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Her sitting around the previous night doing nothing had been both a help and a hindrance. Riding on the bus, she reflected on how much more emotionally relaxed she was but the stiffness in her neck - either from watching the screen of the computer for hours on end or with how she'd fallen asleep - reminded her she wasn't as young as she used to be. A hot shower had helped but sitting around, waiting on the washing machine, had made her irritable that she wasn't doing something more constructive. By the time the sun began setting, she was looking forward to going to work and resolved to have plans made for the next time she had a day off.

Knocking on the door to be let in, Sylvie waited a minute until she heard the characteristic click. Lucy opened the door, looking completely out of place in a pink track suit. Sylvie reflected on the reason that it appeared so out of place was because it was the most she'd seen the llama wear.

"Thank you," she said, squeezing past the dancer.

"No problem," the llama said, giving a look around outside before closing the door.

"Something wrong?"

"No," Lucy said before saying, "Yes. Amanda isn't here yet."

"Maybe she's held up in traffic," Sylvie suggested.

"Maybe." The llama's smile indicated her hope but her eyes still showed concern.

Not knowing what else to say, and hoping the greeting didn't forebode the night to come, Sylvie continued on to her spot near the kitchen and dropped off her bag. Will was sitting at a table rolling silverware, his left leg stretched out straight.

"Hey, Sylvie," he said, moving it with an amount of discomfort.

"Hi, Will. What's going on?" Pulling back her hair, she sat down opposite of him and began helping.

"Nothing much. Just trying to get a start on the weekend." He indicated to the silverware. "One of those necessities we must do though we might not like it."

"I don't know. I find it...therapeutic." Indeed, she did as a strange tenseness seemed to be filling her for some reason. Maybe it's because of Lucy.

"One person's therapy is another's torture." He tossed another roll into the waiting tub.

"You have something else you'd rather be doing?" She was teasing but he responded, nonetheless.

"Cleaning tables, wiping seats." He waved a fork in the air before adding it to the spoon and knife in the napkin. "Even cleaning the bathrooms," he pointed the rolled bundle at Sylvie, "and I can tell you stories about some of the things I've seen in there."

She laughed. "I have no doubt."

"Good," he said, smiling. "Don't." He adjusted himself in the seat, wincing as he did so.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, nonchalantly.

"Trip in your heels?" she said, making a joke and nodding towards his foot.

"Who told you?" His tone wasn't accusatory but it was clear she was somewhat correct.

"No one. I was just making a guess."

"Uh huh," he said.

"Seriously."

He gave her the easy grin she liked so much and turned back to the silverware. "You're right, you know."

"What? You hurt your foot?"

"Ankle, actually, but you're right about the heels."

Despite Mary's information, and the fact Sylvie considered herself rather progressive, there was a moment's hesitation as she tossed her roll into the tub. She noticed it. Will noticed it. She began to laugh and come clean.

"Mary said something about that the other night."

"That's alright. It's not something I broadcast but I don't actively keep it a secret either."

"Does that mean--"

"I'm gay?" he finished. "No. I actually very much enjoy dating women." He flashed her that grin again and Sylvie felt herself blush.

"I was going to say, does that mean you don't do it very often? Since you twisted your ankle?"

"Oh," he said, his smile growing. "We get together about once a week to practice, though I don't always dress for it."

"Dress up, huh?" The way in which she said it, she realized she was flirting.

"I don't go all the way," he said. "Really," he added for emphasis. "Some of the ladies go all out and wear a gaff to hide their...umm...bulge." He may not keep his cross-dressing a secret but it was apparent he didn't quite know how to talk to Sylvie about it.

"And the rest?" she asked casually. "Do you go the panty route?"

He looked at her for a second before realizing she wasn't teasing him. "No," he said, laughing. "Not usually. It all depends on the dress. Wouldn't due to have boxer seams showing through tight satin."

She tried to imagine Will wearing a black satin dress, replete with make-up, and couldn't help but smile - he would, no doubt, likely make an attractive madame.

"If I may ask," she said, getting up to swap the full tub for an empty one, "how did you get started?"

A wistful look crossed his face. "My brother."

"You have a brother? You two must be close."

"Were."

Will paused for a moment, lost in his own thoughts, and Sylvie realized she had accidentally said something wrong.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Will shook his head. "How could you?" Taking a deep breath, he began rolling more silverware and stayed silent for a minute. "Terry was nineteen when he died. Stupid...bigoted violence. I told him not to go out dressed like that, that people wouldn't understand. But he was his own person, you know? Did what he wanted and didn't have a care in the world." At this, Will smiled.

"He got involved with a few friends and entered competitions. They were pretty good," he nodded at Sylvie but didn't seem to be seeing her. "I drove them from place to place when I wasn't delivering pizzas. One time Joey got sick and they needed someone to fill in. Terry always loved hearing me sing in the shower and pleaded for me to take Joey's place. When your younger sibling gives you that look, you know...," he saw Sylvie this time, though his eyes were wet.

"I'll be damned if I didn't do it. Fucking hideous pink taffeta...thing," he laughed. "I still remember everyone laughing but, seeing Terry looking at me like he did, it didn't matter. I could have lived on that look." His hand came up quickly and wiped away the tears.

"Oh, god, Will. I didn't mean to bring this up." Sylvie felt miserable.

He waved away her apology. "No, it's not your fault. Sometimes I just need to let it out. Being honest about it is the best way I can honour his memory." Sniffing, he sat up straighter and began rolling silverware again.

"We won the competition," he said as if the past few seconds hadn't happened. "I could hit notes Joey couldn't and it seemed to seal the deal. After that, if they ever needed someone, I would fill in even if it meant calling off work. It was wonderful. After he passed, we didn't meet for a while but one thing led to another and the group got back together. I think in the beginning it was to grieve but, later, it became a way just to have some fun.

"You'll probably see them here, eventually." He shrugged and grabbed a couple knives to finish out his napkins. "Sometimes they come in drag, other times in street clothes. Unless you know who they are I doubt you could tell the difference - they're that good." Tossing his silverware into the tub, he carefully got to his feet and waited for Sylvie to finish the roll she was working on before carrying it away.

She was feeling wretched and at a complete loss for words when she stood up and wiped off the table. What she thought could be a rather fun night was turning into something else. First Lucy, now Will. What next? The thought was out before she could stifle it but a sound from the stage area stole her attention.

Amanda had finally arrived and Lucy was beside herself with relief. Amanda was anything but calm as she removed her coat before walking into the changing room. Her voice was elevated and between the testing of the music Sylvie heard "a hundred _fucking_dollars" and "six miles over" and "dickhead" before Amanda finally seemed to regain her composure. Knowing that Amanda's delay was probably due to a speeding ticket set Sylvie's mind at ease and she turned back to set the chairs in order.

Dark grey arms encircled her in hug, her nose pressing into a not unpleasant smelling chest while a cheek lay against her head for a moment. "Thank you," Will said. "It helps me to talk about Terry every so often." He released her and she guiltily found herself wanting more. "For what it's worth, he would have liked you."

And, just like that, the night began as if nothing had ever happened. Rachael began seating customers and Sylvie began taking orders. The first hour wasn't so bad but then the rush came and she had to hustle. Will was helping out with the tables closer to the kitchen and keeping things cleaned off but Sylvie felt as if she was keeping just ahead of the avalanche.

At some point, a wheel began wobbling on the night, and finally fell off when she went to give a table of three cheetahs their order. Despite their stereotype, they were not in a hurry even though Sylvie was. Her brain must have been elsewhere as her hand wrote down the not quite correct order and when she placed it before them one was clearly not impressed.

"Onion rings and Buffalo wings, huh?" He used a finger and flicked the onion rings around on the plate. "Doesn't quite seem to be the fish and chips that I ordered, now does it?"

"I'm sorry, sir. My mistake. I'll get it taken care of right away."

"Damn right you will." One cheetah snickered and the other drew his hamburger aside.

"Chill, Tony. Can't you see she the only one here tonight?"

"I don't give a fuck if she's the only one here ever. She fucked up the order."

"I said I would make it right, sir. Please give me just a minute."

"And I'm sure by then they'll be done eating and I'll be the last one. Real fucking nice."

Sylvie could feel herself trembling, partly because she wanted to strangle the bastard for being a bastard and partly because she knew she made a stupid mistake. Reaching for the plate, she quickly drew back as he pulled it away.

"Don't think so. You fucked it up, you fix it. I'm not going to wait here and be hungry until you bring out the right order."

Sylvie stared at him, half-believing he had to be joking but looked away when she saw he was being serious. She might have mumbled another apology before hurrying off to the kitchen.

"Nathan," she said as she passed through the door, "I made a mistake."

Roger looked over to see who'd entered their domain then cast a look to Nathan before returning to some prep work. The newt wiped his hands on his apron and came over to address her problem.

"I messed up table twenty-one's order."

"Let's see," he said, walking just past her to where a monitor sat on top of plastic covered keyboard. He typed in a few commands and the running tab popped up. "Three beers, a burger, a chicken sandwich with Buffalo sauce, and Buffalo wings."

"Yes. The Buffalo wings and onion rings were supposed to be fish and chips."

"Well," he said, looking at her, "that is a mistake."

Sylvie could feel her jaw drop with her heart.

"Relax," he said with a smile. "We'll get it taken care of."

"Don't worry about it," Roger said from his place at the window. "They're gone."

"Oh shit," Sylvie said.

"No shit," Nathan said with a half-laugh and shake of the head.

"No shit's right," Roger agreed. "Fucking thieves."

Sylvie was still standing in disbelief. "All because I got his order wrong."

"No, because they're assholes." Nathan took a look at the grill. "Shit. Just a second." He ran over and opened the grill to extract the panini. "We occasionally get them on busy nights," he said over his shoulder.

"Those guys have done this before?"

"Them specifically?" He shook his head. "No, or at least, not to us; not that I remember." He moved over to scoop mozzarella sticks from the fryer.

"It wouldn't have mattered what order you took," Roger said, placing a salad on a tray. "There would have been something incorrect. Once you go back to check on it, they grab what they have and skip out. Fucking thieves." He pointed the tray toward Nathan, who placed the panini and cheese sticks on it. "Order up," he said, extending the tray to her.

Sylvie took the tray out of reflex, still trying to process all that she'd been told, and backed out of the kitchen. Will was making rounds in her section of the dining room, already clearing up the mess the cheetahs had left behind. She watched him for a moment before looking down at the tray to see where she needed to take the order. Her heart leapt when she saw Tiffany's name on the ticket and she hurried backstage, although she felt guilty about leaving Will alone for a minute.

"Ooh," Tiffany said as she opened the door. "That smells good."

Sylvie sat down the tray and saw Julie and Misti discussing something - the mouse taking the time to wave at her - while Lucy was putting on the finishing touches as Amanda waited for her to go on stage. This was the first time she'd been backstage while the club was operating and she was surprised at how neat and orderly everything was, even compared to the beginning of the night when no one was on stage yet.

Everyone has it all together except for me, she thought. Creating routines, entertaining customers, taking care of all they need to take care of and I can't even get through one night without botching up my job.

"Syl, what's wrong?" Tiffany said, bumping her arm with her hand holding the panini. "Earth to Sylvie."

The skunk literally shook the thought from her head and looked to her friend, forcing a smile. "Nothing. Everything's fine." Tiffany stopped chewing and sat down the sandwich, her gaze indicating her level of belief in the statement.

"Bullshit."

"It's nothing, really." And then she felt it all spill out. "I messed up an order but Roger says it wouldn't have mattered anyway because he said those people always say there's something wrong just so they can get me to leave so they can leave and now I gave food to people who aren't even going to pay for it and I just can't believe that people can be such assholes!"

Tiffany gave a laugh and shook her head. "You mean to tell me, you - a skunk, as you like to point out - are having a hard time believing people can be assholes?"

Putting it that way, Sylvie could see the absurdity of her statement and had to laugh as well. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's just...I have never once thought about skipping out on a bill and knowing, now, that there are people who do...."

Tiffany chewed and swallowed another bite. "Think of it this way: everyone is an asshole - we're all born with one. It's just how big of one we want to become that defines who you are. If you're a little asshole, you get pent up with frustration at all the other larger assholes. If you are a big asshole - like the guys who skipped out on you - then you end up shitting on everyone and making a complete mess of your life. The goal is to be a normal asshole - take what you can and shit out the rest."

"So you're saying this was a high dose of fibre for me?"

Tiffany nearly spit out the bite she was chewing on, settling for choking instead. Taking a drink of water, she coughed a couple times. "I've never heard it phrased quite that way but, yeah, that's about right."

Sylvie, if not quite feeling better about the cheetahs, at least felt a bit better with herself, convinced there wasn't much more she could have done. Tiffany had a way of putting things into a perspective she could understand and it was making her time at High Tails much more worthwhile than any prior job.

"I should get back out there - it's just Will and me tonight. I'll come back and grab the tray in a bit if that's alright."

"I'll get it, don't worry. Mozzarella stick?"

Sylvie took the offered appetizer and left the backstage area. Reentering the dining room, she saw Will was taking care of the only table of new arrivals and began making the rounds with the folks who'd been there for a while.

An hour later, after no new customers had entered for the last ten minutes, she took a short break with Will. They sat close enough to talk with one another but were both watching the tables as they did so. Misti was up on the stage performing burlesque, replete with period music.

"Nathan said you had a table of skippers."

"Yeah. Just my luck."

"It's amazing what some people will do."

Sylvie looked at the handsome wolf and wondered if he could ever know how deplorable some people could be. Then she recalled he'd lost a brother to something stupid - even if he hadn't said specifically what - and she, herself, hadn't thought people would skip out of a restaurant without paying.

"How's your ankle?"

He extended his leg and rotated his foot. "Better but still hurts. How about you? You're covering most of the floor."

"Other than that one table, everything's been great."

"Makes the time go fast. Only a couple more hours to go."

This surprised her as she hadn't been watching the clock, she'd simply been doing her job. She wasn't even hungry and had been carrying Nathan's delicious concoctions all night; she was only now beginning to feel a twinge of fatigue and she wasn't sure that wasn't because he'd mentioned the time.

"Would you like to go out sometime?" he said out of the blue.

Sylvie felt herself blush and her stomach fluttered and she found herself at a loss to say anything.

"Not necessarily as a date," he clarified, both to her relief and disappointment, "but I would like to get to know you better outside of work."

"Not as a date?"

"Not necessarily," he said, giving her that grin which melted her inside.

"We'll see, Mr. Wolf," she said, sliding off the stool. She didn't give him a chance to say anything else as she went to check on her tables while she tried to calm her pounding heart.

/ / /

The night ended with a mini rush of customers who'd come in after the football game ended. It was brisk business up until Roger closed the bar but the night officially came to an end with Tiffany's last act. This was all well and good for Sylvie who had successfully been able to channel her energy into her work instead of thinking about a not-date.

Once the doors were locked and the dishes collected and returned to the kitchen, she sat down and pulled out the money she'd accumulated during the night. Counting through it once, she reached the end and forced herself to go through it again. Thinking she must be wrong, she called Will over from where he'd been talking to Nathan.

"Can you count this?" she said, handing in the stack of money.

"You can't count?" he teased and took the money. "While I do this, Nathan wants to know if you want anything for dinner before he closes the kitchen."

Sylvie walked up to the counter while Will took the seat she'd been sitting in.

"Better night?" Nathan asked.

"After the skippers, yeah."

"Your shorthand is better," he said. "Did it feel any different?"

"Unusual to write, yes, but I definitely noticed a difference in speed - I was just about able to keep up with them when they were ordering. Thank you."

"Cool. Glad I could help. Anything you'd like to take home?"

"Whatever you have laying around or feeling like making."

Nathan smiled at her and nodded before retreating. She turned around and saw Will still counting and, when she heard something behind her, looked and was a bit startled to see Roger instead of Nathan.

"Sorry if the wrap didn't agree with you the other night," Roger said, appearing a bit abashed.

"Huh? No, it was great."

The raccoon looked confused. "But Nathan said you weren't in yesterday because got sick."

"Firgil gave me the day off. The wrap was excellent and the fries were great. Thank you very much."

"Um, not a problem." If anything, Roger appeared more embarrassed than before and he turned around. "You asshole!" he shouted into the recesses of the kitchen and Sylvie heard Nathan cackle from within.

Seeing Will was finished counting, she returned to the table to let Nathan throw together what he would.

"Well, what did you get?"

"A bit over five hundred."

That was the number Sylvie had come up with. Can I really earn that much? "Is that usual?"

"Don't know," Will said, settling back in the seat. "I'm not usually on the floor busting my tail like you were. I have heard of pretty high numbers for Mary on our really busy nights, though."

"Well, I didn't do this by myself." She slid half the pile toward him. "You helped me a lot."

"Oh, no," he said, sitting up and pushing the money back to her. "You deserve it. I only took care of a few tables."

"You did more than that," she said. "At least take this." She slid a quarter of her take to him. "I'm won't take no for an answer."

He appeared humbled and reluctant but took it nevertheless as she pocketed her own funds. "Thank you," he said. "It's too much, really."

"Nonsense. I couldn't have done it without you. We make a good team." Staring into his blue eyes she wondered what else they would be good at together. She was just about to say something she'd never thought about saying before when she heard her named called.

"Sylvie! Order up!" Nathan said.

Sylvie sat for another moment, parts of her body urging her tongue to ask what her brain was so desperately trying to prevent.

"Better get up there," Will said. "If it's anything like he usually makes, someone might come along and take it first." He gave her that smile which suggested he knew what she'd been about to say and was taking some joy in her frustration.

With a great reluctance she did as he suggested and made her way to the counter. Looking back to the table, Will was already busy cleaning it and preparing to move onto the next.

"Sorry, this is the best I could do without completely opening up the kitchen again." In the reclosable box, sliced meat was piled on top of a piece of bread, all covered in a light gravy. "It's an open-face pot roast sandwich," he said, "except it's not exactly pot roast and not exactly a sandwich - we had half a baguette hanging around for some reason. I guarantee it will be tasty, though."

"I have no doubt," she said, recalling the other dishes he'd come up with. "What do I owe?" She pulled the wad of money out of her pocket.

Nathan held up his hands. "Oh, no. Dinner doesn't cost employees as long as you don't abuse it - Firgil's rule."

"I owe for the table that skipped out earlier, at least."

"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "He accounts for that somehow, also. Besides, if you truly knew how much some of this stuff cost to make and what we charge...." He shrugged. "I will tell you, though, that Roger does appreciate a tip every now and then. He'd tell you otherwise but if it somehow makes it into the mug at the bar, well, it's gone at the end of the night."

"And you? What does the kitchen get?"

"A pretty face like yours talking to me at the end of the night." He smiled as her ears flushed. "I get paid very well for what I do and I like what I do. Job satisfaction counts for a lot."

"Well, then, thank you. I'm sure I'll enjoy this," she said, patting his hand. He seemed quite pleased by the gesture and left the counter. Sylvie swung by the bar and dropped fifty dollars into the mug when Roger wasn't watching. Sitting her box at the checkout station, she grabbed a bucket and cloth and went to help Will finish cleaning the tables.

/ / /

Will had left without her noticing, which bugged her to no end. It wasn't that he'd left without saying goodbye, it was that he'd left and she still hadn't said what she'd wanted to say...even if she didn't know exactly what it was she wanted to say. She didn't go asking about him, though, because then someone might get the wrong idea.

But what is the wrong idea? she wondered as she waited for the bus. She had made it to the bus stop in time but she could see the bus coming down the road which meant she was later than she wanted to be. A few minutes more then she would have had to wait an hour for the next one and that would throw off her whole schedule - it would be faster to walk home if that happened.

If you had someone to spend that time with, her mind suggested, then it might be worth missing the bus.

The bus hissed as it pulled up and the driver looked at her and the box in her hand when she boarded.

"Smells good," he commented. "Just don't leave a mess."

Sylvie had smiled, her thoughts elsewhere, and she didn't realize what he'd said until she'd sat and they were underway. She made a note to apologize to him when she got off but, for now, she had a tasty creation to eat, both in her hands and in her mind.