FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The sun felt nice. Its warm orange blazing light ran their tender fingers through the darker brown fur that coated the older german shepard. In his left hand, clutched loosely was a cigarette, in his right, one of those new fangled smartphones the young cubs liked to tell him he needed. As funny as the thing was, he couldn't help but marvel at its usefulness. The fact he could call his grand nieces and nephews at a moment's notice, provided they wanted to listen to an old dog like him, well that was quite a new experience for him. To think, all of this technology had become so much more advanced in such a short time, when all they had before was payphones and landlines. Had someone told him he would be alive long enough to see the black and white movies turn into full motion pictures with color and amazing, what did they call it? 'Ceegeeiee?'

Well. he would have called them a fool right to their face.

All this in his lifetime.

All of the progress he had come to see, from cars only going forty miles per hour, all the way up to one sixty. From doctors barely being able to keep someone alive and locking women away for being 'hysterical' to growing new organs and advocating for mental health in all species and genders.

The old dog appreciated it. Not only appreciated it, but welcomed it. Welcome the change. Had it changed when the cat was around, he was sure the man would still be around today.

But such was life.

The good die young, and the men like him lasted far longer than his expiration date would allow.

The old man looked across the park, seeing the dozens of young couples making their rounds, following the old paths that he, himself, had walked on once before. Kids running around both with their smartphones, and their imaginations, playing games he couldn't even begin to understand.

A newer couple came around. A Great Dane, and an otter. Both men were staring into each other's eyes lovingly, paw in paw until they saw him looking.

Then they separated, no doubt expecting to hear the old relic tell them what they were doing was wrong. That it was some sort of sin.

So he shook his head and gave them his best cocky grin.

"Don't stop on my account, I may be old, but love is love."

The old shepard hated how old his voice sounded. It crackled like a fireplace, rough from the day of disuse. It didn't help that he knew that he would be finding himself in a grave not too long from now.

Dogs had a funny way of knowing those sorts of things. They knew when their life was coming to an end, so they'd often separate from family. Spending much more time on their own, going days without eating just to make their separation from this life easier. He knew in his bones that he would be dying soon.

It didn't scare him in the slightest. He almost welcomed it.

That made the otter stop for a moment, a bemused expression crossing his handsome features. A full head shorter than his great dane, the otter seemed to be the one who took the brunt for them both. Had that sort of challenging look in his eyes. The sort that told the old german shepard that, if he had given them any trouble, he would have gotten quite the ear full. And with his old ears, as shot as his ability to listen was, he would have heard it all.

"Riiight, you're telling me you think us being together is fine. You're not gonna tell us we're headed straight to hell, are you?"

He asked, approaching the older shepard, much to the chagrin of his Dane. The taller of the pair, he looked like he was asking the earth to reach up and pull him under.

"Not at all. These days, people are a lot more accepting of it. I think it's nice you two found each other. I know it wasn't so easy for me when I was younger."

The Dane seemed to relax at that, approaching the older man too.

"You're gay?"

He asked, a little bit of awe on his face. The german shepard half had to expect that the dane thought most older gay men were flamboyant. Making up for the lost time, the time they didn't have to be so open, but he was a quiet sort. Keeping most of his cards close to his withered chest. Maybe if things had been different before. Maybe if things had been more open, more accepting, he would have been happy to show off himself and his husband to the world. As things were now, it was too late for that. Too late for him.

Can't teach an old dog new tricks after all.

"Pah, Labels. We knew what we liked back then, and all I liked was men. So I suppose you're right on the money with that one."

The otter chuckled and took a seat on the old bench next to the old man, as did the Great Dane, though he did keep a respectful distance from him.

"So where is he now? Can't imagine he'd want to leave such a handsome man on his own."

The otter said, giving him one of those unmistakable flirtatious grins. Bless him for trying to make an old man's day just a little better. Maybe a few years back, he would have entertained the idea. Back when he was still that same strapping young man that could lift dozens of bags of concrete and work for hours on end.

But those days were long gone. All that was left was an old shepard who could barely walk without a cane.

"Ah, he passed on a few years back."

He let the words hang in the air like the stone they were. Letting them drift through the air, through the sunlit park, into the quickly darkening sky.

"Men like him don't last forever. He was a fire starter, but he burned himself out a little too soon."

The otter fell silent then, slumping into himself at the news.

The great dane though, undeterred by the sudden shift in tone, spoke up.

"What was he like? How did you two meet?"

He supposed he could tell the story one last time. Leave it with the pair of them. He had the distinct feeling that this would be the last story he would ever tell, and he was more than glad to tell him about Faust De Monte. The Chat Noir.

"Introductions are in order, Kiddo. Call me Arthur Brooker. You two are?"

"Sam and Chase."

The old man nodded his head and greeted them both with a hearty smile and an even heartier hand shake.

"Well, Sammy, Chase. Our story is a little raunchy here and there. Filled with laughter and pain. The duality of life. I suspect you're starting to understand how that is."

Chase, the otter, nodded, and motioned for the old man to tell the tale of who he was. So, with a quick drag of his cancer stick, and a sip from his old canteen, the man cleared his throat, and began his tale:

Faust was a lounge singer. A Spanish Frenchman. A man who knew how to attract attention just by his way of being. The way he moved around the old bar he used to work at, the Wise Fox Lounge, was nothing short but art in itself. When he sang, the whole world would quiet down just to listen to him. The very earth itself would pause when he let out that first note of Moonlight Serenade. The air itself would long for his voice long after he let out the final few stanzas of each verse, waiting with baited breath.

Arthur, or Artie as he was known as back then, was one of these baited breaths. After work, after spending the day wandering the streets of middle town, he would stop by the lounge just to catch a glimpse of the man.

He, in his ever romantic style, would call it love at first sight, but that's not what their relationship was.

It wasn't love at first. Lust was the better way to describe their way of being back then.

Course, that lust had always been a sticking point for some of the men that frequented that particular bar.

They didn't come for the soft dulcet tones of the cat, they came for the singer after him. The songstress, a Vixen with a body that made all of the boys, say for him and a couple of his peers, crazy.

Often, he would find them talking smack about the cat, as if they knew him, as if they understood him like he believed he did.

As foolish as the old man now knew that was.

No one knew they cat. No one really did until he told them, until he spoke to them, then they would realize that he wasn't there just to provide the eye candy. He was there because he loved the stage, and knew that one day he would strike it rich. Would sign himself onto a record label and that would be that.

He'd get out of Middletown after that, and would become a household name. He just needed his lucky break.

And Artie would go with him. God willing.

It was a night like any other when the German Shepherd finally had a chance to speak with the cat. Just after one of his sets, the cat made his way off stage, veering directly to the bar, where Artie sat with his own cold gin and tonic in his hand, sipping away the stress of work.

"This seat taken?"

The cat had asked. His voice low, but still audible over the rather uncomfortably high pitched singing of the vixen on stage.

"All yours."

His reply came, though not without a bit of effort. Artie had never really been in the presence of this cat, had never had a drink with him, and now, being here. Well the young man was over the damn moon with excitement.

"Thank you, Cariño."

The cat's voice was elegant, a spanish accent playing through each and every vowel, something that couldn't be heard when he was singing. Something that made the dog smile in spite of the rather long and tough day he had faced.

Faust was the first one, of course, to show interest in him. As far as the shepherd had been concerned, he was a rather plain man. Stocky of build, strong from the decades spent working with the tools of his trade, and the days spent in the sun, but beauty was in the eye of the beholder.

And the cat treated him as if he was the finest piece of art. Looking him up and down, taking in the sight of the brown furred gentleman next to him with an appreciative look.

To the canine's surprise, the cat was interested in him. And the dog made no effort to hide that he was just as keen to try him out.

So, he took his cue, setting the tonic on the bar, leaning over to the cat with the sexiest voice he could muster.

"I may be a little forward, but would you wanna slip out of here. Got an apartment not too far from here."

He could feel his heart in his lungs as those words left his muzzle. He knew that this was asking a bit much. They hadn't even known each other's names, and yet here he was, asking to take him home for the evening.

It did take the cat a moment to respond. Then two, then long enough for the dog's throat to constrict with worry, and no little bit of fear, but then, like the first drops of water on a hot summer's day, or the first rays of sun in the morning, the cat spoke. His tone, playful and inviting.

"Forward is putting it lightly. I don't even know your name. Though I do know your face. I have seen you here a few times. I half expected you to be more interested in the vixen."

He purred, his voice teasing.

Even now, in the park, with these two strange fellows hanging onto his every word with no unhidden interest, he could still remember how those words pulled at his heart strings, how they made his entire body feel electric.

"Not me. Those boys can have her. I got my eyes set on something much more lovely. Names Artie Brooker."

Arthur had leaned forward then. Their heads but a breath away from one another, so close he could smell that unmistakable musk that was the scent of the cat. The one that came with his natural musk, the one that was as unique as each and every man he met in his life. Though it had never smelt quite as sweet.

"Faust De Monte." the cat replied, breathlessly.

As he took the scent in, the cat made no effort to hide the purr that left his throat, showing the dog that he was enjoying the affections.

So Artie moved in for the kill.

He kissed the cat's neck, as privately as he could, nipping at it gently.

It was a sweet, delicious, feeling, and as he moved his lips back to the cat's, their lips met with a gentle passion. The kiss, light as it was, had set the young dog's blood aflame.

Then the cat's hands moved, slipping under his shirt, claws coming out to dig gently into his back, tickling at his fur, giving him the most pleasant of shivers.

It was all the dog could do to stop himself from tearing each and every sliver of that nice suit the cat wore off his body. Though he half expected the cat would enjoy the idea of being rutted in public.

Something they had done only once, but that was a story for another time.

Artie paid for their drinks, and left a generous tip for the tender, before guiding his conquest out into the cold Autumn night. The leaves framing their new found lust in that perfect haze of yellows and reds and oranges, one that mimicked the fire in their hearts.

As they made their way to his apartment, their wonderfully inexperienced hands wandering underneath their clothes, feeling the fur and the quickly hardening muscle under their pants, they found their way into the young shepard's apartment, barely making it through the door before the cat started stripping the man's shirt off. Moving to the beat of the music his neighbor, a musician, was playing through his open window.

It was almost a dance between them. A carnal, instinctual thing. One that suited the dog much better than any of his other dalliances.

The cat's lips brushed against his, only parting when the dog showed a bit of the force, of the strength written clearly across his body. Though he knew the cat was the one truly incharge of this. Any moment, anything the cat didn't like and this dream, this encounter would suddenly be over.

And, more than anything, he didn't want this to end.

The man explored the singer's maw, tasing each and every inch, finding those delightfully sinful flavors of booze and cheap cigarettes even more enchanting. Each of their breaths coming out in a panting, moaning flurry of passion. His strong, well calloused hands wrapping themselves around the cat's wonderfully trim waistline. Fingers dipping into the bony structure, before moving further down, cupping that wonderfully plump ass. Wandering slowly but surely to the base of the man's thick cat-like tail. Teasing the treasure that lay underneath the satin fabric.

He could feel the cat's hands wander down his chest, not bothering to unbutton the cheap shirt the man had spared no effort to try to fix, feeling those rough muscles of a man who had not known a day behind a desk, wandering and cupping his pecs, before teasing his nipples with his claws.

It was perfection, in the dog's mind. This feeling of wanting and being wanted in return. However fleeting it was.

Soon, they found themselves on the floor, fallen on the ground with their legs intertwined in a lovely embrace.

With a skillful hand, the cat had unbuttoned the man's trousers, taking a moment to lean back, and seat himself firmly on the man's torso. Purring at the sight of the prone man, his lovely brown fur. Every single inch available to him to explore. Every single inch he feels. For his hands to roam.

Though the broken kiss made Artie whine, he could only admire the singer, who was hard at work, ripping off his expensive shirt, as if it were made of tissue paper, already unbuttoning his own pants. Tail lashing behind him, waving like a flag.

His body was just as magnificent as he had always imagined. All his to explore. All his to burn into his memory as the night he had finally conquered the man he had been drawn to for months.

In the neon-lit apartment, the shepard's eyes fell down to the man's erect cock. His sheath pulled back to reveal that dark flesh, head sparkling with precum. Ready and waiting for release.

If there was one thing Artie was proud of in that moment, it would be how quickly he had affected the cat. How quickly the man had gone from proud and almost regal into this moaning mess on top of him.

This was a night he wanted the cat to remember. He wanted his name to be the only thing the cat could say. So, he pulled the cat closer, dragging him until the tip of the man's surprisingly thick and long cock was at his maw, pressed between his sizable pecs.

Moaning in surprise, the cat wasted no time in grinding his shaft between them, thrusting carefully, cautiously between them, letting the man take in his tip. The dog's tongue swirling around it, catching each and every falling bead of that wondrous viscous fluid. The salty sweet flavors leaving him wanting more. Craving more.

There would never be enough of this cat for him. He wanted every single inch to call his own.

"Artie.."

The cat breathed, rocking his hips back and forth, tensing. Barely able to breathe more than just his name.

"Not yet, Come on now, you can last a little longer than that."

Artie asserted. Removing his paws from his waistline. Taking that same cock in one paw, pumping it up and down, letting the cat shiver into him, clutch at his arms in an attempt to get him to stop.

He didn't.

He picked up his speed, lathering the cock, letting the gleaming piece of flesh know no rest, turning his attention on the man's full balls, running his tongue up and down the dark fur, before giving them a soft bite.

The flavor of the cat was clear in his mind as he took them both into his maw, nose buried in them, hand trailing down those well muscled thighs that wrapped themselves around his head.

This was intoxication at its finest. To be lost in someone else. To know nothing else but the taste of this cat, to hear nothing else but the needy whines coming from the man above him. One of the finest musical pieces he had ever heard, one of the finest scents he had ever bothered to remember. Leagues better than his own.

The cat's hips moved a bit more forcefully, fucking his hand, before breaking free of the grip, redlining himself with the dog's open muzzle, shoving the beautiful cock further and further into his maw, before rocking his head back, tensing, letting the flood of cat fill his muzzle. Bucking further and deeper into the man's throat, coating it in that sweet liquid he craved.

That shuddering release left the cat limp above him, sitting back down on his chest, gently. Letting out those panting moans, those soft whines, everything that had drawn him to him in the first place.

Then the cat turned glanced back, and saw the dog's own erection, standing fully at attention, beads of his own pre-cum running down like a river.

The cat blanched, a hard task to accomplish when his fur was as midnight black as it was.

"You're massive!"

He yelped, forgetting his own orgasm and the wonderful bliss that came after it. Artie could feel those soft hands wrap themselves around his member, claws careful to avoid digging themselves into the fragile flesh.

Before the dog could respond, the cat attacked it with his own muzzle, taking it deep into it. That sandpaper-esque quality of his tongue making the dog squirm in pleasure. Seeing the difference in size, he could tell that he was about as thick as the cat's forearm, and just as long. There was simply no way the cat could take it, let alone the baseball sized knot forming at the base of it.

The cat had different plans however, as he went to work, hands and muzzle moving together in harmony.

The dog was well versed in the ways of blowjobs, and it was obvious that the cat knew just about everything there was to know. The speed at which he worked, the way his tongue rolled and lapped, his lips sucking at the head, moaning softly into it.

The way the cat worked his hands. Moving them up and down the thick length, cupping his balls, rubbing them as if he were cradling jewels.

There was no chance the dog would last long under such an assault. But before he could coat the cat in his own seed, the man pulled away, purring loudly. Letting his tongue loll out on the side of his muzzle. Transfixed on the one thing he needed tonight.

"Let's go to your bed."

The dog didn't need to be told twice, as he kicked himself up onto his feet, swooping the cat off his feet with the ease that he would any bundle of concrete, shoving the open door to the hall closed with a foot.

He knew there were some neighbors that would complain about their little performance, but the dog didn't care. Too far lost in his lust to even consider the ramifications that antics would bring.

Artie charged into the apartment, kissing the cat all the while, letting their lips do all the talking where their voices couldn't.

The bedroom was cold, and quiet. Clean. As he expected from himself.

Wordlessly, he tossed the cat onto the bed, grabbing the KY jelly from the nightstand nearby, slathering his length in it with generous portion after generous portion until it shone. Then he tossed the container to the cat, who wasted no time in applying a generous portion to himself.

The dog watched, appreciating the erotic display in front of him.

The completely bare care positioned himself so the dog could see every movement, every flick of the finger as he dug further and further into himself, one finger sliding in with practiced ease, each movement making the cat arch his back. Before adding another, and then a third. Stretching himself solely for the dog's benefit.

The dog rubbed his own tool, feeling the coursing pleasure rush its way up his spine, threatening to pull him closer and closer to release from the sheer excitement.

He wanted this cat. He wanted to be buried deep in him for hours, if he could.

Though it didn't take long for the man to finish preparing himself. With one final kiss, the man moved himself over to Artie. Climbing into the dog's lap, letting the head of the dog's member rest gently at his entrance.

The cat paused then, leaning up, kissing the dog, whispering into his ear.

"I want you to fuck me as hard as you can."

The dog felt himself freeze. He wanted nothing more than to comply.

He felt his tip linger at the waiting entrance, clutching the cat into himself, standing to carry the cat, rather than pin him down.

There would be plenty of time for that later.

Now though, he pressed his head into him, hearing the cat let out a sweet, sweet grunt of exertion as he broke through into him.

"Thicker than you expected?"

The dog asked, whispering in the cat's ear as he moved down to take his neck into his maw, nibbling down it, scraping his teeth against one of the cat's most vulnerable locations.

"Very much so."

The cat giggled nervously.

"Good."

Then he let another inch sink it, stretching this beautiful man onto his cock, letting gravity do most of the work. The cat's hands flailed around his body, up and down they went, looking for a place of purchase, but the dog would show this cat no quarter. The man had wanted him to fuck him as roughly as he could, and he was never one to disappoint.

Further and further the cat fell, each inch opening him, stretching him until he was at his very limit. Thankfully that limit was right at the inflated knot, where he sat cleanly. A bulge forming in his stomach.

"Will you look at that? You almost took all of it."

The dog breathed.

The cat looked down, in utter shock. His mouth opened wide in both awe, and pleasure. Something that left the dog with his own cocky expression.

Then, without warning, he moved up, letting himself hit the bottom, before sinking down on his cock again. The cat groaned, loudly, the sound reverberating around the dog's apartment.

That wonderful tightness wrapped around his cock, squeezing him with an almost painful force, but the dog didn't mind. This was too much pleasure for him to worry about that.

The cat went to move up again, but the dog moved his hands, holding the cat at the base, making it clear that he was going nowhere without him.

Something that made the cat's tail start lashing again. There was no doubt in Artie's mind that he was fully in control now. For now, of course. It was a simple part of the game. Taking and giving, budging an inch forward and an inch back.

Still, he had a job to do, and he was ever the workman.

So he lifted the cat, sliding each and every delicate inch out of him, until he slammed the man down again, that same groan filling the apartment.

Again and again he lifted and slammed. The cat's moaning became louder and more desperate with each passing moment, as the dog gave into his instincts, as he let the very thing that had kept him alive for so long take over, let the primal drive for pleasure take him.

The cat's cock was dripping by the time the dog's hips hit the cat's thighs, his hands clenching at the dog's own chest, claws running down his pecs, appreciating them for what they were, maddingly teasing at his nipples.

The dog made no effort to stop the man. In fact, he was very much enjoying it. Feeling each and every brush of the cat's rough paws at his chest, feeling them dance around his nipples. It was a beautiful torture that the cat could use to his heart's content.

He took that as his cue, to slam down into the man again. This time though, he moved a paw, wrapping it around the cat's neglected member, stroking him with every thrust, as hard and as fast as he could.

The slick member was a feeling he wouldn't forget soon. That soft flesh against the back of his paw, the fur catching against his paw pads. The way it throbbed with each and every thrust.

He felt it pulse under his palm, before the cat cried out, bucking, shooting that wondrous seed over the dog's hand and chest. Coating the fur with a light sheen of white fluid that burned like fire against the cold.

The cat slumped back, going limp around him, allowing the dog to move at a much faster pace.

There was nothing left to do but fuck. To allow himself to take pleasure in this cat.

He forced himself deeper and deeper with each thrust, forgetting about the man's moaning, only listening to his own moans, his own pleasures, forcing the cat open wider and wider.

Soon, but not too soon, the dog felt his own climax coming. So he pulled the cat ever closer, pulling him tight against his rough chest, forcing his knot to stretch the man's entrance, slapping against it over and over again, the sounds echoing throughout the apartment, almost in tune with the musician's own performance.

That poor abused hole was no match against the dog's strength as finally, it relented, allowing the thick cock to enter the man's ass, a lewd popping sound, and a long, high pitched yowl filling his ears as finally, he coated the man's insides with his own seed, pumping more and more into him until he was sure the cat would burst.

Thick drops of seed slowly escaped the tight seal formed by the knot, falling onto the floor as he kept rocking his hips, reaching ever deeper into the cat until finally, he felt satisfied in his work.

He had bred the cat, and had left him absolutely breathless. Carrying the man to bed in his arms, lying down carefully, as to not cause either of them any discomfort.

The man's silent sobs wracked against his chest as he finally came back to his senses.

Had he been too rough? Had he caused too much pain?

Fear gripped him as he turned to look at his new lover, who only seemed to be smiling.

"Was this a good performance?"

Was all he could ask between heaving sobs.

"You did perfectly."

Was all the dog could say in return. Something the cat seemed to repeat to himself over and over again until finally, he rested plainly on the man's chest.

The next morning almost felt like a dream to the dog as the lingering clouds of pleasure still followed his waking dream. He could still feel the climax being drawn out of him, until he opened his eyes and saw the cat with his muzzle wrapped around the man's length, watching him as he woke up to the sight.

As soon as he opened his eyes, the cat doubled down, forcing yet another climax out of the dog, who couldn't do a thing but let it happen.

A sign that the last night's transgressions were not only appreciated, but expected of him.

Once his orgasm died down, the cat pulled off his length and licked his lips, giving him that same stunning smile he gave after each and every performance.

The rest of the morning was spent in his apartment, Artie cooking the cat up a meal, eggs and bacon and toast, filled with chatter about their lives, how they had spent each and every day of it. Soon, it felt like they weren't just a one night fling, but old friends who had spent years without each other. The ease of conversation, the way it flowed from topic to topic was a comfort that the dog hadn't known with any of his friends or family or even past lovers.

This cat was something else entirely. A man who knew his soul, and he knew him in return.

It almost felt like no time passed at all, before the old Shepard had to report in for work. The cat had to do the same not long after. So they parted with a single kiss, before returning to their own lives.

Though their lives were now inexplicably intertwined. The dog would go and watch the man perform every night he had the opportunity, and would take him home almost immediately after every performance.

They would spend weeks together, going on dates, finding solace in each other as time went on. It wasn't too terribly long before the dog had realized he had fallen in love with the cat, and the cat had, in turn, fallen in love with him.

And Artie had proposed to him at a particularly lovely restaurant. It was a long and arduous process, one that involved the shepherd spending an entire paycheck on the ring, but he didn't mind at all. He would have done much more for the man he loved.

It was the happiest time of his life, and he made sure to spend it with the cat at every moment he could.

As the pair of virtual strangers stared at the dog, the first one to speak was Chase. Who seemed to know what would happen next.

This tale didn't have a happy ending.

"So, what happened to him?"

The man managed, after a moment. Taking in each and every aspect of the dog's story. To which, Artie simply gave a sad smile.

"What happens to men who have the world at their fingertips, but no way to hold on?

Faust was a man who never wanted the help of others. Had only ever wanted to be seen as the glowing onyx he was. Which meant that anything that came after our nights, after his performances were things he kept mostly to himself. Even after he accepted my proposal, after we had moved in together and spent many long years with each other, he still hid something from me. The fact that he was dying."

Sam let out a pained gasp, grabbing at the otter's hands with his own, pulling them tight against his chest.

"He had cancer. Back then, there really wasn't much that could be done. The day I found out was when I found him passed out next to the toilet. I rushed him to the hospital, and made sure he had the best care a guy like me could afford, which honestly wasn't much back then. Wasn't much more than to make him comfortable.

Spent weeks in that same hospital room. Honestly, I was so fucking angry at him for keeping it from me, but what else could I expect from the man who held the world at his fingertips? To me, he was royalty. To me, he was as close to heaven as I could ever get, but life sure has a funny way of bringing those types of people down.

He passed away a month later. Surrounded by the people we loved, holding onto my hand as tightly as he could until he finally went to the big stage in the sky. Can't say I blame him, not even now. The treatments back then would have stripped him of his voice, taken everything he had worked for.

In the end, he was a flame that burned out just a little too quickly, and I was left to pick up the pieces of kindling.

I still think of him fondly now, and I like to think he still watches over me, singing that same old song that I still listen to.

Do you want to see a picture of him?"

The pair of men nodded eagerly, so he showed them, on his phone, a picture of his beautiful cat in the middle of one of his last performances. The wonderful look of lust for life painted plainly on his handsome features.

"He was beautiful."

"That he was, Kid. So, remember to treasure those people you love. You have no idea how long you have left with them. My own punch cards are coming up soon though. Think I'm gonna go watch him perform again."

With that, the old man lifted himself from the bench, retrieving his cane from it, before toddling off. Giving the pair of them something to remember him by. The canteen he had owned, and the lighter he had gotten as a christmas gift from his beloved Faust.

He wouldn't need them where he was going, because he was going to see his cat again.

But until then, Alone again, Naturally.