Tonight is Poker Night, and Vic Hoskins is attending. Oh, he's not playing the game: he's simply baking cookies for those who are. Now, anyone who knows the name "Vic Hoskins" would normally do a double-take after hearing that he was baking anything, much less a tray of delicious snickerdoodles, but those people didn't know him after he attended sensitivity courses . . . after he became a dinosaur. Through a series of confusing, convoluted, and complex events, he ended up as a hybrid animal, something that happened surprisingly often where he lived. It's always hard to explain his situation, but at least he no longer has cyborg gun-arms to complicate the issue.

In any case, he is distributing his sugary creations to a group of very strange people. Some are raptors, and others are pale not-quite-dinosaurs. Vic is nervous around them, not just because he's a herbivore, but because he doesn't enjoy thinking about what had caused them to change in the first place.

"Hey, Hoskins! You wanna join in?"

Vic wags his tail excitedly at the prospect of being included, but after a beat, he shakes his head.

"Can't. I promised to be home by eight."

The dinosaurs laugh. One of the pale hybrids cackles hysterically, slapping the table with his paw.

"Oh, that's good! Hilarious! Does your wife have you by the balls?"

Vic shakes his head.

"No, but just the same, I'd like to keep my promise."

There's another chorus of laughter.

"I tell you, if I were married to someone with a mug like that, I'd reconsider."

"HEY!"

Vic stomps his foot and glowers at the dinosaur who made the remark, but his face softens in a millisecond. His heart quivers with fear as he realizes just how close he came to snapping. He places his tail between his legs and lowers his gaze.

"Sorry. But you know that she's beautiful."

"Used to be beautiful."

"Still is," Vic states without a hint of insincerity.

The dinosaur shrugs.

"Well, I can't complain about your taste. Still, if she ever changes back, give me a call."

A second dinosaur snorts.

"Craig, you couldn't land a girl who looks like a trout, never mind someone like her. Besides, she'd stay with Hoskins."

"Doubt it."

"She would."

"I really don't think so."

They turn to Vic. He places his hands behind his back shyly and scuffs his toe against the floor.

"She'd stay. She loves me, even though she has no reason to."

"But if she was pretty again . . ."

"She's still pretty."

"If she changed, I mean. What would happen, do you think?"

"She'd stay," Vic affirms, "I know she would."

"I don't think so," the dinosaur snuffs, "She could nab nearly any man on the island. Why would she choose you?"

Vic doesn't argue this point. He knows that the dinosaur is right, even if he would prefer the answer to be different. She really has no reason to stay with him, except love. Love and desperation. If anyone else wanted her (which they damn well should), it was very much possible that she'd go after them instead. Vic tries to tell himself that it would be good for her if this were to happen, and that he should be ready to support her decision, but that doesn't stop his heart from breaking at the mere thought of losing her. Obviously, his fear is showing, because the dinosaur coughs awkwardly and looks away.

"I was only teasing, Hoskins. I'm sure she'd stay."

He sighs.

"No, you're right. If someone else came along-"

"She'd stay with you," the dinosaur affirms, "I've seen the way she looks at you. She adores you, and it's not our place to judge."

"Do you think she only loves me because I love her?" Vic asks.

The dinosaur gives a noncommittal hum. Vic sighs and sits down on a sofa in the corner of the room. With an exhausted groan, he leans backwards and looks at the ceiling.

"God, what am I doing? She's miserable, isn't she?"

One of the dinosaurs shakes his head.

"No, no. Definitely not. Whenever you're together, she gets about thirty-three percent happier."

Vic rubs his forehead.

"But she'd be happier with someone else."

"Why?"

"Because I'm me, and nobody likes me."

None of the dinosaurs contradict him. Vic exhales and stands up.

"I'm going home. Enjoy your cookies."

It's a long walk back to the house. Vic has about eighteen minutes to ponder what has been said. He accomplishes very little in that time. He's stuck in a loop of self-loathing. Many times, he comes to the conclusion that everyone would be happier if he left his wife. Well, everyone except him, but he didn't matter. Of course, it would be heartbreaking for her at the start, but she'd find someone else. Statistically speaking, she can't do much worse than Vic.

When he finally drags himself through the front door, Vic notices that all of the lights are turned off. Recovering from the cold night air, he stretches out his legs and heads for the bedroom. His wife is already asleep. He smiles at the sight of her, then slips under the covers, hoping to go unnoticed. Instinctively, she wraps her wings around him, and her brow becomes furrowed, even in her half-dormant state.

"You're cold . . ."

"I've been outside."

"Baking for the poker group?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"You smell like cookies."

Vic smiles and snuggles closer to her. After a second, he bites his lip. He shouldn't be happy. Why is he letting himself be happy when he's making someone he loves miserable?

"They've been teasing you . . ." she whispers.

Vic gulps.

"I . . . um . . . Yes, they have. It's fine, though. I'm used to it."

"It's bothering you. I can tell. You're really quiet. I can feel you thinking."

Vic hugs his knees against his chest.

"It's no big deal. I deserve it. It's only fair."

With this, his wife opens her eyes and sits up in bed.

"Vic, no. Don't say that. You don't deserve this abuse."

"I do . . ."

She scoffs.

"Look, it doesn't matter what you've done. They shouldn't expect you to just sit there and take it. Part of forgiving someone is understanding that reciprocal hatred doesn't make anything better. Here you are, trying to do something nice for them, and they treat you like rubbish! If I got my talons on them-"

Vic shakes his head.

"Don't be upset. If you're concerned, I won't go over there anymore."

She sighs.

"Well, it's not about how I feel. Are you really going to let them treat you that way?"

"Yes . . ."

"But why?"

Vic closes his eyes.

"With all the people I've hurt, hateful words are far less damaging than what I actually deserve."