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The Dog Hole

Chapter 5: Welcome To The Dog Hole

Bebe couldn't believe her ears. "You're...you're firing me?"

"I have no cause to keep you. Now be on your way."

Bebe looked to Mr. Snibbly who, even with his ill-shapened face, seemed to visibly frown at the news. He went back to mopping the floor and the pig had returned to the dishes. As far as they were concerned, the conversation was over.

With no other course of action available to take, all Bebe could do was rush out of the double doors of the mess hall while fighting back tears. She'd come all of this way only to be rejected on sight by an ungrateful, pompous pig who had no idea what it was like to live on the war-torn mainland. She was so caught up in the craziness of the situation that she didn't even notice someone standing right in in her path.

They collided.

"Careful," a male voice called catching her mid-fall.

"I'm so sorry." Her glassy eyes met with that of a very handsome, orange tabby. His green eyes appeared wide and kind, and he seemed more concerned than angry that she had carelessly run into him.

"Your face is new," he commented.

Admittedly, his inspection of her was a bit more forward than she was used to. He shamelessly circled her and made careful note of her features, both on the front and back; not so much to ogle her, but to memorize everything about her. By the time he was done, she wouldn't have been surprised if he recognized her elbow poking out from around a corner.

Courtesies had returned to normal, and he held out his hand. "Lyan. You must be the one I had to turn the lights on for."

"Yea," Bebe said while trying to mentally catch up. "Oh, yea. Sorry, I uh..."

"Obviously met the cook," Lyan said bluntly, noticing a few, stray tears. "Did he refuse to feed you? He does that sometimes. I can go talk to him."

"No. I mean, yes, he did, but..." She didn't exactly want to pour her heart out to a stranger, but the day had been a bad one. "He fired me. Said he didn't need me."

Instead of pitying her, Lyan simply nodded along. "Sounds like him."

Both of her hands went for her forehead. "I don't understand this place. You're the closest thing to normal I've met, and even you're off."

"Yea," he laughed awkwardly, " a bit."

She shook her head, not meaning to say what she said. "I guess it doesn't matter. I'm leaving tomorrow."

Lyan tilted his head. "Why?"

"...Because the cook fired me," she gestured back towards the mess hall and wondered if he'd been paying attention to her at all.

He shrugged. "So?"

"So?" Bebe echoed, confused that he didn't seem to grasp her point. "I can't just..."

"Why not? What's he going to do? Tell Cane?"

Bebe opened her mouth to talk. Then she stopped and thought about what Lyan was saying. She looked back up at him and held up a finger. "Excuse me." Then she turned around and ran back into the mess hall. That's when the familiar noise of dishes and pots beneath pulsing jets of water returned.

"No!" Bebe shouted over the water.

It shut off and the grumpy old pig turned back around. "What?"

"I'm staying." She threatened him with her index finger. "I don't know if you've kept your head buried in the snow these last few years, but the mainland is tearing itself apart; specifically where I'm from. I came all the way to the bottom of the fucking world to get away from it. I've had shells go off mere blocks away from my apartment, and there's talk of reinstating the draft."

"So you're running away from a duty to your homeland," he accused in an attempt to shame her. It didn't work.

"You'd better believe I am. You'd also better believe that I fear having my legs blown off in my sleep a lot more than I fear you. I'm not going anywhere. In fact, if you try and get rid of me, I'll do everything I can to take your job instead."

"Pfff," he turned to Mr. Snibbly and chuckled. "These new breeds take one cooking class and suddenly they think they can run a kitchen."

"Actually I never went to college. I grew up on a plantation with twenty five brothers and sisters. Yea, I'm one of those rabbits. From the minute I could count to 350, I've been cooking three meals a day for each and every one of them, and I also spent a decade of my adult life behind a food stand serving thousands in the middle of the city, and ALL while teaching MYSELF new recipes. Know how to make a Palmier?"

His silence answered Bebe's question.

"No, you don't look the type. What about a Creme Brulee?" she continued. "I can make both of those things and then some with even the most basic ingredients, and they are just the thing this drab, miserable little base needs. Now," she leaned forward, "are we going to war? Or are you going to tell me what I should call you from now on?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Snibbly grinning widely. This time, it stuck for a few seconds longer.

The dumbfounded look on the pigs face melted into one of approval. "The pair on this lass, I tell ya," he chuckled.

"Yea!" called a voice from a distant table. "Viva la revolution!"

Bebe rolled her eyes.

"Breakfast is served at eight o' clock every morning, sharp. Be here by six."

"Six? It takes two hours to make breakfast?"

"No. You'll need to help Mr. Snibbly get more food out of storage. This will give the two of you some quality time to get to know each other."

An audible squeal of giddiness escaped the rats mouth as he was very pleased to hear this news.

Bebe gave an awkward smile back at him before returning her attention to the pig. "Alright then, boss."

"It's Bosch actually."

"Bebe." She held out her hand.

"Don't get too familiar." Bosch turned his back to her and continued with the last of the dishes. "I'll see you at seven."

She retracted her hand. "Fine."