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"And he cried while the police hauled him out?"

Grunting at his question while gritting my canines into a proud grin, I replied to the dumbfounded ocelot, "Like a wife on a soap opera." I grunted again. "When he was hauled out to the, mfh! Parking lot, at least! Ngh!"

"And to think I once let that sicko fuck me..." Cherry shook his muzzle in disbelief.

"At least, mfh!" I spoke, huffing as I went on to complete my final set, "At least he won't hurt...anybody anymore...Mfh!"

His ears folded downward and his body visibly cringed. "I still feel dirty though, big guy, and not in the fun kind of dirty!" the ocelot complained as he sat on the room's corner stool, no longer eagerly watching me do my afternoon workout. "I honestly can't believe Kendall was like that all this time." He sighed. "Certainly explains a few things, to be honest."

"I don't want, mfh, to know." I was ten reps away, feeling the sweat drench my fur and clothes like spring rain. "Ngh, that leaves one, ngh, down. And many to go...mfh!"

"Tell me about it," He mused solemnly, tail curling on his lap. "More suspects to check out."

Earlier when I got back, I had Cherry sucking me off on the couch, though he visibly wanted to do more roleplay with me in the Minnesotan outfit. Things like pretend I'm a rural cowboy and he my prize after defeating the villain on the train tracks, for instance. I'd unfortunately tell him no, saying I wanted enough energy to do my ritualistic workout.

Seeing him sitting there dejected and questioning the intentions of all the male furs he'd shared animalistic urges with all these years...it made me feel like I could do something for Cherry. Standing up from my exercise bench, having finally finished my last grueling set of the day, I carefully placed the two twenty-pound dumbbells on the nearby rack. Part of me made sure the horny feline would get a nice view of my sweaty short-clad rump and lush tail as I stretched afterward.

"If you want," I proposed to the crestfallen feline, "we can watch one of those action movies you've been telling me to see? I got streaming, so we'll look at whatever you think I'd enjoy. I just need to do my run on the treadmill and shower."

Cherry's eyes lit up like auburn firecrackers the color of copper, and he agreed.

I went on to run for thirty minutes soon after. As my muscled legs exerted themselves and I grew lost in the motions of my workout, I imagined jogging somewhere outside. On the streets, in the middle of a woodland forest, or a foggy moor of Northern Ireland. Part of me wondered if I'd ever stop to see the scenery for more than a fleeting second, or enjoy the wind in my face, or if the experience in of itself required another soul to make it meaningful.

My vision became blurry, and I shook my dark-furred muzzle to refocus. God, I hadn't seen an Irish moor in so long. The previous time I walked through the moors surrounding the outside of my hometown was days before...before the day my old life ended. Did they still exist?

Eventually, I finished the cardio and got myself showered, then dressed shirtless in a pair of clean, dark green pajama bottoms. It was already nearing sundown by the time Cherry also pulled a baked pizza from the kitchen oven, based on the delicious smells wafting through the hallways.

"Mushrooms?" I asked the ocelot between sniffs. "A layer of cheddar cheese? And bacon?"

"Yep!" He chirped. "Let's let it cool first."

He sat on the couch wearing a pair of black pajama bottoms that matched the spots on his fur, though I could catch sight of the pink underwear peeking from his backside.

Cherry sheepishly replied, "What? I like wearing these."

"About the pizza, kid." I grumbled, checking to see it partially burnt but no less delicious looking. The ocelot had high metabolism, which explained his lithe body and ability to eat enormous quantities of food. Not that I was complaining, but still. "If I keep eating that sort of crap, the workouts will be useless..."

"Then don't eat the pizza." He pointed out. "A piece of it won't kill you though."

Taking a sniff one more time, my stomach growled, and I muttered several curse words.

"Tomorrow, I'm going to cook us some good, healthy food for once."

A few minutes later and Cherry took most of the slices while I settled on just two.

"Remind me to have you get us some popcorn for next time, alright?" The ocelot chuckled, licking his lips as he took a delicious bite. "Or is it too unhealthy for you, old wolf?"

I glared at the feline, who folded his ears at the sharp gaze. "Boy, I was born in 1982," Was my blunt reply to the cocky feline. "I'm not even forty yet."

"Anyway," Cherry giggled before snuggling beside me, remote in one paw and a bitten slice in the other, "I found the perfect action flick you'll like. You ever heard of 'Vice City'? It has assassins and prostitutes and serial killers galore."

I glanced with (minor) intrigue. "Hm."

"It's based on this comic book made by a crazy guy."

An ear of mine twitched with intrigue, "Oh?"

He grinned back and swallowed the rest of his slice. "Yeah. Trust me, you'll like it."

For the most part, I did. The film was shot in black-and-white, with occasional objects and characters being in a certain shade of color. They all stood out in the monochromatically CGI world. Occasionally, between the poetic dialogue and constant bloodshed, Cherry would mention each color's purpose. Blue represented corruption, green was evil, yellow was anger and red was power. I didn't have much interest in symbolism, but I did pay attention to the struggles of each flawed individual onscreen. Sure, the action scenes were beyond silly, sometimes bordering on nonsensical and pulled straight from a comic strip's childish pages, but I could appreciate how 'awesome' they were.

Though I rarely use that term.

"So, who's your favorite character, Markus?" He asked halfway through the movie. "Me personally? I have to go with Marv."

Marv. This big, hulking tiger who claimed to be so deformed, he couldn't even buy a woman in the crime-ridden and corrupt setting of Vice City. Yet one night, a blond vixen decided to give him the greatest evening of his life, only to be murdered the same night. Thus, it gave the drunken nobody Marv had a purpose: to avenge her death by finding the killer.

"Reminds me of you, to be honest." Cherry commented, to which I raised a questioning eyebrow. "Except you're handsome and I'm not dead."

"And hopefully, this mystery will have a happy ending," I didn't reply.

When the credits rolled, Cherry stretched his arms and yawned before snuggling into my bare chest. I hesitated before wrapping an arm around him and sighing as well.

"Did you like the movie?"

"...it was fine."

"Did you...enjoy it with me?"

A momentary smile flashed over my muzzle. I did.