Questionable Assets

The bar was nice. It really was. The lighting was good. The selection was great. The wolverine bartender, Gregori, was friendly. The music was even okay. It didn't reek like the backwater taverns that the Fox crew sometimes had to stop at for information. The bathrooms had probably seen a mop in the past week and the bar floor actually looked clean. All in all, it was a decent joint.

Slippy leaned back in his cushy corner booth that looked out over the crowd and sighed. So why wasn't he having fun?

His captain had assured him that going out would be good for him.

Staying in the bowels of the ship for months at a time isn't beneficial for any mammal's psyche, never mind an amphibian's, Fox had said. And so, his friend's new pet project had become clear. He would force Slippy to have fun and interact with other people.

Didn't matter that Slippy was from a completely different culture and had no idea how to interact with all these furred creatures. They were all so much taller, thinner, faster. They had different priorities, different views, politics were completely implausible, and they absolutely reeked of lust sometimes.

Especially in establishments that serve alcoholic beverages.

Grumbling, the young frog glared at his watch. Roughly two hours more of this stupidity and he was leaving. He had tried. He really had. He had swallowed his pride and approached a few ladies that he had found faintly interesting. He had hovered at the edges of their conversations to see what they were talking about first and then added to their discussion.

He had seen Falco do this with positive results. The bird would just pause at a table, tilt his head, and then casually edge his beak in over a female's shoulder and comment. There would be a giggle, a smile, and one of them would gesture to an empty seat or wiggle over to make room. And Falco would slide into the seat, wrap an arm around a lady and eventually take her home within an hour.

The tactic worked; it was proven. Fox even did it.

For some reason though, it just didn't work for amphibians.

Slippy rubbed a finger over the lip of his glass and listened to the musical tone. It sounded as depressed as he was. It wasn't that he wanted to take any of these creatures home; he just wanted to talk to someone so that the time would just pass faster.

An hour and fifty-two more minutes. Damn.

He tilted the glass against his lips and let the ginger ale slip down his throat. Damn you Fox. Just because you're captain does not mean you can order your crew around on off-hours. But he had. And he did. And so Slippy was here, nursing a drink until the hour he was allowed to go home.

Somehow, as the latest effort to make the frog socialize, the fox had gotten a hold of the spark plug of Slippy's car and had given it to the amused wolverine with some specific instructions: the frog wasn't to leave until eleven. And so the hours had passed by in a painful crawl. Fox's enthusiasm died a painful fiery death within half an hour.

Truthfully, Slippy wasn't surprised by the results of the evening. He wasn't here for sex, while it seemed that the rest of the crowd were. He snorted.

No, he wouldn't come to a bar for intelligent conversation either. If he wanted that, he'd go online. The weapon engineering forums had some of the strangest discussions going on and there at least his opinion was welcomed and even appreciated.

What was the word that Falco used for the ladies of the night crowd? He signaled to the waitress for another ginger ale and she nodded. Pretty and not too bright: 'bimbos'? The engineer shook his head. Pointless. He had approached the females only because his captain had looked him dead in the eye and threatened to push back the "curfew" time. It had taken four tries for the leader of their group to shake his head and give it up (though not enough to return the spark plug).

Slippy may have been a horrible pilot, but even he could dodge a slap. The ladies being drunk probably helped too.

The other pilots had already left; Falco with two ladies, Fox with a vixen. Brown, not blue, Slippy absently noted. He couldn't understand how these mammals just chose bed mates at random. Did sexual intercourse mean nothing to them? It was the closest two creatures could physically be to each other; as intimate as it could get. It shouldn't be capable with strangers that would only walk away the next morning, or even the next hour.

When he had expressed his opinion to Fox, his friend had given him an odd look while the bird had fallen over laughing. No, he didn't expect marriage. He didn't even expect a committed relationship. However, he wanted to at least know the female before sleeping with her. The most he required out of his partner would be that she would have a brain. Something he could respect and that they could at least talk to each other. Otherwise, what was sex? Some way to relieve pressure? He may as well use his own hand for all the intellectual stimuli that would give and avoid the awkward small talk altogether.

The waitress stopped by at that point and set down his drink. She gave him a fleeting smile and then she turned away.

Slippy groaned. At this point, the staff had been the only ones to give him any kind of decent interaction.

Fuck this. Gregori would be a better distraction. The weapons specialist slid from the booth and grabbed his glass. After only three steps, he observed wryly that his former booth was immediately swarmed by several couples. No going back now.

He wove his way through the throng to reach the bar. Gregori spotted him and nodded to the side where there was an open seat. Perfect. Maybe he could talk the big bartender into letting him go home early.

Hopping was a frog's specialty. Hopping up to a barstool barely two inches away was pre-school ability. Too bad Slippy got distracted.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the front door swing open. He saw a tall yellow-furred vixen walk into the room. She triggered a memory. He was just pushing up from the floor when he saw the cat that came in after the fox.

Jenny.

Something unyielding crashed down on top of his head and the floor came up to meet the side of his face. Sonuvabitch!

"Holy shit! Slippy?"

"Ugh." God, he hurt. He blinked, trying to focus on anything past the white pinpoints spinning across his vision. System check – anything fried from that last hit? "… The shields are probably down to twenty percent."

There was a chuckle over his head. "No frog, you just jumped into the wall." The wall? "C'mon, let's get you up."

Firm hands under his armpits heaved him up. The world seemed to tilt and even after it was right side up, it continued to tilt further. Slippy let out a groan.

The wolverine at his back snickered. "Can you stand?"

The engineer felt his support loosen and immediately the building swayed. "Uhh… Negative."

"Didn't think so," the bartender grunted, tightening his grip. Above him, Slippy felt Gregori turn his head. "Nathan! Take the bar!"

A brisk voice shouted an acknowledgement and then Gregori was carrying him to a side room. "Damn frog. Did you actually drink something for once?"

The light flicked on and Slippy winced. "No, not drunk. Just distracted." Though, being drunk would actually be preferable right now. He had just jumped into a wall.

There was a huff of laughter, and then like a child he was deposited on a cot. "Distracted huh?" Slippy held his head as the wolverine turned away. After a moment, Gregori came back. "Heads up, this is gonna be cold."

Huh? Oh – ice. He nodded and let out a soft hiss as the soft pack of frozen gel came down on his head. He grabbed at the pack before it could slide off his head. "Well, I'm obviously talented," he muttered.

"Very," Gregori agreed and Slippy sighed as the bartender pulled up a chair and smirked down at him. The large mammal grabbed the sides of Slippy's head and peered at each of his eyes.

"Hey…"

"So, a distraction huh?" Gregori asked cordially with a quirk of a bushy eyebrow. He let go and sat back, giving the frog an expectant look.

"Don't you have a bar to look after?" This was embarrassing enough without being mothered over.

"Covered." The wolverine showed all his teeth in a grin that threatened to split his skull. "Besides, I need to watch you."

"Do you usually sit with invalids?" Slippy grumbled.

"If they give themselves concussions by jumping into walls? Yes."

Oh, his head hurt too much for this. "I do not have a concussion."

Gregori snorted. "You can't tell up from down. You can't stand." There the mammal paused. "Are you seeing stars?"

Slippy blinked and then sighed. "Several constellations actually," he admitted. A different one for each time he closed his eyes. Fuck, he did have a concussion.

Satisfied, the wolverine leaned back in his chair and crossed those huge arms of his. "And there we go."

Nodding would be a bad idea, so the young frog just huffed. There was one blessed heartbeat of silence. And then Gregori took a breath.

"Was it the digimon?" Damn nosy bartender.

Slippy snorted. "No." Which left…

"The cat then."

He blushed. Fuck my life. Gregori was grinning again.

-xXx-

"Your group is usually gone by the time she and her friend show up, so it makes sense that you haven't seen her here before," Gregori said thoughtfully.

Slippy blinked and slid the gel off his head. After an hour, it had already reached room temperature. "She comes here often?" He couldn't imagine Jenny being a regular at a bar. It seemed… below her standards.

The large mammal shook his head. "Maybe five times in the past two months and always on a Friday." He gave the frog an amused look. "Always shows up with her digimon friend. Always leaves pissed drunk and alone."

Jenny drunk? The frog shook his head. Unbelievable. He couldn't imagine her letting go of that much control. Granted, Krystal was another telepath and she seemed to drown her sorrows in wine on a regular basis. So maybe it wasn't that far-fetched. Still…

"Alone?" Slippy frowned at the wolverine. With a body like that? "That can't be right."

The other creature shrugged. "I haven't seen her leave with anyone but the cabby. And I'm the one who calls him in."

So she wasn't having any luck with finding company either. Hmm... Slippy turned the blue gel pack around in his hands and watched as it rolled over his skin. He wasn't sure whether to see that as a hopeful scenario or a sad one. He certainly wasn't having fun by himself so he could relate to her situation, but still, he wouldn't wish that upon her. Perhaps, she would welcome his company?

Somehow he doubted that she had spent those evenings being rebuffed. If anything, he was sure other creatures had approached her.

So why was she alone?

A deep baritone chuckle interrupted his thoughts. He glanced over to see Gregori standing up from the chair and stretching. "You look fine," the bartender observed. "The bruising isn't even obvious."

Slippy blinked slowly. "No stars either," he noted cautiously. He put the gel down beside him as his free hand gently prodded his abused crown.

"Well frog, see if you can stand then," suggested the wolverine as he pulled the chair away to settle against the far wall. "As much as your conversation is a few steps above the average drunk's, I need to get back to work."

"A few steps," Slippy grumbled good-naturedly. "Fuck you." His new friend only laughed. Still, the frog carefully slid off the cot and touched down on the cool tiles.

The walls didn't sway, the floor was stable, and he didn't feel like his head was balanced on a needle.

"I think I'm alright," he assured Gregori after he had let go of the cot to stand upright.

"Good." The wolverine towered over him, and then grinned again. "Let's get you hooked up with that cat then."

Apparently, he had hit his head harder than he realized. "What?" Slippy gaped.

He wouldn't have believed the wolverine had more teeth to show in that grin of his. It got wider. "You want pointers?"

Oh god help him— "Y-yes?" —but this was Jenny they were talking about. If this worked…

-xXx-

"I can't believe I said that." It had to be the stupidest thing he had ever done in his life. "I can't believe I did that." He was never listening to Gregori ever again.

Get over there. Be confident. Show off your assets. Carry on a conversation. Give her your phone number. Simple. That wolverine was insane!

Sure, he probably wouldn't have been able to carry on a conversation with Jenny. He stuttered just talking about her. He just wanted to make her aware of him and then leave.

He had walked up to her, said hi, and after that, had been a disaster.

He had approached from the side.

"Hey there, Jenny." The cat of his dreams had turned and looked down at him. She has the most gorgeous green eyes…

Uhh… what's my asset? Oh shit, she's frowning. What do I have that other mammals don't?

A complete and utter catastrophe. Suffering from a sudden debilitating case of idiocy, he had uttered some bullshit line that he had heard Falco say, even mimicking the tones the bird had used, slapped down a coaster with his phone number, and then beat a quick retreat.

He walked with stiff strides right back into the side room, which was where Gregori found him a few seconds later.

It didn't help that the bartender was laughing so hard the damn beast had tears in his eyes. "What the fuck, Slippy? Your tongue?"

"Oh shut up." He was sitting on the cot holding his head again. Hitting the wall was preferable to this.

-xXx-

Author's Note: XD Dear god, that was funnier than it should have been. Granted, alright, the material in question was so out there, that there's just no way I could take Slippy seriously.

Slippy was either going to be a real creep, and I was going to struggle not to make him some psycho stalker, or he was going to be a complete and utter innocent, bluffing his way through.

I know you (Yawg) wanted him to think that he had a real chance – and he did think that way – but I couldn't relate to him being confident. So I gave him stage fright instead.

Somehow, I don't think he's going to thank me.