It's about half past nine and I have my whole day ahead of me. I admit, waking up at night is something I'm starting to get used to.

Since it's still hot as hell during the day, I'm all set to take advantage of the damn pleasant seventy-five outside. Most days, I've got trouble figuring out what to do with my free time around here, but not tonight. I've had my shower, and it's been a week since my last trip to Bug Burga. I'm thinking a nice walk and a double roach deluxe sounds pretty good right about now.

As I go to open my front door, I find it's already unlocked. Panic ensues, followed by pain as it swings open and pops me in the muzzle.

"Oww!"

Charlie pokes her pointy schnozzo through the door, squinting at me with her usually shifty eyes. "Mmm. You know, that's probably not a safe place to stand, Cormo."

If I was an asshole, I'd close the door on her and see how she likes it, but I'll exercise some self-restraint. Rubbing my sore teeth with a hoof, I check my mouth for blood before stepping back and looking down at her.

"Can't you just knock like a normal person?" I ask, exasperated.

Charlie tilts her head in befuddlement, squinting at me like I've just sprouted a second head. It's obvious that's a completely foreign thought to her -- she literally appears to be having difficulty grasping the concept.

"Never mind," I groan as she finishes letting herself into my apartment. "What do you want, Charlie? I was just headed out."

"Of course you were, but your usual Saturday night bug-meat ritual might have to wait." Usual? Ritual? Have I become THAT predictable? "I received an urgent call and require your services for the evening."

"So, what, your crisis is now my problem?" Folding my arms across my chest, I look down at her in annoyance, making another mental reminder to figure out a better door lock.

"No, my client's crisis is our opportunity to profit," she responds evenly with a thin smile, reaching into her pants pocket and producing a hand-drawn map. "I've been asked to transport some imported product for a friend, but it's a large shipment and I won't be able to move it all myself. I need all hands, paws, and hooves on deck tonight."

She hands the map off to me and I skim it -- there's the destination, marked out all the way to the edge of Tundratown. I recognize the place. It's where most of our parent company's refrigerated trucks originate from. I've offloaded probably thousands of crates of produce from the surrounding area. Folding the paper up, I hoof it back to her.

"So this is another 'business opportunity' kind of like the firefly sauce thing?" I ask. Not that I really mind if it is. That wasn't a bad gig, certainly the easiest forty dollars I've ever made. Plus it was under the table, too. Considering my boss has been scaling my hours back lately, I can always figure out something to do with the extra cash.

"In a sense," Charlie replies evasively. "Your compensation will be far more generous than last time for not much more effort. Assuming you don't mind helping load a cargo van, I'll be taking care of all other arrangements. The hardest part for you, I imagine, will be operating a hand truck."

"So... basically what I do every day, then. Yeah, I think I can manage that." A thought strikes me halfway through -- before I actually offer any verbal agreement, I'd better make sure this is on the up-and-up. "Just to be clear, we're not stealing anything, are we?"

I know how these 'hood deals work. I don't want to get busted for doing something highly illegal that could have been avoided by just asking a few simple questions in advance, and I know any of these guys would throw me to the cops in a heartbeat rather than taking the rap themselves.

"I assure you we're not stealing." Charlie responds. "This is product my client has paid for and has fair rights to. And, if it aids in the decision-making process, I'll even treat everyone to a burga so that you don't have to pass on your carnivorous habit. After all, it'll be on our employer's dime; operating expenses and all, you understand."

"Nice." I clap my hooves together, and her smile widens. "Arright, count me in, Charlie. Who else is coming along on this?"

She gestures across the hallway to the twins' apartment. "A little extra muscle never hurts."

"Those two? If it's muscle you want, why not ask Al?" I ask, skeptical. Wolt and Annie don't exactly strike me as the kind that've ever done an honest day's work in their lives. Come to think of it, I don't even know what the hell they do for a living -- though I guess I'd believe they were in the world's oldest profession.

"You're not wrong. Al WOULD be ideal, but he's unavailable. Working. Also seems to have a distaste for my odd jobs. I suspect he feels they are beneath him." I suppose that explains why I haven't seen him around much lately now that I've moved to the night shift.

"Okay, why not Betty then?" I rub my still-bare skin self-consciously, thinking back to my recent unsolicited haircut. Charlie certainly didn't have any problem commissioning the big bad wolfess to strongarm someone last time. Namely, me.

"She's unavailable as well," Charlie says dismissively. That's something of a relief, anyway. Can't say I'm looking forward to seeing her again after how our last meeting ended.

"Ozzy?"

She turns to look at me, narrowing her already-squinty eyes, and I get the impression that was a dumb question.

"Twins it is, then," I shrug.

As we walk across the hall to the aardwolfs' apartment, Charlie raises a paw to the deadbolt to begin picking it, but I interrupt by simply knocking twice on the hard surface. She gives me another weird look, and after a few seconds Wolter comes to the door in his underwear with a yawn.

"Heyyy," he slurs sleepily, scratching his ass. Classy as ever. "What're you two doing here, you run outta rubbers or something? I mean, I'm flattered that you'd think of me first, Cormo, but I'm not sure mine'll, uh... be a good fit for you."

I cringe as I side-eye Charlie, but she either doesn't seem to have noticed his comment or just doesn't care. "Where's Anneke? Is she here?" I ask.

"She's out clubbing. Just me tonight," he shrugs.

"Get dressed, Wolter," Charlie responds. "I need your services tonight."

That perks him up considerably, and his eyebrows arch high. "What, for like... a threesome?" He glances at me. "Uh, with... him, or...?"

"Yes, the three of us will be sufficient," Charlie replies as she rocks back on her heels, hands clasped behind her back. Wolt nods, obviously not deterred. Oh, for fuck's sake.

"For a job," I quickly interject, deciding to nip this 'hilarious' misunderstanding in the bud before Wolt decides to get any more naked than he is. "Charlie needs us to go downtown and help her pick up some stuff for a client. It's not a sex thing."

"Oh," Wolter mutters before closing his door and disappearing into his apartment.

For a moment I just stand there, staring at the door. Charlie doesn't seem to have moved, either.

I whisper to her. "So was that a 'no', or...?"

"Hold on," she nods to the door.

After another few minutes, Wolt comes back in a pair of cargo shorts and a v-necked shirt, his mane slicked back with water. "So what're we goin' to go get, exactly?"

"I'm not 100% positive. Dora wasn't particularly forthcoming on all the details of the shipment," Charlie responds. "We're going to central Zootopia for the pickup, though."

"And you said this wasn't a sex thing," Wolter grins at me, closing the door behind himself. What? "Hey, can we stop for a bite on the way?"

"It'll have to be after," Charlie replies as the three of us head for the stairs. "Time is a concern for this errand. We need to obtain the shipment and have it delivered before midnight, and I still need to procure the cargo van we'll be using to haul it."

Once we're in the lobby, I stop abruptly. "Wait a sec. If we're heading to Tundratown, should we bring coats or anything? I mean, I know we won't need them here, but..."

"No, we're not entering Tundratown proper, just the outskirts," Charlie responds dismissively. "I've already checked the weather. Even with the residual cold it shouldn't be lower than sixty degrees. You're dressed appropriately."

"Alright," I respond dubiously as I follow Wolt out the lobby door. When I had my wool, the cold wasn't a problem. Still, she seems confident enough so I guess I've got no choice but to trust her judgment on this one.

"Sweeeeeet pussy wagon," Wolt enthuses as we circle our freshly-rented cargo van. I gag, rubbing my eyes -- it's a fucking junker of a vehicle with a hideous custom paint application on the sides, some kind of death metal album cover looking shit, I'm not even sure. The driver's side door has been stripped to the primer -- probably salvaged off of a similar vehicle. If Charlie's plan is to blend in, then she might need glasses, because we're going to stand out in any crowd we're in like a clown on fire.

"You, uh, you sure about this?" I ask Charlie, kicking one of the tires with hoof only to jump back when it hisses at me like a snake.

"Of course," she responds, reaching under the car and pulling out a magnetic key box. "The ad on Camelslist was very specific. Have it back here with the fuel tank refilled by midnight and we won't have problems."

"Hey, works for me. So, can I drive?" Wolt asks, dancing in place like a little kid in front of a coin-op ride.

"No," Charlie says flatly. "Cormo, you're the tallest of us. You're the one best suited to driving. I'll navigate."

Wolter groans, dragging a paw down his face. "Fine, but I call shotgun then."

The van reeks of sweat and cigarette smoke. It's a complete mess inside -- books and cassettes are all over the floorboards and a layer of animal hair covers the stained seats. There's a patch of sticky, peeling duct tape on the upholstery directly underneath one of my legs. I'm damn glad I'm sheared right now, otherwise I'd be leaving behind some hair of my own.

I settle in behind the wheel. At least it's an automatic, which is good because it's been a while since I last drove. Even before I was forced into the glamorous low-rent district that is Pack Street, I never really could afford a car. Gas and upkeep costs would be prohibitive, so I stuck to trains and buses. I guess I'm lucky the city's got such a good public transport system.

My accomplices squeeze in on the bucket seat, Wolt at the far side and Charlie between us. She taps her wrist. "Time is money. Let's get going."

"I hear ya," I respond gruffly, starting the engine. It explodes into action (literally, if the backfiring noise is anything to go by). I can't say I imagined this was how I'd be spending my night off, but the way I see it, it's a little bit of overtime.

The streets are busy as usual, with the nocturnal crowd out in full force on the weekend. I'm not very used to driving in traffic at night, and Charlie's directions tend to come about half a second too late. I've missed two turns already because of her -- why we're not using GPS or Zoogle Maps or something is beyond me, but I guess she wants to do this one old-school.

I can see why we're not stopping for a bite -- as we pass by the Bug Burga, it's packed as hell with the cars wound around the building twice over. We'd be waiting for eons in the drive-thru, and right now we're pressed for time. It's already after ten and we're still probably forty, forty-five minutes from where need to go -- and that's assuming traffic's forgiving. We'll definitely be cutting this one close.

"So Chuck," Wolter hums, wrapping an arm around Charlie's shoulder. "Chuuuuck. It's about fox season, right?"

Charlie looks up from her paper. "'Chuck'?" she asks.

"Yeah. It's my pet name for you. From Charlie, you know? Charlie? Charles? Chuck? It's a thing."

She blinks. "Nobody has ever called me 'Chuck' in my life. Certainly not you."

He shrugs, not the least bit rebuffed. "Anyway, Charlie, I'm just saying. It's tough here in the summer, you know? And with the heat and all, like... don't you ever get an itch you just can't scratch?"

Sweat trickles down my back. Damn it, Wolter, I hear ya, man. Really, I do, but I'm trying to drive here. Could you please not mack on my navigator right now? Or maybe ever?

"Turn right onto Hill," Charlie instructs me, seemingly oblivious to Wolt's blatant flirting. I swerve suddenly, cutting across three lanes of traffic to make my turn. In the process, I send Charlie and Wolt sprawling into me -- she ends up with her face practically against mine, and her cold nose against my neck sends a shiver through me.

"S-sorry," I gasp. "Give me a little more advance notice next time, Charlie. Everyone okay?"

"Couldn't be better," Wolter responds, half-muffled from under Charlie's tail, making no move to get up. She pushes him away, regaining her seat.

"Seat belts might be advisable," she remarks. "Shame this vehicle doesn't appear to be equipped with them. Let me know if you're going to attempt any more stunt driving, Cormo."

"Your late directions are the cause of my stunt driving, Charlie." I retort, matching her tone.

"Y'know, you could ride in my lap, if you want," Wolter grins. "Plenty of room over here."

The vixen shakes her head in response. "Cormo's lap would make more sense. More immediacy to the driver."

"No, bad idea," I quickly respond.

"Yeah, bad idea," he repeats, making a gesture over his lap like he's a gameshow hostess showing off a new prize. "Besides, this is prime real estate over here."

This is going to be a long drive.

A little over a half an hour of Wolter unsuccessfully flirting at Charlie later, we finally arrive at our destination: a nondescript storage compound north of the Fruit Market, right at the edge of Tundratown's southwest border. The place is fenced in and most of the lights are out; and a guard post is at the front gate. From where we're sitting, though, the gate's open and nobody appears to be around.

"What the hell's the point of having security if they're not actually here to secure the place?" I mutter, driving across the speedbumps and into the compound. "Is it okay for us to be here, Charlie?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" she returns with an arched eyebrow and a pup-like, almost cloyingly innocent tilt of her head. I've never seen that look on her before. "It's public property."

"With a guard and a gate?"

"I don't see a guard," Wolt smirks.

"And the gate was open," Charlie adds. Well, shit. They got me there.

Driving around the lot to the building designated in Charlie's collection of notes, I back the van up a ramp to the loading dock. There's a sudden lurching sensation as the van bumps against the wall, apparently having gone too far. Shit. I don't have much in the way of night vision so I was mostly eyeballing it.

"We're here," I offer lamely as Wolt picks himself up off the floorboard.

"Fuckin' hell, grazer, I oughta put-- oh, shit!" He suddenly interrupts himself with a yelp, reaching under the seat from his new vantage point and producing a stack of several magazines. The one on top is labeled "BIG BUTT BEAUTIES" and on its cover is an enormous elephant wearing only a towel that doesn't even begin to cover her ass.

Charlie slaps the porno mags out of his hands as she climbs past him. "You can look at those later. We have a job to do."

Wolt sighs, reluctantly leaving them where they lay on the floor of the van.

Sure enough, the weather's cool but not unpleasantly cold as I swing my door open. Glad I didn't bring a jacket after all, it'd have just been one more thing to haul in the already cramped cab. Hopping out, I go to investigate the damage to the van. There's a sizable dent in the bumper from where I clobbered one of those concrete pillar things -- fuck, what're those called -- but there's so many dents already I doubt the owner will care, let alone notice.

"Yeesh." Wolt scratches the back of his head as Charlie sizes up the metal shutter leading into the storage building. "So we got a key to this place, or is this an electric lock deal or what?"

"Looks like all they have is just an old-fashioned padlock," Charlie casually responds right before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a motherfucking set of lockpicks I KNEW this was too good to be true!

"Oh, hey, good thinkin'," Wolt drawls. What? No, don't encourage her, you fucking moron!

"Dammit, Charlie!" I hiss, looking around for any security cameras as she begins swiftly picking the locks. "I thought you said this was legal!"

"That's not what you asked me," she responds, tossing the padlock aside in seconds like it's the bow on a birthday present. "You asked if we were stealing the product here. We're not. Technically, it was already stolen by another party. Besides, our client has paid for it."

"Paid who? You?"

"Don't be unreasonable," she says as Wolt opens the metal shutter. Fucking hell. "Besides, this is public property. We have as much right to be here as anyone."

"What?! No! This is literally the exact opposite of public property! You are LITERALLY breaking and entering right now!" I press both of my hooves to my head, tugging at my headwool as they saunter inside like they own the place. I can already see my mugshot on the ZNN nightly news.

She doesn't even glance over her shoulder at me, just walks right inside. "Come on, Cormo. We're on a strict schedule here."

"Maaan, I hate it when people misuse the word 'literally'," Wolt grumbles, following Charlie.

Resisting the urge to scream, I walk around the side of the van, making sure to keep low and out of sight. Going inside is a bad idea, but if some security guard finds me out here I'm on my own, and I don't have the head for this my cohorts do. At least it's dark outside, so I've got that going for me. The warehouse in question that we're totally not breaking into is jammed full of shrink-wrapped pallets and crates. Charlie didn't seem to imply whatever it was we're getting is particularly heavy, and I'm assuming it'll all be able to fit in the van. All I can hope is that we're not here too long.

A pair of hand trucks are attached to the inside walls of the building by a set of thick industrial nylon straps. Wolt and I each grab one as we follow Charlie through the warehouse, who's busy consulting her notes to find our payload. After several minutes of hunting around in the dark, we eventually arrive at what she informs is our haul.

"Here it is. Six crates."

Most of the label is in a language I can't read. But what I CAN make out isn't comforting. "Tiger Oil? Medical grade?!" I mutter, squinting at what I can understand from the label printed on the side of one of the boxes. What the hell's 'Tiger Oil'? Why would it be 'medical grade'? I can only hope this is one of those really NEW street drugs that's only semi-legal instead of just plain illegal.

Oh, god. I was mostly joking to myself earlier but now I really can see myself getting arrested for hauling this shit. I won't last a second in a prison around here.

"Dude, nice," Wolt says. "Tiger Oil's the real McCoon. I hear a teaspoon's enough to keep you surging for hours. Charlie, think Dora'll give us any free samples? I know Anna's way into this stuff. I mean, I'd be willing to take some in lieu of cash, y'know..."

This is it, I'm actually running drugs. Remmy Fucking Cormo, drug dealer. My eyes widen -- I suddenly remember Ozzy's comment about the stash in my apartment or whatever. Oh SHIT. I really hope that was just a joke.

"Let's just get all this in the van and get out of here. You can negotiate for a hit or something later," I growl, grabbing one of the crates. Thankfully they're not THAT heavy even if they are kind of big -- I can't imagine any of these boxes weighing more than forty, fifty pounds tops. Working together, Wolt and I get all of them loaded onto the hand trucks and wheeled out to the van, where Charlie helps us position them in the cargo hold.

We've got the van loaded by a little after eleven. The cool night air should be refreshing against all this sweat, but I just feel wet and uncomfortable. The aardwolf working beside me doesn't seem to be doing much better, and by the time we get back in the van, we're all a little ripe. Charlie nestles in between Wolt and I, and I don't waste any time in getting out of here.

"Slow down, Cormo," Charlie says as I rocket over several sets of speed bumps. "We're in a hurry, but not THAT much of a hurry. The speed limit should surely be fine."

"Yeah, I'm trying to read here," Wolt grumbles, thumbing through a nudie mag. "Be careful."

As we pull around to the front of the compound, my heart sinks -- all the lights have since turned on and the gate's locked up tighter than a drum. We're trapped in here.

"Aw, FUCK," I moan, slamming my hooves against the sides of the wheel. "We're busted!"

"Kill the lights," Charlie responds automatically.

I make the van go dark. "They must have seen us already!"

"Calm down," she instructs, but it's obvious from her face she has no plan any more than I do. "I told you I have all the other arrangements covered. Just give me a second to assess the situation."

Wolter sighs, chewing at one of his clawtips. He's trying not to let it show, but he's clearly flipping the fuck out too.

"Drive forward a little so that we can see the guard shack. Quiet-like. And be careful," Charlie finally says after a minute or two of looking around. "Let's see if the security guard's on-site. If so, I'll negotiate with him."

"Her," Wolt corrects as I reluctantly creep the car forward. Craning his neck out the window, his eyes widen as he spots the guard -- a young wolf girl snapping bubble gum and bouncing up and down in her seat to the radio. He slouches over and groans. "Fuck me. I know her."

Charlie and I exchange glances before she turns back to Wolt. "I fail to see how this is bad news," Charlie says. "Go work your magic."

"That -- I -- maaaan, no," he hisses, clicking his tongue in frustration. "She and I hooked up at a party about a month ago, and she's SUPER fuckin' clingy!"

"Wolt!" Charlie hisses. "Not up for negotiation -- we're already running late!"

"Man, no, why can't Cormo do it?! Charlie, work with me here!" he pleads.

Charlie slams her fist against the dash, and both Wolt and I jump. She shoves him towards the door. "That's absolutely out of the question," she insists.

I nod, folding my arms. Hell if I'm gonna get stuck dealing with some flighty partygirl. "Thanks, Charlie."

"Besides, it's clearly been too long since he last had a mate. You can smell it all over him," Charlie argues, jabbing a finger at me. "Which means she would too. He'd be too nervous, she's a wolf -- there's no way it'll work. Like it or not, you're up, Wolter."

"THANKS, Charlie," I grumble, blushing and slipping down in my seat as Wolter hops out.

With a passive-aggressive sigh loud enough to be audible through the closed van doors, he walks up to the guard booth, sneaks under the lighted window, dips under the fence, and disappears from sight. A moment later he pops back up on the street side of the gate, then walks up and knocks twice. The little sliding window immediately opens and the guard girl reaches out and embraces him, licking the side of his muzzle in a cringy public display of affection. Wolt slowly turns to glare at us as she slobbers all over his face, and the burning fury in his eyes says it all.

Even Charlie's struggling not to laugh.

"Everything okay, Wolt?" I ask, biting the bottom of my lip to stifle a laugh as we burn rubber cruising down Hill Street.

"Fine." He runs his paws through his hair as he tries and fails to get his mane to go back the way he had it before giving up in disgust.

"So uh, how exactly did you get the gate open?" I tease.

"Don't worry about it," he seethes.

Charlie scratches her nose idly. "Did she see the van on the way out?"

"Trust me, I'm 100% positive she didn't. Now can we please shut up about it? I'm fucking starving, anyway."

"And we'll get food soon. You've got my word on that -- but Bug Burga would take longer than we have right now and we need to see the job through. Left turn, Cormo."

I nod, speeding through a yellow light right as it turns, earning myself a few honks.

"Are we taking this stuff to Dora's apartment or to the shop, Charlie?" Wolter asks.

"The latter," Charlie says.

Wolt seems happy with that answer. "Arright. 'Bout time anyway, I've been needing to restock on some stuff."

"You can browse if you make it quick," Charlie murmurs, tapping away on an old flip phone. It's one of those super cheap models that doesn't even have like a color screen -- could be any phone from the nineties for all I know. Reminds me of one I used to have. "I just sent her a message, letting her know to meet us there."

"Nice phone," I smirk, craning forward to read the nearest street sign.

"Not anymore," she responds, nonchalantly chucking the phone out the open passenger window. I can hear it shatter to bits on the asphalt, pieces of plastic disappearing in the rear view mirror.

Eventually we turn off of Hill and onto Pack Street, and Charlie begins giving me directions to the drop-off. It's twenty till midnight -- we made excellent time on the return trip, managing to cruise through almost every single traffic light at just the right time.

We drive past Packer's Gym, which reminds me I want to head back soon. Now that I know what it's all about, maybe we can get Cliff and Neil to go for some B-ball. Normally I'd even ask Avo to come with me, but I'm not relishing the idea of having to look her in the eyes after our last encounter.

"Turn right over here," Charlie says once we're through another two or three intersections. "Dora wants us to go around back and offload everything into the storage room since the shop's full of customers right now." Suits me, I don't exactly want to be noticed carrying whatever the hell we've been sent for.

"Figures Dora's the type to prefer rear deliveries," Wolt cracks.

"Wolter, is EVERYTHING innuendo with you?" I ask, cheeks flushing. He looks at me with an incredulous smile, eyes wide.

"What?! It felt like an appropriate joke, fluff!" he grins. "No need to be such a -- tightass...!" He snickers to himself while I grit my teeth. I'm too frustrated to even roll my eyes at his shit right now.

"We're here, Cormo," Charlie says, pointing to the nondescript back of a building.

I park the van and we all quickly disembark. Loud electronic music is pumping through the walls from inside wherever we're at. Must be some kind of club or something. I feel like I should recognize where I'm at, but it's dark and I'm a little turned around right now. I know I'm back on Pack Street, but I'm not used to driving around the city.

Charlie scampers across the asphalt, knocking at a large delivery-bay door labeled "Employees Only" while Wolter and I carefully head around to the cargo hold. I'm more than a little paranoid right now, considering a fucking deal is about to go down and these two are acting super casual about it.

The door opens and Charlie heads inside before coming back with a flatbed cart to load our crates onto. Wolt and I begin setting them off, though he doesn't seem to be in nearly as much of a hurry as I am.

"Gentle, Cormo," the vixen chides as I shove the crates onto the cart, looking around nervously. "Wouldn't do us any good to get the cargo here only for it to be damaged."

"Yeah, yeah," I respond quickly, grabbing the fully loaded cart by the handle and muscling it over the door's threshold. "Let's just get whatever the hell this stuff is inside."

"Just set it off right there," an unfamiliar female voice says from the other side of a large metal rack full of cardboard boxes. It's pretty fucking dark in here, but I'm not going to complain. I start lowering the crates to the floor while Wolter keeps the cart steady. "Sorry about the mess back here. Let me get the lights for you."

The storage room's flooded with blinding fluorescent light. My eyes are still adjusting when nearby footsteps get my attention. A sudden pang of fear shoots through me -- I should have waited outside. I don't want this 'Dora' knowing who I am. You can't really undo getting known like this.

Shit. Too late now.

A very tall, muscular tigress steps out from around the storage to greet us. "Foxtrot, so nice to see you."

"Likewise, Dora," Charlie responds with a bow of her head.

I'm awkwardly hanging out by the door and trying not to let her see my face when a sudden call dashes my hopes and freezes my blood. "Hey, I know you!"

I spin on my heels to face the tigress, who stands facing me with her hands on her hips and a huge toothy smile on her face. I'm trying to place it, but my head's spinning. She's huge. Intimidatingly built. A skintight top and what look like yoga pants or tights or--

"Yeah!" She paces over to me and I find myself too scared to even flee. "Yeah, you're that fluffy little meat-eating marshmallow. We actually talked at Bug Burga, a while back. You probably don't remember me. You seemed like you were in a hurry."

I'm suddenly incredibly aware of how sweaty I look. And probably smell. "Ah, uh-- I, uh, yeah. Sorry. I'm--"

She shoves her oversized paw out and shakes my hoof. "Name's Dora! Pleasure to properly meet you, li'l lamb. Thanks for helping out tonight."

I shrink, a stupid smile plastered uncomfortably on my face. "Remmy. And don't mention it." Really. Please don't.

She turns to the crates, takes a deep breath, then huffs with a nod, seemingly satisfied at our delivery. "What a shipment. You all did well. Foxtrot, please wait in my office, and I'll be in shortly to see to your payment."

Charlie nods, bowing again before shuffling to a door at the far end of the loading bay. She opens it, and the loud dance music floods in briefly. After a pause, Dora turns back to me, and to Wolt, who seems to be sniffing around the crates we just dropped off.

"As for you boys, if you like, why not come in while you wait, browse around? I'll give you each an owner's discount for the night!"

"Oh, sweet. Thank you, Dora," Wolt nods politely.

"And let me know if there's anything special I can do for you." Oh boy. She literally just said that to Wolter. I roll my eyes pre-emptively -- here it comes.

"No, that's all right, thank you." He bows, heading for the door. Seriously? Nothing, Wolt?

"Actually," he starts, turning around by the wall. There it is, I knew it. "Actually, could I get a hit of that Tiger Oil?"

Dora smirks back, shifting her broad hips to one side. "I'll talk to Charlie about it for you, all right?"

"Great! Thanks again." He ducks out, into the thumping music scene beyond. Alright then.

"That just leaves you," Dora muses, turning very slowly to look over her shoulder. "Do you want a 'hit' too, or would you rather just go browsing?"

I've had about my fill here. "Look -- look, no offense, no judgment or anything, I'm not trying to start something, but I'm trying to stay clean, and whatever's going on back there, it's none of my business. I'm just going to get my share of the payment from Charlie, and--"

A surprisingly girly laugh coming from the tigress cuts me off, and I glance up to see her covering her mouth. "Oh my," she titters, waving a paw in the air. "Tiger Oil isn't a drug, marshmallow!"

"Oh." That's all I can say. Like a fucking idiot. 'Oh.'

She smiles, circling the crates and taking a seat on one. "It's not even illegal. It's just... hard to acquire."

I run a hoof uncomfortably through my coif. "If you don't mind me asking, what is it, then?"

"Just what it says on the tin, marshmallow!"

"...it literally comes from tigers?"

"Male ones, anyway. It's a -- kind of pheromone extract. Drives most felines wild. Canines too. And ungulates, come to think of it. Just about anyone, really," she grins, tapping the crate with a long black claw for emphasis.

I cock my head to the side, no doubt looking as confused as I feel. She stands and moves toward the back door, and I follow. "I don't get it. You had us lift pheromones? What kind of club is this?"

She stops, glancing back with an even broader smile. "Oh, you're adorable!" she beams. "It's not a club."

The tigress pushes the door open and after a second my confusion gives way to stunned silence. Beyond the door, where the loud music blares, I can see rows of magazines, a wall covered in lingerie, and a very excited aardwolf darting between other customers.

"Dora," I murmur to myself as realization kicks in. I knew I should have recognized this area. "I don't suppose that's short for Pandora."

"Mm, so you've heard of me after all."

I glance around through the open door, watching as Wolt runs past the front counter, manned by a tall black--

Oh no.

Avo glances up at Wolt with a look of mild annoyance. As she tracks his movement past her, she spots the open door.

She looks straight into my eyes.

No. No. Not again.

Her eyes gleam and a thin, growing smile stretches slowly across her face.

Just as she starts to sit up, the door closes and Pandora snaps her fingers, getting my attention. I look up to find her wearing a grin of her own, albeit not charged with Avo's sense of malice. "So, Remmy, did you want to do a little shopping while you wait?"