I do not own Zootopia, that belongs to Disney. This a fan work made solely for the sake of amusement.
The Burrows
Chapter Four: Re: Union, Part Four
By: Gabriel LaVedier
"It's not that I don't trust you. You come highly recommended. But I just feel this isn't the kind of thing that can be done with technology," Sylvia said. She was standing in Bobby Catmull's shop, flanked by her parents. They were standing in front of the glass counter, with Bobby behind it holding up his customized and extensively modified upright-bass-style Catsio keytar.
"At my wedding we had a live player of the balalaika, and he played the whole ceremony and the reception, for a very reasonable price," Gregor insisted with a sniff.
"That's because it was uncle Constantin, he only charged you because it ran long. He told me so," Sylvia said with a laugh and shake of her head.
"But it was a live player," Olga insisted.
"I'm live, and I play," Bobby countered. "No one in Bunnyburrow has any problem with me. The other Burrows call me, too. I do good work and I always deliver the kind of musical experience mammals love."
"The Hopps clan says as much, but I kind of side with papa. You're live, but the sound is just electronic. I understand that's easier, and I don't doubt that you can do the job. But there's something to the sound of live music."
"At least give me a chance to show you what Jenny wrote for you. I think I have it down," Bobby said, flicking a few switches and adjusting some dials on his instrument. "She took the traditional wedding music from the old country of your family, but punched it up and brought it to something even more rich and full."
"There is purity in the old music. But we will see, kot. Impress us," Olga demanded, standing with her arms crossed over her chest.
A few more dials were carefully twisted, some sliders were moved and his fingers found their places. After taking a few breaths he began to work his right hand fingers over the keys, his left manipulating toggles and sliders to adjust tones and timing. The first press of a key filled the room with a clear tone, the rapid strumming of the balalaika. Each press of a different key imitated the upward or downward strumming, multiple keys pressed sounding like someone working more strings at once, almost like several players playing at once.
Bobby's eyes were closed and his face a mix of calm serenity and subtle concentration. His brow furrowed slightly as he made adjustments to the length of time the strum lasted with each key press, shaving milliseconds to sound like an unbroken strumming, while other buttons activated or changed backing tones, like supporting players giving the background for the main melody that was being crafted.
It was just as had been said, the central framework of the song the old country wedding music, but with new tempo, a new set of tones and flourishes, greater complexity and unexpected twists. It was old yet new. The music fell well on the ears of the foxes listening to it, pulling a smile from the formerly sour Olga and even getting the dour Gregor to nod his head along to the sound.
Bobby finished the tune off by slowly lifting a finger off the last key, silencing his backing samples and letting the strum fade out. He kept his eyes closed, breath softly panting as he brought himself down from performance level to normal level. "Well... how did we do?"
Olga answered, after taking a moment to work her muzzle. "We?"
"I told you, I just play the music. Usually it's mine but Jenny writes a lot of these. She remixed it and made sure I knew how it would work," Bobby answered.
"Please give her my compliments. She has captured the soul of the music, but given it more life," Olga said.
"I find you acceptable, sir. Acceptable," Gregor said, with a softened sternness. "We will hire you. Appear on time, and dress well. And... bring this Jenny with you. Make certain you can perform a double ceremony, we do not need a tired musician."
Bobby jotted down the settings he had on his instrument, nodding to Gregor's statement. "Absolutely, sir. I take my responsibilities very seriously. Jenny was invited to Jake's wedding; she'll be even happier going to Kenny's, too."
Olga nodded as the family walked out. "Very good, kot... Mr. Catmull. Do svidanya."
"Oh, yeah, bye!" Bobby called out, waving as the three stepped out of his shop. He slumped down afterward, his relieved sigh making it seem like he was deflating. "These rehearsals are getting worse. City mammals... why did it have to be city mammals?"
"Oh, they can't be that bad," Jenny said, just catching the observation as she came in the front door. The mule deer doe was dressed breezily, wearing daisy dukes cut high on her long legs and a lilac tank top. Numerous inexpensive silver earrings dangled from her enormous, sideways-pointed ears. "I saw them coming out of the shop. They seemed very nice. I mean, they can't be that different from Sylvia."
"Don't you believe it, sugar-hooves. Those parents of hers are pretty stern. They're like Old Buck Fallow. Maybe not as staring and aloof but just as hard," Bobby sighed, crossing the store to wrap his arms around Jenny's svelte form. "At the very least, they liked the music. We're invited to mingle at their wedding too."
"Oh good! I was worried how reworked traditional music would go over. And they loved it enough to invite us," Jenny said, kissing Bobby's cheek.
"Like they wouldn't. You're brilliant, honey, and you know it," Bobby purred, the rumble thrumming from his chest and sending a pleasant tingle through both. "I love you, sugar-hooves."
"Bobby..." Jenny buried her face in Bobby's neck, nuzzling softly.
"That's the last issue off my mind. You want to head to Almondine's or maybe The Grease Trap? Attie and Martin's got in some fresh trout."
"Bobby..." The tone shifted down, Jenny's head pulled up and back. Her features had turned down, eyes narrow, her preorbital and forehead glands slightly flared in that particular way that showed her annoyance. Even as a timid doe she had a developed sense of pique.
"Sugar, sugar... I know what you're thinking. I'm not slacking. I'd never do anything to make you mad like that. Remember what I told the Sheriff? I'd die before I see you hurt," Bobby quickly said, pressing warm, unashamed kisses on all three flared glands.
Jenny quivered, the moist splits slowly closing again, soothed by each little kiss. "I... sweet sunshine, Bobby, I've never been this tense. How did I get from being so timid?"
"Cougar must rub off on deer. You just want to take care of me and I don't deserve it. You got me off my hinders and making more of myself. Can't thank you enough," Bobby softly said, kissing Jenny's cheek.
"Oh you..." Jenny softly pushed Bobby's shoulder and smiled. "So, why are you going to take me out for fried fish and ice cream?"
"Like I said, that was the last thing that was of concern today. The Hopps and Weaselton weddings are our big projects right now. And impressing those stony foxes even a little bit means that we could be a little lazy today, if that's okay. You know how we cougars are. The old saying around Predburrow has always been, The catamount invented lazing and idleness, but you never saw such a strong worker. It's my way, honey-hocks, I'm just lucky to have you here reminding me of that second part."
Jenny considered it for a moment, before smiling and offering the crook of her arm. "Come on, catamount, you've corrupted me into a lazy doe. Let's have some catfish and fries and a sweet treat. Earth love Attie but she's trying too hard to get clever with her fish."
Bobby took a small sign out form behind the counter, Out of the Shop, leave a message. Below the sign was a pad of paper and a pen attached to a string. He locked arms with Jenny and offered a huge, toothy smile. "No such thing, sweetness. It's a predator thing, I think. Especially with weasels but other predators want that variety. It's our little nod to being fancy about food. Good ol' Gideon's been offering all manner of wild fruits and such that he picks up from those fancy folks in Zootopia, and no one complains at all. You sure loved that durian tart I got you."
"Never would have figured. I smelled it before he cooked it, I wondered how he managed to keep his shop smelling good," Jenny noted with a slight grimace. She locked the door behind them and waited as Bobby affixed the sign to the glass on the front. "If you say it's good I'll try it. I've always just been timid about that."
"Nothing wrong with that, it just makes you unique. Special. I think it's wonderful," Bobby noted, nuzzling her cheek as they strolled down the cobbled walk arm-in-arm.
Their slow pace led them eventually to the nicely decorated storefront announcing Attie and Martin Marten's Fish and Chips. It looked mostly like other main-drag-Bunnyburrow buildings, the big glass window and the squared off design, but loads of carved wood embellishments had been added. From stylized plants to lovingly recreated fish, to the Martens themselves, in slightly exaggerated, cartoonish style, dressed as characters from old adventure stories. Bobby graciously opened the door, releasing a heady wave of of steamy air thick with the heaviness of fry oil and the mingled scent of fish and various fried vegetables.
"Welcome folks! Come on in and tell me what I can get ya!" Attie Marten chirruped happily. The marten woman was quite petite, even for being a beech marten. She was standing on a riser behind the tall counter, dressed in her typical shirt of short and puffy sleeves and puffy black pantaloons, all covered in front by a heavy apron that looked to be fronted with silken panels.
"Mrs. Marten, always a delight," Jenny said, giving a slight curtsey. "Bobby convinced me I should try out your trout. With fried potatoes. And maybe the cocktail sauce."
"Save that for the shrimp and lobster, dear. Good old malted vinegar is the only thing any fish needs. And some tartar sauce if you need it. How about you, Bobby?"
"Fried trout, Mrs. Marten. And give me that tempura with a tattie-leekie, been meaning to try that," Bobby said while perusing the elaborately carved menu board set over the top of the counter.
"Ah, great choice! Folks have said it's a good addition. I'm so glad Hayma told us about what they have back in Tanukitown. Those chili-spiced skewered fried locusts with lime are the moon's glow," Attied said, calling further back into the restaurant. "Sweetie, drop me two fried trout, one fried potatoes and one tempura tattie-leekie, it's for Bobby and Jenny."
Martin called from the back, "Right on it, love!"
Bobby looked up at the board and squinted slightly. "Oh that wasn't... is that a new menu board?"
Attie nodded and gave an exaggerated sigh. "That it is. Martin just finished it and installed it."
Bobby tilted his head slightly. "But... why?"
"Oh he said it was getting a little greasy and dull; things do, around here. Takes extra time to wipe it all down. But he could have just cleaned it off. He just wanted to make a new one. I know that mouse of mine. He's always energetic, always needs to be working. If he can't wander anymore he's got to do something, and I guess woodcarving is it. He must have gotten used to having a blade with all that time carrying that switchblade. At least now it's just a wood knife," Attie explained. "Can't complain. Makes the storefront look nice, and even if it makes changing the menu tough, it does look wonderful."
"It's like the opposite problem that Bobby has. It's hard to get him going, but he really goes once he's on his way," Jenny noted, nosing Bobby under the chin.
"Oh that Martin never needs to get going. It's a wonder he sleeps," Attie sighed, with a smile on her muzzle.
"Order up, trout, taters, and leeks. Eating in or are you love-doves going back to the shop?" Martin asked, the mouse poking his head from the kitchen area.
"Wrap it up, but we're on our way to Almondine's and maybe to Gideon's for something," Bobby replied.
"Keeping it in the Burrow. I like that. Better you spend your bucks here," Martin noted, amid the crinkling of paper and foil.
"Oh Martin, folks can spend their money where they want. It all circles back around. We're sure not hurting," Attie chided.
"It's the principle of it. This is my home now and I love it. Drifting changes you, and having a home makes you aware. I've got roots now, and I want them to stay put," Martin countered, walking along a runner on the counter and pushing the wrapped packages along. The rather oversized and muscular mouse was dressed much like his wife, in an oddly archaic laced-up linen shirt and dark purple pantaloons, all covered with an apron. "First two are fish, taters are third."
"Much obliged, Mr. and Mrs. Marten," Bobby said with a nod, picking up the packets that belonged to him and passing along exact change.
Attie had packed and passed along a white paper bag while her husband had been speaking. "Salt, pepper and malt vinegar. Did you need tartar sauce?"
"No thank you for me, Mrs. Marten, I'm good with this," Jenny softly said, picking up her food and the bag of condiments.
"Mind that, folks, it's still hot from the oil," Martin warned.
"We'll be careful. Have a good day," Bobby said, linking arms with Jenny again and walking out into the cooler, lighter air, momentarily still wrapped in the thick scent of oil and fish.
As they walked down the road Jenny took notice of new figures, nicely dressed and casually going along the street. A weasel and a chinchilla, close as mammals could get. The doe quickened her pace while approaching them, giving them a good looking over. "You must be Princess' cousin, the one from Zootopia."
Duke cringed, a little, given a soft squeeze by Muffin in response to the reflexive fear. "Y-yeah, that's me. Duke Weaselton. Prob'ly gonna be last of th' Zootopia Weaseltons. Don't matter much, these ones are better anyhow." He gave Muffin a nudge and smiled his crooken smile. "G'wan and introduce y'rself, doll. I love hearin' ya talk."
"How sweet. Yes, I am Muffin Lanige, of the Canyonland Laniges. Charmed to meet you both," Muffin said, with muted grandness, dipping her head a respectful amount.
"Name's Bobby Catmull. If you need music, I'm it," Bobby said, taking Duke's comparatively smaller paw and shaking it vigorously. "I'm playing at your cousin's wedding and reception. Both the weddings and receptions, actually."
"And I'm his sound board operator and regular co-composer of original music, Jenny Thicket," she said, shaking Muffin's paw gingerly.
"And quite a bit more, I can tell," Muffin said with a hint of amusement. "You can tell how I feel on that subject, I'm certain."
"Good decision-makin' kinda runs in the family, I guess. Only smart thing I ever did was be just smart enough to get this fluffy treat interested," Duke said, with a proud puff of his chest.
"He's modest. But it does look like it runs in the family. And a good family it is. Uncle Meister is quite the character," Muffin noted.
"He is that. Jake should be a good stand-in once he can't run the counter anymore," Bobby said with a grin.
"Are we keeping you from anything?" Jenny suddenly queried.
"Well, work never ceases for any weasel, it would seem. All three of our local relatives are engaged in running the shop so we were sightseeing on our own. It's so quaint here, so unlike the big city, and even unlike Meadowlands," Muffin explained.
Duke sniffed strongly at the wrapped packages, his kinked whiskers trembling slightly. "Smells good. Fresh fish. And some vegetables. Is that... that fancy batter they got over in Tanukitown?"
"Impressive nose. I never knew weasels were so keen," Bobby said with a nod.
"Well, the sayin' goes in Happytown, ya live longer if yer nose is sharp enough ta pick up the details. Ya get to know what good food smells like," Duke casually explained, polishing his claws on his chest.
Muffin kissed Duke's cheek and stroked his kinked whiskers. "I'm so proud."
"Have you folks been to Almondine's? Bobby promised me some ice cream. We've done the big things and I think he's right that we deserve a treat," Jenny explained.
"Uncle Meister said he was gonna take us there sometime," Duke noted. "Guess we can, eh, double-dip. Right, doll, right?" He gently nudged Muffin in the side, popping his brows and grinning.
Muffin rolled her eyes and giggled sweetly. "Yes, dear. Very droll."
"Heh, yeah, that's what it is," Duke said with a quick laugh. He turned aside and rapidly started tapping on a very new smartphone, fumbling it slightly and seeming to erase things several times.
Muffin gently leaned in and tenderly whispered, "O-l-l."
Duke tapped in the last few letters and took a moment to look over what came up. "Oh! Oh yeah, I am, uh, droll, ain't I, doll?"
"Absolutely, Dukey," Muffin said, kissing Duke's cheek. "Please, do lead on to this place. It might not be a large town but it still takes time to navigate."
"It's all mostly along the main drag, but there are a few on the siding streets. We're kinda proud of it, though. It's home," Jenny said, pulling Bobby along and leading Duke and Muffin.
The little group made their way up the block slowly, Bobby and Jenny unwrapping their packets and sharing the little containers of malt vinegar. Both bit into the trout and matched fanning their mouths. "Ah! Attie and Martin keep telling us and nobody in the Burrow listens," Bobby said, sucking breath in and out to cool his mouth.
"Part of the charm at this point," Jenny added, giving it a thoughtful chew once it was safe. "Merciful sunrise, it's really different! Mm, I still like the catfish but this trout isn't too bad either."
Duke twitched his knobbled whiskers at the scent of hot fish, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips. "I, ah, didn't know that prey ate meat, like, on the regular. I knew a few a the... workin' gals in Happytown that ate some meat when they had a chance, didn't matter what they were. Weren't too many prey but still..." He looked over at Muffin and patted her cheek. "Ain't a thing, doll. Knew 'em socially. Gotta when yer all survivin' together."
Jenny took the time to finish her bite before replying. "Mm, deer are known for it. It depends on family, but most at least add some fish or bugs. My family just goes right for it. They love the Selenic Autumnal fairs, lots of bug preserves and fried things in big buckets or wrapped in dough."
"There's nothing more romantic than knowing you can take a doe home to the family and she's glad to eat up what they serve, and that you can swing by for a meal and you know they'll serve plenty of what you like," Bobby said, with his mouth partially full of his tempura veggies.
"We used to have big freezers full of catfish dad noodled out of the river. We have one now, and dad has a big tranq rifle now," Jenny giggled, tickling Bobby's cheek with a large ear.
"Tell your mom to make less delicious breading. I'm a weak, helpless predator who loves celery, bay and paprika. All mushed up in cornmeal and golden fried..." Bobby started to roll his eyes up and purr.
Jenny pulled hard on Bobby's arm and pointed up at the big sign announcing Almondine's Treats. It was made of polished brass, sealed with clear lacquer, and written in a very old, classic script that made it look like something out of an old movie. "Next Asterdas. I'll warn them you're coming."
The four entered the parlor and stepped backward in time. Everything came from an earlier age, from the black and white checkered tile floor to the sleek Formica countertop, to the small booths with their pink and puffy vinyl padding set beside the two big picture windows at the front of the place. Behind the bright counter, with its pinkish trim and sparkling white surface, a number of ice cream dispensers sat, for the soft serve. Some stand mixers for shakes were arrayed on the counter, and a big freezer was in front holding tubs of the normal variety. Everything looked to be modern, with various bits of classic hardware attached, the new wearing a skin made of the old.
The attendant behind the counter perked up slightly, or seemed to due to the height of her ears. The vixen behind the counter was a mature female fennec, dressed in an old fashioned white ruffle-fronted shirt and pants with white and red stripes. Between her enormous ears rested a boat-shaped white paper hat with the name of the business along the sides. "Hey, folks. Welcome to Almondine's. Got the cool treats ya want. Good, cool treats. So good to be here."
"My, my, you are very cosmopolitan here, aren't you? I'd heard the region was developing but not so quickly and so diversely," Muffin said, striding up to the counter.
"I'm new. Figured there was better than living in a stone burrow twiddling life away in the sandbox. And I don't care how developed I am for it, with the ears and the paw fuzz and all that. Hot is hot. I wanted to try something cooler. And without any... complications," the fennec replied, peering hard at Duke. "You're new too. That ain't your right outfit. You can't be the Duke of Bootleg."
Duke scoffed lightly and peered at the vixen. "The Duke is retired, got me a better life with this tasty dust-tumbler. Ain't she the dustiest dame ya ever saw?"
Muffin hid her face behind her hands, tail flicking in embarrassment. "Oh Dukey! You don't have to be so extravagant! I'm only sprinkled..."
"Don't sell yerself short, doll," Duke said with a toothy grin. "I know all mammals ain't the same 'n whatnot. But that face ain't a regular one. You connected ta that guy Wilde was always pullin' gaffles with?"
The vixen laughed softly and stroked one long ear. "You got that right, Dukey. But they're both outta the game. That game. Big bro is still doing... well, he's doing your game. Tod's gotta eat, guess a hob's gotta eat too. Bet you get all the salmon and ahi you want."
"Your implication is noted, but probably innocent," Muffin said, reflexively pulling Duke in for a protective hug. "He is not what you say. I approached him. And suffice to say, he has been most delightful. But I know those like your brother. They have a place too. Sometimes a smile for a night carries a body through many days."
"Yeah, I'm sure that's what he says about it," the vixen laughed, holding out a small hand. "Fussi. Just Fussi. I can guess what brings you folks down from the big city. It actually took me a little bit to make the connection with the folks at the general store. Didn't help I didn't actually know your name. You were always a small fry from Happytown, and I kept to myself in Sahara Square."
Muffin shook the offered hand and smiled. "Pleasure. Muffin Lanige. And you know my dear Duke, by reputation. I can guess you've been here long enough to know our travel companions." Muffin stepped aside to show off Jenny and Bobby.
"Hey, Fussi," Bobby said with a lazy wave.
"Moved here a bit back, around the time your cousin got engaged. That was a crazy time all over," Fussi said with a shake of her head. "I already know what they want. What can I get the two of you?" Fussi pointed above her head to the old-time-style menu board, listing sizes, additions, toppings, and the styles of treats.
"Consarnit, girl! I pay you to sell ice cream, not jaw with the customers," an angry voice called. From out of the back room emerged a stooped, old-looking albino squirrel wearing a uniform similar to the one Fussi had on.
"I learned to sell cheap junk at a markup at my local souq; talking to the customers is how you upsell the needless extras, especially food, you wrinkly old prune," Fussi shot back.
"Don't you take that tone with me, missy! I'm telling you to get them served up good and fast, sling that product and get them to get the toppings," the old squirrel huffed.
"I know my business, and chatty customers buy more because they don't think about what you're selling them," Fussi insisted. "I already know what two of them want. Let me do my job and sell this stuff, you fossil."
"O-oh..." Muffin gasped, stepping back slightly.
"Nobody in the Burrow could handle Old Buck Almondine until Miss Fussi came along. They yell like they're gonna kill each other but the shop has never been more productive," Bobby noted, casually.
Fussi scoffed at the old squirrel and turned to the quartet again. "So what'll it be?"
Duke strode up and looked over the menu. "Just like those fancy shops, a surly clerk. Now I'm gettin' used to it." He laughed softly and pointed to the containers in the glass display case. "Gimme a double scoop of the grasshopper and one honey-locust in a waffle boat, with the chocolate syrup and ant sprinkles."
Fussy started scooping, after going along behind-the-counter runners to collect items, and looking smug. "Ha! Told you it was a good idea to get more of the bug stuff. You knew it was going to sell, Deputy Buck and that little doe of his could probably kill a bucket by themselves."
"Not the point. We always just had the one little one and plenty for all the prey," Mr. Almondine huffed. "It always worked fine. I only added a little more because I needed to shift the stock."
"Whatever you say, ya old nut," Fussi chuckled, setting the treat aside. "How about you, dustypuff?"
"Just a small waffle cone and two scoops of the lemon sorbet. Can I also have a cup of cricket pieces? I've grown a taste since my dear introduced them to me," Muffin said.
"That's seventy-five acorns extra," Mr. Almondine insisted.
"Toppings are free with two scoops, she doesn't have to shake 'em over the thing," Fussi said, scooping the cone and preparing a plastic ramekin of cricket chunks.
"He always tries to tin and corn you on little things," Jenny whispered to Muffin. "Miss Fussi got most of that ended, usually. When Old Buck Almondine is at the counter you still pay extra."
"And those two share a half-chocolate, half-nutty-grubby Sundast with walnuts, caramel syrup and three cherries, the third one cut almost in half so they can share it and kiss," Fussi rattled off as she whipped through the preparation. "And yes, I charge them for the extra. Gotta, extra work, extra cost, and they pay because they're too cute for their own good."
"I keep telling you..." Mr. Almondine began.
"No bunnies, no care," Fussi airily said, setting down the last creation and looking on the assemblage with a smile.
"Got a mind like that brother-a yers, same tongue, too," Duke said with a grin.
"Fennecs have a good head for details. I don't use it the same way but it helps the same way. And there's nothing wrong with my tongue, it's true. No bunnies around, I don't care. You two are always talking about how cute things are anyhow, so why why not say it?" Fussi asked.
Muffin pulled out her wallet and passed over the amount rung up, dropping some bills in the tip jar. "My treat, please. I have more bucks than Meadowlands, and it's nice to meet such wonderful folks."
"Miss Lanige... that's very generous of you," Jenny cooed.
"That's my chilla. She gives even when it ain't needed. 'Swhy I'm here," Duke said with a proud puff of his chest.
"Enjoy it, folks! Good and cold. It's a great change from the sandbox," Fussi said, pushing all the ice cream forward.
"Bah, heat can't be that bad. First cold snap and all we'll see of you is your brush when ya run back back to the city. You won't make it," Mr. Almondine said with a nod of his head. "Guarantee it."
"I'll take that action, ten to one. Put a long antler on it and I'll have a very merry solstice in front of a fire with s'mores," Fussi said with a flip of one ear.
"Can we sit here? This is better than trained roaches out in front of an apartment block," Duke said, greedily shoveling down his ice cream until his mind caught up with his instincts.
"It's no Carmine, but it should suffice," Muffin concurred, sliding into a booth seat with Duke.
"We've seen this show, so we're heading off," Bobby noted. "But it was nice to meet you. Thanks for the treats and we'll probably see you again before the wedding."
"I wish I had my harp with me, I'd give a little preview. You'll hear it there," Jenny said, following Bobby out the door.
"Nice folks, nice folks," Duke said, nodding. "Ya ever... ever thought 'bout another house, doll? I hear other folks at those fancy parties talkin' about how they got homes somewhere. We... we ain't gotta go crazy and go out to all those places like they do. I mean... I love the city. It's nice in Hyenahurst. But it's still the city. I come outta here, kinda. Maybe we have some vacation time here, see how that works."
Muffin leaned in to press a kiss on Duke's cheek. "And we'll be among family, close and extended alike. I've found it pleasant. The open places, the slow pace. I'll see what we can arrange."
"No more Zootopians, we've got enough with that fox, and this fox," Mr. Almondine snorted.
"Give it a rest, you know you love the money. You can see she's got it," Fussi huffed.
"That's not the point, we need to preserve the feel of the Burrow," Mr. Almondine insisted.
"Hey, my family's from here, I ain't gonna change nothin'!" Duke shouted.
"He's just a bit set in his ways, I see. I assure you, we'll be model citizens," Muffin diplomatically stated..
"The Weaselton's fine, just don't go ruining the community with a lot of fancy junk," Mr. Almondine said, pointing at Muffin.
"Never! Or at least only behind closed doors. I'll keep the aesthetic but decorate as I will. That should suffice for all parties," Muffin said with a nod.
"Build a big mansion. It aggravates him," Fussi noted with a soft snort.
"I can fire you, missy," Mr. Almondine threatened.
"But you won't, so let's see if they order more later," Fussi casually said, she and Mr. Almondine settling in to watch Duke and Muffin casually eat.
Author's Notes
Glands- Deer have scent glands scattered across their bodies, for marking territory. For Jenny, and other civilized deer, showing them is a sign of annoyance. Kissing them is incredibly significant, showing Bobby is a good boyfriend.
Attie and Martin's decorations- I'm hammering the Redwall references hard, with a lot of old fashioned attire and classical things like hand-carved wooden decorations.
Tattie-Leekie- Potatoes and leeks, a play on cock-a-leekie, chicken and leek soup, and neeps and tatties, turnips and potatoes.
All the stuff about Jenny's family- If the Greys are the bad sort of rednecks, the Thickets are clearly the good sort of rednecks. Mom with her fried catfish and cornbread breading, dad noodling catfish out of the river himself, plus having a big ol' gun to shove in the face of the strange boy his little princess is bringing around, eating their food.
Dusty- All dust-related talk is chinchilla slang for having money or being generally rich and various levels of showy about it.
Grasshopper and Honey-Locust- I think it's funny. Grasshopper, like the drink, I imagine a nonalcoholic crème de menthe with actual grasshopper pieces. Honey-locust is a biblical reference, the food of John the Baptist and an appropriate flavor for insectivorous critters with a sweet tooth
Acorns- Well, it seemed like the right time to mention divisions of a buck.
Tin and Corn- Nickel and dime, being references to the metal one coin is made from, and a shortening of acorn, or possibly mentioning the image on a ten-acorn coin, like calling a hundred dollar bill a Benjamin.
Long Antler- A hundred bucks
Carmine- A gender-flipped Carmen, appropriate that a sophisticate like Muffin would think fondly on an Opera