"Wuwbrawh..." the walrus man sputtered, "Why, you-"
"Paul. There you are." A smooth, confident voice caused the walrus to flinch and quickly turn.
There, walking up the aisle, was an otterman. He wore a sleek, dark suit that looked almost wet, its fabric shimmering under the restaurant's soft lighting, and a matching top hat tilted at a rakish angle. A toothy, almost feral grin was plastered on his face, his dark eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and predatory intelligence. Behind him stood a brown bear-man wearing a black vest over a white shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing powerfully muscled forearms. He was walking a bit stiffly.
"Mr. Warlock!" the walrus man, Paul, rubbed his hands together nervously. "I was just... telling these hooliga-"
"What a pleasant surprise," Warlock said, stopping beside Paul next to their table.
With all the feet in the way, Fang shook his head a bit, his eyes still glued to the kitchen below. "You're blocking the show."
Warlock raised an eyebrow and laughed, a low, smooth sound. "Oh, Mr. Fang. You are such a riot."
"Mr. Fang?!" the walrus said, the color starting to drain from his face.
"I know that the owner here is your old employee," Warlock continued, his grin widening, "but I didn't think I'd run into you again so soon."
"Ralph... worked for him?" the walrus squeaked. He was now looking decidedly pale.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," Donna called, her voice strained. Warlock, Paul, and the bear all quickly jumped out of the way when they saw the poor waitress struggling to balance a comically large meal.
It was served on a thick, ax-cut wooden platter, rustic and substantial. The main attraction was a massive steamship round of beef, its exterior a perfect, deep brown crust, glistening with rendered fat. It stood proudly on the platter, the bone sticking out of the top having been artfully carved into the shape of a wing, a touch of savage elegance. It was surrounded by a colorful array of roasted root vegetables and drizzled with a rich, dark sauce.
Donna gently put the platter in front of Fang and gave a little sigh of relief as she stood back up. "I hope you all enjoy your meals. I'll be back in a few minutes to see how the first few bites are tasting." She turned and noticed the otter and walrus standing next to the table. They were both looking in disbelief at the massive hunk of meat sitting in front of the wolf.
"Oh yes!" she snapped her fingers and reached into her apron. She pulled out a small cylinder with a brass fixture on top. "Mr. Fang," she said.
Fang's eyes had not left the plate since he'd finally torn his gaze away from Warlock. His tail was wagging. He had waited too long to eat. He was just thinking about what angle to attack this challenge.
"Mr. Fang," Donna said again, holding up the can-like object.
Fang could either cut small pieces out of the big piece and eat them, or maybe he could cut medium pieces off and then cut the medium pieces into smaller pieces. There were so many options to consider.
"Hey, Fang," Kev nudged him.
"Yes?" Fang barely glanced over.
"Donna wants to show you something."
"I'm busy," Fang said, wondering if he should just pick up the bone and try to eat it like a candy apple.
A small crackle and a flash of light made everyone jump. A stream of flame burst from the can as Donna waved it theatrically into the air above the table. "Mr. Fang, for your meal, once you eat halfway into the core, the chefs suggest you apply heat for an optimal eating experience."
Fang couldn't decide if he wanted to look at the flamethrower or the meat. His tail was wagging a mile a minute.
Gretchen leaned forward and grabbed the can from Donna, tucking it into her shirt pocket. "So it doesn't get lost before he needs it."
"Good thinking," Donna grinned at Kev. "Can't let this wild guy get his hands on it."
"That's why Gretchen's here," Kev said. "She'll save people from my wrath."
With a smile, Donna turned and was once again reminded of the walrus and otter, who were still there.
"What meal comes with the flamethrower?" Warlock asked, his grin widening.
"I thought I told him there was a seating change," Donna murmured as she glanced past the aquatic duo. She quickly put on a professional smile and addressed the men in front of her. "That is not a menu item, my apologies. But are you perhaps looking for your table?"
"Yes," Warlock said, "I thought my new acquaintance here said he had reserved a window seat for our meeting tonight."
"I did, but..." the walrus muttered.
"Our humblest apologies, but no one was here at the designated time, so we weren't sure if the reservation was going to be fulfilled," Donna bowed a little. "We do suggest arriving a few minutes early."
"They didn't let me ride the..." the walrus whispered.
"That's a disappointment, but I'm glad the seat has gone to such a good new... brother." Warlock smiled again, his razor teeth making him look a bit crazy.
"Brother?!" Paul whimpered. "You don't mean..."
"Well, we can't just stand here in the aisle. Let's go, Bruno, Paul." Before they followed Donna to their own table, Warlock leaned in and said to Fang, his voice a low, confidential whisper, "Your security is much better. They didn't even find the camera Bruno's hiding." Warlock laughed wildly, a high, manic sound, and put his hands on his stomach as he walked away, a few other customers giving him frowns as he passed.
"Why would his guard need to hide a camera?" Gretchen asked. "People have their phones here."
"Please don't ask that again," Kev said, cringing as he watched Bruno walk away, his stiff gait now making a terrifying amount of sense.
"Well, that walrus was quite rude," Gretchen said, beginning to pick the leg off her roast chicken.
"Was he though?" Kev said, dipping his first bite of tuna in the sauce Picasso on his plate.
"Of course he was," Gretchen said, waving the leg in the air.
"I don't know. We didn't let him into the elevator, and we took his table with that wonderful view," Kev replied.
"He called us scoundrels."
"You kind of attacked him."
"He touched me first," the panther woman said, biting into the thigh.
Kev looked over at Fang, who was already nearly a quarter of the way through his meal. Somehow, even the napkin he had tucked into his collar was spotless despite the speed of his eating. "Hey, Fang."
Fang slowed his eating and took a sip of his drink before saying, "Yes, my love?"
Kev smiled. Maybe Fang was just hangry earlier. "Can we do something to apologize to that walrus guy? We took his table."
"Who?" Fang questioned.
"Over at the table where we were supposed to sit," Kev said, gesturing. "The guy sitting with Warlock."
Fang looked over and said, "Oh yes, Warlock."
"I think we made that walrus look bad in front of him."
"Really?"
Kev nodded.
"Well, let's get him something to eat. I always feel better after eating," Fang said, and flagged a waitress down.
That should be good, Kev thought. If Warlock sees that Fang has bought them a nice appetizer or maybe even a bottle of wine, maybe they'll see it as an olive branch.
"Yes," Fang said, pointing at Paul. "The man sitting next to the stairs for the bathroom and kitchen. I want to buy a meal for him."
Oh, a whole meal. That's very generous, Kev thought. But maybe that's the right thing to do. I hope he isn't allergic to anything.
"Get him what I got."
Kev's shoulders slumped. Why?
The rest of the meal went smoother. The tuna was wonderful. Donna stopped by to refill their drinks, and Lanon had popped his head up from under the towel at some point, his voice muffled, saying it was exciting that no one could see him.
As they put their napkins on their plates and finished the last few sips of their drinks, Donna returned with the check. "I hope everything was to your liking tonight," she said, placing the small tray holding the paper slip in the middle of the table.
Gretchen passed Donna back the flamethrower. "It was so good, Mr. Fang didn't even request to use this."
"I'll be sure to tell the chefs he approved of their cooking," Donna laughed.
"And you were great tonight too, Donna," Kev said. He was feeling relaxed now that he'd had a few drinks. Lanon being under the towel, doing whatever he was doing, was also a blessing, allowing him to eat without being hounded with questions. "How did you get that vole-man to calm down earlier?"
"Oh, him," Donna leaned in and whispered, "he's a regular, and they fight a lot. I told him we'd cover the pie for the inconvenience. I think he just wanted to follow his wife before she could catch the elevator. I'm pretty sure she's the one who drives."
Kev nodded. If she got one elevator ahead, that would mean the man would most probably be walking home.
"I like secrets too," Lanon's voice came from under the towel.
Donna giggled and stood up. "I'll be back for the..."
Fang had already pulled his wad of bills out and was counting a few off the top as he looked down at the tab. "That duck is out of his mind," he grumbled. "It was good, but... really." He slapped several bills down on the table, their growling bear faces all pointed up.
Donna scooped up the bills and check. She counted them quickly. "Uh, I'll be right back with your change."
"Don't bother," Fang said, sliding out of the booth.
"But... but... are you sure?" Donna stuttered.
Kev slid out of the booth and whispered to Donna, "Did he give you way too much?"
Donna replied, "I'm used to generous tips up here, but I think he miscounted."
"I wouldn't worry about it," Kev said. "Just share it with whoever we bothered tonight. We really appreciate you allowing us to sit at this booth. The view is to die for."
Donna smiled at Kev and nodded. "Have a good night. And say hi to Dale for me." With that, Donna was off.
Dale, Kev thought. He was with us at The Sewer, wasn't he? Kev's thoughts were sidelined as he followed Fang past the kitchen stairs. Warlock was sitting back with a wine glass in his hand, Bruno stood behind him, and Paul was panting and mopping at his head. He was about halfway through his own massive cow leg and looked woozy.
Warlock nodded at Fang as they passed. "So generous of you," he said smoothly. "And look how much he loves it. I'll be sure to let you know if he wastes any."
"Less, not more," Gretchen said as she followed Lanon and the others towards the elevator.
Paul groaned, "Those scoundrels..."