Legal Regal Strip #3
Regal isn't telling Volt something.
Legal Regal Strip #3
By
Argo D.D.
The apartment had two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a small living room. They also had a small balcony just beyond their living room. It was small and was meant as living space for two--living separately that is. In fact, most of the other tenants in their complex were students. But the rent was good and, with a little of Volt's touch, it was perfect for them. Almost every furniture company in the country was located Queenstown and the fierce competition allowed them to get great deals. Volt was particularly glad to get the glass coffee table in the living room at a steal. Paintings hung on the walls, most were posters for old cafes in Volt's home of Metz, France. Some were Volt's own work. There was always the smell of a scented candle or of fresh tea, masterfully selected by Volt to synchronize with the apartment and the mood, evening by evening. And, of course, Volt's sent was the key ingredient to the ambiance.
They used one bedroom, and converted the other in to an office, though more of a drawing room for Volt. Volt worked for an architect who commissioned him to painting their real estate projects, both residential and commercial. His drawings and paintings were everywhere: on the ground, pinned up on the walls, or scattered across the desk along with Volt's laptop and a cup of tea. Prompted up on a cheap easel beside the desk was Volt's latest work. It was of a strip mall and only a third finished. The unpainted portions revealed the intense lines of Volt's sketching. Regal loved looking at Volt's works in progress like this. The stark difference between the pencil markings and the vivid paint was awe-inspiring. It was like Volt would create life--his own reality--out of nowhere with only a few dabs of paint guided only by lead marks. Regal wrapped his arms around his fox, nuzzling his muzzle against his neck as he gapped at the painting. There was a reason he left that nice suburban house for his apartment--and this fox. And this was it.
"Tell me you didn't spend all day working on this and only got that far," teased Regal as he squeezed harder against Volt's body.
"Of course not," Volt snapped with a playful purr. "I've had a very productive day." He wiggled his way out of Regal's grasp, almost leaving his robe behind in Regal's hands. He pulled another painting out of the corner and laid it across the desk. This was one of a suburban home. Two stories, a little porch out front, and a driveway connected to the front door by a concrete path. There was also a garden lining the garage. Red and purple skies hung above it. It was so explicit. Regal could almost smell the garden and lawn, hear tired laughter of kids, and feel the cool dusk air against his fur.
He looked at Volt with his bright eyes. "Can we pretend it ours?" Volt gave a beaming and puzzled look. "You are in an unusually good mood. What giving?" Regal laughed. "Don't make fun of me," Volt cried. Regal couldn't help it. Volt spoke good English, but his desperate attempts at American slag often tripped him up, and he was very sensitive about it.
"What did I say wrong now?" he whined.
"It's 'gives' Frenchy," Regal blurted out through his chuckles.
Volt half frowned across his weary face. "Don't call me that, Yank."
Regal licked Volt's nose as he encompassed him in his arms again. "You're this Yank's Frenchy. And for things like this." He pointed at the painting.
"You didn't answer my question. What has gotten into you?"
Regal rested his glance on Volt's. It was then that Volt saw the fire in them. They seemed to answer something, though Volt couldn't tell exactly what it was. Only that it was a good sign. It was glee. He watched Regal look back down on the desk and pick up a book that was lying near the laptop.
"You're finally reading it!" he exclaimed. "By the looks of this bookmark, you're over a third deep."
It was Regal's favorite book, the one he credited in getting him through law school--and never letting Volt forget it. "The Fountainhead, by Ayn Rand," he read mockingly. "You finally put your pious past you."
Volt frowned, "Don't change the subject. What happened!"