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Paul paced around his room. It had been several days since he and his father had their little talk, but Pox so far hadn't shown up. As the days passed, Paul figured he must be getting due to see her, as she was fairly regular about dosing him with her medicine. His father, meanwhile, had been constantly berating him about her and his need to get rid of her to protect the family image. Even his brother had started to make rude comments when the two were in private.

In some ways, Paul felt like they were correct, but in others, it more felt like they were ganging up on him. He didn't really want to harm Pox, she was rough and animalistic for sure, but she also had a surprisingly gentle side to her, and she was much smarter than she appeared. Despite the fact that she had forced herself on him when they first met, and some aspects of her still disgusted him thoroughly, he had to admit he was growing fond of her and her company.

He continued to pace the room, before going over to the small writing desk in the corner and pulling open a drawer. He retrieved a bottle of coal gin and poured a small glass. He tossed it back and shuddered from the taste and burning sensation of the strong liquor. It was said that it was refined to be pure alcohol, but Paul was of the opinion that it still tasted faintly of the bituminous coal it was refined from, but it was at least highly effective at its job at getting one inebriated.

Paul put the bottle away and then closed up the desk, before getting up to pace again. He honestly wasn't even sure he could convince the rat to leave him be. She didn't seem to at all want money, or things, just him. It was an odd concept when he thought about it. For as long as he could remember, he'd been on the path his father set out for him. He was going to take over his father's office, and that meant everyone wanted something from him. They wanted to use him or get things from him. Pox was the first person who seemed to genuinely just want him for his own sake.

He rubbed his chin as he went to the balcony, looking out into the dark night, the sooty sky a dull orange from the many gas lamps that lit the city all day and all night. Of course, Pox had said she wanted to use him too. But that had more to do with his family's connection to the grow houses where the majority of the city's food was produced, than for his political aspirations, and she had yet to act or make any demands in that regard. She was more worried about where her next meal was coming from, rather than holding onto any reins of power. Her needs were simple, and she didn't seem to have any ulterior motives for her actions, unlike everyone else he knew.

It was a fact of Paul's life since he was a small child that everyone expected great things from him. Hardly anyone he dealt with was ever really honest. They hid their true feelings behind masks. Even his friend Bryce seemed to only really have befriended him at the university in order to secure a job as a researcher working for Paul's brother. When he thought about it, it was almost laughable that a filthy sewer rat that had raped him on multiple occasions, nearly killed him with a deadly infection, and who threatened to kill and eat him more than once, was probably the best friend he could have ever hoped for.

He shook his head as he looked out into the night. He couldn't keep going on like he was though, the secret was already out of the bag. If he didn't get rid of Pox, he'd be disowned by his father, made a pariah by the aristocracy of the city. He'd probably be stripped of everything and left to fend for himself as a beggar. After all, who would hire him? All the owners of the major industries would know who he was, what he had done. And the thought of slaving away for meager subsistence in Mr. Bright's coal mine or in the Carter's rail yard or even as a laborer in his own brother's grow houses made him shudder.

He turned away from the balcony and sighed, it was getting late, and he was growing tired. He was about to turn out the lights when he heard the creaking of the balusters behind him. Turning he watched as the large rat hauled herself up onto the balcony, climbing over the railing and standing up slowly like an inky black specter against the dull orange sky, before making her way in through the open doors.

She stretched her arms above her head and let out a yawn, giving him a good look at her usually naked body, before looking to him and smiling, making her way towards him. “Sorry Pox took few days. Ticktock, my sister, she got injured. Been watching over her. Pox happy to see you still well though!" she said moving close, and retrieving her bottle of nasty juice, before pausing and frowning, seeing the look on his face. “What wrong?"

Paul swallowed and shook his head, “We…" he swallowed, “We need to talk, Pox" he said, holding his hands up defensively.

Pox tilted her head to the side, “Talk? Why? What wrong?"

Paul sighed, “My father…found out about you…and what we have been doing…" he said and sat down in a chair, “I…" he sighed, “We can't do this anymore."

Pox crossed her arms over her chest, “So he find out, who cares about what he think?"

Paul shook his head, “You don't understand, everyone cares what he thinks, he could ruin me," he said, “In our society, appearances are everything…and…" he grumbled and looked down, “No one else would respect me if they knew about you."

The rat huffed and shook her head, “In Pox clan you get respect by being useful or being biggest and strongest or oldest. Much simpler than you dumb human clans. You should do things rat way, seems much easier."

Paul sighed, “Well the way rats do things…that's good for you, but it's not good for us humans. Everything is so much more complicated." He swallowed and shook his head, “As I said, this…thing between us…it needs to stop."

She shook her head, “No! You Pox's human! Pox save life…don't care about other humans or what they think!" she moved closer and put her hands on his shoulders, “You like Pox! Pox knows you do."

Paul raised his voice as he said, “No!" He stood up and tried to push her away, shaking his head, and closing his eyes tightly, “I'm not your human, I never was, and I never will be." He sighed heavily and looked down to the floor, “Just…go away…please…and don't ever come back."

Pox grabbed his hands, squeezing hard, “No! This not like you," she said, “You-" She was cut off by him struggling and growling in frustration when she didn't listen, twisting in her grip before managing to wrench one of his arms free, before punching her in the jaw, “I said go away Pox!"

She yelped in pain at the blow and her fur bristled and her more base instincts took over. She let out a screech of anger and lashed back out at him with her claws, aiming for Paul's face. He raised his arm as he backed away and her claws left several deep gashes in his forearm that began to bleed heavily. Paul stumbled back, with a cry of pain, falling onto the writing desk, clutching the bleeding arm.

Pox's expression immediately softened, as she realized what she had done, and she reached out for him slowly, “Paul…"

He groped at the table behind him, and his hand found a penknife. He grabbed it and swung it wildly toward the rat, trying to stab her with it while yelling, “Stay back, you filthy beast!"

She let out a loud screech, this time in surprise and dodged away from the blade, turning her body to avoid the first strike, but as he brought it around, he hit her in the side and the razor sharp blade bit into her, leaving a long, deep gash. She backed away, clutching her side where he had cut her. She pulled her hand away and saw the blood covering her palm, looking from it to him in shock.

Paul attacked her again with an animal ferocity that could have matched Pox's own on the best of days, slashing the knife back and forth. She was stunned by his sudden violent outburst, and she backed away as he advanced, soon feeling her legs hitting the railing, and he kept coming.

“Paul! Stop! Pox is-" she started but was cut off by him slamming his shoulder into her.

“Go away Pox! I hate you!" he screamed as he gave a hard shove, pushing her back and sending her tumbling over the railing.

She fell two stories to the ground below, landing hard. She felt a crack in her leg as something broke and there was a terrible pain when she tried to get up. She managed to get to her feet, looking up at Paul with a pained expression, before turning and hobbling away, Paul's shout of, “Never come back!" ringing in her ears as she disappeared into the dark night.

He stood there for a long time, staring out into the darkness, as tears started to stream down his face. He gripped at the railing before letting out a frustrated roar, punching at the wooden rail over and over again until his knuckles were bashed and bloody and raw, before lowering down to his knees there on the deck, continuing to sob for several long moments before the rage took over him again.

Paul jumped to his feet and grabbed a cloth to wrap his arm as he left his room and stormed down the hall to his father's bedroom. He kicked the door open with a crash that woke the older man with a start. Jonathan struggled with his sheets and nightcap for a few moments before sitting up and watching as Paul moved up to the foot of the bed and slammed the knife down, burying the tip of the bloody knife into the wood. Paul growled, “It's done," before turning and leaving. He left the house and headed out into the night.

He was in a daze as he walked the dark streets. With there being little difference between night and day in Sullenfurt, he was able to find a barber that was still open despite the late hour. He remembered entering and saying something about being attacked by a thief or some such, and he was given a large quantity of gin to dull his nerves while the barber stitched up the gashes in his arm. As the anger and adrenaline wore off, he felt a deep well forming in the pit of his stomach, and he realized he had made a terrible mistake.

† † †

Pox stared down at the floor as Jasmine worked the needle through her skin, stitching the gash in her side closed. She had managed to make her way back to the pesthouse where Ticktock was being treated. In addition to the gash, she had broken her leg in the fall. Fortunately, Sister Jasmine and the matriarch of the pesthouse were still being gracious to her and Ticktock, giving her treatment without charging her for it.

As Jasmine worked, two other nuns were poking and prodding at Pox's body, checking her hands, her face, and sides. They informed Pox of what she already knew, some of her ribs had re-broken, she had sprained her wrist, and broken a leg from her fall. Once Jasmine finished stitching up Pox's side, her ribs were re-bandaged and bound properly so they could heal. Then it took all three of the nuns to set the bone in Pox's leg.

When they had finished patching up Pox, and her leg and wrist were put into splints, Jasmine dismissed the other nuns, following them out of the hall for several long minutes. After a time had passed Jasmine returned and then closed the door. She then turned and came over to the bed where Pox was laying with her back against the headboard, holding a bottle and a glass in her hand. “Now that that's taken care of," she said, “Why don't you drink some of this gin here, and tell me what happened? Rat to rat, eh?" she asked, pulling up a chair and sitting down in it, placing the glass on a small table within Pox's reach and filling it up.

Pox shook her head, continuing to stare off into space. She had been fairly unresponsive through the whole ordeal, and barely even cried out when her broken leg was put back into place.

Jasmine tilted her head, “Are you sure? A bit of alcohol may help your nerves right now," she said. “Think of it like your nasty juice."

Pox shook her head again, “No…" she said softly, “Don't want to talk."

Jasmine then gave a nod of her head, “Alright…" she said, before pulling her hood back and she then un-buckled the leather straps of her rat faced mask, before lifting it from her face and setting it on the table next to her. “If you won't talk to me rat to rat, how about rat to human?" she asked.

Pox was startled a bit to hear those words and more so when she looked over to see Jasmine's face for the first time. Her nose began to twitch as she caught the human's scent for the first time as well. The mask she wore had the snout stuffed with cloth, and their clothing blocked most smells. She was older than Pox had expected, with pale skin and long gray hair that still had streaks of black in it that she kept in a tight bun. Pox's attention was also drawn to the deep craters in her skin, giving it a rough texture. “You have plague," Pox said in surprise, knowing a rash of boils and pox was one of the symptoms that infected human children who got the rat plague.

Jasmine nodded, “Yes. When I was very young, I was touched by Hectis, and cursed to be one of his chosen children. I survived but I still carry his plague in my body." She gestured at pox, and then the door, “You should consider yourself lucky. You are the only one outside of our order who has seen my face in many decades." She smiled and reached out to take hold of Pox's hand, “We hide behind our robes so that we can treat our patients without fear of spreading the cursed disease to them. But since you are a rat, and I know you regularly take Theriac, your 'nasty juice' as you call it, we don't have much to fear from each other."

Pox nodded slowly, “Why show Pox though? You could keep mask on."

Jasmine sighed, “Because stitches and bandages can only heal some hurts. Others require a different balm. You are disturbed by something. I want you to know you can trust me, and this is the best way to do garner that trust." She then smiled warmly, “And it worked and got you talking. So, please talk to me, what happened that has you so bothered?"

Pox let out a heavy sigh, looking down at the bed. “Pox…fought with someone…a human," she said, and began to tell the story about how she had cornered Paul in the alley, and then later bringing him the nasty juice, and meeting his doctor Malachi. She talked about how she had started to visit Paul regularly and had started growing fond of him once he had begun to relax and even reciprocate some of her affections. Her expression became glummer when she began talking about overhearing his father, and by the time she finished with the events of that night only a few hours earlier, she was near to tears.

Through it all Jasmine listened quietly, still holding Pox's hand in hers. When it was over, she nodded, “I see…that's quite a traumatic ending to your relationship," she said. “I'm very very sorry you had to go through that. Unfortunately, and I hate to say it, you were doomed to failure from the start. People like him exist in an entirely different world than you or I do."

Pox rubbed her eye with her knuckles, “Dumb humans," she grumbled, “Have to care about silly things like looks, and playing stupid games."

Sister Jasmine nodded, “Yes we are pretty silly at that, especially rich humans." She sighed and shook her head, “Unfortunately for you, my dear, you fell for one such human. I hate to say it, but your relationship was doomed to fail from the start."

Pox let out a sigh, rubbing her muzzle, “Maybe you right. Humans don't like rats, rats don't like humans," she huffed and closed her eyes.

Jasmine squeezed Pox's hand again, “That's not entirely true you know," she said, shifting in her seat, “I admit, I didn't know what to make of you when I first saw you. I thought, like most humans probably would, that you are a filthy animal. I wasn't pleased when the matriarch suggested giving you a human body to take home and eat either."

Pox grumbled at that, not liking where the conversation was going, and she turned her head away, squirming some in her seat.

Jasmine continued, “But we got to speaking, Malachi and the matriarch and me. I came to realize you rats are quite clever. You saw an opportunity, and you took pretty great advantage of it." She waved a hand, “Then you brought your sister here when you knew she was too injured for your kind to handle, and you came back yourself."

Pox shrugged a bit, “Rats just as good and smart as humans. But humans think we dumb because we have to live in sewers, and steal food. We only do that though because humans won't let us live in city with them. If rat has gold and tries to buy things, we get accused of stealing gold. Don't get trial either, just sent straight to gallows to hang or burned alive."

Jasmine had to agree with that, “Yes, you are right, that's foolishness on our part," she said, “In times like this we really should all be working together, but that's getting harder and harder, even just among us humans." She sighed, shaking her head. “Sometimes I wonder how long we'll last with the way things are going."

Pox shrugged, “Who know? World is dying, soon we all die with it."

Jasmine let out a wistful sigh, “You are definitely right about that," she then stood up and retrieved her mask, “Well, my friend. It's obviously been along night for you. As your doctor I order you to drink your gin, and then get some sleep," she said, handing the glass she had poured earlier to the rat.

Pox took it and tipped it back, shuddering hard at the burning liquid, “Ugh…tastes worse without the herbs in it!" she said, sticking her tongue out before handing the glass back to the waiting nun. “Thank you. You are kind to Pox. Appreciate it," she said.

Jasmine nodded, “Of course, it's my duty to be kind to those who need it. She then dimmed the lamps in the room and turned, closing the door behind her to leave.

Once Jasmine was gone, Pox turned over onto her side and hugged at the pillow, and tears began to roll down her face.