Sudden movement from out of the corner of my eye catches my attention right as a heavy paw taps me on the shoulder.

"Hey, Remmy!"

"Oh! Hey, Cliff," I gasp, trying my best to look nonchalant. For a tiger of his size, Cliff sure can be silent. I never even heard him come up behind me. Must be some kind of evolutionary holdover from when they'd have to sneak around to catch food.

"So hey, what's up with that rubber thing on your barbells?" Cliff asks, taking a heavy pull off of his water bottle as he collapses on the seat next to me. "Kinda reminds me of those clips they have on snowboards to hold 'em onto your ankles. That just a comfort grip, or...?"

Once my heartrate settles back down from the stealth ambush, I lower my weights to the floor.

"Yeah, basically. Hoof grips," I confirm, wiggling the tips of my hooves for emphasis. "Ungulates have a harder time holding onto heavy stuff. Little items like phones and cups are just fine, but last thing I wanna do is drop a dumbbell on myself." Like I almost did a second ago.

"Yeah, I can see it," Neil says from the next bench over, scratching his golden lion's mane. "Didn't even know those were a thing. Lookin' at it now, though, makes sense why you'd want some."

I peer at the grips, hefting the barbell before me. "I guess when you don't have to deal with it, you don't really think about it."

"No kidding! Why didn't you say something before, Remmy?" Cliff asks. "Packer's is always looking for suggestions on new equipment. Seems like the kind of thing that some folks would want here for accessibility reasons. Uh -- not that hoofers are disabled, I mean."

Cringing, Neil tugs exaggeratedly at his collar. "Jeez, Cliff."

"Yeah, shit, I know," the tiger mutters self-consciously. "Sorry, Remmy."

"For what, 'hoofer'?" I shrug, unscrewing the hoof grips from the barbells and returning them to my bag. "Why would I mind? I mean, that's what I am, right? 'Ungulate' doesn't really roll off the tongue, anyway."

"Still, shitty move on my part, at least," Cliff says. Is that even a slur? I guess it must be if he feels that bad about it. "Won't happen again."

"Nah dude, don't beat yourself up for it. I've said way worse, and recently, too." Chuckling, I wipe my face on my towel, shaking some of the sweat loose from my wool. "To answer your question: I guess I hadn't really thought it was a big enough deal to gripe about. The gyms I'm used to cater to sheep. Hoof grips there come standard. Makes sense they wouldn't be as common here, so I figured I'd just buy my own."

"I guess." Looking at his own paws, Cliff flexes his fingers, deep in thought. "Feels like it'd be a huge pain having to do stuff like that with hooves."

"Oh, it definitely is. It's a massive fuckin' pain in the ass," I immediately reply, laughing as I finish gathering my stuff up into the new gym bag Al got me. "Nobody here's gonna argue that. But we work with what we got."

"Ain't that the truth, Neil," Cliff grins, elbowing the lion in the side.

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about," Neil mumbles as he slings his own bag over his shoulder. "I gotta head to work, guys. Those tacos aren't gonna make themselves."

"This is so like him," Cliff sighs. "I'll always come second to tacos."

"To be fair, the tacos were here first."

"Hey Neil, you gonna be at the same place you were at last time?" I ask, licking my lips. "If so, save some fish for me. I've been dying for a second helping."

"I'm actually setting up in the old lot just south of the row, near Clippership Styles and Grooming? You know where that is?"

I nod. "'Clips, Dips, & More' right?"

"'Been a good boy? Come treat yourself!'" Cliff interjects, gesturing like he's spelling out their slogan in mid-air, much to the lion's amusement.

"That's the one. I gotta go home, get the truck, and stock up on some ingredients, so I probably won't be wheels-down for an hour or so." Neil reaches into his pocket, pulling his phone out and thumbing through it idly. "But yeah, come look me up and we'll do business."

"Right on. I gotta shove off myself, but hey, it was great seeing you guys," I reply, following Neil out to the lobby.

Sometime between now and when I first got here, Martina's arrived with her snack stand and cash box, raising money for the library again. Looks like she's got her own paws full, with several eager customers lined up to buy granola bars and sports drinks. I slip a five dollar bill into her donation box on my way out, and even though she's looking a little frazzled with so many hungry patrons swarming her stand, she still takes the time to give me a grateful smile and wave.

As Neil and I part ways, I catch myself practically strutting down the street. The air's cool tonight, and charged with something -- even though I just came from lifting at the gym, I feel like I could go right back inside and ball for hours. I don't know what it is about Packer's, but it seems like I always leave the place full of energy. While I'm not sure what I'm going to do with the rest of my evening, I'll be damned if I let it go to waste. At the very least, I'm hunting Neil down and getting some tacos. Maybe I'll bring one of my neighbors along? I wonder if Ozzy eats fish.

"Hey, little lamb!"

Looking up, I spot Pandora leaving the same bakery that Annie seemed really interested in back during our first group trip to Packer's. She's dressed nicely tonight in professional clothes; a low-cut, airy blouse and a pencil skirt with leggings just transparent enough to show off her natural stripes. For a second, I wonder if it would be specist to ask if she's related to Cliff. Hanging from one of her claws is a ribbon-bound box full of pastries, one of which she's snacking on. She's on her way to work, if I had to guess.

"Well look at you, all dressed up in your track suit," Pandora grins as I jog up to her. "Looking good, marshmallow. Bulking up?"

"Oh, I wish," I chuckle, poking one of my twiggy arms. "More like just trying to blow some steam off."

"Hmmm. I might know of a thing or two that could help you with that." Finishing the last of her treat, she brushes a few stray crumbs from her blouse. "For instance -- did you get a chance to peek in your goodie bag?"

I wince slightly. I did indeed -- her very generous gift to me was a sampler pack consisting of a girly magazine (Preyboy), a packet of tissues, a small four ounce bottle of "intimate lubricant", and most notably an inexpensive (but SOFT) textured stroker. Barbells aren't the only thing hoofed mammals have trouble gripping, and getting my rocks off without help is not exactly a pleasant premise. The toy she gave me was all set to be an absolute boon for de-stressing.

...keyword WAS, anyway. Unfortunately I was so set on doing things just right that I got the bright idea from some fucking asshole online to stick it in the microwave so it could "warm up". They insisted a few seconds would make my experience far more "pleasuresome", but apparently, the popcorn button is NOT a substitute for low power. The twins gave me shit for the rest of the day about the smell of melted silicone. That's what I get for trusting someone with a username like "QueenODenial".

"I did, yes," I reply, blushing profusely. "It was, um, really nice, Pandora."

"...but?" she asks, eyebrow raised. "Oh, shoot. I didn't give you a pred one by accident, did I?"

Actually, you did, but I'm not picky. "N-no, that's not the problem," I admit reluctantly. "It was real nice, it just, um... I broke it."

"You broke it," she echoes, her other eyebrow elevating to match her first. "You know they're -- reusable, right?"

"What can I say?" I chuckle awkwardly. "Turns out that I'm too hot to handle."

Pandora giggles, shifting her pastry box to her other paw.

"Mr. Marshmallow, if you're packing that kind of heat, I might just see a film career in your future," she jokes, reaching out and giving my coif a playful pat. "Tell you what. Swing by the shop next time you're in my neck of the woods, and we'll fix you up with a new one. Something a little sturdier."

"I'd like that a lot, actually," I reply. "Sorry for the trouble. Believe me when I say I was brokenhearted about it." That's actually an understatement. I hadn't even gotten to use it.

"Oh, I don't doubt it, you poor thing," she sniffs. "I've dedicated my career to spreading the message of the importance of self-maintenance. You know, if you don't have any evening plans, you're welcome to walk with me over there now."

"I'd love to, but, uh, I don't suppose Avo's working tonight...?"

"Ahh. Yes, she sure is. You two are neighbors, right?" Pandora asks with a sage nod, instantly having taken my meaning. "I can see how that might be just a touch awkward."

I nod sheepishly. "Yeah. Any chance of me getting a raincheck on that offer when I can be a little more, y'know...?"

"Discreet? Mm, absolutely. I ask all of my employees to exercise common sense and not violate customer privacy, but just the same, you might do better to come in during off hours. You know how Avo can be."

"Yeah, I do," I answer, a shiver running down my spine. "Speaking of evening plans, how about you? Anything exciting going on?"

"Oh, nothing too glamorous. I'm giving kind of a little presentation tonight. And before you ask, no, not THAT kind," Pandora laughs. Tapping her box of pastries with a clawtip, she gives me a knowing wink. "Hence why I stopped and picked up a few goodies on the way."

"Gotta make a good first impression, huh," I muse. Something I wish I myself had done. "So like, are you doing a seminar, or...?"

"Mmm. Yes, kind of. It's mostly a sales thing; I'm meeting with some clients who own a chain of gentleman's clubs and are looking at my store as a potential distributor. Pasties, costumes, that kind of stuff. If things go well I could very well be expanding into the downtown area." She shrugs. "I'm actually a huge fan of public speaking, if you can believe it. I've done talks at colleges and business schools, and it's a lot of fun. College students will turn out in droves to hear a thirty-something 'porn magnate' talk about sales and marketing."

"I can't say I'd have figured you for the type, but that does sound like a lot of fun. Maybe I should take up public speaking myself," I joke. "Give a seminar on proper pompadour maintenance or something."

She doesn't laugh. Instead, she tilts her head, resting her cheek on her paw in a thoughtful pose. "You joke, li'l lamb, but I think people around here would get a kick out of listening to you speak. You've got a good sense of humor. A little bit of schmoozing, a little knowing how to poke fun at yourself, some free food, and you could probably get anyone to listen to anything you have to say."

"Huh. I mean, you know, I dunno," I chuckle, fluffing the wool on my shoulders. I can't believe I'm even considering the idea. "I wouldn't have the first clue of what to actually give a speech ON, though."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," she says, flashing a toothy smile at me. "If all else fails, you've got the pompadour plan to fall back on."

"Hah! That's definitely top of the list."

"Good. Let me know how it goes! In the meanwhile, I better get hustling -- my presentation starts in twenty minutes. It was nice chatting with you, as always."

"Likewise! I'll definitely stop in some time soon and take you up on that offer," I answer. "I saw a couple things that interested me last time I was in your shop, too."

"I look forward to it. Enjoy the rest of your night, Remmy," Pandora replies, tapping her clawtips to my hooftips before heading off.

As I resume my walk home, I can't help but shake my head at the very thought of me giving a seminar on any topic -- pompadours or otherwise. I mean, where the hell would I even start? Hi, my name's Remmy Cormo and I'm here to talk to you about how cool being a sheep is? Yeah, no.

I can't imagine anyone around here SERIOUSLY wanting to listen to a fuckin' ram spout off about shit like hoof cleaning and wool trimming and life without horns. Besides, I know I'm not the ONLY prey species that's living on Pack Street. I don't really want to piss off the Pack by trying to flaunt myself as some novelty. Betty made it pretty clear she wasn't interested in sheep at all, and I can't imagine Al wanting to go for it either.

...but then again, Wolter was pretty curious about sheep when we drove out to Bunnyburrow, and I did have questions for him about aardwolves. I bet he's not the only one who's got questions he's just never had a chance to air. Cliff and Neil seemed curious about the hoof grips, which I guess makes sense. I didn't know anything about Pack traditions and rankings and responsibilities and so on until I finally nutted up and asked about it. And now that I'm 'officially' part of the pack, maybe even Betty would show a little interest. I mean hell, maybe if I tried to put myself out there one more time, it'd help further relations in our community -- if nothing else, at least with a few of my neighbors.

After all, we are in the middle of a national crisis. Reaching across the aisle's not gonna hurt anybody.

I'm starting to get to know my neighbors a bit more, but there's not really a whole lot they know about me. Marty even accused me point-blank of acting "fuckin' untouchable", and now that they've brought me into the fold, I've got to socialize more. As hokey as the idea is, maybe if I presented it all tongue-in-cheek LIKE a seminar -- with free food and so on -- it'd work like an ice breaker. We could have it down in the lobby of the apartment building, since that IS kind of our unspoken group gathering place between the burga lunch Charlie and I treated everyone to, and then the pizza party we had the night I was formally accepted into the Pack. Could actually be a chance to get everyone interested, and share a bit of my world with them.

Reaching into my wallet, I check my cash supply. Pandora DID say free food and schmoozing goes a long way, and sure enough, Al was a lot more receptive when I bought everyone lunch that day. I could swing by Neil's food truck and get tacos for everyone. Maybe ask him to make some with bug meat for the twins and anyone else who doesn't eat fish. I'm pretty sure the dollar store's open so I could get one of those big foil tins to keep everything nice and warm, too.

I might even stop off at the library first and get a book on sheep, grab a few talking points from it and print up a couple flyers to hoof out... shit, I'll probably need a big easel and a dry-erase board or something. I've never really planned a "meeting" like this, but I can see why Pandora would think it's fun. I'm excited already. Hell, if it goes well enough, I could see this becoming a regular community thing.

That's it. I've made up my mind. The Pack's started educating me in their ways -- least I can do is return the favor. And hit or miss, it's not like I can embarrass myself any worse than I already have in front of Al.

One thing's for sure: I'm definitely going to be busy tonight.

Two hours later, I arrive home to an empty lobby, but since this is the nocturnal equivalent of "late morning/early afternoon" (my visit to Packer's was basically my "morning routine"), I imagine everyone's going to be ready for lunch soon.

Neil ended up giving me a nice discount because I bought the equivalent of a catering order, but I figured it's better to have too much than not enough. I lay the huge tin full of tacos out on the lobby table along with some paper plates and some plastic cups. A couple two-liters of normal, NON-grape soda later (sorry Marty, not this time), and the food's all taken care of.

I hastily set the easel up in front of the lobby television, where it'll be front and center. Speaking of Marty, everyone's favorite stoat wasn't at the library tonight, but I name-dropped him and one of the workers was kind enough to loan me an easel along with a laminated piece of posterboard and a few dry-erase markers. In my hooves are a few fact sheets I printed off -- and since this is the digital age, I'm going to see if I can't get a tag trending for later online discussion.

Grinning to myself, I quickly write out the name of my "seminar" and flip the board over so that it's a surprise. Folding my arms, all I need now is an audience -- and living in an apartment building full of predators, it won't take them long to come running for the smell of fresh food. On scent alone, my money's on the fox.

It's not two minutes before I hear a familiar pitter-patter down the overhead hall. Sure enough.

"Cormo," Charlie's voice murmurs from somewhere overhead long before she even shows her face. "I do believe I smell fish. Cod, if I'm not mistaken."

"That's DEFINITELY cod," Ozzy whoops in standard hyena fashion, toting his guitar case over his shoulder as he descends the landing right behind Charlie and her enormous, swishing tail. "Fuckin' wow, woolly B. I'm really hopin' you're in a sharin' mood tonight, because if you brought a mountain of fish tacos home all for yourself... man, that'd be a mean trick to play on everyone."

"Ozzy, come on, it's me," I reply with a smug grin, arms folded. "Am I THAT big of an ass?"

He laughs excitedly, throwing his shaggy arm around my shoulder and squeezing me into a brief but overpowering hug. "Y'know, I would answer that, but it's not worth missing out on a taco."

Charlie coughs pointedly, but says nothing. Thanks, guys. Message received.

"Tacos? From Neil's?" Anneke says as she rockets down the staircase. "There'd better be some bug ones in there or you're making a second trip."

"I'll have you know I got both kinds," I smugly retort. "I have it on good authority that aardwolves are insectivores."

"And sheep are herbivores, but that ain't stoppin' you," she cracks with a too-sweet smile. "How about you apply your knowledge to getting that slider debt of yours settled up?"

"Are you kidding me?" I ask, eyebrow raised. "I bought everyone lunch! Does that not settle it?!"

Sniffing at the air, Anneke waves me off. "Tacos aren't sliders."

"She's got you there, Cormo," Charlie muses. Oh, come on, Charlie, not you too. You're an enabler, you know that?

Looks like we've already got ourselves a serious little crowd going here. Charlie's obviously racking her brain trying to figure out what I've got planned -- I keep noticing her attempting to sneak a glance at my paper materials tucked under my arm. One-by-one, my neighbors are beginning to pour out of the woodwork. Where there's Annie, there's Wolt, and eventually the Alpha wolf himself makes his way down the stairs to see what the commotion's all about.

"Arright, what's goin' on? You making an announcement, grazer?" Al scoffs good-naturedly. "You know Omegas aren't permitted to make announcements, right? You ain't got the security clearance for it."

"Well, good thing I'm not making an announcement, just holding a meeting," I reply casually. "Well, a seminar, really."

As I expected, the entire room bursts out laughing -- I think they think I'm super serious about this. Even Charlie's smirking to herself as she passively observes this entire exchange. Joke's on everyone here -- I knew I'd be ridiculed going in, which is why I front-end loaded it. My plan is to get the jeering out of the way early so that I can actually get my point across.

"A fucking seminar," Al says, grin widening as he pulls his phone from his pocket. "Oh, fuck, no. Don't nobody make a move until everyone's here. Betty'd kill me if she knew what she was missing."

"One step ahead of you, boss," Charlie replies as she wiggles one of her burner phones. "This seemed like a rare occasion. I've already put the word out to Betty. And Marty as well."

"Well, hey, the more the merrier," I grin, taking my seat by the easel.

"A seminar! Shit, man, I KNEW I shoulda brought my pocket protector," Ozzy giggles uncontrollably as he collapses at the far end of the couch opposite the twins.

"I don't have a pocket protector, but maybe these'll work," Wolt replies, fishing around in his pocket and pulling out a pair of lenseless glasses. "Here y'go, Oz."

"Oh, fucking flawless, man," the hyena cackles, taking them from Wolt and perching them on his nose. A fistful of ink pens from the lobby counter in his shirt pocket completes the transformation. All of a sudden his smile's gone and he's got the most blank, serious expression I've ever seen him wear. "I'm ready for our meetin', sir. Do you need me to get those fourth quarter reports for ya, sir?"

"Have them collated and on my desk by five," I reply gruffly, fighting a smirk. Annie's got her phone out, snapping photos of him. My response is too much and his facade shatters as quickly as it came, leaving him laughing so hard tears are streaming from his eyes as he snaps off a salute.

"Yes sir, Mr. Ramrod!"

Amid all the laughter, the other wolves finally come home to the pack. Betty and Avo nearly kick the door down getting into the building, both of them dressed in their mismatched work uniforms -- based on their attempts to not look winded, they probably ran here on their lunch break.

"Where's the fuckin' fire, Charlie?" Betty pants, sniffing at the air. "Wait, that's fish. Is that fish? This is the weirdest fucking surprise party. My birthday's not for another month."

"About time you two showed up!" Al eagerly rumbles, taking a seat and prying the tin open. "Everybody's here except Marty, so let's go ahead and eat."

Every nose in the room begins to twitch as the metallic lid's peeled back. Mine included. It's fascinating watching a room full of predators inhaling the powerful scents of crispy, fried fish and fresh-grilled bug meat.

"Well this is a welcome treat," Avo says, subconsciously licking her lips. "Thanks for lunch, Al."

"Wasn't me. Our woolly pup here sprang for it." He flicks a clawed white finger at me with a smirk.

Avo gives a surprised glance to Betty, then turns back to me with a soft-edged smile. "Well. In that case, thank you for lunch, Remmy."

A mumbled chorus of appreciation follows Avo's, ranging from enthusiastic to reluctant -- all of which I take in stride.

"Ah, no big deal, guys," I reply. Actually it was a pretty big deal on my meager budget, but that doesn't need to be said. "You're welcome."

"I thought you didn't like greasy food, Avo," Annie chides, muscling in next to her, paper plate in paws. "Something about it going to your enormous hips?"

"I'll make an exception for fish, pipsqueak," the jackal fires back. "Besides, I missed Neil's truck last time he was around here."

"Glad we didn't stop to eat along the way," Betty says, lining up behind Al (and more importantly, in front of everyone else) as the Alpha helps himself to a king's share before taking his place in his recliner. I'm just glad I "overspent" on food to make sure I'd have more than enough for everyone -- I wasn't expecting this huge of a turnout.

As with the pizza party, as soon as the Alpha and Beta are taken care of, it's a free-for-all on the taco tins. I notice Avo's being way more aggressive than she usually is. By the time everyone's plates are filled, there's only a single bug taco left. I can't help but feel smug -- nice of them to leave one for the Omega, but I was a clever boy. I ate three tacos on the way over here!

...not that they need to know that.

"Alright, Cormo. You've definitely more than earned your audience, and you've got my blessing," Al chortles, wiping guacamole from his muzzle with the back of his paw. "So let's have it, what's this little show-and-tell of yours about?"

"Shoulda known there was strings attached," Betty mumbles, glaring at Charlie as she leans against the wall with her plate.

"Did you not see the easel?" Charlie responds cynically. "It's right there. First thing I noticed when I entered the room." Ha ha, no, the first thing you noticed was the fish, you fibber.

"Honest to god, I was trying to ignore it," the wolfess mutters, rolling her eyes. "Okay, cotton swab. What's so important you had to bribe us?"

Seems like everyone's in more or less a good mood and the initial scornful atmosphere's started to die down -- all according to plan -- so now's looking like my opportunity. Grabbing my stack of flyers, I eagerly trot over to the easel. I've only got one shot at making this work. Presentation's everything.

"I'm so glad you asked," I reply jovially, flipping over the posterboard to proudly unveil tonight's topic of discussion. As expected, Ozzy breaks out in another round of shrieky laughter, though this time he's the only one. The others are all wearing expressions of disbelief, most frozen mid-chew.

"'#SheepFacts'?" Betty finally asks, incredulous. "With a fuckin' hashtag and everything? Oh my god."

"No wonder you wanted us over here in such a hurry," Avo squeals, nearly choking on her food as she shoulder-checks Charlie. "Hot fuck! I'd have paid MONEY to see this show!"

I start passing out my flyers to everyone. "I know it seems stupid--"

"Only 'seems'? Really, yarnball?" Betty grumbles, making no move to accept the flyer. I roll it up and gently poke it in the pocket of her mom jeans with a smile before continuing my sweep around the room.

"...since I'm obviously the newest member of the Pack and all," I continue, patting my whistle with pride. "But you guys have been kind of going over Pack customs with me off and on lately and I wanted to return the favor, so I thought maybe I'd go over a few sheep customs with you guys. Thus, the name."

"This whole thing was an excuse to talk about yourself?" Avo discards her lollipop stick as she pours herself a cup of soda.

Betty rolls her eyes. "How do you manage to hide your balls in your shorts so well?"

"That's enough." Al waves her off. "At least give him a chance to get his foot in his mouth first."

"Um, thanks, Al. I promise this'll be quick, and hey, you guys might even learn something," I nervously reply. "I mean, you did the other day, right, Wolt?"

"That's right, yeah," Wolter says, wiping his paws on his shirt. "Wait, what?"

"Well, at least we know who to blame for putting the idea in his head," Avo quips.

Before I can actually launch into my diatribe, the front door to the lobby slams open and Marty tumbles in. He's disheveled and dripping sweat, toting a duffel bag that's almost as big as he is.

"Hey. Sorry I'm late," he wheezes, nearly doubling over as he staggers inside. "I had... a ton of fuckin' shit to deal with at the library. And I thought I was never gonna get outta there. I got your text, Charlie, what'd I miss?"

"Nothing yet," Charlie replies, plucking the last bug taco from the tray and gingerly handing it off to Marty as he collapses on the seat next to her. "Want something to drink?"

Marty looks at the bottles of lemon-lime soda and cola on the table in disgust, much to my internal satisfaction.

"Water," he grunts after a few seconds of consideration, glancing around. "Why the hell are you dressed like a nerd?"

Ozzy holds his arms out proudly. "I'm a wage slave now, man, same as you!"

Marty squints, staring in confusion. "The fuck is all this?"

"Woolly bully's holdin' a seminar on sheep facts," the hyena snickers.

"I'm out," Marty says, standing back up.

"SIT," Al booms. Marty immediately complies, returning to his taco.

"I can't leave you people alone for five fuckin' minutes, can I," he mutters.

Skimming the flyer in his paw, Al motions for everyone to settle down. "Arright, guys. Remmy. Get on with it."

"Okay, so, uh -- welcome! You all know me as a neighbor, but I don't think you know much about me as a sheep. Being a ram, I grew up in a herd. Which is a lot like a pack, I'm finding out! And I thought I'd share a couple of the similarities with you guys." I'm half-expecting them to correct me or argue semantics, but to my surprise, everyone simply continues eating. All eyes are watching -- with mixed expressions, sure, but watching just the same. Shit, I've actually got the floor here! Fuck, I'm running with it. I flip open my notecards.

"Contrary to popular belief, sheep are very intelligent. They're especially good at recognizing and remembering faces, and have excellent memories. Wait." I peer at the card, tilting my head. "What the hell does that mean, 'contrary to popular belief'?"

Marty snickers, and for whatever reason, everyone looks to Avo. Surprisingly, she just shrugs. "I didn't say anything."

I push on. "And speaking of herds and packs, did you guys know that herds have their own Alpha, sort of?"

"No shit, really?" Annie asks. "I'm trying to imagine Al as a ram now."

Al's eyes go wide and he stops chewing halfway through. He mutters very quietly to her. "Don't."

"Tooooo late," she grins.

"Yes, it's true. In olden times, there were actually sheep called 'leadersheep'. They were usually the biggest and hardiest sheep in the herd, and they'd lead all the others to safety," I continue, tapping the flyer. "Even though we've evolved past all that, even in modern day Zootopia we still find ourselves, y'know, looking for our own Alpha, basically."

"Leadersheep, huh. Explains a few things," Al muses. "I don't think that means you'll be challenging me any time soon, though."

"No, no. For now, I accept my fate as the Omega," I chuckle. That gets a few laughs. "So another thing -- rams are really competitive. It's a biological thing, you know. It takes different forms today. For instance, me kicking Ozzy's ass at basketball."

"Hey, only because I've been holding back," Ozzy protests good-naturedly. "I could mop the floor with your fuzzy ass, man."

"Well, be that as it may, back in the days of the leadersheep, we weren't gonna follow some weak-ass ram who couldn't prove himself. So we'd have headbutting contests," I reply. "And they got pretty nasty."

"Hey, no lie there," Avo interjects, patting her stomach. "You guys think he's hard-headed, you should've seen him use that thick skull at Packer's. Almost laid me out, and I was behind a punching bag. If he had horns I'd probably have busted a rib."

"Speaking of biological things, sheep actually have very good eyesight. Statistically, less than 5% of sheep need some form of eye correction, one of the lowest numbers of any species. And speaking of natural benefits, sheep wool was once the most widespread fabric and clothing material in the entire world, and is still used in some places today."

"Speaking of which, when your next coat comes in, I'll be needing a pillow as well," Charlie deadpans.

"I'll... keep that under advisement," I cough, flipping through my notes. "Behaviorally, sheep are natural followers, too. For instance, we're really good at following along without asking questions."

I blink, re-reading my notes in the sudden quiet. That really didn't sound so good -- maybe I shouldn't have printed the first website on sheep behavior I found at the library computer.

"Uhhh... heh. Ah, sheep also form really strong, borderline familial bonds with people if they're removed from their native herd -- according to this, adopted lambs tend to take to their new families better than any other Zootopian mammal on statistical average," I add.

"Awwwww," Annie smooshes her cheeks in with both paws. "Remmy's like our own little adopted lamb!"

"Explains why he called me 'mom' when I was taking care of him," Betty mutters with the faintest smile.

"I didn't," I snap back without hesitation, trying not to turn red. Ozzy's got both paws over his mouth, wheeze-laughing and trying in vain to stay quiet. "No, I didn't. She's joking, guys. I didn't do that."

Betty sips her drink, a smug look on her face.

"Anyway, yeah, that's why sheep put so much importance on family. Uh. Why family's, um..." I trail off. There's dead air for a moment. My eyes glance over the card and I crumple it up, stuffing it in my pocket.

"And, uh, yeah, anyway, I guess that kind of carries over into modern times with -- well, with leadership!" I continue awkwardly, staring at the rest of my note cards. "Because we're a prey species, you know, and we're constantly looking for someone to protect us from pr-- from threats. And because of that, sheep tend to... to shun anyone around them who shows unusual characteristics or doesn't conform because, uh, in the olden days that's... how the pa-- herd protected itself."

There's a lump forming in the back of my throat. I fumble for a cup off the table, pouring myself some soda. Nobody's saying anything, which somehow's making it worse. I expected another joke or comment by now.

"Turns out that sheep are also really good at hiding pain, since they'll seem less vulnerable to pre--" I cut myself off, flipping through my notes. "Uh. Evolutionary thing. Holdover. Whatever. Hah, uh... did you know we have trouble walking in a straight line? If you look at hoofprints, they're almost never straight. Hope I never get pulled over for drunk driving! I'm in trouble if I gotta get out and walk the... line, outside. The car."

The only sounds in the room are quiet chewing and my own heart pounding in my ears. The cards are shaking in my hooves.

"In social groups, herd animals -- especially sheep -- can have difficulty thinking for themselves, esp-- especially when it, especially when it comes to new --" I stammer, crinkling the cards in my hooves. "And, uh, we have -- you know what, I..."

I can't even look up from my notes. At this point, the words aren't even registering. I fold the flyer over a couple of times before shoving it and the remaining cards in my pocket. "You know, this, this was a, this was a stupid idea, hah. Never mind. This was a really dumb idea," I announce to the floor beneath my feet. "Ha ha, thanks for, uh, for showing up and humoring me, guys. I don't know what I was thinking. Uh, enjoy the tacos and uh, yeah. So. Yeah. Thanks, have a great, have a good day. Okay."

I can hear some quiet murmuring. The sounds of a few of my neighbors slowly rising from their seats. Turning around, I begin shakily dismantling the easel to return to the library. Even though it's a ways from here, there's no reason in not taking it back tonight.

"Yo, wait, that's it? You're just gonna fuckin' bounce without finishing your seminar?" Marty grunts, licking salsa off of his paws. "You didn't even get to any of the good shit."

Wiping my nose on my sleeve, I look over my shoulder at him. "Nah, man, it's fine. I don't--"

"No, no no no, I ditched work to get over here, and you gave us a few social studies bullet points without even dishing on any of the crazy stuff. Like the fact it says that you guys have a fuckin' 300 degree field of vision," he continues, tapping the flyer. "Says it right here. 300 fucking degrees. I'm calling shenanigans."

I flex and relax my hooves, trying to focus. "Marty--"

"Turn around and tell me how many fingers I'm holdin' up."

I sigh. "Marty--"

"C'mon, grazer, don't be a fuckin' wuss. You a lamb or a leadersheep?" he demands, scurrying to the front of the room to join me before the group, who've resettled into their seats. I set the posterboard down, turning away as instructed with a sniffle. "How many?"

"Four," I reply, my head pointed away from him -- though out of the corner of my eye, I can still see his paw.

"Holy shit," Avo gasps.

"No, that was a fuckin' lucky guess," Marty insists, waving her off. "Fine, how about now?"

"Two. Thumb and index," I add.

"Fuck me, that's awesome!" Ozzy hoots.

"Fuck me, that's creepy," Wolter says, dragging his paws down his face as he leans forward on the couch seat. "I knew those were sea monster eyes."

"One more time," Marty says, holding his paw out towards me. I can't help but smirk before flipping him off in return.

"Yo, all right, that's just fucking unreal," he says, scoffing. "What other superpowers are you sitting on?"

"The ability to turn my head SLIGHTLY away from you and see the tip of your paw in my peripheral vision's a superpower? I take it they don't have many comic books at your library." Folding up the easel, I wipe my nose on the back of my short sleeve. "I dunno. Uh, I can eat fish without throwing up. How's that?"

"I think I've got that one too. That's a good one," Al cracks.

Annie sprawls out on the couch a bit. "C'mon, seriously though, your eyes are really that good?"

"Avo's picking her nose," I sniff.

The whole room suddenly turns to Avo, who's moved to the back corner. She shrinks down on being caught. "I was SCRATCHING it," she protests.

"Well, I'm convinced." Charlie brushes crumbs off of her sweater before standing up, circling around me and standing on her tip-toes to get close. Her eyes widen ever so slightly -- to my surprise, her irises are blue. She's usually squinting so much I can't tell. "If I ever need an eye transplant, I know where to get a fresh set."

"Tha-- thanks, I guess?" I respond.

"It's a joke, Cormo," she says.

"And hold up, what the hell is this?" Anneke abruptly stands up on the edge of the couch, waving around the flyer I gave her. "Sheep have four stomachs?!"

"No, no," I smile. "Common misconception. It's more like one stomach with four compartments."

"So what," she pauses, looking back at the paper in her paws, "like, one for each food group or what? Can you get full on veggies but still have room for dessert? Because I told my mom that when I was a kid and it didn't fly."

"Hyenas can eat bones."

Everything in the room stops, and in dead silence, my neighbors and I all simultaneously, slowly turn to face Ozzy -- still in his thick glasses and pocket full of pens -- sitting with his paws on his knees and a dumb smile on his face.

"What?" I ask.

"Hyenas can eat bones," he repeats. "All those deboned fish meals and stuff. They don't throw out the bones. They make 'em into stock and stuff, usually, I think? Most predators don't eat the bones. But hyenas can! We can digest them just fine. We got bonecrunchers for teeth."

"Yikes," I find myself grinning and taking a step back.

"That's creepy," Marty says, giving voice to what we're all thinking.

Ozzy smiles blankly at the stoat. "I could probably even eat your bones and not get a stomachache."

Marty looks around the room, paws held out incredulously. "What the fuck!"

"We can drink salt water too," he whistles, kicking his feet up on the table and rapping his fist against his midsection for emphasis. "Cast iron stomachs, man."

"I guess we've all got some weird biological holdovers," Annie smirks.

Her brother nods in agreement. "I eat ants off the ground sometimes. I'm not gonna pretend I don't."

To my surprise, Charlie chimes in. "Sometimes, when I see people throwing a ball at the park I get the urge to chase it." She fidgets with the hem of her sweater. "I know better, though."

"Don't hyenas laugh as an evolutionary thing, too?" Avo glances to Ozzy.

"Nope," Marty corrects. "You're thinking of spotted hyenas. Their ancestors were way weirder."

"Aardwolves definitely don't, either way," Wolt drawls, flopping out on the increasingly abandoned sofa.

Chuckling, Ozzy gives him a friendly shove. "We're talkin' about hyenas, dude."

Wolt sits up, a look of disbelief on his face. "Aardwolves ARE hyenas!"

Ozzy tilts his head, ears lopping to one side. "What, no shit?! Really?"

"YES! What the fuck, Oz? You're a hyena! How do YOU not know this?!"

Ozzy responds by simply giggling in embarassment and offering a clueless shrug, which gets the rest of the room laughing, too. Myself included. Good to know I wasn't alone on that one.

"Actually, speaking of outmoded biology, that reminds me," I join in, tapping a spot on my face. "They're long gone, but in the old wild days, sheep ancestors had scent glands right here, right in front of the eyes. Nobody's even really sure what they were for!"

"You're all freaks as far as I'm concerned," Al chortles. "Thank god all wolves do is howl, instead of some weird shit."

Charlie rocks on her heels, clasping her paws together. "Didn't wolf ancestors used to pee on everything?"

"Nope," Al replies, taking a long sip from his drink.

After everyone's cleared out for the evening to tend to their own devices, I stand alone in the lobby. As I begin humming to myself, cleaning up the mess from lunch, I hear faint footsteps behind me.

"So was your seminar everything you'd hoped and dreamed?" Annie asks from the other side of the sofa.

"Well, I wouldn't say that," I admit as I gather up the paper plates and trash, loading them into the empty foil tin. "But yeah. I think it went all right."

She folds her arms. "Well hey, I had a good time. I think I learned a lot more about you. About all of us, really."

"Good to hear. That was the plan. More or less."

"Speaking of plans, you know, I was wondering... you got any tomorrow night?" she asks.

I stop, turning to face her with my arms full of garbage. If I didn't know better I'd think she was asking me out.

"No, I don't think so," I admit warily. "Work's got my hours scaled back right now so I've got the night free. Why, you need me for something?"

"My brother's gonna be hanging out with a few of his idiot friends, and he's ditching me all alone on a Friday night. Usually, we go out clubbing together, and I'm not about to fuckin' miss out," Annie says, lolling out over the back of the couch. "I know a pretty good place that just opened up. Since you keep fuckin' up that slider debt, I was thinkin' you and I could, y'know. Hit the town."

My heart's starting to race in my chest. Holy shit. She IS asking me out. She actually is. I knew she was into me -- you don't have to have sheep eyes to see THAT kind of attraction -- but -- holy shit. This is kind of a big deal. Unable to formulate a sentence, I just nod dumbly like a fuckin' idiot.

"...so is that a yes?" she asks coyly.

"Yeah," I reply. Oh my god. This is definitely a date.

"This isn't a date," she quickly warns.

"Definitely not," I scoff, coolly.

"I just need someone to go out with so I don't look desperate, you know. I mean I'm not gonna be ignoring you or anything but if some available stud shows up I reserve the right to leave with 'em. Same for you if some shaved-down ewe or whatever you're into comes your way, of course. Just you know, that's how me and Wolt handle things when we're out. Keep our options open."

"Yeah, absolutely. What, uh, what time should I pick you up tomorrow?"

"My apartment's literally across the hall from yours," Annie smirks. "So, I dunno. Whenever. How about 11 PM? Midnight?"

"Sounds good."