FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Well then. Another work week is drawing to a close. Forms filed away, spreadsheets maintained and filled out, and all sorts of questions and referrals taken care of. Managed to pull off yet another little scheme over the past week and a half, as well, courtesy of my usual informant. Nowhere near as large-scale as the last one, but really, we could both use a break from the workload that passes through this office on her more devious machinations.

Making my way to the elevator, it's not hard to notice my usual company out of the corner of my eye, making her way to join me. With several patches of her blonde hair poking out, despite its short length, and a pair of stains on her right arm's fur I can hazard a guess are ink and coffee. Hopefully the latter was her own, sufficiently cooled. I'd half expect to see similar stains on her button-down, but come to think of it, I've yet to see a stain there in all my time knowing her. Perhaps she has her own methods of dealing with them quickly.

"Given the runaround today, then?"

"Oh, I'd think you know the answer to that, Penn. Nothing I can't handle, and nothing a night out won't fix. We're due for a celebration, now that your most recent project's over."

"Yours as well, Deanna, don't forget. I'll take credit where it's due, but this was no solo project. It never is."

"If you insist, I suppose. Any preferences for tonight? The usual place?" She's maintaining that unfazed posture she displays so often... mostly. It's a small difference, but I can tell her breathing is heavier than it should be. She needs this night more than she'd like to let on, more than she'll admit to herself, I'd wager. How fortunate, then, that I've got the perfect evening in mind.

"Actually... I was thinking somewhere quiet. My place, to be precise." Interesting. She's clutched her purse strap a bit tighter at that one. It's not often I get to see her surprised.

"...curious. That's a new one. Any reason you've decided I ought to see your home? The prospect didn't even cross my mind."

"Oh, it's quite simple. While I could order out regularly on my salary, that's a bit of a waste. So, I've been relearning how to cook for myself. It turns out the slow-cooker is rather approachable, so I've got something on for tonight, and another taste-tester would be welcome. It'd be even more relaxed than the bar, and if it's a victory toast you're after, I've got that covered too. Recent purchase, unopened."

"Hmm... well, I... can't argue with that. It's a change of pace compared to going from one crowd to another, I'll admit. So... lead the way. To new horizons." As close to an admission of enjoying the idea as I'm going to get, I suppose. Whatever the case, the trip down the elevator and to the bus stop passes by quickly compared to the ride across town. Slow, plodding, and the sunset isn't at its most flattering among densely-packed office buildings. At least it grows a bit more pleasing as we near the side of town with more of a focus on foliage over efficiency. I'm not sure Deanna is paying it much mind, though, in the aisle seat. This whole time, she's mostly kept an eye on new passengers and those leaving, her pink tail wrapping around her purse as an extra deterrent. Sometimes I forget mice enjoy the benefit of a prehensile tail until I witness something like this all over again.

Once I let her know our stop is in view, she begins loosening her grip at last. From there, it's a brisk walk through the neighborhood to the house near the back. Glancing over, Deanna seems to be keeping a greater distance between us than in walks through the city, and her guarded stance has all but faded. Perhaps the quaint environment of house after house, each different, alongside the sight of several of the neighborhood children at play, has set her at ease. I'll look forward to seeing her fully relax, if that's a preview of what's to come. The front door is a welcome invitation for such a thing.

The walk towards the kitchen is a relief. Everything left at the door, tonight's a night to unwind and forget it all, for both of us. I can already smell the results of my work from this morning, the aroma of cheese and seasonings having spread through even the neighboring rooms.

"So, this is the place, then? Not bad at all. It beats out the apartments handily, with space to spare for further ambitions."

"I... suppose you're right, yes. Do take a seat at the table, Deanna. You needn't wait long." A single nod, and she's making her way to the dining room table next to the kitchen. As for myself, with everything handled ahead of time and the slow-cooker switched to simply warm the contents by now, I reach to the cabinets for both a pair of plates and the bottle of chardonnay I'd picked up earlier this week. A simple choice, perhaps, but quite frankly, I trust something advertising itself with a few simple descriptors over the paragraph-long deluges of flavor palate claims.

Plates retrieved, I take in hand the serving spoon I'd set near the slow-cooker. Upon lifting the lid at last, the smell that had filled the house rushes to meet me in full force. Scalloped potatoes may not be the fanciest, either, but I've yet to meet one who would argue against soft slices of potato cooked in cheese, garlic, and spices. A perfect choice as I work my way up to relearning the kitchen, and one I'd hope my guest will be enthused to partake in. Getting some generous portions plated, I bring them to the table before doubling back for the wine bottle and a pair of appropriate glasses. Now, with everything set, our evening can begin in earnest.

"I didn't take you for the type to feel comfortable in the kitchen, but it seems what practice you've had so far is paying off. It's been a while since I had these, Penn."

"Oh? And here I thought you partook of your kitchen fairly often, considering the garden." I begin getting the wine opened, preparing to pour for both our glasses. This evening will be long and tranquil, if I have anything to say about it.

"Try growing a potato in a shallow set of planters and pots. I'm no stranger to the supplies from my garden, and it makes a world of difference when I can use it, but it's... admittedly limited, thanks to my living situation. No need for anything better right now, regardless. Suits my life just fine..." As the wine settles in our glasses, I set the bottle to the side. Seems the two of us share a common idea of what to do next, seeing as she's reached for her glass the moment I set the bottle down. I take my own glass, and raise it, smirking as if to ask for what comes next. Narrowing her eyes with a smile, she raises her glass to mine as we make a toast to the evening, followed by taking our first sips of the fruity brew. The first of many after a day like today.

"True... though, such an arrangement may suit me better, as well."

"Hm? And what does that mean, Penn?" Swirling the contents of her glass idly, she looks to me for an answer. I should think it obvious, but...

"This house was made for something greater than a lone bachelor, Deanna. Greater than a couple, even. When Bonnie was here, it was like an assurance of what would come in the future. Now? Now it's just hollow, with an unnerving air to how much space I cannot occupy alone."

"...and you're positive there's nothing to be done about that? No second thoughts, no way to see things through to what they were?"

"Hah! You'd have a better hope of building a snowman in the summer, and I wouldn't try, regardless. Life goes on, and we're better for it. I'll figure out what to do with the place eventually... I'm sure."

"If you're sure, then... I'll leave it to your judgment. Whatever comes next." This house... the sheer space I'm living in feels wrong. And yet, it's almost paid off in full. It'd be a shame just to sell it at this point. As for what I could do instead... well, such thoughts are better spent far from now, away from our celebration.

"Tonight, though, we celebrate how far we've come, what we've accomplished. A chance to unpack the load we've been carrying from work."

"You... do mean 'forget' rather than 'unpack,' yes?"

"Not at all. Personally, I'd find it hard to forget just how many times our colleagues have sent me back forms I'd already filled out thanks to information they didn't see fit to tell me. Gerald especially. The buffoon's continued employment baffles me." Seems this took an unexpected turn for her. She's not one to vent about these sorts of things openly, but perhaps, in private, I might draw something out.

"Fair enough... I'm not kidding when I say I bring certain forms to you because of the others' shortcomings. Sometimes I wonder what that place would do without us."

"I'll say. Even without your schemes, it feels like the weight of the world would be upon me there. What good are the higher-ups for, anyways? Hassling you for their papers they'll accomplish little with by comparison?"

"Oh, if you want stories about those particular windbags... brace yourself." The coming storm leaves the time trailing behind us. Tales of bumbling idiots in suits, middle managers in ties too tight, and even the occasional person on the same rung as her or I. All of it's accompanied by an occasional sip, 'til her glass has been emptied. Hm. Is her pace faster than usual? I don't recall her finishing her drinks at the bar this quickly.

"And that form-obsessed slab of meat that's supposedly a lion, Thorton? Oh, what yarns I could spin. Shredded, frayed yarns...!" ...oh dear. It would seem she's reached for the bottle to refill her glass. This won't be stopping soon, it seems. Not helping is the fact that I'm fairly certain a wine glass isn't usually filled tall like that. Oh my... as she takes another long sip of it, sighing in relief when she at last comes up for air, she seems more ready than ever to go on and on.

"I swear, it's like working with my sister's husband! Impatient and plodding in the worst of ways, hardly an ounce of acknowledgement."

"Oh? I hadn't heard about their situation. You've mentioned your sister in passing, but little else."

"Not much to say. Phyllis got married, lived the home life, and I still have no idea how those two get on. All that distasteful, uncomfortable air about her partner, so why is it I'm still jea- ...mm, a-anyways, her daughter is finishing her first year of university this month. I'll need to see about taking some of my vacation days to visit them, in the next town over. Little Louise always was a bright spot in that situation." ...I feel like she's being more open than she intended. Particularly because that was no small sip from her glass. How much of it has settled in already? ...though, perhaps I'll actually learn something more about her as a result. I already got a hint, after all.

"Wait, Louise is finishing her freshman year? Just how old is your sister?"

"Watch it, but... not much older, actually. I was 12 when Louise was born, and my sister... she, ah. Started early. Just about showing her growing belly at graduation. ...high school graduation, to be clear. 'Early' scarcely begins to cover it. She and her boyfriend pretty much got forcibly hitched by their parents at that point. I was an aunt playing the role of babysitter many a time, scarcely a teen. I guess I took the worse parts of that situation to heart, considering what you see before you at the age of 31. Almost impressive, that number. Hmm."

"I'm not far behind at 29, Deanna. And I'm glad you were willing to share all that. It's been enlightening."

"...it has, hasn't it. Quite a lot, in retrospect. H-Huh. ...so while we're on the subject, there IS a lot to cover about Louise..." And we're back to avoiding it now that she's noticed. A shame, I think I was beginning to understand what makes her tick. What she really wants. All while we indulged in those potatoes, letting the simple, pleasant flavor dance over our tongues. Quite the dent we've put in them, too.

Many stories later, getting all the way up to tales of a five-year-old Louise in Deanna's junior year of high school, our food's been squared away. Our conversation is far from over, but frankly, there are more comfortable places to continue than hard wooden seats.

"Much as I'm ready to hear more of how Louise would sneak into your room just to be near you while you studied, would you care to take this to the couch? You could do with a fair bit more comfort than the dining room chairs can provide."

"O-Oh? Well, that's true... huh. Yes, might as well." Hmm. She seems... unfocused. Like she's slipping. Not the sort of state where she should be pouring a third glass of wine, as tall as the second. I hadn't even refilled my own glass yet. I take the opportunity now, yes... but mostly so she's not tempted to take the bottle with her as she heads to the couch. And I'll be keeping it reasonable.

Settling into the cushions, Deanna's maintained a proper, seated posture nonetheless. One must wonder at what point the alcohol will begin to affect her mobility and posture, after all this. It's clearly taken root, but she shows it far less than most I've seen. I take my own seat in a more relaxed, laid-back position, and the talk can continue.

As the night wears on, Deanna seems to have no shortage of material regarding this niece of hers. Birthdays, nights she had to step up to the plate when both the parents were absent, and every little moment of joy she got to spend with this innocent child, who thankfully wasn't taking after her father thus far in these stories. And finally, at the tender age of six, Deanna had to leave her for college. The poor thing cried and cried, even latching herself to Deanna's leg when she was set to go out the door. She eventually let go, or was pried off, but it sounded as if the tears didn't cease for a long while. She's not made mention of it, but I get the feeling Deanna shared the salt-stained sentiment once she was alone, if that somber look in her eyes is any indicator. She's trying to avoid looking at me, even, instead opting to stare off towards the coffee table. A moment later, though, remembering the glass in her hand, she takes another sip. The story had stalled her intake for a bit, a boon I'm glad for. Now, however, she's shaken off the visible indicators of that distant feeling, attempting to change the subject.

"S-So, yeah. Not the most glamorous of responsibilities. Even if it might beat work, who knows!" With a flourish, I catch sight of those stains on her arm again. 'Might beat work,' eh? With all the tirades I managed to draw out of her, I'd think she has a more resolute stance on the matter than that. Perhaps a gentle nudge...

"Still, it sounds fulfilling. Not every day can be perfect, but you certainly have some near-perfect ones you've committed to memory."

"H-Hah, haha, oh please, Penn, you probably dodged a bullet there, let's be real. I mean, come on. If you'd had pups of your own, you have to keep in mind, the little ones are blind and deaf for several months. All they have is their nose and hands. Someone needs to be home with them, even without that considered, and with the two of you being full office workers? Someone's gonna have to drop that for them, and it wasn't going to be you, we both know how much our little ventures make!"

"Ahhh, true, I hadn't considered it. I'd want the first person they see to be one of their parents, too, so a babysitter wouldn't be in the cards, let alone how expensive one would be for that long each day." I'd forgotten both of these sorts of pups, canine and mouse, are rather helpless to start. Well, any infant is, but these sorts especially. The overlap, at least, gives Deanna plenty of perspective on the matter.

"See, see?? Everything would change. All while you have to adjust to a new member of the household. All the noises, the smells, and getting them to bed each night. Trials and a half."

"Thankfully we would've had the space to keep them near without blasting our eardrums out if they awoke in the middle of the night, but even still, that's a new level of stress to deal with. Not to mention how the both of us would've reeled from the changes in general, whether the case may be hormonal or physical."

"Ohhhhohoho, and don't even get me started on the tails! The moment the pup figures out what their tail can do? Say goodbye to any loose things on your person. Necklaces, ties, hopefully no piercings, they'll try to grab any of them if you give them half a chance, ha! God, just imagining... the little thing, reaching its tail up while you hold them during your morning routines, and just- just YANKING that tie, pulling papa down with a start, pffft...!" ...er, wait. The tails? Canine tails aren't even remotely dextrous, and they're barely stumps when they're so young. I look down a bit, recalling how her long tail was like a third arm on the bus. Is she...?

"Deanna? Just to make sure, are we talking about the same pups?"

"Snrk, hehee... w-what? Yyyeah, the ones you... you would've..." Her free hand starts making gestures back and forth as she glances in nonspecific directions, as if she's doing some sort of mental math as to what exactly is wrong with the picture she's presented. After a while of that, though, she freezes. Her eyes stare straight ahead of her, unmoving as her breathing seems to pick up. Given another moment, she looks down at her glass, half-empty... well, half-empty from the overfilled state it started at, anyways. Seems she's realized what she was entertaining the idea of.

"...Penn."

"Yes?"

"How. Many."

"How many of...?"

"This. These! How many?!"

"Ah. Well, I don't think a proper number will help in your estimate, given the way you filled the glass."

"...ah. Okay, then. I... I should be going. Right now." Setting her glass down on the side table with a shaky hand, she stands, sluggish but measured. On her way to the front door though, she stumbles, catching herself on the hallway's frame.

"Deanna, you can't be considering going anywhere like that. You'll not make it down the street before collapsing."

"I- I don't care, I just... I shouldn't be here, I can get home! I can-" Setting my own glass down, I rush to her before she takes yet another tumble, this time with nothing to catch her but me. A foolish endeavor on her part, though I can understand the embarrassment she's trying to avoid.

"Look, Deanna. You're not leaving this house alone. Either you stay here for the night, or you let me escort you home. Now, which of those would be your preferred choice?" Still leaning against me for support, though she's trying to push away, I can see the gears turning behind those hazy eyes. Her drink has finally caught up with her, or she's just adept at keeping her composure in the early stages.

"I-I... home. Please, Penn, I... have to g-go home."

"Alright, then. I'll help you get ready, then we'll see if we can make the journey. I promise you that."

"Good, g-good, that'll be... that's good." I'll deal with the dishes later; I get the distinct feeling that she'll go back on the deal and run if I take even a second too long to get us out of here. Just a matter of grabbing her purse, then, and getting her in a better position to walk with my hands supporting her by the shoulders. Not many better ways to handle this when she's at minimum a head shorter than me. Time to get this underway, then.

While the days are getting longer, they're not yet long enough for daylight to last this far into the evening. Unfortunate for us, with Deanna's state, but I'll just have to deal with it. Thankfully, the children have been called inside for the evening, so I'll not have to deal with overenthusiastic questions regarding my guest's dazed appearance. The trip to the bus stop was uneventful as a result, though it took longer than it should've. The longer we're out here, the more time Deanna's wine has to take full effect. If it's already affecting her balance, she'll barely be able to walk anymore if we idle for too long. Nothing I can do about waiting for the buses and the ensuing ride across the city, but... I'll just have to hope.

Deanna's in the window seat this time, I've made sure of that. I'll not leave her exposed to people getting bright ideas when she's so out of it, and she needs to watch for our stop, anyway; I've never been to her apartment, let alone her bus stop. The entire way there, wherever we're going, she sits there, trying to maintain a composed bearing. Whether she's succeeding is another matter, but she's coming close. Her gaze is firmly pointed out the window, not once looking back at me. Not a difficult guess as to why that is, setting aside the need to point out her stop. Her breathing still hasn't settled down, and her hands are clenched in her lap. She'd probably be exerting a death grip on her purse, were it not a better idea for me to keep hold of it for now.

Ah, there we are. She's trying to reach for the cord, but it's proving rather difficult for her. I'll take the liberty of handling that for her, then, reaching past her outstretched arm to pull that bright yellow wire, alerting our driver to the situation. Deanna looks back at me for perhaps the first time in the entire bus ride, and it's some mix of embarrassment and... perhaps offended, a bit. Frustrated, at a minimum. I'd rather not have to remind her of the help she clearly needs in this state, but this would've only gotten worse if we missed our stop. Coming to rest at last, we make our exit, as much as the steps down made it difficult for my companion.

I take the opportunity to look around as we disembark. The place seems to be some middle ground between the high-density office buildings and the more open areas with small businesses and apartment complexes. Perhaps she lives on the edge of the area, or a slightly more upscale place closer to the offices. Though, if our pace was slow before, it's downright sluggish now, with Deanna having to lead the way. She's getting hit hard at this point... hopefully her apartment is nearby. Seems our first direction is away from the denser areas, taking us past a few shops. Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised that there's a home gardening shop here. Probably had some influence over her choice of this area. A mere ten minutes later, despite our pace, Deanna points to an apartment building next to us, Applehoff Heights. Close to the bus stop, it seems.

"Third... third floor, Penn."

"Alright. The elevator will get us there just fine."

"I-I can still-" She stumbles before she can finish, even with my support. Not confidence-inspiring, I must say.

"...fine. Ele- ...'vator it is." Her stubbornness quashed for now, it's not long before the elevator arrives to save us the few flights of stairs that may as well be a mountain at the moment. It's a short yet tedious journey to the end of the hall to reach her own door after we disembark, another while of her fiddling with the key as her hand is shaking, and finally, we've arrived. ...more spacious than I'd have assumed, honestly. A quaint living room with a couch, coffee table, and an extra chair. Connected to that, a dining room with a table that would be comfortable for two, but a feasible fit for four. The extra chairs attest to that. Before we can enter further, though, a fair few planters by the window have caught my eye. Flowers of all sorts, tomatoes, green beans, peppers... all looking healthy, if not ready for harvest besides the beans.

"So here lies your own little slice of nature. I hadn't gotten the chance to see it before."

"Oh... well, y-yes. It's nice to save a bit on produce. And the flowers... few things brighten the place like them." Ahh, lovely. Some measure of warmth has returned to her expression, and the tension in her efforts to remain upright has faded. She's even leaning against me. Perhaps just... one more try at broaching tonight's new information.

"They're growing wonderfully, Deanna. Clearly, they have a good mother taking care of them." Hah, I can feel her stand up straight at that one, even through her unsteady bearing! ...though, I couldn't expect that she'd take the opportunity to lean in a bit harder, after I prodded that nerve. Curious...

"That's... m-maybe. I make sure that everything... everything's perfect, for them. They deserve no less. Like an e-eye in the storm that's my... well, my work week. My everything. But you've heard qui- *hic* ...q-quite enough about that. Oh dear."

"Yes... yes I have. Let's get you rested. I'll see myself out after." A gentle nod, and we're once again making our way through the humble abode. Now, to get a good look at the ki- ...o-oh? Something's... around my waist? Looking down, I can see the pointed end of that pink appendage curled up and around my hip. Looking to Deanna for answers, her stare is as vacant as ever, just trying to navigate the few obstacles on our way to the hallway. Well, this part of her showing some candor is a fair start, I'd say. It's not long before the hallway leads to a pair of doors, with Deanna reaching for the rightmost one. I'd hazard a guess that the other is a closet.

"Hooo... thank you, Penn. Tonight was... interesting. Dinner was nice, too."

"No trouble at all, Deanna. We could make this a bit more regular, if you'd like. I'm always in need of more practice. ...perhaps I'll skip the chardonnay next time, though. I feel as if you'd not want a repeat of that. I wouldn't, either."

"Yeah, I-I shouldn't- ...wait, why you?"

"Oh... nothing much. Just that I'd rather hear talk as open as that from you without enough liquid courage to replace your blood. Though, the bit of honesty one part of you is showing is refreshing, despite that!"

"Huh...? What're you-" At last, she looks down, seeing what exactly her traitorous tail has done. A mind of its own, or does that come naturally when she's not keeping herself in order? I might find out, one day. At present, however, the realization draws the first blush I've ever seen on her. Reaching a hand behind her, she yanks it from my waist, hurrying to get through her bedroom door. Just before she pulls it closed, she pauses a moment, looking out at me, that blush burning brighter than ever.

"H-Have a good night! I'll just- just, something! Haaaah... safe journey home, Penn. I mean it."

"Thank you, and rest soundly, Deanna. After a day and night like this, you deserve it." A small wave goodbye, followed by yanking at her tail again before it can attempt to wrap around my leg. With that, the door's closed, and I'm alone in her hallway. At last, I've gotten a bead on what she desires. Perhaps surprising, but she kept it close to the chest until tonight. Whatever comes next, though... I'd like it to be her own choice, fully aware. No chardonnay, no beer, nothing to blame an episode of honesty on. If she's going to get used to a bit of candor, I'd think the best way would be to use it to claim what she wants most. I'm hardly against the idea, with how trusted a confidant she is.

I take care to scan the apartment's layout again as I leave. A comfortable place to rest at the end of a shift, I'd say. Enough space to not feel cramped, a simple kitchen, and a welcoming front area. Not bad at all. And with how hollow my current place to stay is, well...

Maybe I ought to check for vacancies. Couldn't hurt, and in fact... it may do some good.