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Wolf Rock Excerpts II - Cropper and Sultan Go to the Bar

Downtown Brentwood, Saturday, 8PM

A short, impatient-looking weasel leaned across the table. "You know what would be really nice?"

"What?" A shorter, calmer opossum asked from the opposite side nonchalantly.

The former sighed, before his voice erupted in a crescendo of anger. He looked up at the ornately-designed ceiling as he complained, "A waiter who didn't take so long to bring our food!"

"Keep it down, man, they're just doing their job-" The green-eyed marsupial tried to hush him, complete with hand gestures, but was cut off regardless.

"Cropper, it's been an hour. We ordered nachos."

"Well, maybe they ran out and they just went to the store to get some more or something. Anyway, this is a bar, right?" He smiled, raising a neon-red cocktail with tiny hands. "I'm not hugely hungry. I'm just here for the drinks. I mean, if we wanted to have a proper meal we could just get a steak dinner at Ash's."

The weasel suggested a counter-proposal, rolling his head sideways to indicate he wasn't content with that idea. "Or we could get some proper nachos from Taco-Neko..."

"There we go, some positivity!" Cropper beamed, showing he was missing a couple of teeth that had since been filled in with various metals. "You know, Sultan, you're always so much cuter when you're happy."

Sultan blushed and gave mumbled words of praise in response.

Now content that he had made a difference in his lover's mood, the opossum relaxed in his chair. He seemed to be the only person who could talk the weasel out of frustration. Most suspected it was due to their relationship, but deep down, Cropper knew it was because his own temper was once as short as his partner's. Dysphoria really beat into him before he discovered himself. If Cropper could get it under control, he felt it was his duty to help Sultan get it under control too.

Green eyes met brown. "So, how about we give it a few more minutes?" Cropper questioned in an encouraging manner.

Sultan paused, but eventually nodded in agreement. He busied himself by taking a sip of his own drink, a vibrant blue concoction that tasted faintly of raspberries. "Alright... But after we finish the food, we're leaving and finding something else to do. This place is fine, but there's only so much of this stuff I can take-" He tapped his glass, "-and I hate hangovers."

"Sure thing." His partner grinned. "Any ideas?"

"Honestly, it's a toss-up between going clubbing, or going to bed."

Cropper's eyes widened significantly, taken aback by his latter suggestion. "Bed? You? But we'll be out of here by half past eight!"

"I know. But I'm tired, and I'm nowhere near as good at staying up past midnight as you." The weasel shook his head.

The opossum exhaled through his nose. "Can't help being a night owl!"

Sultan lazily pointed a finger in his partner's general direction. "That's really going to mess with you later on in life, you know that, right?"

"Eh, I'm technically nocturnal. I can handle it." He responded, shrugging.

The taller anthro suggested, "You should start working nights. It would probably be easier for you, and the pay's better."

"Nah. I'm fine with the time I work now. If I worked nights, it would be harder to hang out with you."

Feeling that Sultan would most likely try to object to that, Cropper continued, "And Brawlathon airs weekday evenings. I can't miss that!"

The weasel lowered his objection hand and slowly nodded. "Yeah, miss enough of those and you'd have to spend your whole weekend catching up. Fine, no night shifts."

"So... Clubbing or bed?" The opossum steered the conversation back on topic, taking another couple of gulps of his drink. "I'm fine with either."

Sultan had to think for a few moments. He put his own glass down and zoned out as he thought the decision over.

Cropper raised an eyebrow. "You okay there?" He waved a hand in front of his lover's face, which was soon caught by the weasel and guided back down to the table, their fingers interlocked.

The white and brown-furred anthro looked him dead in the eye. "Bed."

"Then it's settled... Oh, look!" The marsupial pointed towards the front of the bar, gesturing at what was on the counter. "Nachos! They've got to be ours."

"They better be the best nachos in Wolf Rock..." Sultan murmured quietly.

Sure enough, a fluffy brown lynx walked out of the kitchen and carefully picked up the plate with said food. The pair caught the smell of the cheese and the salsa long before it reached their table, causing them to both sniff a couple of times and sighing deeply.

Cropper snorted. "I guess I was hungrier than I thought..."

The weasel locked eyes with the waiter out of habit as he made his way over to them, waiting for the inevitable apology about the food taking so long to prepare. Cropper squeezed his hand, and Sultan's stern gaze faltered. Nevertheless, Sultan lightly tapped the table with a finger as if he was counting down to something. When the lynx finally put the food down in front of them and spoke, Sultan gave a wry smile.

"Sorry about the wait... The girls across the bar ordered one of everything." He motioned towards the far-left corner, where a red panda and fluffy cat were busy devouring a huge stack of food.

"Don't worry..." The weasel began, reading the embarrassed feline's name tag, "... Nova. We forgive you."

With Sultan's tone of voice, it was hard to tell whether he was being sarcastic or not.

Cropper didn't even say anything to the waiter besides nodding and giving a muffled, "Thanks, man!" with a mouthful of salsa and hot peppers.

As the binge-eating commenced, Nova stepped backwards cautiously. "Uh... I'll check back on you guys later, okay? Just let me know if you need anything..."