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CHAPTER 9

DATE NIGHT I: CHINESE RESTAURANT

"How often would you say these dreams occur?" Frank put down his water, thinking back as he stared at a distorted vision of himself in the rippling water. "It's hard to say," Frank murmured, low enough that the doe sitting across from him had to lean forward to hear him. "Sometimes I won't get them for a week. The last time, I got one two days in a row. Those were on the days when I came down to that game and the one where I made up with Mort and Adrianne." May hummed in thought as she scribbled several quick notes on a lined yellow pad. She flipped back to an earlier page to double-check something, then raised her head to regard Frank. "When was the last time you had one of these 'Kane Dreams'?"

"I had one this morning," Frank said without hesitation. He had been talking to May about his dreams for a while at this point, so he had no reservations about revealing the details of those strange experiences. May's curiosity had been piqued by Frank's dreams, with their apparent powers of precognition, and had been offering sessions at a reduced rate for the chance to further investigate. May twirled her pen deftly in the fingers of one hand, a trick she was shockingly good at. "Can you describe it for me?" she asked, stopping the pen perfectly in a writing position without needing to look at it.

May's hand hovered over the paper as Frank recalled this morning's dream. "I put the table down, feeling impressed with myself. Then I realized that I was in the dream, Kane made his presence known, and I sat on the bed until the dream ended. Same as usual." May made several more marks on the notepad as Frank spoke. "The pride you feel when you set down the table," she began, staring at him with big eyes the color and depth of the ocean, "You mentioned in an earlier session that those feelings were connected to Adrianne in some way, correct?" It was strange that her eyesight was so good, considering her age. More than that, her appearance and profession both suggested someone who wore glasses, and Frank couldn't picture her in his head without a pair, even though he had never seen her wear one, even to read.

"Yes. I carried the table up the stairs to my room by myself, via some neat trick, and Adrianne thought it was cool. That happens before the dream starts, though, so I don't know how I know that, nor do I know what the trick was." May wrote a longer note on her pad, the contents of which Frank couldn't even begin to guess. Really, this had gotten him nowhere. He had repeated all this information for May on previous visits and the nature of the dreams were still as much a mystery to the both of them as they had been at the start. He didn't want to stop the investigation, but it was hard to stay motivated when he hadn't found any clues in three months. Hell, had he really been at The Homestead for three months? That number managed to feel both way too short and way too long.

May asked a few more questions she already knew the answer to, such as whether he could leave the room (no), if Kane had ever responded to communication (nope), if the dream had changed in some way from previous iterations (it hadn't). May didn't ask about Frank being able to understand languages he never heard before, because Frank hadn't told her about it. He was more comfortable with her than he had been the first meeting, but there was a limit. The doe threw up her hands helplessly. "I'm sorry. I wish I knew more about the topic of dreams, but I'm limited to whatever I can find online at the moment, and I don't need to tell you that I have to take all that with a pinch of salt." She glanced down at her notes, then back up to her patient, jaw firming with resolve. "I will find something eventually, though. You can count on that." Frank let a smile creep onto his face. It was nice to have met a person with such a drive to help others, especially since one of those others was him.

Therapy session over, Frank told May when he'd be available for his next appointment, then said his goodbyes and went to the door. One hoof already out in the hall, he turned back in to ask a question. "Do you know any good restaurants around here with reasonable price tags?" May considered this for an instant, then shook her head. "Nowhere you would like, I think. Ask Sara, she knows food better than anyone else I've met." Frank nodded his thanks, then went the rest of the way into the hall. Making his way to the common, he found just the wolverine he was looking for sitting on the plaid couch, talking with Ana in a relaxed manner. Did these two get the message that he and the Shorts had settled their feud? All worries disappeared when Sara looked his way, waving him over with a smile.

"Hey!" she said. "I'm glad to see your visits with May are working out. She's wonderful, isn't she?" Ana twisted in her seat to face Frank as he approached, one arm resting on the back of the couch. "What have you been diagnosed with? Anything fun?" Frank gave Ana no more reaction than the flash of a grimace, which made the jackal giggle. Doing his best to ignore her antics, he focused his attention on the smaller woman. "She's great, Sara. We were just talking about dreams. I've been having some weird ones lately." Sara nodded thoughtfully, tongue poking her cheek.

"I think you mentioned that before. It's not giving you any trouble sleeping, is it? That's when things become a problem, you know. Your whole health is tied to how well you sleep. When I was ten, I went to my grandmother's eighty-third birthday and asked her how she managed to stay so spry in her old age. She said it was because she got eight hours of sleep a night, no matter what. She's still alive, so she must have been telling the truth." It had been too long since Frank had been treated to one of Sara's anecdotes. He could barely believe it himself, but he was looking forward to hearing more on the bus ride into work.

"My sleep schedule's fine," Frank said, placatingly. "More importantly, there's something I wanted to ask you. May tells me you're the person to see about local foods."

"Food in general," Ana put in. "I think she knows more about Mexican food than I do. Russian and Japanese, too." Ana wrapped an arm around the wolverine for emphasis, making Sara blush brightly under her dark fur. Clearing her throat, she began speaking in a quiet voice. "I just know what I read on blogs. It's really not that impressive." Sara readjusted herself on the couch, which seemed to banish her embarrassment. "Anyway, what's up?"

Frank explained that he was looking for a nice place; somewhere he could take someone without going bankrupt. Ana's eyes went wide. "Take someone? You? Who?" Faking a cough, Frank turned his head slightly, not wanting to let Ana know that he was avoiding looking at her directly. "Does it matter who?" he said to the air to the left of the jackal. "Yes," said Ana. "Yes," said Sara an instant later. Frank deflated where he stood, taking on an odd posture. Why must he constantly get into these encounters with uneven odds? And why did Sara, of all people, even care?

Sighing as he righted himself, he considered how difficult it would be to find a good place on his own. No, he had to ask. It was close to noon and plans had already been made. She had said that Frank could take her wherever but, the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to make this night into something nice. She had helped him out a lot, so it was only right. "Mary," he said with a hint of resignation. "I'm taking Mary out to dinner tonight." The two women on the couch stared at him, mouths hanging open. He could take this from Ana, but was it so unbelievable that even Sara had to act stunned? He felt his cheeks heat up.

Ana regained herself first. "Yeah!" she called out, reaching out to give Frank a firm slap on the thigh that made him jump. "Go, white boy, go!" That hadn't helped to diminish Frank's blush, forcing him to turn his head in the direction of the blank TV to hide it. "What's your problem?" Frank asked, trying his best to keep his voice firm. It was just dinner. No need to make a big deal out of it. Yet Ana insisted, waving an accusing finger in his direction. "You know," she said, speaking in a sly tone and dragging out each word. "I told you, didn't I? Mary will sleep with any guy who takes her out for a nice meal." Frank's face froze. "Huh?" he squeaked.

"The way to a woman's heart is through her stomach! I'd totally put out if you took me somewhere nice. Of course, Mary's older than me. More mature. That means it'll have to be something she likes, not just something pricey. Oh, and wear a button-up or something." Frank couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was merely doing this to repay a favor. He wouldn't stand for Ana spreading rumors about his intentions toward a friend. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Ana steamrolled over him by continuing with Sara. "Mary likes Chinese. You know any places like that nearby?"

To Frank's continued amazement, Sara placed a hand on her chin, considering. "I think there is. No, there definitely is. Hold up." She half stood to fish a phone out of her rear pocket, then began fiddling with a GPS app. "Here you are," Sara said, turning her phone around and handing it to Frank. Taking a closer look at the screen, Frank saw that it was close, not more than a combined fifteen-minute bus ride and walk. The prices on the menu were certainly more than he would spend on his own, and more than he would have liked to spend at all, but still within his budget. Would it be cool to ask his date to cover the tip? Thinking this, Frank winced slightly, realizing he had already reclassified his outing with Mary as a date. He didn't know what it was before, but he wouldn't be able to think of it as anything else now. Fine then. A date. However, regardless of what Ana said, this wasn't going to be nothing more than a middle step in getting Mary into bed. He was doing this to repay a friend, first and foremost. He wouldn't even think about sex. Handing Sara back her phone, Frank offered his thanks, then went upstairs to make a reservation and get his clothes ready.

"I didn't even know you owned a nice shirt, Hale," said Mary, dressed in a brown wool shirt and jeans, both of which had seen a fair amount of use. "Oh, this old thing?" asked Frank, tugging at the collar of the pink button-up he had bought two hours ago at the thrift store three blocks down. "I've had it forever. Just haven't had an excuse to wear it recently." Mary stared down at the sheep, face unreadable, then went to the front door. "Right. Let's head out, then," she said holding the door for the two of them. Frank smiled at her and stepped out, wondering if he already messed something up. He didn't have a car, so the two of them had to take the bus. That was less of a problem down here that it had been in Delaware and renting a car for one night was out of the question, but he still felt bad about not being able to drive her. Now, she was holding doors for him.

Frank wondered, as they made their way to the bus stop, if Mary considered him a kid, like Mort had. Ana had said all those things but, in truth, Frank didn't think he stood a chance. Mary was taller than him, tougher than him, older than him. What had Frank done to make her respect him as a man? He'd gotten in a fight. A fight she had to come and bail him out of. Suddenly, Frank felt that he looked like an idiot, like a highschooler heading to prom with his aunt because he couldn't find a date his own age.

Even once he and Mary got to the restaurant and were seated, he couldn't help from thinking these things. He stared at the wolf across from him, sipping a glass of water as he waited for someone to come by and take their order. Thankfully the shirt Frank bought wasn't too nice, as he already felt overdress with that and a pair of khakis he only remembered to iron at the last possible minute. No, this wasn't happening. He blamed Ana for even putting the thought in his head. At least he could make some good conversation if ha managed to keep his mind off it.

Taking another sip of water to bring some moisture into his mouth, he resolved to be a pleasant date, even if he couldn't be a good one. "We've known each other for three months now," Frank began once he worked up the courage, "but I still don't know what it is you do. Are you in shipping, too?" Hardly his best, but a good start, he hoped. "Hm?" she grunted, looking up from the menu. She was taking her time choosing, Frank noticed. "I work for FedEx, make deliveries. So, yes, in a sense." Then she went back to the menu. "Hell, I can't read half of this." Did she need glasses? The print was pretty small. "You want some help?" Frank asked. Mary tuned the menu around and pointed to a picture of what appeared to be beef with some greens. "Gonna order this. Can you read it?"

Frank found the picture on his own menu just as a waitress came over to the table. "Hello, hello!" said a short blond monkey, tail swishing happily behind her. "Hey, I think we're ready to order," Frank said back, and the monkey's eyebrows shot up in surprise as she turned to look at Frank. I know, it doesn't suit me, Frank thought, wishing this girl could be at least a little more subtle. He was already beating himself up about his choice of attire well enough, so he didn't need any help from strangers. "W-well alright, what are you having?" the monkey asked, pen and writing pad coming into her hands. "I'll have the white soup with bean curds," Frank continued, wanting to keep up the façade that he was comfortable and confidant for the remainder of this date, "and my date will have the beef with pepper pickle." The waitress took their menus back and pranced off to the kitchen.

Frank turned back to Mary, who was staring hard at him. Fuck, he thought, realizing what he just said, I just called her my date! Shit, I was just thinking the word and it worked its way in. Mary leaned in her seat, looking at him from all kinds of different angles as sweat began to from beneath his wool. "Where the hell," she began, "did you learn to talk like that?" Frank blinked, not sure how to respond, and started to scan the room without turning his head, as if a good answer might be written on the back of the head of the person sitting behind his date. Again! Shit! "Chinese, I mean," Mary clarified.

It felt like a bubble of tension had been popped. "In college. I minored in communications." Did people have to learn other languages for communications? He had no idea, but it didn't matter right now. Mary wore a doubtful expression to match Frank's thoughts but refrained from commenting. "I never finished college," she said instead. "I studied American history for a year, then dropped." That made Frank's ears perk up. American history? He never would have guessed. "Why did you drop out?" he asked.

"I saw how things were turning," Mary said, absent-mindedly fingering a tuft of fur near her collar. "If I left, I'd be doing stuck with a low-paying job for the rest of my life. Like delivering mail." She smiled in a self-mocking way before continuing. "If I'd stayed, I'd be stuck with a low paying job and a mountain of debt. Even living where I do--We do--I feel like I got off easy. With the three semesters I took, I already had enough trouble. I might not even be here today if I hadn't had help along the way." Still smiling, she threw up the palms of her hands and made a theatrical shrug. "For folks like us, good friends and luck are the only things that keep you alive."

Mary laughed, finding humor in her own struggles, and Frank laughed, too. "I know what you mean," he said. "My job at the warehouse was unbearable until I started hanging out with these two guys, Big and Vic. Ozzy, too, I guess." The dinner rush was starting, causing the noise level in the restaurant to grow from a quiet background hum to a din of overlapping voices as new customers took their seats around the pair. Frank had to speak up to continue. "Can I tell you something embarrassing?"

"Hell, I just gave you something. I'd be mad if you didn't," Mary said loudly, though she had no need. Her voice was deep enough that it was able to resonate clearly in spite of the surrounding clamor. "I've been trying to be more adult," Frank began. "Since I moved out, I figured I had to. I thought that meant being more independent and shit. Everything was a pain in the ass, but that was just what it was like to be an adult. So, then I have you, Sara, Jeb, all coming up and giving me advice and helping me out. I'm beginning to see that you all think I'm still a kid."

Mary made a strange gesture with her hands that was neither a conformation nor a denial. "What I'm trying to get at is," Frank said as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I want you to know that you can come to me if you need help. If I need to rely on others to get through the day, I want it to be a two-way street." Instead of the new respect he was hoping for or the pity he was dreading, a look of confusion crossed Mary's features. "Didn't you help Jeb get the new TV?"

Frank blinked. "What?" he said, incredulous. "Come on, Mary, you know that's not what I meant." The wolf waved away his problems like they were nothing. "I think you don't know that that is what you mean," Mary offered. Then, upon seeing Frank's jaw hanging open, "You ever hear that thing, 'no man is an island'? It's true. If you try to get through life without any help, you're going to find yourself in a hell of your own making before you know it. In this town, at your age, thinking that the self-made man exists is why everyone in the apartment considers you a kid." Propping her jaw up with a hand, she stared meaningfully at Frank. "I'll ask you for shit if I need it. You should ask me, too. I'll take offense if you don't."

"Mary, you're as blunt as a hammer," Frank laughed. The wolf sat up in her seat, face flushing slightly. Had the speech been overkill? Trying to hide her embarrassment with anger, she folded her arms beneath her breasts, keeping her face and voice expressionless. "That's one hell of a thing to say to a woman." She had hoped Frank would be scandalized, tripping over his words in a rush to apologize for upsetting her. Instead, he laughed harder. "Don't worry," he said, staring at her with oblong pupils suspended in sparkling amber. "It's cute." Mary crossed her legs and turned her head with a huff, doing her best to hide her growing blush.

The worst part was that he just kept going. "I appreciate it, too. You're the only one besides Ozzy who talks to me straight, and he's too smart for me to understand half the time. May and Sara treat me like I might break if they're too rough, which I suppose is natural for a therapist, Jeb and Adrianne treat me like they're babysitting me, Ana and Mort are assholes. You're just...good to me. You're the one I feel most comfortable hanging around. Sorry, I hope that's not weird." Frank beamed up at Mary while she fought to suppress a sigh. This kid just said whatever came to him without bothering to think how it might sound.

Mary went back to the pose with her chin propped on a hand, doing her best to make switching back seem cool and confidant instead of fidgety. She needed to get this evening back on track. "Is that right?" she asked with mild interest. "Might be you've just got a thing for girls that are more filled out." Frank coughed into a fist, convincing Mary she was heading in the right direction. "Little thing like Sara, skinny thing like Ana. You might be an herbivore, but I get the feeling that you like meat. Well? Tell me I'm wrong." She did her best to keep face disinterested as Frank reached up and tugged on the collar of his shirt.

Frank fiddled with a button at his throat as he searched for a response. Was she hitting on him? She was obviously hitting on him, so it was okay to say something likewise. No, that might be too forward. He wished he had the opportunity to try this with someone as inexperienced as he was. Still, there was that thing Ana had said. Frank tapped his thigh with a fist three times, then decided to go for it. "I, um, think that you're very..." Pretty? That was too chaste, it would be like turning her down. Hot? That would be too much; this was only their first date. "Attractive. I think you're the best-looking woman in The Homestead." There. He'd said it. Now that it was out, he wanted to go further. "Listen, I know that I'm a lot younger than you, that you think I'm still a kid, but if it's alright with you..." Frank steeled himself for the final sprint, inhaling deeply.

Mary saw what direction this was heading in. She needed to course correct immediately. Only, how could she? The momentum had shifted to Frank once she had flubbed her speech. If she couldn't get it back soon, this night would end with nothing more than a pleasant goodbye. Luckily, Frank was interrupted when the blonde monkey girl showed up again with their food. He said something in Chinese that Mary assumed was a thanks, then settled again, taking another deep breath. "If it's alright with you, would you want to go on another..." he resumed once the waitress went away, going back to fiddling a button with one hand. Why was he even wearing such a nice shirt to a place like this? Ana. Mary had to adjust her hand to hide a predatory smile, saying a silent thanks to her number one wingman.

"Hey, Hale," Mary said when he stopped to take a sip of water. "Why are you really wearing a button-up?" Frank's eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard as he was. Bullseye. "Oh," he began, stammering for an answer. "I thought that it'd be nice to...since I was taking you out and all I--" Mary leaned across the table, putting her face as close to the sheep's as possible. She hated being this direct, but sometimes you needed to spell it out. That was a downside of going after a guy this young. "Did Ana tell you to wear it?" Frank tried to say something, mouth flapping wordlessly for a few seconds, then opted to nod his head. "What else did she tell you?"

Frank had to take a sip of water. This tap water from a Chinese restaurant seemed like pure glacier water when it hit his tongue, that's how dry his mouth had become. Better, it gave him a few precious seconds to consider his answer. "Just that you like Chinese," he managed. Ana hadn't told her that she told him, had she? Mary came even closer, and now Frank could just make out the sensation of her hot breath hitting his face. "Did she tell you that I'd sleep with you if you took me out for a good meal?" A wave of panic hit Frank. He had just taken a drink, and now he felt like he had been crawling through the desert for the better part of a day. He tried to respond, but the only thing that came out was a nervous laughter. He reached out for his glass once again and took a big drink, trying to buy as much time as he could to formulate an answer.

Even as he drank, Frank stared up at the shadow looming over him, the fur around her eyes the color of a forest at midnight. "Did she say that to you?" Her eyes were the color of the trees, cold bark showing up like a ghost through the warm dark of her fur. "Because it's true." Frank choked on his water. "Really?!" he said, voice cracking terribly. Then, more normally, "Really? That's, uh..." There was no use trying to save it. He had sounded like a five-year-old who'd just found out he would be getting an Xbox for his birthday. He made himself continue to look into Mary's eyes, wanting to hold on to whatever miniscule amount of dignity he had left.

Mary stared back, eyes glinting with the extreme predatory intent that only wolves could muster. "Really," she said breathily. Then, she sat back and pick up a pair of chopsticks, breaking them apart easily. "But that's dessert. For now, focus on your dinner." Mary made a show of shifting her attention to the beef in front of her, casting her eyes up to Frank occasionally, to gauge his reaction. He buried his face in his bowl of soup, making quick work of it, though he snuck glances at Mary when he thought she wasn't looking. Even though he went at the soup as though starved for several days, it was a different kind of hunger in his eyes that made Mary smile. The ball was back in her court.

A short while later, it occurred to Frank that giving himself indigestion right before taking a woman to bed might be a bad look, so he slowed his ravenous pace and ordered something with ginger in it when the waitress came to check on them. It was awkward to resume normal conversation after wheat Mary had said, though he managed it after he thought to ask for an update on the world of hockey, which Mary was all too happy to provide. He had never watched any sport regularly, so the wolf had to spend most of dinner getting him caught up, talking of a strong season for the local team, with high hopes to take home the Stanley Cup. "It would be a sure thing if they hadn't traded Martinez," she said around a piece of beef. "The man scores two hat tricks in one game and they just fucking trade him. I have no idea what goes through people's heads. Let me manage a team, I know how to keep a good player."

She then spoke in an animated manner about the games she caught live in her youth, what had originally made her into a fan. Her father's job hadn't been any more glamorous than hers, being a butcher, but things had been cheaper back then, so it was possible for him to take her out to a game as a rare treat. They couldn't afford to go every year, nor could they go far out of state to catch one, reserving the few they could go to for special occasions such as birthdays and graduations. "That's the big goal for right now. I want to get tickets for the both of us for the old man's sixtieth," she digressed. "I'm so glad my mom had no interest in sports. I never would have got to go to a game if she had. Even two tickets and a shirt were pushing it, back then. And my dad would always sneak in his own food. 'Shit at the stands is robbery', he said. I hear it's even worse by you. Aren't hot dogs at Yankee games something like twelve dollars?"

Mary laughed as she reminisced, prompting Frank to share some of the stories from his childhood. He talked of growing up in Wilmington and how strange it was for him to see green grass and clear skies this deep into winter. Mary asked if Frank had ever gone into New York to see that giant tree with the skating rink in front of it, at which point Frank pulled out his phone to show pictures of him and a friend being dwarfed by the glowing pine.

Frank was shocked, not for the first time, how easy it was to talk to the dark furred beauty sitting across from him. He had been worried that the mention of sex would turn him into a ball of stress, blushing and getting flustered every time he caught a glimpse of the forest hazel of her eyes or saw down the collar of her loose-fitting shirt when she leaned forward, but knowing where he stood had actually made it easier to keep his calm. After all, there was no harm in thinking about those kinds of things if that was how Mary wanted to be seen. In time, he stopped think about the sex entirely, focusing on enjoying an evening with a cool older woman.

However, not thinking about what would happen once they got back to his place (or hers, it was the same either way) became harder once they got on the bus. Mary seemed content to stare out the window at the light of the passing stores as if in a daze, simply enjoying the feeling of being full after a good meal, which was good for Frank, because it would have been difficult to focus on conversation at that moment in time. He tried his best to keep his right leg from bouncing with impatience and found himself constantly readjusting his seat. It was impossible to get comfortable. He hadn't had cause to wear this pair of khakis in years, so they barely fit him already before they had mysteriously become tighter sometime during the night.

Closer to the apartment, Frank was all but vibrating with excitement. He ran ahead the last few steps, wanting to hold the door open for his date at least once tonight, then went to stand with her in the entrance. "Alright," Mary said, voice smoldering. "My place or yours?" Frank gestured up the steps to the second floor with a slight bow. "I'd love to have you over." He and Mary shared a giggle, then the wolf started up the stairs. Frank had a hoof on the first step when a voice from behind called out to him. "Hale, you got a minute?"

Frank looked over his shoulder to see Mort approaching. Not wanting to rekindle a feud that had just ended, he turned around with what was supposed to be a smile, though it came out more like a grimace. "Hey, man. I'm actually a bit busy right now, so maybe we can do this later?" Frank struggled to maintain even his poor facsimile of a smile when Mort said that he would only take a minute of Frank's time. With a furtive glance up the stairs at Mary's shrinking back, Frank turned fully around to face Mort. "Fine, if it's quick." If Frank had heels, he would be bouncing on them.

Mort stuck his hands in his pockets, and if Frank hadn't known the man, he would have described the expression he wore as bashful. "I hear that you're looking to buy a table." It was true, Frank had finally saved up enough for basic furniture, though he had no way to go about buying it. He had no car of his own and Jeb had been and would be busy for a while, so he couldn't use his truck to pick up the table either. "Yes," said Frank, now curious what this was about. "What of it?"

Mort took a hand out of his pocket and rubbed at the back of his neck, head towards the floor. "If you want, I could help you with that. Jeb doesn't need to haul anything tomorrow and I'm taking off from work early, so, if I give him my car, you and I could take his truck down to the pawn shop and pick up that table." Mort sounded oddly humbled, almost like he was apologizing. Could that be what this was? Could Adrianne have convinced the man to let go of the hostility he held towards Frank? Frank wanted to tell Mort know how happy he was that they could finally put start talking to each other like adults, how glad he was that Mort and his wife had been willing to forgive him for saying such terrible things, how he would be more than willing to extend the same help Mort was offering now if either he or Adrianne ever needed it. However, Frank had somewhere to be right now, so he settled with, "Sounds good!", then waved and turned back to the stairs.

The sheep came to an abrupt stop on the first step again when Mort called out once more. Frank's patience was seriously wearing thin, but he still faced the older man, asking in as polite a tone as possible what, exactly, Mort felt was pressing enough to keep him there. Mort's tone became serious as he came in close, speaking softly into Frank's ear. "Frank, are you...safe?" Frank blinked; confusion was written plainly on his face. "What do you mean?" the sheep asked nervously.

Mort drew back slightly, lips pressed tight together. "Be serious," he said, "I'm asking if you have anything to protect yourself." Frank continued to stare in obvious befuddlement. Was there something he needed protection from? Growing anxious, Frank eyes shifted from Mort to the top of the stairs and back, trying to figure out if he should be worried. "Oh, for God's sake," Mort whined, taking a leather wallet from a back pocket and rummaging around amid the folded papers. "Here."

Mort tossed two shining, golden objects at Frank, which he caught in one hand. Frank's eyes widened as he stared at the foil covered items that rested in the center of his palm. Condoms! He had totally forgotten! At that moment, he could have hugged the polecat. Instead, he placed his free hand on the other man's shoulder, staring him dead in the eye. "You're a good man, Morton Short. Never let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Yeah, cool." If Mort rolled his eyes any harder, they would unscrew from their sockets "Go fuck your girlfriend." Frank clenched his fist tightly around the two golden treasures Mort had gifted him. "I will!" he said, voice resounding with determination. Mort watched the little sheep rush up the steps, marching with the look of a general off to claim final victory in his greatest battle. He shook his head as he went back to his room, muttering under his breath. "What a freak."