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Pox watched as the men filed out of the council house, keeping well hidden in the shadows of the roof tops. She easily picked out Paul in the crowd and watched as he followed the crowd for several minutes before breaking away, turning down a side street in the vague direction of a café, before making another turn and heading toward the rail yard as he had done for a couple of weeks now. Following Ticktock's advice, she started stalking him again, learning his patterns so she could capture him for a chance to talk. It had been frustrating, as she couldn't be as close as she used to, and his father dominated so much of Paul's life now, as if he knew she was watching.

However, she quickly learned of his excursions and his new hobby of fist fighting, and once she was sure that that was his destination, she hurried along ahead of him, able to make much better speed, and she arrived at the tavern well before he did. She had been here once before to get things ready. After greasing the owner's palm with some coin that she stole from one of the other rats, Nine-fingers, she convinced the barkeep that it would be an entertaining spectacle to have his amateur fighters have a go with her to prove how tough they were. He agreed and they had set a date for her to show up. She had put him off a few times, though, making excuses when she found out that Paul wouldn't be in attendance. Now after weeks of trying, finally things lined up for her.

She made her way around to the back like she had been instructed, to maintain the element of surprise, and knocked on the door. It took some doing for the owner to finally agree to let her in and she was put in a back room with another man who was armed with a crossbow in case she tried to steal anything. She had no plans to do anything of the sort, and she sat quietly, waiting for her opportunity. She did her best to remain calm, but she was nervous. Her memory of the night Paul attacked her playing out in her mind. She didn't know how he'd react to seeing her. She ended up waiting for almost a half hour, but then her ear twitched when she heard the owner of the bar banging a pan to quiet the crowd of patrons out in the main room, and she turned her head to better listen.

“Alright alright, settle down you bastards. I got something special planned for the evening tonight, and it was a right pain in the ass to get it settled, so any previous match ups have been cancelled till next week," he then banged the pan again when the crowd started to voice their discontent. “Hold on," he then shouted, “I SAID HOLD ON!" and when the rowdy patrons quieted again, he continued. “A lot of ya come here for a punch up and to see who the strongest is. I got a new contender tonight who says she can take all of you."

This got the crowd going again, and someone shouted, “What? You got a woman to fight? Are you out of your damn mind?"

Then the tavern owner continued, “Yeah, you could say that. But this isn't an ordinary woman," he said with a laugh, then called out, “Come on out here, get in the ring so the boys know what they are dealing with."

The human watching her gave a grunt, “That's your cue, rat," he said, gesturing to the door. Pox got out of her seat and made her way over, before kicking the door open with a crash, and she walked right out, looking at the gathered men. She walked right to the sand pit and jumped down into it, moving to the center. She let out a feral hiss and growl as she started to pace the ring, putting on a show like the barman had wanted. She also scanned the crowd as they moved closer to the pit, spotting Paul among them, with a shocked look on his face.

The barman grinned to his stunned patrons, “I told ya, not an ordinary woman. So, who wants the first round?" he asked, “Any of you lousy sods man enough to face a rat hand to hand?"

There were murmurs from the crowd, and some of the men started daring each other to do it, but there were no definitive takers. Paul looked like he was starting to back away when suddenly a large man with dark skin grabbed his shoulders and gave a loud laughing bark. “Hey, why not Pretty boy here?"

Paul turned and looked to the man, shaking his head, “What?!" he asked incredulously.

The man grinned, “I have been down by the council house, I know who your dad is, pretty boy," he then addressed the crowd, “If you lot didn't know. Our very own Pretty boy here, is none other than the son of Arbiter John Hawthorne. The word around the council house is Pretty boy here is a professional rat slayer. His dad has been telling everyone he killed a rat all by himself with just a butter knife."

This got the crowd laughing and yelling and worked up again, while Paul's face went pale. More jeers came from the others, with one scrawny man shouting, “Sounds good, let's see it then! Pretty boy versus the rat!" and then another, “Yes, put the young rat slayer in the ring!" which prompted the gathered crowd to start chanting 'rat slayer' over and over again.

Pox looked around, and then at Paul, before growling, and joining in, yelling out, “Yes! This is famous rat slayer! Killed Pox's brother! Pox would love revenge on this one!" she yelled, which only served to get the crowd going even more. Suddenly, the large man shoved Paul hard, sending him toppling over the rail and into the ring with Pox. He fell flat on his face in the sawdust and sand and started to quickly try to get to his knees, but Pox was faster. She rushed over to him and grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him off his feet, before slamming him up against the wall of the pit, to the cheers and delight of the audience around them.

Paul was shaking in her hands, and he swallowed hard, “P-p-p-pox!" he gasped softly, his face going pale.

Pox looked into his eyes and growled, “We talk later…" she said softly so only he could hear, while the barkeep banged his pan again.

He barked out, “Oy! Seamus! Don't you ever shove someone into the ring like that, or I'll have you out on your ass!" he looked to Pox, “And you, Rat! Let him go!" he yelled, “You agreed, no killing in my bar! I don't care who he is." He then looked to the large man.

Pox made a show of huffing loudly and dropping Paul to the floor, “Make fight good…don't hold back!" she hissed as she backed away, and then to the barman. “Just having good show!" she hissed, “Pox fight fare and square…" she said.

The barman frowned and looked over at Paul, “You don't need to do this one kid," he said, shaking his head, going over to the side of the ring, and offering a hand, “Come on, we'll get one of the other boys to-"

“No!" Paul said, shaking his hand and moving away from the wall, “No, I want to do it…" he said, “Besides, not the first rat I fought…"

The barman got back up to his feet, and shook his head, “Your funeral kid," he said and then looked to Pox, “Hey, remember our agreement. This is a boxing match, no claws or teeth, you hear?"

Pox nodded her head emphatically, “Yes, yes, Pox understands. Only needs fists," she said.

The barman nodded, “I give one to ten odds on the rat," he called out, stepping back and banging the pan, “Fight, you two."

Paul swallowed and raised his fists in a defensive stance as Pox moved forward, taking a similar posture. “What are you doing here?" he asked under his breath, knowing she could hear him.

“Came to fight you," she said with a growl, “Need revenge for last time," she said and then moved in, swinging a fist at his face.

Paul blocked it with his arm and then countered, with a right jab of his own, going for her chest, “I didn't want to hurt you," he said, through his clenched teeth as she rolled out of the way.

Pox hissed, “You pushed me off balcony!" and gave another punch with one hand that he blocked, and then she came around with another that knocked the wind out of him, sending him staggering back. Pox moved in and hit him two more times before he was able to block her again and push her away enough to catch a few breaths.

He panted, “You wouldn't leave when I asked," he said and threw another few jabs that she blocked with her hands easily.

Pox huffed and gave a hard punch that he tried to block but she powered through and sent his own knuckles hitting his face, splitting his gums, “Stupid to ask. You happy listening to father all the time?"

Paul staggered backwards, his gums and knuckle bleeding from where his hand slammed into his teeth. He spat out some blood onto the sawdust to his side. “No," he growled softly, and he went in with another left hand punch toward her side to get her to shift her guard, and he brought his right fist up, smacking her hard in the chin.

She yelped in surprise, at the trick and rubbed at her face as she backed off of him for a moment. “Then why do it?" she growled, moving in, and punching him in the face again. Her fist slipped past his guard and slammed into his cheek, sending his head snapping to the side. She hit him again as he recovered, and then again.

Paul was starting to bleed more, and his face was swelling some from where she had hit him, and he was starting to get dizzy. He took a few more swings at the rat, but it was becoming clear by the way she dodged and blocked that he was out matched, even though he was certain she was holding back on him. “I…don't know…" he groaned.

Pox huffed and slammed her fist into his stomach next, hitting him, “Then…why…do…it?" she asked, punctuating each word with a punch against his face or body.

Paul wobbled slowly, on his feet, panting hard. “I…don't…" he attempted to swing again, and then fell down to the floor, landing hard in the dust.

Pox growled, leaning down over him, “I see you outside after…" she hissed and then backed away as the crowd erupted into cheers at the end of the match, and a few men came to collect the beaten Paul and dispose of him.

† † †

Paul recovered a few hours later, his body aching and his head still spinning. The fighting was over, and he wasn't the only one who had fallen to Pox's fists, it seemed she cleaned the clock of everyone that had tried to take her.

The barman was counting his coin, winnings from bets on Pox's bouts. He glanced over at Paul when he started to stand up, “You going to live, Pretty boy?" he asked.

Paul nodded his head slowly, “Mmm…I think so…" he said and rubbed his cheek, wincing as he touched the tender flesh. There was no chance he'd be able to hide how he looked from his father. He'd have to come up with some explanation.

The barman nodded, “Good. I don't need ya actually dying on me. Kind of stupid what you do here, ya know," he said.

Paul nodded some, “Yeah, I know." He gathered his things, preparing to leave, “But I have my reasons."

The barman shrugged, “Yeah, but is your dad going to see that? Or is he going to bring down hell on me for letting you be hurt?"

Paul shook his head, “As far as I know, he doesn't know I come here. But I am an adult, I can make my own choices."

“Yeah…I suppose. But those choices have consequences," the other man said, “and not just for you."

Paul nodded, “I'll keep that in mind," he said and left, going out into the night. He didn't know what time it was. He looked around and then spotted Pox standing across the way, waiting for him. She gave a wave, and turned, leading him somewhere. He followed her for quite a while, wondering where she was leading him, until he heard the sound of running water, and then he found himself in front of the same alley where he had met Pox so many months prior.

Paul moved up to the alleyway cautiously, seeing Pox standing there leaned up against the wall. She looked over at him and stared as Paul stopped and looked back at her. He swallowed hard, before slowly taking a few steps forward. He was a little nervous now. He didn't have the protection of the bar, or a crowd of spectators, it was just her and him and the dark night around them.

Pox gestured for him to come closer, “Come, Paul. Pox won't bite. Jaw hurts too much from punch."

He hard and took a deep breath, before closing the distance, “Pox, I'm…sorry…" he said as he threw his arms around her and pressed his body against her own, pushing her back up against the wall. He pressed his face against her chest, and he was hit hard by the smell of her filthy fur. He didn't shy away, however, despite the way it twisted his guts, he had missed the smell of her.

She relaxed and slipped her arms around him, squeezing him against her, “Pox know," she said, “Pox forgive you." She sighed and leaned down to nuzzle at the top of his head, breathing in his scent, “You smell different…no nasty soap…no flower oil…" she said softly as she hugged him.

Paul nodded and pulled back some, shivering a bit, “No…I…stopped using it as much…" he said, “Just a scrub with hot water, nothing else really…" he said, running his hands over her side. His thumb caught the thick scar running down her ribs and he winced slightly.

She saw his reaction and nodded her head slowly, “Knife cut deep," she said, “Needed rat nuns to help me. Sisters stitched my side." She rubbed at his shoulders gently.

“I'm sorry for that…" he said and moved his hand away, but she suddenly grabbed it, holding it there.

“No. Is fine," she said shaking her head, moving his hand to brush his fingers along the part in her fur, and the ridge of skin that was exposed. “Scar is good, have many of them. This one, Pox think of you."

Paul nodded some, and he pulled back his sleeve, revealing the four raised lines in his forearm, “Yeah…I have some to remember you too," he said.

Pox nodded, running her fingers over the lines. She sighed again, “Pox sorry too, Paul. Pox didn't mean to hurt you…"

He nodded and moved around to her side, lowering himself down until he was sitting on the ground, leaning on the wall, “I know," he said.

She sat down next to him, and put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him against her side. “Pox missed you, Paul. Think about you a lot." She gave a small grin, flashing her teeth, “Think you stupid a lot."

Paul nodded some and rubbed his cheek against her side, his arm going around her waist, “Yeah…I think so too." He let out a weary sigh, his body starting to ache all over from their boxing match, “Ugh…remind me never to fight you again…I always end up regretting it."

Pox giggled some and squeezed gently at him, “Yes, smart thing is just give Pox what she wants," she said and leaned against him in return.

Paul sighed heavily and looked around, “Why…did you bring me here?" he asked after a few minutes, looking back to the rat. “This isn't exactly a…happy place."

Pox shrugged some, “For Pox it is, this where I meet you."

Paul shook his head slowly, “This is also where you pinned me against a wall, forced me to have sex with you, pissed on me, and then got me sick with plague to top it all off," he said, rubbing his forehead. “I don't suppose you brought some of that nasty juice with you, have you? I might need it…"

Pox grinned, “Yes, Pox did actually. Always carry some," she said and reached into her belt pouch, and handed the bottle to him. “What you do when Pox not around?"

Paul shrugged, “I got better. I visited the nuns at the pesthouse, and they gave me enough to cleanse my body of the infection. Their version is a lot stronger than yours." He then took the bottle and steeled himself for a moment before tipping it back and drinking it down, grimacing at the disgusting mix of crude alcohol and herbs, which oddly managed to settle his stomach a bit. He then handed the bottle back to the rat and sighed, leaning his head back some. “Ugh…so…what happens now?" he asked.

Pox shrugged her shoulders, “Don't know…" she said, “Did you mean all those things you say to Pox?"

He shook his head, “No…I…didn't, I just lost my temper," he said and sighed. “My father could ruin me if he found out about you…I would never be a politician…"

Pox tilted her head, “So? Why that matter?" she asked, “What so special about that? Why you want it so much?"

Paul let out a heavy sigh, “I don't…not really anyway. It's all my father's idea. But if I go along with it…well, I will have power." He shrugged, and sighed again, shaking his head, “But no one would take me seriously if they knew about you." He lowered his head into his hand.

Pox shook her head, “If you don't want to be politician though, why do it? Why want power so much?" she asked.

Paul looked at her, tilting his head to the side, “Well…power would allow me to make changes…maybe. I could have a shot at working with the council, maybe getting them to change their ways, and start making things better."

She leaned back against the wall now herself, looking up at the sky. “Things good for you though. You have warm home, soft bed, full belly."

Paul nodded some, leaning back as well, watching as some clouds parted revealing the bloody hue of the moon, a dull red disc in the sky. “It's okay for me…but that's not representative of all of us, you know that. People go hungry all the time, sometimes days and weeks without food. If a man can't afford it, he goes hungry. If he can't afford coal or gas, his house stays cold and dark. Then there are your kind, living in the sewers, scraping by on our scraps. It's not fair to you."

Pox shrugged, “Life not fair, was never fair. Just the way it is."

Paul shook his head, “No, my kind, and especially people like my father, don't make it fair. We take what we can for ourselves, and if there is nothing left when we are done, then we say that's just the way it has to be. I hate it…" he sighed, heavily and then looked down at the ground between his feet again.

Pox gave another nod of her head and squeezed Paul's shoulders gently, “So, that why you want to have power. So you can make things better for everyone." She then gave a frown, “Pox got in way of that. That's why you attacked."

Paul nodded some, “No…I mean…yeah you do make things more…problematic." He sighed and leaned against her, “But…I…" He looked up, “I…shouldn't have attacked you, not for that. Hell, it's all a foolish fantasy anyway. If the past few months have been anything to go by, I don't think I could change something so rotted to its core. The council only really works to further the interests of the men on it…if everyone else has anything improved, it's only by chance and happenstance."

Pox nodded, “Pox understands. Elders of Pox's clan, all fat and lazy, think only of themselves. Everyone afraid to challenge Milkeyes though, and he protected by Gnarltooth, and Stumptail. They take best of everything for themselves, leave scraps for rest of us. Gnarltooth grows healing herbs, but not food. They let many rat pups die hungry. Only let Pox trade herbs to Rat Nuns for food to keep brothers and sisters calm." She shook her head and sighed, looking down with her ears laying flat against her matted hair, “Clan used to be two hundred strong. Biggest and strongest in city. Now only few dozen left. The elders say smaller clan better," she sighed, “Other clans dying out too. Pox wonder how long till there are no rats left in city."

Paul nodded some, “That's…a rather sad thought honestly…" he sighed, taking her hand in his and squeezing it. “I…feel odd admitting this…but…in spite of all that you have done to me, you really are my best friend in this entire city."

Pox snorted at that and licked his ear, “You just say that to make Pox feel better," she said.

Paul gave a shudder, and pushed her away while shaking his head, “No, I mean it. You are the only person I really feel like I can talk to," he then steeled himself, and he leaned up and planted a kiss on the side of her muzzle, “I'm…really happy I didn't kill you, and that you came back…"

Pox nodded, “Pox glad too…and since you so happy…you won't mind mating with Pox next time she comes to see you."

Paul shivered a bit, “Er…I guess I can do that…just don't let me get into another boxing match with you…okay?"

Pox grinned, “Okay, but will still hit you if you need it. Knock sense into you."

Paul nodded, “I can live with that," he said and sighed, “But for now…no sex…I just want to sit here until my head stops spinning and enjoy the quiet."

Pox nodded, “Yes…it nice night…" she said and squeezed him again.