She said she liked 'em. That means she liked 'em. Clearly.
But what if she was just being nice? They were store-bought, after all. Anyone could've done that.
He furrowed his brow.
I knew I should've made those chocolates myself. I'm number one! The best of the best! Buying 'em from the store is what schmucks do.
A sigh,
the realization sinking in.
And it looks like I'm a schmuck.
As the rabbit ambled through the hallway, he dipped his toes into his pond of doubts and worries.
B really doesn't stop by as much anymore—maybe once a week, if I'm lucky. Was it something I said? Or maybe she's finally done with all the cafés. I know I should've branched out more with the dates, but romance ain't exactly my forte. Closest thing I've had to the lovey-dovey experience was when that vending machine tried to hit on me; either that or he was asking to be put out of his misery. I guess dispensing sodas ain't the most fulfilling life role.
Again, he sighed, imagining the daisy he had come to cherish gradually withering away, petal by petal vanishing into the wind as he watched oh so helplessly.
"I hope I don't lose you," the bunny boyfriend whispered.
His melancholy, however, left as quick as it came, being swept beneath his blanket of bravado.
I can't think like this. Can't afford to. I suppose I'll just "follow my heart" or whatever those cheesy flicks try to sell.
In the meantime, I have other things to worry about.
Lucky traversed across a grand hallway, the ceiling no less than fifteen feet high as beneath his heels, ceramic tiles boasted a black and white checkered style. Around him, walls of marble flaunted their pristineness, pillars embedded halfway in as between them, doors of darkened oak stood at the ready. For luminance, shreds of light drifted up high in waves, offering the illusion of a contained galaxy.
The rabbit noted the presence, or lack thereof.
"Like a ghost town in here," he said. "Guess it's to be expected; this time of the year is pretty slow."
Which begs the question: Why did Miss Lamella call me in?
His mind scrambled through the possibilities, each one more tiresome than the last.
Fingers crossed she just wants me to deliver some papers or something, because if I have to go toe-to-toe with another dragon, I'm gonna lose it.
As the rabbit dreaded what his imagination cooked up, he eventually found himself at his destination: a pair of mountainous double doors guarded by a duo of armed gargoyles.
"Sup, boys," Lucky said.
"If it ain't golden fur himself," one of the guards replied. "I see the boss roped you in, too, huh?"
"Can't really catch a break, can I? Is she in?"
"She's all yours."
Lucky nodded with appreciation, then strolled past, pushing the doors open to enter his employer's office.
Inside, he caught the elite demon herself seated at her desk, wrapped up in a novel.
However, she was not alone, for another figure occupied the space, studying the trinkets within a nearby display case. A humanoid fox, he appeared as, his frame slender as he stood easily on his hind legs. A crisp auburn thrived in his shortened fur, the tints varying as his eyes—pockets of rich violet—completed the combination. As for his style, he appreciated a more sophisticated approach: a white button-up shirt, tan slacks, and dark suspenders, along with circular glasses planted on the ridge of his snout.
Lucky and the guest looked to one another, and while the latter offered a curious smile, the former merely strode in his confusion.
"Lucky," Miss Lamella said, setting her book aside, "glad to see you."
"Yo, Boss," the rabbit replied. "Came as soon as I got the message."
"Which I appreciate. Sorry to summon you out of the blue like this."
"No worries." Lucky gave a weak smile. "It's not like I had plans anyway."
He approached the desk, same as the guest.
"Lucky"—Miss Lamella gestured to the fox—"meet Marvis. Marvis, this is Lucky—the one I was telling you about."
The guest, Marvis, outstretched his hand. "Nice to meet you."
Lucky matched the gesture. "Pleasure's mine."
"Marvis, here, is from the South Division," Miss Lamella explained. "He'll be spending some time here as part of an exchange program."
"Exchange program?" the rabbit echoed.
"We're trying to get employees more experience with other parts of our nation. As you know, the Divisions vary greatly from one another; as such, we Keepers feel our members are being limited in their knowledge. We want them to be able to face any problem with confidence. Only way to get confidence is through experience."
"I think I understand," Lucky said. "Does this mean you're transferring me?"
"Not at all," Miss Lamella corrected. "I already sent that person away. What I'd like you to do is show Marvis around the city. It's his first day here, so he doesn't really know much."
The fox smiled shyly. "Sorry to put you out like this. This Division is way different from the South."
"I don't really mind," Lucky assured, "but why'd you pick me, Boss? I'm head of the security department. Wouldn't you want someone from the urban development team? They'd know all the hotspots."
"But those members aren't the best fighters," Miss Lamella explained. "Marvis, here, is part of the agriculture team, so his combat ability is less than stellar. Add the fact that some demons don't appreciate others 'invading' their Division and disaster follows close behind. Our guest gets attacked, and next thing we know, we're at war with the South. That's the last thing I need."
"War is a bit of a stretch."
Lamella kept her lips straight. "Only takes a spark to start a flame."
The rabbit swallowed the lump in his throat.
His boss, however, eased up.
"It's merely a possibility," she said. "A small one, at that. Chances are, no one will even notice Marvis isn't from here. But I like to be cautious. Better safe than sorry, they say." She leaned back in her seat. "What do you say? Up for the job?"
"I don't see why not," Lucky concluded. "All I have to do is walk around."
Marvis beamed. "Thank you so much, Mr. Lucky! I am in your debt."
"Don't worry about it. No skin—er, fur—off my bones."
Miss Lamella smiled. "Then it's settled. Marvis, I hope you enjoy everything the West has to offer."
"I shall surely try, Madame Lamella. I thank you for your generosity."
With that, the fur-some duo departed from the office, returning to the hallway with the gargoyles.
"You boys have a nice night," Lucky told them as he and Marvis strolled off.
One of the guards grinned. "Don't get too crazy."
Moments later and the visitor spoke up.
"Where shall we head to first, Mr. Lucky?" he asked.
"That's a good question," Lucky replied. "Maybe we can—"
Beep! Beep!
Just then, his cell phone sang a low hum, and upon glancing at the screen, his joy bloomed further.
He smiled. "We're gonna go pick someone up."
* * *
I sat on a bench in the desolate park, the warm air kissing my skin as up high, a sea of stars flourished in the serene night sky.
My eyes stayed glued to my phone's screen, the article's glow bouncing faintly off my face.
"'Dreaming of strange women?'" I read aloud. "'Signs you may be awakening a new kink.'"
What in the . . . ?
Although my odd dream sequence had ended a while ago, and the mysterious women had stopped visiting me, I couldn't help but let them live in my head rent free. You can't just tell someone they hold the power to fracture reality and expect them to wake up thinking, When's the exam again? Information like this changes a person;
case in point: I barely manage to visit this dimension anymore. My longing to hold my loved one has gradually been overtaken by my fear of shattering the galaxy, and I constantly find myself thinking if my next step will warp reality into an orchestra of nothingness.
I wonder if you're getting tired of me.
My stomach writhed as I sent that text message.
I keep putting distance between us. A two-day break turns into four, then six. You're probably thinking I'm not interested anymore, that I've grown past all of this. But this type of love—the kind of fuzzy feeling I get whenever I see you—isn't something I can just grow past.
I took a deep breath, giving my all to not get tangled in my doubts and demons.
I hope I'm not losing you.
Nearly, my lake of worries drag me into the deep, but before the rays of light could completely melt away, I return to reality, finding movement in the corner of my eye.
I turned my head, smiling as I spotted my boyfriend shuffling towards me.
These curved lips soon flattened, however, once my attention latched onto the stranger beside him.
Oh, God.
New people . . .
Already, I could feel my awkwardness smirking.
"Ready to make a mockery of yourself?" it asked.
My inner self merely sighed.
What's new?
I rose to my feet as the duo approached.
"H-Hi, L," I said, giving a small wave.
My rabbit nodded, stiff. "Why, hello there."
Maybe the awkwardness comes wherever.
The stranger, on the other hand, embraced the newfound company full force, stepping forward to kiss both of my cheeks.
"Mademoiselle," he sang, "it is my pleasure."
My face burned like the sun.
What's happening?
Lucky elbowed the fox man. "What the hell are you doing?"
The newcomer smiled shyly. "Ah, my apologies. It's just, this is how we greet one another in the South."
"You didn't kiss me on the cheek."
"Of the opposite sex. But if you'd like the same treatment . . ."
My boyfriend shook his head. "You know what? I'm good." Then, to me: "B, this is Marvis. He's a transfer from the South Division."
"A transfer?" I repeated. "Like, he's a new citizen?"
"Nothing like that," Marvis explained. "Although if this Division pulls me in enough, I may have to change that fact."
I couldn't tell whether or not Lucky fancied that idea.
"I simply work in the Organization," Marvis continued, "same as Mr. Lucky here. However, I am part of the Southern branch."
"So, basically, you work for the government," I concluded.
"You're spot on, my dear."
I stretched out my hand. "Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm B, Lucky's girlfriend."
That message alone had my heart grinning curve to curve.
Marvis accepted the gesture, kissing the top of my hand.
Southerners really like kissing, I notice.
As we separated, I noticed L's eye twitch with annoyance.
"Marvis was put in a temporary exchange," he chimed in. "Miss Lamella wants me to show him around the city, get him familiar with it."
"Sounds like fun," I said.
"Indeed!" Marvis exclaimed. "I hear the cafés of the West are somewhat of a magical delight!"
Your idea of "delight" is very different from mine.
Soon enough, the realization rolled through, and I sent my frown towards my lover.
"Does this mean you're gonna be busy tonight?" I asked.
He hesitated on the answer.
"I . . . I mean . . ."
Marvis snatched the reins.
"Did you two perhaps have something planned for this evening?" he asked.
"Sort of," I answered.
I mean, I did sort of ask for this date last second.
"It's all right if tonight is no good, L," I told him. "I can always come back later."
Maybe in another six days.
Gosh, what's wrong with me?
Lucky wasted no time grabbing my hand.
"Don't go." Melancholy coated his gaze. "Please."
"A-Are you sure?" I asked. "You won't get in trouble?"
"Absolutely not!" Marvis assured. "In fact, the more the merrier! I insist."
L's hold tightened. "As do I."
He wore his longing on his sleeve, much so that my heart couldn't help but taste a brighter red.
I gave a small smile. "I'd be happy to join you."
My beloved matched the vibe.
The fox eyed the girl with an odd sensation, as though he'd been presented with a delectable treat—a meal he'd like to have all to himself.
* * *
We strolled around the city for a bit, Marvis's amazement boundless as he gaped at all the vivid neon signs.
"Truly marvelous," he'd comment. "So bright!"
"Do they not have signs in the South?" I asked.
"They do, but nothing of this magnitude! The presentation is quite exquisite! Merveilleux, I'd argue!"
I have no clue what that means, but I take it he's enjoying himself.
Eventually, we decided to stop by a restaurant. (It was possible the idea came once my stomach growled like a grumpy tiger, but we're gonna go ahead and skip that part.)
Demon Delights, it was named, the glamour level only slightly below the Gordon Ramsay experience. Polished chandeliers hung calmly from the towering ceiling, their tops fueled not by gentle flames but bundles of serene stardust. In turn, a soft luminance washed over the space, from the well-organized round tables to the small band of monsters playing their fine violins. For attire, the musicians wore crisp tuxedos—a dress code every patron seemed to be following, the threads of their clothing fitting to a T the definition of affluent.
A single question wandered into my mind as I stared down at my hoodie and jeans: What in the world am I doing here?
"Um, L," I said, "this place looks fancy. Like, burn-cash-for-fun fancy."
"You are correct," he confirmed. "Figured since this is a special occasion, I'd splurge a little."
Marvis grinned. "Mr. Lucky, you shouldn't have."
My boyfriend shrugged, though it was clear his confidence boosted to new heights.
"But can we?" I asked. "I mean, I'm assuming we'd need reservations, right?"
"Don't worry about it," he assured. "As long as there's an empty table, we'll be fine. Perks of being one of Miss Lamella's top dogs."
Before I could fangirl, Marvis grabbed my hand to drag me towards some empty seats.
"Let us go, Mademoiselle, before our stomachs collapse on themselves!"
I turned back to Lucky, seeing his frustration ruffling in his fur. Even so, he kept his cool and followed us to the table.
Once we were all situated, I took a gander at the hefty menu, arriving to a single conclusion:
Well, this ain't no McDonald's; that's for sure.
Every item whomped me with confusion, from the "Forged Heart of the Foreign God" to the "Divine Shreds of Otherworld Jubilance." Truthfully, I figured any dish I chose and ate would end with me becoming immortal. (To be fair, they did have PB&J sandwiches, but I couldn't go through with it; that'd be like going to Hell's Kitchen and ordering a Pop Tart. Even I had standards.)
"I think I'll just get what you're getting, L," I told him.
"You sure?" he asked. "I don't think my palette is the best, to be honest."
I smiled. "I trust you."
He returned the expression.
"I must say," Marvis chimed in, "these selections are quite different from what the South has to offer. For one, it would appear your meals could fit in the palm of my hand."
Today I learned I can fit an entire foreign heart in my little hand.
"Is that . . . Is that not normal?" I asked.
"Not in particular," the fox answered. "We Southerners take great pride in tearing our feasts apart. Usually, our meals cover the entirety of the table, and it's up to us to pick it apart piece by piece."
I . . . I'm not really sure how to respond to that.
Lucky read into my confusion.
"Southerners are much more in tune with their primal selves," he explained. "They're all about letting their wild side be front and center."
"We can't let our pride as demons go to waste," Marvis noted. "We must embrace our identities, demonstrate why we are the pinnacle of creations."
"I'm not saying you can't show how crazy you are; I just reckon it wouldn't kill ya to use a fork."
"No offense," I said, "but you don't really seem all that wild to me. In fact, you're more polite than most of my fellow mortals."
"Why, thank you," Marvis replied. "I suppose I'm one of the rare exceptions. In a way, I've mastered both sides of the coin." A grin. "Would you like to experience the other half?"
I smiled shyly. "I'm okay. Thank you, though."
"No worries. Just know that if you need the ride of your life, I'll be here."
Well, considering my boyfriend has already gotten me to cling to a literal dragon, I think you're rather late on the offer.
A while passed before the waiter came to take our orders, during which I learned I'd be eating the "Sacred Chamber of Mythical Beasts."
Yeah . . . Yeah, I'm definitely becoming immortal after this one.
A little after and said waitress returned with our plates, my surprise limitless as I stared at the standard plate of steak and veggies placed before me.
Is this . . . Is this it? The "Sacred Chamber"?
Looks normal.
I gave a sniff.
Smells normal.
But I'd been traveling through this dimension enough times to know that nothing was ever as it seemed.
"What's the catch?" I whispered.
"What?" Lucky asked.
"N-Nothing. Just thinking to myself. Haha."
If no immortality, at the very least, I'll be getting a Peter Parker-esque origin story. "Steak Girl," they'll call me.
For his dinner, Marvis ordered a marinated rack of meat, the flavor apparently packed in the tiny soul-like skulls drifting around the plate.
It's like I'm in a FromSoft game.
"Exquisite," he noted, basking in the aromas. "I can already tell the seasoning is superb. Thank you very much, Mr. Lucky."
"Don't mention it," my boyfriend replied. But whereas Marvis started to dig in, Lucky waited, staring intently at me instead.
"What's up?" I asked him.
"O-Oh, it's nothing." He sent his gaze elsewhere.
The puzzle pieces clicked.
Ah. He wants to see if I'll like it. Well, then, I'd better not keep him waiting.
I grabbed my fork and knife, slicing into the meat like butter.
Holy moly. Thing puts the word "tender" to shame.
Unfortunately, my disappointment would creep close behind, for as my knife dug itself deeper in, scarlet blood flooded my plate.
"Is this . . . raw?" I asked.
Lucky's face dropped. "You don't like it?"
"I mean, I just don't think . . . I can physically eat it."
I really wanna take a bite, but if I lose the gamble on whether or not this thing is actually beef, I'm gonna become the president of Pain Central. Not to mention I'll be hurling more buckets than a basketball game.
Lucky sighed. "Sorry about that, B. L-Let me get the waiter. They can cook it more for you."
Marvis raised his hand. "No need. I've got you, Mademoiselle."
He outstretched his paw towards my plate, and on command, he summoned tiny orbs of fire from the palm, sending them to my food to heat it up. It took no less than five seconds for the meat to become a perfect medium well.
My jaw dropped. "Whoa . . . How did you do that?"
"Perks of my species," Marvis said, proud. "Not what the technique was intended for, but life's all about improvising."
"Thank you so much!" Confident I'd no longer need a barf bag soon after, I began to chow down, equating this steak to a feast only the gods could relish in.
I think I've awoken my third eye.
The rabbit gazed at his beloved, at the way her worries melted away in an instance.
He would soon ponder upon the possibility: that if he had such competence, maybe he'd be able to keep the distance between them from growing ever so vastly.
* * *
I wound up thinking of every synonym to the word delicious, followed closely by every synonym for those synonyms. Fact of the matter: my taste buds now had a golden feel to their surface, urging me to ascend to a higher plane of actuality.
(Basically, that steak was freakin' good.)
"I never knew demon food could be so heavenly," I said. "This could be the biggest irony of all time."
"I concur," Marvis said. "You Westerners really know how to throw it down."
Lucky gave a meager smile, nodding in agreement as he ambled forward. He hadn't said much since we left the restaurant—since the whole "raw" debacle, for that matter. He reacted to the conversation, but it seemed as though the most of him was somewhere far, far off.
I grabbed his hand, forcing his eyes to land on me.
"Thanks for the dinner," I told him. "I appreciate it."
"No problem," he replied warmly.
Marvis poked his head between us. "Where to next, Mr. Lucky?"
My boyfriend raised an eyebrow. "You're still game?"
"But of course! The night is young!"
L rubbed his chin, contemplating. "I'm not sure where we could go next." To me: "Anywhere you wanna go, B?"
"I'm still not very knowledgeable about the city," I admitted. "Best I can do is show you where the stray cats chill."
Marvis basked in delight. "If there aren't any other offers, might I suggest a place?"
Lucky and I entertained his proposal, which I later realized was possibly one of the worst mistakes of my life. Why? Because if we had ended the night then and there, we wouldn't have wound up in a karaoke bar.
. . .
Yep.
Karaoke.
Where everyone tries to be the next Freddie Mercury. Or Madonna if they're feeling extra spicy.
I, for one, knew my vocals ranged from a dying walrus to a constipated seal, so I never leapt into the fad; that and I'd need a group of friends to go with, and just thinking about that level of social interactivity made steam swirl from my head.
Marvis, however, insisted on the activity, claiming he wanted to be more "in tune" with the West's musical culture.
I tried figuring out how this dimension's Prince had anything to do with being in the government but, ultimately, came up short.
So, there we were, seated on the comfy couch stretched across the wooden floorboards. Up front, a wide flat screen gave its shine, offering the living-room-sized space its main source of light. The words AWAITING SELECTION spread across the monitor, and my dread slithered through my veins as I feared I'd have to be the one to break the spell.
How did this happen?
"So," Marvis said, "who would like to start?"
Neither me nor Lucky shot up our hands.
I guess we really are meant for one another.
The fox raised an eyebrow. "No takers? There isn't a song you're just dying to try, Mademoiselle?"
"Nope. Can't say there is."
"And you, Mr. Lucky?"
My boyfriend shook his head. "I don't even sing when I'm in the shower."
You take showers?
Ultimately, Marvis took it upon himself to get the ball rolling. His enthusiasm high, he poked his claws against the selection machine, highlighting Smooth Criminal by MJ.
I leaned towards L. "Is that, like, the demon equivalent of Michael?"
"Pretty sure that is him," he answered. "What can we say? You mortals have some heat."
If only Mr. Jackson could know a monster fox was singing along to his tune; pretty well, for that matter. Every note Marvis struck glimmered with perfection, his falsetto impeccable. If I didn't know any better, I'd figure he'd been a winner of America's Got Talent.
Once finished, Marvis took a bow, delighted with his performance.
I handed him the well-deserved round of applause.
"Holy moly," I gasped. "I think you might be in the wrong job."
"Why, thank you." The fox offered me the mic. "Your turn, Mademoiselle?"
"Um . . ."
Constipated seal.
Dying walrus.
With this voice, I might actually kill somebody.
But the mood had already been set, and I didn't really wanna be the one to make it melt away.
Thus, smothered by my hesitation, I accepted the microphone and headed over to the front of the room. The speed of light couldn't come close to the rate at which my heart raced, and had it not been for my greater fear of passing out on the spot, I was certain my consciousness would've collapsed on itself.
Marvis ended up choosing the song for me: Wait a Minute by Willow Smith. Not a bad choice. But considering Ms. Smith likes to hit her notes really, really well, the pressure piled atop my shoulders multiplied tenfold.
The words on the screen came and went. However, my voice did not follow. Like a vise, my nervousness gripped my throat, refusing passage to any and all syllables.
"Um . . . Uh . . ."
I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I don't know—
"But I'm here right now, right now
"Just sitting in a cloud, oh wow~"
Blowing away all expectations, my bunny boyfriend joined the fray, mic in hand as he trudged through the lyrics.
My jaw dropped.
"Hold on, wait a minute!
"Feel my heart's intention, oh!
"Hold on, wait a minute!
"I left my consciousness in the sixth dimension."
He, too, suffered from Dying Walrus Syndrome, but he didn't mind, keeping his eyes pinned to me as the words tumbled past his lips.
You can do it! his gaze told me.
I believed him.
My determination bold, I joined my beloved in the song, and although we both sounded like wild aliens, we tossed our worries aside, believing in that singular moment that we were just allowed to be.
By the end, we both had quivering fingertips. (From the overwhelming adrenaline or the restless unease, I couldn't tell.)
"That was something," I said.
"Yes," my lover replied. "Yes, it was. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go contemplate on what I just did."
He staggered out of the room, his head hung low as a mixture of pain and joy washed across his expression.
I sat myself back down on the couch, grabbing a glass of water to comfort my throat.
"That was a good show," Marvis complimented.
"Thanks," I said. "I don't think I was all that, but I had fun!"
"Nobody's perfect. At least you weren't like Mr. Lucky. Pretty awful, if I do say so myself."
Those words rubbed me the wrong way.
"He wasn't that bad," I assured. "No Madonna, but I'd definitely go with him again."
"But compared to me . . ."
"Not everything is about you."
I recoiled, not meaning to sound as harsh as I did.
"Sorry," I offered.
"No. No, it's quite all right. You're not wrong." Marvis inched closer to me. "It's about you and me."
My stomach lurched.
What?
Slowly, the fox wrapped his arm around my shoulders.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
He leaned his face in close.
"Just let it happen."
With all my might, I broke free from his grip, backing away.
"What are you trying to pull?" I hissed.
"Whatever do you mean?" Marvis asked, innocent. "Just following the mood. Don't you feel it, Mademoiselle? The spark between us?"
"Spark? Dude, we just met."
"That's all the time it took. Admit it: I'm so much better than that janky boyfriend of yours."
In my veins, my irritation boiled.
"Watch what you say," I warned.
"Truth hurts, my dear," Marvis argued. "Just think about tonight alone. Think about how much he's made you suffer."
"Suffer? Like when he bought me dinner? Like when he tried his best to make me confident in my singing? All night, Lucky has been trying to make sure I have a good time, even when I've been distancing myself."
The fox chuckled. "See? You're already on the curve."
My eyes stayed narrowed. "It's not what you think. The gap between Lucky and me isn't because I'm losing interest, or because he's failed me in any way. If anything, he's made me happier than anyone ever could.
"Lucky isn't perfect. Nobody is. Even so, he always tries his best, for his friends, for his coworkers, for me. If we aren't satisfied, he'll go the extra mile. If we're feeling down, he'll lift us up, even if the rainclouds won't leave him alone. Lucky the Rabbit is worth ten of you, and even if he wasn't, even if we'd never met, there's no way I'd be with someone like you—someone who tries to steal another's happiness."
He listened from the other side of the door, his gears gleaming with a bit more gold as he smiled his smile.
A silence hung between us, Marvis's stare piercing.
I did not falter.
"You're sure about this?" he asked.
I didn't flinch. "One thousand percent. The only one for me is Lucky."
To my relief, the fox shrugged. "Perhaps I was a bit too hasty."
"You could be a thousand years late and you'd still lose."
As I finished, my beloved returned to the room.
"Everything all right?" he asked softly.
"Peachy," Marvis answered. "However, I think it's getting a bit late, so I'll be taking my leave now."
He stepped towards the door, handing me a nasty smirk on the way out.
You'll regret this, his face promised.
My glare replied, We'll see about that.
Once in reach, Marvis shook L's hand. "Mr. Lucky, thank you for the tour. I'll be sure to let Madame Lamella know you did a fine job."
"R-Right," Lucky said, unsure of what to make of the sudden exit.
His business finished, the fox fled the scene, just as one of the workers stopped by with a plate of nachos.
"Your appetizer," she announced.
My boyfriend and I looked to one another, our chuckles coming loose.
"I think we'll be taking that to-go."
* * *
On our way back to the park, neither of us said a word. Although, his grip on my hand never loosened, my skin tingling as his thumb subconsciously rubbed my finger.
"That was fun," I finally managed to note. "Doesn't beat riding a dragon, but I got see you try to be Justin Bieber, so that was nice."
"That was a one-and-done deal," L assured, "so I hope you savored it."
I giggled. "Duly noted."
Silence.
Then,
"Thank you."
I raised an eyebrow. "For also being bad at singing?"
He turned his head, the moon's glow bouncing delicately off his face.
"For loving me."
My muscles went weak, my emotions pouring from every angle, and before my mind could react, my heart went on the move, forcing my lips to brush against Lucky's cheek.
"Likewise," I said softly. "Thank you for cherishing me."
* * *
In the darkened room, the fox knelt, quiet as the glow of the screen before him bounced off his fur.
On the other side, a shadow-like presence relaxed in a chair, his head perched on his chin as he absorbed the information he had just been given.
"And you're certain she's a mortal?"
"Positive," Marvis answered. "Upon physical contact, I noticed the scent. Furthermore, she was unaware of the West's paradigm."
"How long has she known about us?"
"I can't say. The exact length was not provided. My prediction, however, is a substantial amount of time, considering her unwavering fidelity to one of Lamella's higher ups."
"I see. What of the other one? The proclaimed 'babysitter.'"
"My apologies, sir, but they were not present at the time. At the very least, these two mortals are not acting in sync."
"Regardless, this is more than enough to pique my interest." The figure flashed a wicked sneer. "It would seem I need to pay little Lamella a visit."