Pack Street Stories, Episode 33: To Market

Colorful balloons float overhead, and bright, hand-painted signs route the foot, hoof, and paw traffic all around me. If you didn't know better, you'd think some kinda big parade was coming through, or maybe a festival broke out on an otherwise-sleepy Saturday morning. Dozens of tents and loaded wooden kiosks line either side of the road, crammed into every possible free space of cracked asphalt, with vendors loudly and proudly hawking their wares. Hard to think I'd see this here of all places, just south of the row, in the empty lots down by the old warehouse district.
As she circles around in front, the slender jackal cocks her head and gives me a dull look.

"This is what you got your fluff all in a twist over?" Avo hums, unimpressed, a lollipop clicking against her sharp fangs as she surveys the scene. "It's just a farm--"

"Farmer's market!!" Wolter blurts like he's answering a game show's question. He shoves to the front of our little group, tail wagging. "What the hell is this doin' here on Pack?!"

Grinning back, I watch the usually-lax aardwolf rocket up the sidewalk ahead of us, ducking and weaving between the legs of the gathered mammals. He glances excitedly from stand to stand, like his head's on a swivel. Call it a hunch, but after our day trip to Bunnyburrow a while ago, I had a feeling he'd be into this place.

"Figures farmer fuckboy here would be into it," Avo smirks as she shakes her head good-naturedly at Wolter, who's already gazing lustfully at all the fresh produce and assorted treats on offer. "But I wouldn't have pegged you for the sort to spend your weekends picking over dusty vegetables."

"Did a farmer's market bite you as a kid or something?" I shoot back, waving to a familiar little stoat standing atop a table next to glass dispensers full of punch and lemonade. "I mean, hey, I was still on the co-op's mailing list and I figured I'd stretch my paycheck a lot farther -- and with fresher stuff -- than I would at the store."

"A co-op? The rumor comes out: Remmy Cormo's been a flower child all this time," she grins, crunching up the last of the lollipop in her mouth before tossing the depleted stick in a nearby garbage can. "So you traded in your flaxseed oil and granola for bug meat?"

"Shut up," I laugh, pulling a fiver from my wallet and dropping it in Martina's tip jar as we wade past her stand. "Look, I found out about it back when I was in elementary school. There was a pop-up market that'd meet every year in the high school's parking lot -- selling, y'know, homemade candies and produce, all that good stuff. I haven't thought about it in years, but I checked my junk mail this morning and was surprised to find out they were still going. And branched out, apparently."

Speaking of bug, I sniff appreciatively as I catch that fried meat scent, knowing before I'm even finished turning my head that it's coming from Neil's taco truck. Sure enough, there's the lion himself, big mane wrapped up in a net -- and it looks like he's pressed Cliff into service today too. I smile at the sight of the big burly tiger, still dressed in his fancy work clothes, tie slung over one shoulder as he scoops bug meat into shells for the ever-growing line of hungry customers. Bet they'll make a mint off this crowd -- the vendors at the stalls are mostly prey species, but the buyers are overwhelmingly carnivorous.

And is that -- oh man, it sure is! They're selling roasted corn today! Now that takes me back. Guess they're hedging their bets for the few herbivores that showed up.

"Well, we're not all that far from Flock after all," Avo muses, basking in the warm summer air. "Still, elementary school? You been food-obsessed your whole life?"

"...Kinda sorta not really? Chloe'd just gotten her driver's license, so she'd drive me and my little brother down there on the weekends, and we'd just make a day of it."

She shifts the candy around in her mouth. "'Chloe'?"

"Huh?" I glance at her in surprise, only to realize I'd given her the name without realizing it. "Oh. My big sister."

"Awww, you're the middle child!" she coos playfully, eyes twinkling as she jabs my fluffy chest with her index finger. "Oh my god, that explains a lot."

I thrust my hooves into my pockets, huffing out through my nostrils as we watch the traffic pass by. Bit hot out here today.

"You ever had street corn, Avo? From like, a sidewalk vendor?"

She gives me an odd look, pausing halfway through unwrapping her next lollipop using only her lips.

"'Street corn'? No, can't say I have." She licks the wrapper like she's teasing it, tilting her head to one side. "Carnival junkfood's never really been my cup of tea."

"No no no, this isn't anything like that. It's roasted, not fried. With some hot sauce and a little sour cream. It's damn good." I trot backwards towards Neil's stand, waving with both hooves for her to follow. "C'mon, trust me. My treat. We'll grab one for Wolter, too."

"I'll try anything once." She pushes the candy back into her handbag, and falls in beside me as we start heading toward Neil's truck. "Just make mine a small."

I squint at her, half-frowning. "Hey, I'm between jobs, not broke. You don't gotta take pity on me."

"Oh, trust me, you're the Omega now. You need all the pity you can get." Laughing, she musses my headwool. "But really, just a small one's fine. I got a date later tonight and I don't wanna fill up before dinner."

"Whoa, a date?" I reply, surprised. "You?"

"Don't act so--"

"What's this about a date now?" Wolt pants as he staggers up to us from behind. He's been out of our sight not even five minutes and he's already soaked through his shirt with sweat. Both of his arms are loaded down with two woven bags, bursting with colorful jars, sticky pastries, and all kinds of smaller tubes, packets, and bundles. "You've got a date, Avo?"

Avo rolls her eyes at both of us, chomping her teeth with a feral snort. "What? You think I'm not marketable or something?"

"Not marketable--" he retorts hotly, blowing a stray lock of shaggy wet headfur out of his eyes. "Yeah right! If I'da known you were on the market, I'da made a move on you myself!"

"Yeah, right, yeah!" I chime in, seeing an opportunity to tease her for a change and leaping on it. "Don't we get like, first pick as part of Pack privileges or something? You gotta keep us posted on these sorts of things! What if we want to make a bid?"

"And who said you can't?" she tosses saucily, tail flicking as she places her paws on either of her angled hips. "Something holding you boys back?"

That shuts me up.

Wolter, however, doesn't miss a beat. "You intimidate me."

Avo stares at him like he's grown a second head, eyes wide and an incredulous grin on her face.

"What?" she asks, like she didn't hear him.

"Sexually. Like, damn, girl. I'm no slouch, but I don't know that I could handle all that refined power."

Avo cackles, like, straight up loses it laughing. Ozzy would be proud of the display. I'm not sure I've ever seen her so totally unguarded as in this moment, except uh, maybe that time I saw her in her underwear. It's hard to tell under all that chestnut fur, but I think she's blushing.

"Oh, you're just telling me what I want to hear," she waves him off.

He purrs a little, winking at her.

"Avo! Hey, how are ya?" Neil all but roars, flashing rows of sharp, gleaming teeth as he leans out at us, amid a billowing cloud of white steam. "What can I do for you guys?"

Tail swishing as she walks up to the food truck, Avo casually slides her elbows onto the counter to meet the surprised lion at point-blank. Her snout nearly jabs his.

"Hi, Neil. Can I get a small roasted corn with -- what'd you say? Hot sauce and sour cream?" she asks, glancing back at me. I nod the affirmative. "Whaddya want on yours, Wolter? Remmy's buying."

Shifting his load of groceries in his arms, Wolt nods to me.

"Oh, uh -- however it comes is good with me," he says excitedly. "Thanks, Rem. I already blew through most of my pocket cash, if you'd believe it."

"Easy to do in a place like this," I shrug. "My allowance would usually last for all of about one stand whenever Chloe and I would come."

"Chloe?" Wolter and Cliff ask at once.

"What, is there a fuckin' echo in here?" I growl.

"His older sister," Avo clarifies, stifling a laugh as Neil rolls his eyes at his gossip-loving partner.

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA! You got a sister?" Wolt asks, tongue flopping out of his muzzle -- and somehow I doubt it's because of the heat. "Is she on the market? What's she look like? Got any photos? Does she shear?"

I narrow my eyes. "Wolter. C'mon, man, that's my sister you're talking about."

"So what? Might as well get while you're in a generous mood," he chortles, shifting his groceries around in his arms. "Besides, Anneke's my sister and you don't see me playin' babysitter on her. I figure let your baa-baa-bleating sister make her own decisions."

"He's got you there, Remmy," Avo grins, walking past me with a styrofoam cup of fresh corn and a little plastic spork.

"Yeah, but--" I laugh, very calmly and coolly, while gesturing even more calmly. "But, like-- but-- look, that was different, you can't just-- she's--"

"Oh my god," Neil murmurs to Cliff, who's biting his tongue trying not to laugh. "He is kinda cute."

Groaning, I slap the money down on the counter, slinking lower into my wool in an attempt to hide my own stupid embarrassed grin.

-

A few minutes later, the three of us find ourselves sitting around on plastic picnic benches under the cool shade of a big tent, just watching the crowd milling by. Here and there on nearby benches, locals and even tourists chow down on deep fried veggies, caramel apples, and what looks like steaming rice buns filled with juicy barbecue bug meat. Man, I wish this place would be here every day.

"Hey, hey look," Wolt sits up, his cheeks full of roasted corn. "Hey, they've got honey sticks! Someone's selling honey sticks! Oh man, I gotta go back for another sweep before I head home."

Just like that, out of nowhere, I feel paws in my headwool from behind. I whirl around with an exaggerated angry look, expecting to find Anneke or maybe Ozzy -- but all of a sudden I stop. A big canine of some kind, wild dog maybe, a little bigger than I am. He locks eyes with me and I realize I've never seen this mammal before in my life.

"Get your paws off me," I bristle, sounding way more hostile than I imagined.

Honestly, I'm kinda reeling right now. I'm confused, scared, kind of insulted, and a little mad. Why the fuck are you touching me?

"The fuck--" Avo jolts to her feet.

"It is a fuckin' sheep," the stranger mutters hazily to his cohort, a similar-looking mammal beside him with splotchy brown spots up and down his face and neck. Could be brothers, I guess.

"Hey man, you know Dawn Bellwether?"

"Hey!" Wolter slaps his paws on the table, almost knocking over his cup. "Fuck off, assholes!"

"Specist little--"

"Yeah," I answer back.

The pred's smile sorta droops, and Avo and Wolt stop.

"She's a fuckin' asshole!"

One of the two stares dumbly at me, while the other starts cracking up with breathy little 'huh huh huh's. The first notices the second laughing and joins in, and the two of them kind of aimlessly drift off into the crowd outside the tent, mumbling something about how Bellwether's a b-word, and then they're gone.

"Fuck," Avo breathes. "Remmy, I'm--"

"Hey, no, no," I wave my hooves in the air, gesturing for both her and Wolt to calm down as they settle into their seats again. "Look, they're just dumb kids, and probably high. Doesn't bother me."

Wolt shakes his head, running a dark paw through his tussled headfur. "You sure, man?"

I nod back, firmly, and he shrugs.

"You know if anything did happen I'd have your back."

"Sure. I appreciate that. But like I said, just kids. I'm not gonna let it ruin my morning." I've been through a lot worse since moving in. Couple dumb gawkers barely moves the needle. Besides, I had more mammals trying to touch my wool at the block party.

I sigh, looking across the table to where Avo's anxiously swirling her food from one side of the bowl to the other.

"Soooo...?" I ask playfully, nudging her. "Go on, spill."

"Look, don't take it personally, but I think it's just not for me," Avo comments, wiping a little sour cream off her paw. "I'm sure it goes well on a fish taco, but I think you can have the rest of mine."

"Not the corn! I meant your date. You can't just drop a bombshell on us like that and then clam up! Who's the lucky mammal? Anyone we know? And where are you going? C'mon, c'mon!"

Rolling her eyes, Avo unscrews the cap on her bottle of vegetable juice and takes a sip.

"Don't you guys have better things to gossip about?" she asks.

"Hey, you're our friend. We just-- we care," Wolt pipes up, wiping sauce off his chin. "Also, we wanna tease the everloving fuck out of you."

"It's like, fifty-fifty," I reply. "Admit it -- you're going on a date with Marty and you're just too embarrassed to admit it."

A few seconds later, Avo hands me her paper towel, to wipe the mist of juiced veggies off my face.

"Sorry," she snickers. "If I ever get that desperate, I want you to scoop what's left of my brains out with one of these plastic sporks."

"If you ever get that desperate, I'd hope you come to one of us, first," I murmur.

"Ohh, c'mon, Marty ain't that bad," Wolt chuckles.

Still idly stirring, Avo stares down into her corn, a smile tugging at her lips. She looks up at both of us coyly, seductively -- but then it gives way to an almost goofy energy as she leans in close, like a schoolgirl sharing some secret.

"Okay, okay. I met this guy through work. Tall. Built. Shoulders. Very cute."

"Species?" I blurt out.

"Same as me," she smiles, wiggling her paws. "Lighter, which actually--"

"Wait so, through work? So what, you two gonna shoot a porno together?" Wolter asks, lowering his eyelids and raising his eyebrows at her at the same time. "Have Dora help you film it, release it as a Pandora's Box Original maybe? You could make bank."

"You wish. I've got a good thing going, and if I ever decide to shift into hardcore, you'll know it."

Wolt lets out an over-dramatic sigh, wiping his paws on a paper napkin. "I better."

"Okay, okay, so he's a wolf," I interject, trying to steer the conversation out of the gutter and back on track. "Was he a customer or what, exactly?"

"He's actually from the inspection crew that got the place re-opened. He asked if my fur was natural. At first I thought it was a lame pickup line, but we got into a discussion about it. Turns out, he used to work for the same company that makes the dye I use. We ended up chatting through the whole process, and now we're having dinner at Firepaw's and then maybe a movie."

I drum my hooves on the table. "You should totally wear that black dress of yours."

"What, the sleeveless one? What is this, prom night?" she says with an incredulous bark of a laugh, but her tail won't stop wagging. "Hang on, when did you even see me in that?"

"Remmy's right," Wolter says. "Can't go wrong with a classic. Guys love it."

"'The guys', huh."

"Two out of two guys agree right here," I retort. "Trust me, he'll be into it. We'd know."

"Well goodness, as long as I've got 'the guys' on call... what should I wear that little black dress with?" she asks, dripping swagger. "Heels?"

I look at Wolt, who looks back at me. We both nod.

"Heels, definitely," he breathes.

"I'm actually kind of offended you'd think there was any other option," I chime in.

Avo rolls her eyes and slides her styrofoam cup over to us, smiling to herself.

"Yeah, okay. Heels and a plain black dress, for dinner and a movie. Because apparently my fuckin' life is a 90s teen romance flick now."

"Knock 'em dead, toots," I wink.

-

The three of us split up at the market, so I head for the Crowns to drop off my own haul -- a ton of sweet assorted berries, a jar of peach preserves, some sourdough pretzels, stuff like that. Got a great deal on mushrooms, so I'm gonna see if I can dig up any simple recipes for sautéeing. Can't be too hard, right? I was almost tempted to pick up a tall, frosty glass jar of real milk from a nice old goat, but while she was talking up the certification process it goes through, she explained it was hers, and I had to excuse myself.

Strutting into the lobby with a spring in my step, I notice Betty and Anneke lounging on the common area's broken-down couch, watching TV.

"Yarn ball," Betty nods in greeting. She doesn't turn to me, but that big black wolf snout sniffs the air, and I can tell she's trying to suss out where I've just come from.

"Farmer's market," I helpfully fill in the blank for her, temporarily dropping my stuff by the side of the old sofa. I guess that's enough, because she stops sniffing and turns her attention back to whatever's on the screen.

"Is that where you and my idiot brother have been all morning? Hope you had fun talking to old grandpas about how you can make pajamas out of wicker," Anneke giggles, straightening her jeans -- which seem to be the exact same as the ones Wolter was wearing at the market. "Well, you're just in time, because Catwell's about to propose."

"No fuckin' way. That scum-shark's proposing on the Twelfth of Never. Mark me." Scoffing, Betty sips at her beer (little early to be drinking, but then again, I guess this is coming up on 'evening' for us). "She's pregnant with his kid and he doesn't even fuckin' love her! Snake."

Anneke nods lazily at the black-furred wolf beside her, arm dangling off the couch as the makeup-caked TV actors recite their sappy lines, taking every opportunity they can to look directly into the camera.

"Tellin' you, Bigby, you can see this one coming a mile off," the little aardwolf says. "And like, the worst part is, Leon's actually a decent guy even if he isn't as good-looking as Catwell. But of course, Marilyn thinks that she can make Catwell stay."

I climb onto the old couch and Betty graciously scoots over to give me room to sit next to her. "Who's Bigby?"

"Not Bigby. 'Big'... 'B'. Big Beta," Anneke clarifies. "Or Big Betty. Or Big Bad--"

"She comes up with new nicknames every goddamn week. She's worse than Avo," Betty growls through a toothy smile, reaching over and digging a claw at Anneke's side, which causes her to whoop in surprise and nearly jump out of her seat.

"YOU CAN'T TICKLE ME," Anneke wails, her stripy tail puffed out like a feather duster.

"Kinda looks like I can," Betty murmurs mischievously into her beer.

"I'm a grown adult!" Anneke pouts, in a very un-grown-adultlike way. "What if some random creeper put his paws all over you, huh? Why do you think it's okay for you to do it?"

"For one, I outrank you, so I can do whatever the hell I want," the big black wolf retorts.

"NO YOU CAN'T, IT DOESN'T WORK THAT WAY!"

"For two, you clearly love it, maybe too much," Betty continues, unphased. "And three, it's the best way to make you shut up."

"Remmyyyyyyy," Anneke whines pitifully, rolling against the arm of the couch like some listless little kid. "Back me up here."

Oh boy. I do not want to get into a clash between two higher-ranking packmates. This could end badly. "Well, uh... I mean, if you actually have a pr--"

"Shhhh," the aardwolf suddenly interrupts, as both she and Betty quickly sit upright. "Commercial's over."

"Here -- watch, that piece of shit's gonna bolt as soon as he sees the pregnancy test," Betty growls, looking genuinely pissed-off as she raises her paw to her mouth for a moment only to let it drop to her side. "No such thing as a happy ending. Tale old as time."

"What are you two watching?" I ask in amusement as Betty kicks her feet up.

"Restless Paws, but it really went downhill after the sixteenth season," Anneke replies, hopping off her end of the couch and circling around to mine, whereupon she immediately shoves her whole face into one of my bags. "Ooh. Are these sourdough?"

Snorting, I roll my eyes. "Help yourself."

"Thanks, yarn ball," Betty grunts and leans wayy over. She half-smooshes me against the arm of the sofa and I find myself pressed tight against her side while she fishes out a pretzel.

She must've knocked the wind outta me or something, because I only snap out of it when Anneke taps my forehead with her foreclaw.

"You watching with us or what?" she asks, her scratchy voice cracking as she glances up at me.

"Hold on," I reply, running a mental checklist of anything in my bags that might need refrigerating. Nope. Should be good. I settle back against the well-worn fabric of the couch and stretch my legs. "Yeah, I'm in."

"I don't know what the fuck Ozzy sees in this show," Betty groans, rubbing her temples. "And I don't know why the fuck I can't stop watching it, either."

"It's addictive," Anneke agrees.

"It's shit."

"Right right right, look, here's Catwell now. So smug, so proud of himself," Anneke comments, pointing at one of the actors, a slick-furred panther in a crisp suit feigning a smile as a teenage wildcat bawls in his arms. "God, I just wanna sock him right in his perfect fuckin' dick."

"His per-- how the fuck do you know what that guy's dick looks like?" I bust out laughing.

"It's a figure of speech!" Anneke stammers as she slumps against her pillow, letting out a shrieky, barky yawn.

"Fuck it is!" Betty snorts, pinching her pretzel stick together between her pawtips like she's holding a cigarette. "I have never once heard you or anyone else say that."

"Arright, okay! Okay! Okay, so maybe there were some pictures online."

"You been lookin' at creepshots? Aw, shame, Annie. Let these poor freaks live their lives."

"He wasn't even naked! You could just-- kinda see it through his boxers!" Anneke yips, clearly annoyed. "What, you never look at porn?!"

"That's got nothing to do with my point."

Anneke raises her brows. "Geez. Maybe that explains why you're so uptight, then."

With a sharp click of her tongue, Betty reaches a broad arm over my head with frightening speed. She grabs Anneke by her stripy mohawk and the scruff of her neck, and drags the yapping little aardwolf past me and onto the sofa.

"Fuck you say to me?" our Beta scowls, shaking her about (albeit in sort of slow motion, I guess to be sure she's not hurting her).

I can't help watching this with an amused grin. Seeing these two bickering back and forth with each other all because of cheesy, melodramatic daytime TV feels like a spectator sport.

"I'm right and you know it, Big B! Rem, c'mon, back me up this time," Anna pleads. "Is it weird to look at pictures of celebrities online?"

"I already said that ain't the issue -- and besides, the fuck kinda question's that? He's a boy, you already know what he's gonna say," Betty chides, waving her off.

"Weeeelllll," I grin, "maybe Anna's right in a way. Avo's got a date, and she was in a better mood than I've seen her in a while. When was the last time you went out with someone, Betty?"

The grappling pair release each other, and I suddenly find them craning to look over at me. The sordid love affairs of Restless Paws now a complete afterthought, Betty slaps the 'mute' button on the remote. The Beta's gaze is off the TV, now fixed squarely on me, and even though she's still reclined, I can see her tensing up, that thick black tail of hers twitching slightly.

"Arright, that's enough of that now," she grunts. "I ain't lookin' for love."

I raise my hooves in polite surrender, but my smile's pretty much glued-on at this point.

"So she really is seeing someone." Betty hums low, her half-chomped pretzel hanging from her maw like a cigar. "I knew somethin' was up. Well, shit."

"Who's the dumb stud she's got lined up?" Anna asks curiously, eyes wide as I've ever seen them as she leans forward to sit on the edge of the couch cushion.

"Some guy from work. Another wolf like her, I think she said. He sounds nice, but she didn't talk too much about him," I admit, shrugging. "She just... seemed excited about it. I'm happy for her, though."

Betty downs the rest of her beer before crumpling the can and tossing it at the too-full wastebasket by the front door. It misses.

"Hey, if she knows him from Pandora's, maybe they're gonna make a 'movie'," Anneke says with an exaggerated wink-wink at us, only to wilt when Betty and I both give her pointed looks. "What?"

Like brother, like sister.

"Well, all joking aside," Anneke shrugs, idly lolling out on the arm of the sofa, "I hope wherever she's going, she has a good time. I think she's earned it."

"Yeah. She ain't the type to let it show, but the whole thing with Pandora really shook her," Betty comments. "I'm glad things are back to normal around here."

Our gaze turns back to the TV, and after a few minutes of silence, Anneke slowly nudges the volume switch with her foot once the show comes back from the commercial break. Just in time, too -- looks like the greasy, handsome bastard Catwell is standing in front of a female lynx. She's got what's obviously a pillow tucked under her dress. I'm guessing she's supposed to be pregnant. In Catwell's paws is a small velvet box, and on his face is a nervous smile.

"Oh my god, oh my god," Anneke gasps.

"Oh, fuck you -- it's gotta be a fakeout," Betty groans, dragging a paw down her face. "No. Dream. Calling it now, it's a dream."

I'm fighting back a giggle fit. "You two are taking the show more seriously than it's taking itself."

"Shut up," they both whisper.

Catwell stoops to one knee, opens the box, and inside is a cheap, rhinestone-studded ring.

"Wait, is that supposed to look cheap because Catwell's cheap, or is that just the best prop they could afford?"

Anna scoffs. "Thing looks like it came out of a fuckin' gumball machine."

Betty hisses through clenched teeth as Catwell slips it onto his soon-to-be-bride's finger, and the two embrace.

"Fucking unbelievable. This guy popped the question before Al," Betty growls, shutting the TV off as Anneke and I laugh.

-

It's just about sunset when I hear a familiar sound of click-clacking steps on wood, stirring me from my half-nap on the couch. At first, I wondered what Ms. Velvet Roe was doing here, but after a moment, I realize those are heels I'm hearing.

I check the clock with a furrowed brow. Avo's home early.

Her footsteps grow quieter as I hear her ascending to the upper floor. Her apartment's directly above mine, but I don't hear her come back to the hall, even through the paper-thin walls of the Crowns. Instead, pressing my ear to my door, I can make out the grating sound of metal squeaking overhead. That's the roof access door -- it sticks sometimes, usually after it's recently rained.

I turn around, grab my keys, and make my way down the hall and up to the roof to check on her. And as I push open the difficult door, there she is. Sitting on one of the big, boxy ventilation units, leaned forward with her paws on her knees, watching the sun slowly melt into the horizon. Wearing a beautiful, sleeveless black dress, with a pair of elegant heels kicked off beside her.

Frowning, I clench and unclench my fists a couple of times before walking over to her side. My hooves crunch along the gritty rooftop with each step, but if she notices, she doesn't seem to care.

"Hey," I offer quietly.

"Hey yourself," she yawns without even looking up at me.

I climb up onto the box beside her, and none too gracefully. My short legs dangle off the side as I scoot next to her. I probably look completely ridiculous -- like a little kid in a booster seat next to his big sister or something.

I'm pretty sure I already know, but I ask anyway.

"How'd it go?"

"Eh." She lets out a noise that's halfway between a sigh and a raspberry. "Turns out he was kind of a prick."

There's a sudden, sharp little pang in my heart. I look down at the roof, trying to think of something meaningful or worthwhile to say.

"That sucks, Avo. I'm sorry to hear it."

The jackal nods, closes her eyes, and idly stretches out in the cool evening air.

Avo's got a quick wit and a sharp tongue, and I've seen her take plenty of jabs in stride. For as much as she dishes out, she's always struck me as thick-skinned. And maybe it's like Betty said -- maybe she just plays it close to the chest. Or maybe she really is fine. Either way, she doesn't need my dumb ass chiming in on this.

And yet, I can't help myself. I never fucking can, seems like. But the spark of anger in my stomach starts to grow into a brushfire, and all at once, I slap my hooves on the flat metal surface of my seat and turn to look at her.

"Avo," I start, with as much restraint as I can manage. "You're-- you've got your own style, and it's incredible. You're self-made, and-- and confident, in all the ways most mammals wish they were. You know what you want, and you, uh, you make a really good stir-fry."

She tilts her head to look at me, and I nod back to her, forcing myself to reel this in while I still can.

"You're a-- a smart, witty, beautiful young woman. And if that guy can't see that-- well, that's his loss, not yours."

Avo doesn't reply, or even react much. Just sort of looks at me without speaking, just blinking softly. But after a moment, she reaches out around me, and I can feel her paw rest on my shoulder, giving me a gentle shake.

We sit like this for a while, just waiting out the sun as day gives way to night, and the nocturnal traffic begins to pick up.

"You know, you got a good heart underneath all that fluff."