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"Watch her head."

"As opposed to her legs?" Tiffany snidely responded as she carried the drunk hyena in her arms through Deborah's apartment complex. Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, the antelope ignored the remark and twirled her room key between her fingers, an action she regretted with the pain in her wrist, but continued to do regardless. Either to keep her focused, or out of some strange sense of guilt.

Why she even considered it her fault was another question entirely. Twisting her doorknob open, Deborah led her clients inside the privacy of her apartment. While she didn't see herself as well off, she could tell the Shark had some impressions on the size of her home. Sure, it was a single bedroom apartment, but it had at least one hundred square feet over their double and its own washing machine. She directed Tiffany to her bedroom, and pulled off the blanket from her bed. "Lay her here."

"Not the couch?"

"Have you tried cleaning vomit off of couch cushions?" The shark shook her head, "Well neither have I and I'd rather not find out." Tiffany laid Vicky out on the queen sized bed, taking half the pillows to form an arch so the hyena wouldn't tip over. "Can you get her a glass of water?"

"Shouldn't she just sleep?"

Tiffany shook her head, "I don't know how much she drank. We need to dilute some of it. That also means waking her up every five to ten minutes."

"You've done this a lot?"

Tiffany's pink mohawk bobbed with her nod, "Yeah. Though not for a while. She's been relatively sober until...well, we'll need to talk about that."

Talk? Deborah didn't understand what they needed to talk about. Her client got drunk and nearly violated, and she sprained her wrist fighting the rapist off. Part of her wanted this to just be a quiet night they all forgot about, but the antelope knew that couldn't happen. Especially with how much it pained her to hold a damn cup of water. Giving it to Tiffany, she sat down at a nearby chair and watched her rouse her friend to drink. Vicky's questions were slurred at best, but the shark kept her calm throughout it all.

The next hour went by repeating the process. A glass of water, rousing her awake to drink it, then back to sleep, every ten minutes. "Alright, she should be ok for now." Tiffany turned to her manager, "Now we need to talk about the elephant in the room."

"The only elephant in this apartment lives three doors down from me."

"You know what I-"

"Of course I know. I can't crack a joke?" Deborah crossed her arms and scowled, "Or is Satan not allowed to be funny?" Tiffany cracked a soft smile, exposing her sharp fangs in the moonlight. "Well, it's certainly not cold enough in here to be the ninth circle."

"AC is expensive and, despite what she," Deborah pointed to the unconscious yeen, "Seems to think, I am not made of money."

"What's money got to do with this?"

"I suppose you didn't know she tried to blackmail me earlier today?" Though in truth, Vicky's reaction to the blackmail was confusing at best. Deborah tried to settle it out quickly with cash at the ready, but the hyena just seemed...insulted by the prospect. Was the money not enough? It was either money, services, or favors in this town. "Or is your friend an innocent punk?"

"Blackmail? You..." Tiffany turned to Vicky, then sighed and rested her head into her palms, "Ok, that explains why she's been muttering this garbage about being filth. Damn it, Vicky, why are you so sensitive?"

"Sensitive?" Looking at the hyena, Deborah never considered that word when describing the vocalist. Passionate, devoted, and a little annoying at times, but never sensitive. Those kinds of people didn't last long. "What do you mean sensitive?" Tiffany's expression turned blank, blinking coldly with those amber eyes before groaning. "My god, you can't be this blind."

"Blind to what?" Deborah asked, agitated at the edge of her tone, "I've seen enough crap in my line of work to...to..." No such examples came up. She's seen blackmail, favors, the worst of the worst in the business. Some of...no, most of which she regretted. The antelope just buried it down under the guise of professionalism.

"To see when someone is crushing on you?" Tiffany asked, "You see enough of that, or has the corporate world stolen the...robbed you...fuck I can't think of anything for this." Slumping into her chair, the shark carefully petted her friend's scalp. Vicky shuddered in bed, still soundly asleep.

Crushing? She snorted, that was impossible. The punkette rockstar, crushing on some by-the-books manager who practically lived in her office? Deborah looked back on every interaction she'd had with Vicky, every small conversation or brisk little interaction. The hyena kept asking for her opinion on songs, how her day was, or even stupid little things like her coffee. But that had to be business focused, it always was. No one would care for her opinion on a song outside of legal issues, and...the smallest of ticks started making sense to her. From the faintest blush, the way she moved her dreads, how her eyes averted their gaze whenever she looked.

"Oh..." Her antlers hit the wall as she rested backward. She smiled involuntarily, laughter climbing up her diaphragm once the realization kicked in. The damn punk rockstar had a crush on her. Her, the most straight laced person she'd ever met, the exact image of what punks despised. "My god...this is so ridiculous."

"She kind of can be," Tiffany said, nodding along.

"What does she even see in me?"

The shark shrugged, "She's probably blinded by the light."

"I told you to quit it with the devil references. Aren't you Jewish?"

"Born, not practicing. But yeah, she has a crush on you."

"Since when?" Deborah leaned in, "This had to be a recent thing." Tiffany shook her head, "Nope. I think she's always been into you since we first met ya. Though I don't think even she realized it until you chewed us out the first time. Connie still has to hold Conner back from teasing her."

"Hold him back? You mean everyone knows?" Tiffany waved her hand at Deborah's question, "Well yes and no. The band knows that Vicky has a crush on you. But Vicky doesn't know we know. She doesn't have much luck when it comes to love so we mostly just try to be supportive."

As much as she wanted to ask more, Deborah knew Tiffany wasn't the best person to answer. "Do you like her?" The shark spoke up. She blinked back, but the question was clear. But did she like Vicky? The antelope, at best, tolerated the band. She respected Connie for keeping a cool head and a realistic approach to their work. That respect was strained by the rat's twin, who while one of the more talented musicians she'd seen, had an attitude problem that only his sister seemed to reel in with any results. Tiffany pissed her off, but she hid that dislike under a cold guise because it wasn't worth being annoyed with the damn satan comparisons. They were just a run-of-the-mill punk rock band, and she could get other clients.

But Vicky? She didn't mind the yeen. If anything, the antelope would have preferred her company if she had the time. Their club encounter had salted that innocent perception of her, but perhaps that was more Deborah's fault than anything. She hadn't let anyone close for so long that didn't come with a monetary exchange...

"Well?"

"I don't know." Deborah's face softened as she watched Vicky sleep, "I'll admit I've had fantasies, but I haven't been close with anyone in..." The answer escaped her, and Tiffany saw it. For the first time together, the two looked at each other with sympathy. "We need someone to watch her for the night, right?" She asked, hoping to change the subject. Deborah pointed to the door with the shark's nod, "You can take the couch. I'll watch her."

"All night?"

The manager nodded, taking her glasses off to rub her strained eyes, "I've had worse reasons."

***

Vicky figured she'd never forget what a hangover felt like. She was wrong. The dullest light gleaming through windows burned into her gaze, her body rippled in disgust with every toss and turn, and her head throbbed so hard that she clamped the pillow over it to keep it from exploding. Even her sense of smell was muddled, robbing her of the familiarity of her bed for...

She sniffed the air. This wasn't her bed. Bloodshot eyes wide open, she shot up her head to view her surroundings, only to be met with a headrush and nausea. Grabbing the bed frame for support, the hyena forced herself up and looked around, seeing not the controlled chaos of her own bedroom, but the orderly domain of someone who had their collective shit together. No clothes covering the floor, a dresser clean of any excess junk on its countertop with a mirror reflecting the sad and pathetic yeen sitting in her place.

"Ok...not my bed, not my room, and not my apartment." Vicky continued to state the obvious, more to hear her own voice than fracture her mind with more thoughts. "Think, Vicky..." Burying her head between her palms, the bedraggled yeen tried playing back the memories of the night before. "Fuck...you can't of been that drunk. What did you do?"

"Made an ass of yourself, for one." Vicky blinked, then closed her eyes tight and prayed the voice was just her conscience mimicking someone else. The figure in the doorway proved otherwise, mug in one hand with the other adjusting her spectacles to reflect the morning light, hiding her no doubt disapproving glare. "Arriving at a party already buzzed, proceeding to get wasted on vodka based drinks," She held out her fingers for each offense, proverbial nails digging into the hyena's coffin.

"Alright, alright..." Vicky strained to get up, "I'm sorry, I'll just-"

"Get back down." Deborah's tone carried an authority that stopped Vicky. Her stupid lusts felt a longing, while her inner child felt the reprimanding stare of an angry mother. Either way, the hyena followed and sat against the bed. Deborah left her for a moment, returning with a cup of water. "Drink this. You're probably still dehydrated."

"Y-Yeah..." She said, nodding as she took the cup and gulped down the icy water. "Thanks..." The two stayed silent, with only the whirring of the ceiling fan and Vicky's fingers tapping against her cup breaking the soundless barrier. Why was she in Deborah's room? The previous night had been such a blur. Did they...she blinked, they couldn't have. Looking over the antelope, Vicky saw no indication of any debauchery. If anything, it looked like she slept in her party dress.

"We didn't fuck," Deborah said, her expression cold and calculating. Like always, Vicky found it hard to read her, but she believed the antelope and answered with a sigh of relief. "As much as I discovered you'd want us to." She added, right before taking a sip from her coffee.

Vicky gagged as water traveled down the wrong pipe in her throat, gasping for air to clear the way as Deborah spoke casually. "W-What?" The hyena muttered, "No. I mean, you're not bad but like...no," her eyes darted about. How did she figure it out? Did Vicky admit it in a drunken haze? Deborah sipped from her mug again, her eyes softly staring down the panicking hyena with a warm smile crossing her lips.

"So, as narcissistic as it is to ask, what do you find attractive about me?"

"What?"

"Color me curious," Deborah said, "It's just, well we couldn't be more opposite and I don't believe in the whole 'opposites attract' bullshit they sell in movies. Frankly, most movie romance tropes make me gag. They drop the hard parts of a relationship for the fun, especially in the beginning. The false match starts with an argument and instead of working through it they break up immediately so the protagonist can find some random other charmer and start again."

Staring blankly at Deborah and her observation, Vicky found herself at a loss for words. She never watched romance films, well not often, and hadn't done deep dives on their meanings. Deborah playfully stuck out her tongue, "I studied film in college. Minored in it actually. That and I used to have an unhealthy obsession with TvTropes."

"TvTropes?"

"It's a website. But we're getting off topic." Resting her hand against Vicky's thigh and taking a deep breath, she asked again. Vicky, still unsure that this was happening, cackled nervously then sighed.

"Lots of reasons. I mean, why does anyone like anyone?" She said, trying to formulate the best words in her mind. For a lyricist, Vicky found herself at a loss. "It's just...you got your shit together for one. You walk around with this attitude that states, not screams, states, that you're not taking anyone's shit today. And it's not this unearned sense of confidence or bravado, it's like...I don't know, spite? Grit? Like everyone is a river trying to push everything aside for their own shit, but you form a pillar that doesn't yield."

Immediately she felt how those words could be misinterpreted. How Deborah could believe Vicky found her as some boring executive who forced people to stay on course. She didn't, even if she did constrain others. But Vicky had seen how shitty her art was when having no constraints, seen the terror of a blank page with unlimited freedom. Good art needed collaboration, and Deborah helped push her and the band to a clear goal.

Instead, she saw a blush underneath the antelope's facial fur. Deborah looked away, trying to hide it underneath her headfur before taking another sip. The steam from the coffee fogged up her glasses, forcing her to take them off and clean them. "Well...I..." She smiled, forcing herself to chuckle, "My shit isn't that well together."

"It's more than mine," Vicky said, putting the water down and lying on her back. The blades of the ceiling fan sliced through the air above her, pushing a cool breeze down. Deborah joined her, "Yours can't be all bad. From the pin I found, you were able to keep sober for six months. That takes dedication."

"Yeah, and all it took to break that was rejection after an S&M club encounter," Vicky said sardonically, "For the record, I didn't know you went to Oasis."

"It's how I keep my shit together, and I believe you." Deborah smiled, "It's nice to go someplace where people actually follow commands without complaint."

"Or expect you to be in charge..."

"I don't think anyone in the band has you pegged to be the leader."

Vicky laughed, "No. We're pretty democratic." She turned to her manager, staring deep into those warming blue eyes, "So...is there anything you like about me?"

"What do I like about you? Hmm..." Her fingernails tapped against her coffee cup, mimicking the throbbing anxious prodding Vicky's own mind created for her. "What would I like about a passionate songwriter and singer who has yet to be completely torn down by the drudgery of this business? It's just so difficult to find anything likable..." Deborah's smile calmed the hyena's heart.

Her palms rested against Vicky's face, still warm from the morning coffee, "Though, hypothetically, if I did like such a character, I'd say her commitment to improving herself would be her most desirable trait. I looked up those sobriety tokens, it's not easy getting a dark blue one."

"I...well..." Vicky blushed, biting her lip, "I did lose it, both literally and...well I guess literally two ways, since I got drunk and threw it in the trash."

"And I know you'll earn another," Putting down her coffee cup, Deborah took Vicky's hand and gripped it tight. "And, if this works out, I'll be supporting your efforts again."

"If?" Vicky sat up, "If...if what works out?"

"Us, I suppose. If you want it to."

"I..." Words drained from her mind. She stared blank into Deborah's eyes, her face aflame and heart rattling around her ribcage. "I...I do. I-I-I..." Vicky hadn't been in many relationships, and they were always her making the first move. To be asked, hand in hand with her crush, was an experience she'd wished for over and over. Now here, played out perfectly minus the doves and flowers, the hyena found herself at a loss for words.

Deborah answered with a kiss. A soft and supple kiss making her body weightless underneath the antelope. A single strand of saliva pulled away and snapped as she lifted off. "Then we need to go on a date."

"Y-Yeah...yeah!" Vicky said, "Park maybe? Movie? Oh, we can try the pier and-"

"Shush," Deborah said, locking Vicky's lips with a finger, "We can decide that later. Right now I'm hungry and Tiffany is making breakfast."

"Tiff is here?! Wait, she knows?!"

"They all knew."

"They? Knew?" Vicky blinked, then the horror hit her like a sign in a hurricane. "They knew I was crushing on you for half a year and said nothing?!"

"The twins made a bet!" Tiffany shouted from the kitchen, "One that Connie just lost."

The shark made eggs and toast. Scrambled for the hyena, and sunny-side up for the rest. Vicky, and Tiffany for that matter, would have preferred pancakes or waffles, but Deborah had no mix nor many options for breakfast beyond shakes and cereal. "So...what happened to your hand?" The hyena asked, finally noticing the antelope's wrist brace.

"I punched out Rex Flex."

"Oh," She nodded, "I-wait, what?!"

Deborah shrugged, "I should probably start looking for work tomorrow. I should have enough to get by with my savings."

"I wouldn't worry about that." Sporting a fangtooth grin, Tiffany pulled out her phone and showed both girls a picture, "It looks like Rex didn't do his research on which of the twins wore pants. I have a feeling he's going to be very compliant with this."

Both Vicky and Deborah stared at Tiffany, then the phone, then back to the shark. "Blackmail? Really?" The antelope said, breaking the silence. "You of all people would resort to that?"

"I'm not resorting to anything. Conner and Connie are, you can just get a good deal out of it." Putting her phone away, the shark smiled, "Besides, I'm not losing any sleep over an asshole getting karma."