pimps and pushers that USED to run the city at dusk. I can't lie to myself and try to say that I'm doing him a favor, because at the end of the day my club is still making money off of a struggling teenager and his poor situation, I know that better than anyone, but I'm doing him more of a favor than I would have had I just left him alone and ignored him those four months back. If he's going to suffer along the way towards his goal and there's nothing that can be done to alleviate ALL of that suffering, both emotional and physical, then the least I can do is lessen the burden for him just a little bit." With closed eyes, Dex attempts to distract himself by fiddling with an empty sugar packet, failing miserably at said task, and adds, "He's a mischievous little imp, that's for sure, but he's certainly no goblin or ogre, at least not yet. He might still be able to make it up to Heaven and earn his angel wings if he tries hard enough and this demon of the night is just trying to protect him from all of the scarier demons and monsters that are out there... And I should know all about them, after all, I was the biggest and scariest of them all at one point in time."
"Don't get me wrong, Dex." Said the Frenchman immediately as he placed his other talon atop the rabbit's restless paw. "For fuck's sake, I know you're not some heartless devil and I certainly know that you wouldn't ever dream of exploiting someone just to make a quick buck, but I just had to ask." Closing his eyes and clearing his throat, he continued, "And that's why I have to ask this next question. Despite the world that you live in and the things that you're sometimes forced to do, you're a good man and I don't want to see you get hurt. I've been there beside you and watched you let yourself be used and abused; it isn't right and I hate seeing it happen and I WON'T see it happen again. I've seen the way the boy looks at you and fawns over you and for the world it seems like he just wants, for the lack of a better way to say this, to get into your pants. This whole thing could just be one enormous sob story designed to get you to feel sorry for him, console him, and in the end, have sex with him. I wouldn't put it past the kid, really. As meek as he might seem around you, all of the blushing and stuttering and subservient reverence, he's a force to be reckoned with around everybody else; he's a manipulator, through and through, and he might be manipulating his way towards one more sexual conquest."
Rolling his eyes, Dex sighs, "True, he's taken advantage of a lot of people and has topped almost every single one of his coworkers, male and female and conspicuously androgynous alike, not to mention all of our patrons as well. So, had that been his plan, it would have turned out to be a pretty decent one, excluding the little fact that I'd already had sex with him before learning about all of this, of course."
"What?!" Jean barked, spitting out some of his freshly ordered drink. A few faces turned from the surrounding tables to see what the commotion was all about, but upon seeing Dex's involvement they promptly turned back to their own business; every head no doubt filled with their own assumptions.
Dex has a bit of a reputation.
"Settle down; do you want to make a scene?" Hushed the hare in surprise as he self-consciously looked around the room to ensure that none of the eyes he'd just felt on him were still staring.
"Explain. No jokes; just explain." Demanded Jean sternly, the shock having yet to leave his expression.
Taken aback by the gryphon's sudden force and harshness, Dex fumbles with his words for a moment before replying, "It was for him, more or less. I picked up on his antics from the very beginning and it became clearer over time that his feelings hadn't changed. He's a teenager and the blood boils over with hormones at that age; I couldn't really blame him, especially given the environment. So, last night, on stage no less, I gave him what he wanted. We did it right in front of the crowd, on the center stage and everything, and I'll be damned if it wasn't the most natural thing I'd ever seen. For all of his angst and that dominant persona that he purposefully exudes, he's a bottom like no other, it just takes a lot of trust for him to show it." Leaning to his side, Dex propped himself on Jean's shoulder and stayed there as he continued, "But it didn't take long for him to stumble out of his euphoria and... I... well, I found that kind of odd. He'd been undressing me with his eyes for three months or more so you'd think that finally having me would've been the icing on the cake, so-to-speak, for his ultimate evening, but during the car ride home he changed drastically and grew distant, cold, and aloof. I didn't know what to make of it at first; I thought for a while that I'd done something wrong at some point during the night and had simply forgotten. I figured that if something was wrong, a typical teenager problem, that I'd be able to help. So I asked."
"But it wasn't just another typical teenager problem and that's when he told you about Adam."
"Yeah."
"Well, I'll hand that one to you. My previous theory now sits dead in the water."
"Don't beat yourself up over it; most would have presumed the same thing."
"I suppose so; still, I'm sorry for doubting you, and therefore by default, doubting the kid." Stated Jean with a soft smile as he gently squeezed Dex's paw again. "Alright, I'll look at your finances and see how much we can squeeze out while still making end's meet and keeping the club afloat. Off the top of my head, I'd say we can pull together a couple hundred thousand dollars for the boy and his buddy; does that sound like enough to you?"
Brightening right up, the black rabbit retorts, "Then you're alright with this?"
"Well, it's your money, so whether or not you have my vote doesn't really matter." Laughed the gryphon boisterously. "But for the record, yes, I'm on your side of the fence."
Hugging the violet biker immediately, Dex replies, "My money or not, you're my partner and your opinion more than matters. Heck, it super-matters."
"I'm glad that someone thinks so." Chuckled Jean warmly.
"You know better than to think that I'd think otherwise." Giggled the rabbit with a big grin.
"Ack, so much thinking." Smirked the gryphon. "I'm but a humble accountant and mathematician; give my brain a rest."
Grinning wider, Dex coos into his feathery friend's ear, "You know I'd love to give you a nice, relaxing rest anytime, big boy."
"Still as incorrigible as ever, I see." Remarked Jean in return. "You know you shouldn't go around teasing old men like that, especially ones with terrible, demonic wives that haven't given them any action in decades."
Cupping the underside of the Frenchman's beak in his paw, Dex locks eyes with him and seductively whispers, "Who's to say I'm teasing?"
Sliding back in his chair out of shock for the second time in the past 15 minutes, Jean carefully studied the black bunny's earnest expression and searched it for even a single a hint of jest or joke. Finding none, he blushed a deep scarlet and turned away, fidgeting in his seat.
"You can't mean that, Dex; I mean, just look at me." Muttered Jean quietly, motioning with his talons across his whole body. "Ten years ago I'd have jumped at the opportunity to rekindle our old fling, but I'm not as young as I used to be. You've got dragon's blood in you; you age like a fine wine; you look as perfect and flawless as you did back when we first met in Paris. But not me; I'm spoiling like milk that's been left sitting out in the sun for too long."
"Nonsense!" Exclaimed the hare instantly and a bit louder than the gryphon would have preferred; drawing yet more attention to them, if only for a brief second or two. "You might look like a stunt double from Grease right now, but I don't think you realize just how sexy you really are. C'mon, Jean, you know how vain I am; would I ask a guy out if he wasn't drop dead gorgeous?"
Smiling sheepishly, the indigo accountant replies, "You are pretty vain."
"Always have been; always will be." Affirmed Dex with a nod.
"Would you really go as far as to say 'gorgeous'?"
"I'd go even farther if you'd let me."
"You know I'm married."
"To a woman you hate and who hates you."
"And you are my boss."
"Then consider it a command."
And in an instant, the gryphon surged forward, parted the rabbit's lips with his beak, and kissed him. Startled but all too willing, the dark bunny melted into the kiss with a soft moan and leaned into it; his tongue welcoming the falcon and lion hybrid's in return and greeting it with a wet, warm oral dance. Still holding Dex's paw with one talon, Jean placed the other on his employer's slender waist and pulled him close, almost forcing the smaller man fully into his lap. Now people were staring, intently this time and determined not to look away, but in the spontaneous passion of the moment the Frenchman didn't care in the slightest. One of Dex's paws found its way to the older gentleman's back and pressed upon it firmly, while his other slid beneath Jean's snazzy black shirt and caressed his lavender chest ruff in slow, sensuous circles. In moments, both were sporting sizable bulges in their southernmost regions and both were also keenly aware. Abandoning its former post, Dex moved his free paw between Jean's legs and rubbed up it and down against the hidden length of pulsing, obsidian meat straining to free itself from its fabric imprisoning. Squeezing the violet gryphon's large package, the favor is quickly returned as the rabbit's crotch and firm backside are both groped at once in reply; two orange talons almost lifting Dex into the air in order to properly molest him. For several more seconds, they traded touches and grazes, feeling and embracing each other in the half-filled cafe; every pair of eyes still healthy enough to see unflinchingly affixed to them and their amorous advances.
"Christ, has it really been that long?" Asked Jean in a hushed tone as the two furs finally wound down enough to control themselves. "I never knew I could be so... impulsive."
"If you jump my bones right here, right now, I swear to God that I will rock your world." Gasped Dex as he continued to gaze up into the gryphon's eyes. The bunny had apparently yet to steal the reigns back from his loins.
"I don't know, it looks like we already made that scene you were afraid of making." Snickered Jean in return while sliding his arms back into his jacket.
Undeterred, the raunchy rabbit presses on, "Fuck it; we'll make an even bigger scene."
"Ahem." Coughed a waitress suddenly and QUITE purposefully.
Both parties snapped their heads around at light speed to find a young skunk standing uncomfortably in front of them, averting her eyes as best as she could, holding a tray full of coffee mugs meant for another table as well as Dex's check. A generous tip would be necessary today.
Straightening his shirt and readjusting his pants to accommodate for the sudden need of greater space, Jean laughs and answers, "No, not here; not with possible Republican's watching. But come with me on a magic carpet ride and we'll how much farther things progress from there."
Whipping out a hundred dollar bill so as to end the transaction as swiftly as possible, Dex slapped it down onto the table, bowed courteously, and stood to face his associate. His eyes burned with a hunger that food couldn't sate.
"Let the sound take me away." Said the rabbit with a sweet smile.
Surprising Dex again, Jean swept forward like a gust of wind and gathered the bunny into his arms, carrying him out through the cafe's entrance like a husband carrying his wife through the door of their hotel room on their honeymoon.
"Then close your eyes, girl." Spoke the lilac gryphon whimsically.
Not a minute passed and they were already gone; a thin trial of exhaust from Jean's old, overhauled Triumph bike steadily dissipating in the general direction of his home. The roar of the motorcycle's engine would certainly be a loud wake up call for the two boys sleeping one house over, but at least it was a more reliable alarm than the television they'd left on. Indeed, though Dex and Jean were soon to dive into the folds of an unkempt bed and the arms of each other, Forrest and Danni had long since done just that and, in all likelihood, promised to do it once again as the day played out.