FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

In the Cottage Hill neighborhood of Port City, between the clubs, the beaches, and the twice-annual parties at McMinaver's house, there were plenty of places for gay fellows, young and old, tall and short, skinny and stocky, to relax their inhibitions and let their tails down (or up). But by common consensus, there was really only one place to gather the next morning to hear the stories of debauchery, infidelity, blossoming romance, and delightful awkwardness, and that was The Morning After, where Bloody Marys led the breakfast menu along with the owner's special hangover remedy. Open at six am for the working population, even on weekends, The Morning After really buzzed around ten am on Saturdays and Sundays.

Buzzing it was on a bright spring Sunday morning, the haze of exhaust and crowd-scent thick in the air, as Gilliam the ferret sat by one of the windows with a mimosa, keeping an eye on the door. The old-fashioned clock behind the coffee counter had ticked past ten o'clock not five minutes ago. Gilliam tipped the small highball glass to his lips, inhaling orange juice and champagne before letting the sweet, acidic drink roll over his tongue. The café buzzed with low-level conversation punctuated with shushes and glances, and several glances lingered on Gilliam, alone at his four-seat table. But he showed no interest in any words he might overhear.

The door jingled, opening to admit a fox dressed in a loose silk shirt and white slacks, walking just ahead of a shorter pronghorn wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a design of two unicorns humping under a rainbow. They only glanced Gilliam's way once, but headed right for his table and took two of the three empty seats, continuing their conversation.

"Maybe you'll be lucky," the fox said. "Hi, Gilliam."

"It's not a no parking zone on Sundays." The pronghorn sat across from Gilliam and waved, but didn't look away from the fox.

"The sign doesn't say it isn't."

"We park there every Sunday."

The fox held up a paw. "We park on the other side of the driveway. There the sign says, 'Except Sundays.'"

Gilliam grinned. "Hey guys."

Victor, the pronghorn, turned to him. "Is West Vine restricted on Sundays?"

The ferret held up his paws. "I walk here. I haven't driven around here in months."

Martique, the fox, smiled widely. "It doesn't matter. We can afford the ticket. How did you enjoy the Masked Balling?"

"Not much balling," Gilliam said. "Some groping. They threw out Kell and Mack for getting too hot and heavy."

"Serves them right for not using the chair," Martique said.

Victor grinned at Gilliam. "I heard the chair was occupied most of the night."

Gilliam didn't answer, and Martique was signaling a waiter, so he didn't notice and kept talking. "Still can't believe Mack still gets people to make out with him." A zebra came over to take their order, and the fox said, "Mimosa here, and Bloody Mary there." He indicated Victor's place.

When she'd gone, Victor said, "I missed it. Was it a good show?"

"Not really," Gilliam said. "I think Mack's pants got undone, but not much beyond that. They have cameras all over."

"That's why I don't drink at the Basement," Martique said.

"The bartender makes a great Cosmo." Victor leaned forward. He eyed the empty chair. "Your little friend coming?"

"If he's feeling up to it." Martique laughed. "I think I saw him staggering back to the bar at 1 am."

"There were a lot of people holding him up," Gilliam said.

"Not you?" Victor raised an eyebrow, bunching the fur under his horn. "I'm sure you weren't drunk."

"I took him home."

The pronghorn leaned in. "And tucked him in?"

Gilliam looked away from Victor and found Martique, with a similarly probing expression. He looked down and arranged his silverware. "I just walked him to his building. I'm not Martique."

Martique chuckled. "Few people are, dear. But you could come closer."

"Anyway," Gilliam said quickly, "he texted and said he's on his way."

"I'm interested to know how far he went." Martique rubbed his chin.

"Careful," Victor said. "The fox has someone new to live vicariously through."

"Oh, really," Martique said, "if I told you I wanted to put on a mask and let strangers grope me all evening, you'd let me."

"Only if I could take pictures."

Martique leaned over to Gilliam, stage-whispering. "And he'd chase away anyone he found unsuitable."

"Because if I went by your standard of 'unsuitable,' there wouldn't be enough people in the club."

The fox shook his head and grinned. "What does that even mean?"

"You know what I mean," Victor said.

"What? That I'm a slut?"

"You said it, not me."

"Takes one to know one," Martique said, and leaned over toward Victor. The pronghorn grinned and met his muzzle with a short kiss.

"Christ, you two," Gilliam said. "Have you set a date yet?"

"A month after Dad's funeral." Martique leaned back into his chair. "What about you? Did you grope your new little find along with everyone else last night?"

"Or did you just--" Victor cut himself off as the zebra returned with their drinks. "Should we order, or wait for him?"

"He said he's not hungry." Gilliam picked up the menu. "Banana pecan pancakes, side of bacon."

"Blueberry pancakes," Martique said. "Side of sausage."

"Veggie potato hash, granola on the side, no yogurt." Victor handed the menu back to the zebra and then turned to Martique. "You sure you should have pancakes?"

"I'm giving you half of them." The fox flicked his ears back. "They're not that fattening."

"You're not giving me half the sausages."

"My metabolism is not slowing down." Martique turned to Gilliam. "I'm up five pounds or something from last month, and he wants to put me on a veggie diet."

"We could share more food."

"Yes, darling," Martique said, baring his teeth, "but I like meat."

"Do you like it enough to go to the gym twice a week?"

"Look." Martique pulled his shirt up, revealing a russet-and-white side to Gilliam. "Do I need to work out?"

The ferret thought that maybe Martique's stomach did extend a little farther out than he remembered, but considering the last time he'd seen Martique shirtless was the previous fall, he didn't know if that meant anything. Both the fox and pronghorn were staring at him, and fortunately at that moment the door jingled again and Gilliam was saved.

"Oh, there's Sy," he said, and waved.

Martique let his shirt fall and said, in a low voice, "Alcohol has more calories than meat."

"Yes," Victor said, "but I'm not thirty yet."

"By a month."

The young arctic fox slid into the fourth seat, sweeping his tail around to the side. He held his phone in front of him, texting quickly, and the other three waited until he put his phone down. "Sorry," he said, thumbs flying, "Jake just got up."

Martique and Victor looked at Gilliam, who said, "Red panda from Pelagia. Sy's got a thing for him."

"Shut up, I do not," the white fox said, still texting. "I've just been chatting with him online forever."

"Since before he moved out here," Gilliam said.

"Since before who moved out here?" Martique asked.

"Me," Sy said. "Jake came out here for college at Port City U." He turned off his phone and set it on the table.

"So was he there last night?" Gilliam kept his tone light, though he couldn't stop his tail from twitching.

"He said he was going be. He's being all coy about it now, though." The arctic fox's short muzzle wore a grin. "Pretty sure he was there, though. There was this one guy who, uh..."

"Only one?" Martique said. "Tch. Slow night."

"Not everyone's a slut." Victor sipped his Bloody Mary. "Let the boy tell his story. It sounds more interesting than ours."

"You guys have had enough interesting stories for a life." Gilliam grinned. "You're entitled to a few dull parties."

"Whereas you, dear ferret, could use a spark." Martique waved a black paw. "But we'll worry about that later. So Sy, this mysterious stranger?"

"Yeah." The arctic fox lowered his voice. "I had on this mask, a red devil, and I heard that if you lie across the armchair in the TV Room, it's an invitation..."

"Of course." Victor pulled a celery stick out of his drink, dripping tomato juice, and chewed on it. "For years. That's the corner the cameras don't cover. Only now you have to keep your clothes on."

"You always had to." Martique flicked his ears away from the crunching. "Only sometimes Paolo would let it slide if he was bouncing."

"Oh, right. I forgot him."

"You would."

"Well, I never blew him."

The fox and pronghorn stared at each other, and then Martique grinned. "Your loss. Go on, dear."

"So anyway, um." Sy looked at Gilliam for an encouraging smile, and got one. "I was kinda scared, but Gill said it'd be fine, and then I texted Jake and he said hell yeah, so I had another drink and just lay back on the chair and looked at the ceiling."

"You looked good in those tight leather shorts," Gilliam said.

"For sure." Victor finished his celery stick and grinned.

Sy looked back and forth. His ears folded back and he widened his eyes, just a touch theatrically. "Oh, you guys all saw me?"

Martique leaned forward, black ears perked. "My dear, when you have a twenty-one-year-old body and immaculately groomed soft white fur, and you go to a club wearing black leather shorts and a black t-shirt and a red devil mask, you are insulted when someone does not see you. Yes, we all saw you, gorgeous little thing, and you know it. Go on. How long did it take for the first paws, and were they on the t-shirt or shorts?"

The arctic fox did not hide his grin well. "About thirty seconds, I think. T-shirt first."

"Nice paws?"

"Pretty nice, yeah." Sy picked up his phone as it buzzed. "They touched the shorts pretty fast."

"Course they would," Victor said. "Back or front?"

Sy tapped into his phone, apparently engaged with the message, but Gilliam saw the arctic fox's eyes flick over in his direction. "Front," Sy said, his voice low. "They got a good feel, too."

Gilliam looked down at his silverware, trying not to imagine someone else's paws running over Sy's lithe body, cupping the sheath, squeezing it...

"So was that your boy Jake?" Martique asked.

"I don't think so." Sy flicked his ears and grinned.

"But you enjoyed it?"

"He didn't get up, did he?" Victor said. When Gilliam raised his head, the pronghorn was looking right at him. "Go on, tell us more."

"Yeah." Sy's grin widened, his affected embarrassment dropping away. "So after that guy, there was someone who liked butts a lot. Mine, at least."

"You have a very nice one." Martique was looking at Gilliam now, too. "Worth every moment of attention, I'm sure."

Victor coughed, and Martique said, "Oh, sweetheart, you know I like yours too."

"Thanks. That's reassuring." Victor waved to Sy. "Go on, go on."

"Mostly it was guys stroking me through the shorts." Sy flicked his ears again. "One was really trying to get me off, but through the leather, it just wasn't...y'know."

"Might've been if you'd been a little more worked up." Martique winked.

"Don't get him started." Victor leaned over to Sy. "He'll tell the story about the time he came in his leather shorts just from rubbing up against some guy while dancing, and it isn't even true."

"It's true enough," the red fox said.

"You reached down your pants," Victor said. "You forget, dear, I was there."

"Only to make sure that the finish was timed properly." Martique lay his ears back. "But I'm sure our dear Sy here didn't do anything quite so lascivious last night."

Gilliam certainly hoped so. He hadn't smelled anything on the fox the previous night, but he wasn't sure he could, through the haze of alcohol. The fox had definitely washed up at some point before being escorted through the bar by the supportive crowd, but when you came in a pair of shorts, well, it was hard to wash the smell off the shorts.

But Sy didn't agree, even when the silence following Martique's remark stretched on. Finally, the red fox arched an eyebrow and said, "It seems there is more to the story. Go on."

"He doesn't have to," Gilliam said.

"Oh, come on." Victor stared right at the ferret. "He's already told us something happened. And wouldn't you rather know what?"

Gilliam could get up from the table, go to the bathroom or something, and stay there until he was sure Sy was done talking. But Victor was right, and Gilliam knew it. He wanted to know.

He didn't have to know right away, though. So he said, "You ever find out who those first few guys were?"

Sy grinned, looking up. Maybe he wasn't as anxious to tell his story now, and was glad of the reprieve. "I have some guesses. Did you guys...I mean, I know you had better things to do, but...have you heard anything?"

Victor and Martique exchanged glances. "Who do you think it was?" Martique said, with a sly smile.

The arctic fox scanned the restaurant. "Well," he said, lowering his voice again, "see that leopard at the table by the poster of 'Arabian Nights'?"

They all looked. Gilliam recognized Javier, in a slimming silk shirt and cutoff jeans, talking to the equally attractive Marisch, a slinky Siberian ermine. They were part of the upper tier of Cottage Hill's gay community, looks-wise, and while Gilliam and his friends were not bottom-tier by any means, they were not in Javier or Marisch's league. Nor, for all his youth and swishiness, was Sy. "He's a jaguar," Gilliam said.

"I think he was the first guy," Sy said. "He'd been eyeing me since I walked in."

"He does that to everyone new," Martique said. "Sizing up competition."

"And the rabbit over at the counter." Sy indicated Geoff, sitting alone as usual, nursing a coffee and staring out into space. He was not quite in Javier's league, but was considered pretty hot by the community, not just for his muscular physique, but also for his charming manner when he was 'on.'

Martique glanced over his shoulder and tapped one claw against his muzzle, his eyes narrowing as his smile grew. "Let me guess. You think Tam felt you up, too?"

Tam, the panther bodybuilder, hadn't made it into the café yet, and probably he wouldn't. He didn't show up to the café as often as the rest of them, because he spent every non-party moment at the gym, where he worked out and cruised when he wasn't working as a personal trainer. But he had been at the party last night, and even though Gilliam knew Tam wouldn't go near a lightweight like Sy, he understood right away what Martique was getting at. He struggled between the desire to see the scene play out to its conclusion and the desire to protect Sy from that conclusion. And while he struggled, the scene went on around him.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure he was one, toward the end, before Jake. Squeezed my bits so hard it almost hurt. And, uh. He actually ground up under my tail enough that I think I felt him get off." The arctic fox kept some small pretense at embarrassment, but his tail swished behind him in clear pride.

On the sideboard, Gilliam saw their dishes being prepared. Silently, he willed them to hurry up. But Victor had a gleam in his eye, and turned to Martique. "Say, what time of night was that? Because I'm pretty sure I saw Tam dancing with Geoff."

"At first," Martique said. "Later they were making out."

"That was over in the Blacklight Room, though."

"Nowhere near the TV Room."

They both turned to look at Sy, whose ears had gone down. "Well, uh. Maybe it wasn't Tam."

"Or Geoff." Victor sipped his water.

"Yeah." The arctic fox rubbed at his muzzle. "Well, then, I don't know who..."

"Maybe those guys giving you the eye from the table under the big pink cock?" Martique suggested helpfully.

Gilliam turned as Sy looked up and across the café at the garish pink rooster sculpture (red lipstick smeared over its beak), below which a pudgy cougar and a scruffy little wolf with a notched ear were grinning very pointedly in their direction. When the arctic fox met their eyes, the wolf curled his tongue up over his nose in a gesture probably meant to be sexy. The cougar just widened his grin and chuckled--Gilliam could see his chest heave--and bent back to his stack of pancakes.

"I, uh." Sy frowned. "I don't know them..."

"The cougar is Vincent," Victor said. "Don't give him your phone number or he'll text you pics of himself jacking off."

"And the wolf is Mack." Martique's lips curled, showing fangs. "Nobody knows if that's his real name, but we call him that because he'll mack on anything. Victor passed out at a party once and Mack kissed him for a good five minutes."

"You could also tell him about the time he just walked up to you and stuck his paws down your pants," Victor said. "At least I don't remember mine."

"God, I wish I could forget." Martique rolled his eyes. "He got Gilliam, too."

"Hey," the ferret said weakly, but the fox was already going on.

"This one time, Gilliam was dancing, and Mack came up to dance with him, and Gilliam tried to get away..."

"Because he's a smart ferret," Victor interjected.

"...and Mack just cornered him against a table or something..."

"It was a wall." Gilliam lowered his head.

"And just ground his dick into our poor ferret's stomach for a whole song until I rescued him." Martique's voice held something like reproach. "Really, Gill, you could've asserted yourself a little more. A good knee to the groin usually gives Mack the hint."

"So don't worry," Victor said, because Sy's muzzle was agape in horror. "Getting felt up by Mack is a rite of passage."

"Like throwing up from being drunk." Martique raised his mimosa and sipped. "Only not as pleasant."

Sy shook his head and then buried his muzzle in his paws. Gilliam reached over to pat the fox on the shoulder before he could stop himself. "Hey, look, it's okay."

"At least..." Sy looked down at his phone. "At least I know it was Jake at the end."

Gilliam exchanged glances with Martique and Victor, who both looked prepared to say something else snarky. They sat back at his look. "What happened at the end?" he asked gently.

"Well, uh." Sy's phone buzzed and he glanced down at the message before flicking it closed. "Jake got me kinda, y'know...out of my shorts..."

Martique and Victor looked at each other, eyebrows raised, and Gilliam felt a twinge of surprise. "You coulda been thrown out," he said.

"I guess it wasn't that obvious." Victor glanced behind him, where the waiter was loading up with their dishes. "He didn't finish you. We would've heard about that."

"You guys didn't see it?"

"I guess not." Martique laughed lightly and put his paw over Victor's fingers. "We were dancing by then. Kind of preoccupied. Not that you didn't make a very nice show for a little while, but you can only watch Vince and Mack grope someone for so long before you need to clean out your palate."

Sy winced. "No, he didn't...finish me. But he had his paw all around me, and was stroking my fur, and...it was nice."

Gilliam wanted to say something, but after all, he'd never been in that situation. It was Martique and Victor who had, and Martique, with a look at the ferret, jumped in. "You know," the fox said, "if you like someone, you should just say something. It's a lot more 'nice' when you can look him in the eye."

The ferret squirmed, sure that the words were meant for him, too. But Sy didn't notice. The fox just sighed. "I know," he said. "It's just tough with Jake because he's so cool and this was the first party where he really seemed interested in me."

"I thought you'd been chatting forever." Martique lost some of his smile.

"We have. But I dunno. He likes to tease me and...we RP'd online some, but since I've been out here he always seems pretty busy. Last night was the first time I went to a party he was at, and I didn't even see him. But he said he'd come over, and the way he, uh..." The fox's little white ears flicked, and his grin came back. "The way he touched me, it was kinda like some of the RPs we had, so I'm pretty sure..."

Gilliam lost himself in the grin, his tail twitching, and then the waiter appeared with their plates and everything was a confusion of clatter and smells, pancakes and sausages and coffee refills. Martique and Victor split their plates and exchanged halves with each other, while Gilliam offered some of his bacon to Sy.

"Just a bit, I guess, thanks." The fox picked up one strip delicately and crunched it.

They'd gotten about ten minutes into the meal when Sy sprang up from the table. Gilliam looked up to see a red panda at the door looking around the café. A kangaroo followed him in, also unfamiliar to Gilliam, though he thought he'd seen the roo around some parties. Sy knew the panda, though, clearly; he ran over to him, excited, ears up and tail wagging.

"This isn't going to end well," Martique murmured.

Victor had turned all the way around in his chair. "I can't not watch."

Gilliam couldn't bring himself to say anything. He watched the red panda's cool smile in the face of Sy's bubbling enthusiasm, watched the roo bring out a smartphone and call up something on it to show Sy. The panda and roo's smiles grew, while Sy's vanished, his ears flattening and his tail curling under him. He pushed past them and ran out of the café.

"Oh, dear." Martique set his fork down.

Victor turned to look at Gilliam. "Someone should go after him."

"While someone else composes a post to send later today warning our friends about this Jake fellow. Whatever he's done."

Gilliam sighed and pushed his chair back. "I'll be right back."

He found Sy outside, leaning against a car, muzzle down. He didn't make any sign of having seen Gilliam until the ferret was right up alongside him, and then he said, roughly, "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Okay." Gilliam settled against the car and folded his arms. "But you know...I mean, all those guys in there, they play jokes on each other, they do shitty things sometimes and they laugh about it. You heard Martique and Victor."

"They're so lucky."

Gilliam tilted his head. "Because they're a couple?"

"Kinda." Sy lifted his head. "I mean, they've seen all the stupid shit each other did and they're cool with it, and it's part of their history, you know? What do I have? I got groped by a slut and an exhibitionist and god knows who else, and the one guy..." He broke off and snapped his jaw shut with an audible click.

The ferret desperately wanted to ask what Jake had done, but at the same time he thought he had a pretty good idea. Either the panda or the roo had taken a picture of Sy the night before, with his cock out, maybe Photoshopped it...you saw those kinds of pics pop up on blogs and Twitter sometimes. Gilliam generally ignored them, being a little old for that crowd, but he'd seen enough to make a guess. "Hey," he said, "you know, I've seen people do way stupider things than be in embarrassing photos. It's cool. Happens to all of us. Well, lots of us, anyway. You know, there were times when you couldn't get online without seeing Martique's...and Victor didn't care. Hell, Victor's got a couple--"

At the word "photos," Sy groaned and clutched his muzzle again. "It's not the photo," he said, in the middle of Gilliam's sentence. "It's...you know, I thought he liked me."

"Ah. Yeah." Gilliam sighed. "You know, if you'd just asked him, you'd have the answer and you wouldn't have to have gone through this whole deal with putting on the devil mask and sitting in the chair."

"I know, I know, it was a stupid thing to do."

The ferret caught himself before he agreed. "No, it wasn't. I mean, come on, that chair's there for a reason. Lots of guys have sat in it, some with masks, some with blindfolds--hell, some with nothing but a mask, back in the day. Can't do that now. But you're not the only one, not by a long shot."

"I'm the stupidest."

"You put yourself out there. That takes courage. I never went and sat in the chair."

"You're smart."

"I was scared. Of what might happen, you know?"

Sy lifted his head, the reflections of the café's windows dancing across his eyes. "Like getting groped by a bunch of losers?"

"Yeah. But I've done other stupid stuff."

"God, when he posts that photo...nobody's going to want to hang out with me."

Gilliam elbowed the fox. "Martique and Victor will. You know they once had a contest to see who could blow the most people at a party?"

Sy raised his head at that. "Did anyone take pictures?"

"Uh...come to think of it, I'm not sure. But they'll tell you about it if you ask. Martique remembers every one."

"How many did they get?"

"Seventeen each. Counting each other." Gilliam grinned.

Sy answered his grin with a weak smile. "That's a lot."

"Uh-huh. And they still hang out with everyone. Nobody thinks badly of them."

The fox scuffed his foot along the sidewalk. "Will you still want to hang out?"

Gilliam's heart gave a leap. "Yeah," he said through a throat that had gone dry very quickly. "Yeah, of course I will."

"Good." Sy smiled. "You're a good friend."

Friend. Oh well, it was a start. "C'mon back inside," Gilliam said.

Sy shook his head. "Not right now. Not with him in there and that photo, and all those people...I can't."

"Okay." Gilliam daringly reached out to lift the fox's jaw. "But you will."

Amber eyes sparkled at him, and black lips curved in a smile. "I promise."

"Okay." The ferret didn't want to let go, but he also didn't want to push Sy any further in this moment. There would be time later to see how things developed. He dropped his paw and gave Sy a smile.

"Go on," Sy said. "Go back in. I'll be okay."

"Call me, okay? Maybe we can do a movie or something."

"For sure." The young arctic fox nodded, then pushed himself away from the car and waved. He trudged down the sidewalk, but his tail had a little lift at the tip of it, and Gilliam gave himself credit for that little upswing. He watched until Sy had passed a uniformed zebra, standing by the line of cars with a small notepad, and turned the corner.

"Did you provide comfort in his time of need?" Martique asked as Gilliam sat back down to finish his lukewarm pancakes. The fox and pronghorn had finished their meals, save for one sausage link on Martique's plate.

"I think so," Gilliam said. "It sounds like Jake took a photo of him, I guess with his cock out. Maybe Photoshopped or something."

"We saw it," Victor said. "He posted it on ScentMark. It's not even a funny pic. Want to see?" the pronghorn had his own smartphone out and was typing, but stopped as he asked.

"Um. No, not really," Gilliam said.

"Okay." Victor went back to typing. "Almost done."

"With what?" the ferret asked around a mouthful of banana and pancake.

"We're commenting on his photo and tweeting about what a douche he is," Martique said. "I mean, really. If you're going to post a photo of someone's cock, get their permission."

"And don't Photoshop in some come and claim you just jacked him off."

"Or if you do, at least don't make the Photoshop obvious."

"And don't call him a slut when you're the one posting it."

"Especially if it's clearly not even your paw in the picture."

"Guys," Gilliam said, though he was finding it hard to restrain a smile. "I didn't want to know."

Martique coughed. "Hypothetically," he said, and then lifted his plate and scraped the sausage onto Gilliam's. "Here. Have my last sausage. Apparently I am near the limit that will transform me into some kind of rotund deformed monster that nobody would wish to see naked."

"Hon," Victor said, and looked up. "I didn't say 'nobody.' I said 'only me.'"

"Well, you have to see me naked."

"Not necessarily."

Gilliam grinned. He hoped Sy would see the reaction, and if he knew the general community, Vic and Martique would have a lot more people on their side. "Oh, by the way," he said, "the traffic cop's coming around with tickets."

Victor sprang to his feet and shoved his phone into a pocket. "Son of a--" He pointed to Martique. "This is your fault! You're buying breakfast." He gulped down the last of his mimosa and ran out the door.

"I told him it was restricted," Martique said, and fished in his wallet, getting to his feet more slowly. He turned from the jangling café door and the pronghorn running outside to look back at Gilliam. "Are you sure you want a relationship, darling?"

Gilliam hid a smile. "If the right one comes along."

"Ah, well, yes, that's the trick, isn't it? You two were rather cute out there. Anyway. Sorry to dash, but you know Victor." He smiled fondly, and dropped two twenties and a ten on the table. "Should cover it, yes?"

"Looks good. I'll see you guys tomorrow night?"

"Indeed." Martique raised a paw and walked out, to where Gilliam could just see Victor standing and arguing with someone. He watched Martique come up and soothe the pronghorn, talking charmingly to the officer Gilliam couldn't quite see, and then the two of them got into the car. He couldn't tell if they'd been given a ticket or not, but In the grand scheme of things, he didn't think it would matter.

He looked around The Morning After, at his little group of friends and acquaintances, and took a bite of Martique's sausage. It might be fattening, but it tasted really good.