The guys in the kitchen shout playful teases at me as Labelle takes a seat at the counter. As usual, lots of eyes are on her. Even Maple joins in, lightly poking my belly and winking as she passes me. As much as I'd like to serve Labelle, another customer is trying to get my attention. "Kyle!" I call, heading to the other side of the counter, "get Labelle's order and put it on me!"

"You got it, buddy!" says Kyle, tail wagging.

"Absolutely not!" says Labelle.

"Don't argue with me!" I yell. "It's on me and that's that!"

She shoots me an irritated glance but smiles as she turns back to Kyle. I turn to the human man in front of me and smile. "Hi, welcome to The Roost," I say, spewing the obligatory greeting. "How can I help you?"

"Let me get a small Kilimanjaro, two spoons of sugar and milk, no creamer." he says. "Hot, please."

"No problem. Can I get a name?"

"Farley."

"All right, your total is 240 bells."

I finish the transaction and begin to prepare the man's order. I pour the steaming coffee into a small takeout cup and ration the desired portions of milk and sugar into the liquid. I mix it until homogeneous and slap a lid on top. Maple takes the cup to the end of the counter and calls the customer over. I wipe down the counter and glance over at Labelle. She's got her elbow propped up, head leaning on her arm. She smiles at me and takes a sip of her drink. Agnes returns from her break and takes the cloth from me. "I gotcha," she says. "Go ahead and take your break. Your woman's waiting on ya."

I thank her with a roll of the eyes and quickly clock out. I move around the counter and take a seat next to Labelle.

"You're cute when you're focused," she says. "Hurrying all over the place."

"What's cute about it?" I ask, waving a hand in front of my face. "I'm sweaty from the steam and my hair's starting to curl."

"You just have this determined expression on your face," she giggles. "It's cute, even for the simplest tasks."

"Well, I'm glad you think so. How's your day been so far?"

"Kinda busy too. Didn't have meetings today on anyone's behalf—Gracie's or the Able Sisters'. Just ran around with the sales associates."

"You were pretty much floor staff, then."

"Yep. It was hectic, but I kind of enjoy it. Gives me a break from travelling and talking and makes me feel like I'm actually working."

"That's what's respectable about you. You're humble."

She smiles sweetly and takes another sip, then clasps her paws over my hands. "Is that what you look for in a woman?" she asks. "Humility?"

"Partly," I laugh. "I haven't had too many relationships, but my ideal partner is someone who's smart, thoughtful, and knows how to carry themselves."

She nods, glancing at her drink for just a second before looking at me again with her warm eyes.

"What about you?" I ask. "What's your type?"

"I'm looking at him, hon."

I put my hand up above my eyes and look around the café. "Where?" I tease. "Show me."

The left side of her mouth curls up into a half-smile. "You're funny," she says, locking her fingers with mine before standing up. "Saying we need to go slow and all you've done is tease me over the past couple weeks."

"You do it to me too. Maybe I can hold myself back."

"Ha, we'll see. Anyway, I've got to get back to Gracie's store now. Don't want her coming after me."

She squeezes my hand one last time and says her goodbye, heading out of The Roost. The bell jingles as the door closes behind her. She saunters down the sidewalk, her small tail swishing with each sway of her hips. She slips her sunglasses down over her eyes as she rounds a corner and disappears from my sight. I sit for a moment and smile to myself before clocking back in.

The first thing I decide to do after returning home from work is shower. However, Kyle has beaten me to it.

"You better not clog my drain with your fur!" I call, beating on the door to the bathroom. "And don't use up all the hot water!"

"I won't!" he shouts, barely audible over the water pouring from the shower head. "If you wanna conserve water, though, you can hop in here with me!"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Maybe! Why don't you show me what's hiding in those jeans?"

I faintly hear him laugh to himself as I walk away from the bathroom. I open the sliding glass door to my balcony and step outside. Warm wind and salty air never fail to greet me here. Funny enough, I still haven't visited the beach, even though it's only a street or two in front of my building. I look up to my right toward Fang and Kyle's balcony. Kyle has been crashing at my place quite often lately. He claims I'm more fun to be around than Fang. I've convinced myself it's been troublesome to have Kyle staying with me, but I know deep down I appreciate it. He's made my quiet apartment a lot livelier. My evenings have been a lot more fun with him around. I can't fault him. I did say my home was his, even if we are only a floor apart.

Kyle emerges from the bathroom, fur blown dry to the point he looks like a stuffed animal.

"I love your hairdryer," he laughs.

"You get more use out of it than I do," I say. "If I had nearly as much hair as you, it'd take me ages to get it dry."

He takes a seat on my couch and swings one arm over the back of it. "Does Tate still want us to go to that market with him?" he asks.

"Yep. He wants to get stuff for lunch this Friday. Fang coming today?"

"Nah, he said he wasn't feeling social. He will be coming to that lunch, though."

"That's just his excuse to avoid me. He's probably still upset about Lofter's. Somehow, I upset him."

"He's enigmatic, alpha. Now, hop in the shower! It's almost four!"

I gather a fresh set of clothes from my room and head to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. After I've thoroughly scalded myself in bliss, I dry off and head back into the living room. Kyle and I leave the apartment and make our way to Tate's convertible in the parking lot.

"Hey," says Tate, tucking his black hair behind his ear. The sunlight strikes his blue eyes, making them appear a shiny, crystalline grey.

"Where exactly is this market?" I ask, buckling my seat belt.

"Further down the shore," he says. "Almost to the pier at the end of town."

"Is it big?"

"Huge, mate."

Tate puts the car in drive. As our speed picks up, the wind hits our faces hard. I smile to myself and even let a laugh slip out. Racing through a beach city with friends in the summer is something I've always wanted to do. I've never spent much time near the coast until now.

Tate turns up the music and Kyle lets out a howl. We drive through downtown, faces beaming and hair flying. As we slow to a stop at a traffic light, I look up. Two people, both in separate high rises opposite each other across the highway, are blowing bubbles back and forth. They glint in the sunlight before being blown high and far out of sight by the wind.

"Don'tcha wish we lived in a tall building like that, Don?" asks Kyle. "Don't you love skyscrapers?"

"Wouldn't want to live in one with you. You'd hang your ass out the window."

Tate snorts with laughter as he puts his foot to the gas. After several minutes longer, we're slowed down once again by crowds of people. While Tate swears to himself, weaving in and out of traffic, Kyle and I stare at the marketplace in front of us. Stalls of many different sizes, shapes, and colors litter our vision, stretching far past what we can see. Humans and animals are drifting to and fro like debris in an ocean. Paper lanterns, streamers, and flags hang from the tops of light poles and roofs, stretching across the marketplace in a festive display. Conflicting smells clash for dominance in the air—the stench of fresh fish, freshly fried sweets, oils, and countless others.

"This is incredible," Kyle mumbles.

"Have you been here?" I ask.

"Once, but it was nothing like this."

Tate lets out a groan of frustration and lets his head fall on the steering wheel. He jumps, startled at the honk of the horn. "You two get out and start looking for the things on the list," he says. "I need to find a place to park..."

We hop out of Tate's car and prepare ourselves to get lost in the labyrinth before us.

"Where to first?" I ask.

Kyle retrieves the shopping list from his pocket and unfolds it. He cringes at the sight of Tate's poorly-scribbled cursive.

"Oh, alpha, oh no..." Kyle mumbles, painfully scanning the messy list. He pulls at one of the straps of his tank top and shakes his head. "First things we need are flour and yeast."

"We're baking something?" I ask, falling into step alongside my canine friend.

"List says Celia's supposed to bake some bread."

"Celia's coming?"

"Yeah, is that bad?"

"No, I like Celia. We just rarely see her."

"It's good that she'll be coming to lunch, then."

Kyle and I push our way through the crowd. Upon asking him whether he knows where he's going, I'm told he has no clue. We eventually stop at a large stall selling baked goods with bags of flour sitting out front. Kyle heaves one up and onto his shoulder, as well as a small pouch of yeast, and brings it to the front, earning a puzzling look from the bearded bear at the register.

"What the hell are you doing?" he booms, leaning over the counter. A few people turn our way. I pull my shoulders up and tap my foot uncomfortably.

The fur on the back of Kyle's neck stands up a bit. "L-Looking to buy this, I mean...these...?"

The bear raises an eyebrow and lets his mouth hang open a bit. "We use those to bake with, son. You came to a stall for baked goods to buy our ingredients? Why not buy our food?"

"I, uh... we just need flour and yeast. Sorry, I thought it was for sale. It was out front, I mean."

"My business ain't a grocery store," laughs the bear. "You come here to get things you can't buy at the store!"

"Have you ever considered selling the ingredients?" Kyle asks. "You could attract a lot of people with that alone."

The bear begins to chuckle to himself before bursting into laughter. "That how you're gonna justify it?"

"It's a reasonable suggestion, sir. People may want to get their hands on the same products such an esteemed brand as yours uses."

"I'll look into that, kid. Geez." The bear shakes his head and waves a hand. "You can take 'em. 800 bells."

I quickly hand him the money and we move on our way. "Thanks for the laugh!" shouts the bear as we hurry to the next stall. Kyle bounces the bags on his shoulder for better leverage and beams proudly.

"How the hell did you turn it around like that?" I ask.

"You know how good I am at running my mouth. Still, that wasn't fun," he says. "You froze up and made me do the talking! I thought he was gonna kill me for a second."

"Sorry, Kyle..." I mumble, doing my best to laugh it off.

"I've noticed you kind of freeze when strangers look at you. You go quiet and avoid eye contact."

"I've always been like that. I get really nervous when people stare at me. Makes me feel like I've done something wrong or that something bad is about to happen."

"Eye contact makes first impressions last. Don't let people think you're scared, Don."

"I know, I know. I just really hate confrontation unless I'm the one doing the confronting. I guess that kind of goes with it. I don't like being looked at or approached because I get all fidgety."

"I get you on the confrontation thing. Kinda how it was when Fang and I were in that fight a while back."

"Yeah. I've sorta conditioned myself to believe that if I don't acknowledge the situation, or if I look away from it, it won't seem as significant."

Kyle nods and looks ahead. He's blocked from my vision for a moment as a rather large man passes between us, but he returns to my side quickly. He steps a little closer to me and puts an arm around my shoulder, his leathery paw pads rubbing my upper arm.

"That's not healthy," Kyle says, a rare frown taking over.

"I know, buddy. It's something I have trouble with."

"I may sound like an asshole for sayin' it, but try and think a little more rationally about it. People may just be curious. They're not always judgin'. Let me know if I can help at all."

I smile at the ground and put my arm around Kyle too. His grin returns.

"How about you carry this stuff for a little bit?" he suggests. "It's killin' my shoulder..."

I take the large bag of flour from him and prop it up on my own shoulder. Kyle rolls his arms in circles a few times as we walk. We see Tate in the distance at a produce stand. He greets us with a nod as we join him.

"Bianca wants lettuce and tomatoes," he says. "She explicitly told me to get produce only from Sow Joan's Stalk Market. She'll nag me to death if everything isn't exactly right."

Across the counter, an old sow is leaning down to the eye level of a young sow.

"Don't look so glum, Daisy Mae," says the old sow. "You're old enough now to help out."

"I'm gonna look plain silly," snorts the young boar in a soft, but thick country accent. She wipes her nose and looks up with a frown. The old sow chuckles to herself as she straps down the bowl of turnips on the girl's head. "It's not so bad," says the old sow. "You're a good girl. You'll do a great job."

"Do I still have to go to the island this Sunday, Gram-Gram?"

"Yes, little lady. No shirking your work."

"Turnips ain't even that good..."

"You'll learn to appreciate them. They're your business, now. It's time for your grandmother to farm other things."

I chuckle to myself as I'm pulled away from the stall by Kyle. We manage to gather the rest of the items from Bianca's list in under an hour, leaving us time to do a bit of shopping for ourselves. We head away from the consumables, favoring the stalls displaying accessories and items of entertainment. A camel running a stall has a myriad of beautiful, ornately designed rugs and wallpapers on display. Beside her, a walrus is running an art booth with his paintings hanging to dry. My gawking is interrupted as two children, one human and one feline, run past me with their arms full of seashells. They head to a stall a few meters away and begin to load the shells onto a scale. After a bit of discussion with the man running the stall, the kids go on their way, smiles on their faces and bells in their wallets.

"Did you see that?" I ask, nudging Tate.

"Kids know how to make money," he laughs.

"Who'd buy a bunch of broken shells?"

"I hear selling shells, fruit, and all sorts of random shit was a real popular way to make bells in the past. Seems like some people honor 'tradition' and humor those looking for a quick buck."

"If that's the case, I'll go catch a butterfly and sell it."

"Hell, man, you'd find someone who'd buy it!"

I laugh a bit and gaze around the stalls once more. I walk behind the front row, making my way down each little alleyway and scanning the vendors to my left and right. When I make it to the very back row, a small purple tent with golden markings catches my eye. There are few people this far back, and none of them seem to be interested in the tent. I feel my heart rate pick up a bit as I move closer to the tent, mesmerized. I stand outside, debating on whether it'd be smart to enter. The scent of potpourri wafts toward me and a low, feminine voice fills my ears.

"Don't be scared. I won't bite."

I shiver and look around. The few people present pay me no mind. I take a deep breath and lift the green flap, stepping inside the tent. It's illuminated by a single candle, and is somewhat warm. An indigo panther wearing a burgundy headscarf sits on a pillow in front of a small table. Her large, almond shaped eyes watch me approach. She grins at my wary demeanor.

"I get very few visitors," she purrs. "Why don't you have a seat with me?"

Figuring I've come too far to bail now, I gingerly lower myself to the floor. The panther looks me over and smiles. "My name is Katrina," she says. "I'm a fortune teller."

Oh, good lord! A fortune teller! What the hell am I wasting my time in here for?

"My name is Donovan," I say. "Nice to meet you."

She fixes her gaze and locks eyes with me. Instinctively I look away. Katrina giggles and places her paws on the table. "Would you like me to read your fortune?"

"Why not?" I say, forcing myself to look at her. Those eyes are almost as intimidating as Rover's. They seem to pierce me.

"May I have your hands?" she asks.

I hesitantly reach toward her and place my palms in hers. She squeezes my hands and closes her eyes. She hums softly to herself before stealing another glance at me.

"You carry yourself in a very cautious, yet respectable manner." she says.

I hold still, saying nothing.

"You refuse to look at me. I can sense that you don't like facing people."

Again, I remain silent.

"You wish you didn't have to look away from people, though. You're cautious because you're smart. You're independent, but you're lonely. You're scared of being alone, but you're scared of feeling tethered to others. It all begins to fall when people start expecting things from you."

I stare at the floor as goosebumps cover my skin, despite the warmth of the tent. I swallow hard as thoughts race in my mind. What is she going on about? How is she coming to these conclusions without knowing a damn thing about me? I knew this was a waste of time.

"You'll have a big decision to make in the coming months," says Katrina. "and it will be the strongest test of your character yet."

She loosens her grip on me and slides her paws away. "I hope my words mean something to you," she says. "Thank you for humoring a recluse like me."

"Thank you for the thought," I say. "How much do I owe you...?"

She doesn't answer, instead leaning over the table and trailing a claw from my chin to my chest. "Not one bell," she purrs. "Your time and presence were payment enough."

She sits back and winks at me as I bid her farewell. As I emerge from the tent, I shudder violently. I pick up my pace and set off to find Kyle and Tate. Thankfully, they aren't far away. They're standing near a bulletin board, inspecting the flyers posted. I join them and breathe a sigh of relief to be in the sun again.

"Where did you go?" asks Tate, sniffing my shirt. "And why do you smell so good?"

"I, uh, talked to a fortune teller." I laugh. "She probably cursed me or something."

"Not sure that's how they work, Einstein."

Kyle's tail begins to wag as he inhales the scent of potpourri. Tate and I exchange odd looks and laugh at Kyle. "You're a lot more of a dog than a wolf," says Tate.

"I can't help it," says Kyle, smiling innocently.

A familiar face on the bulletin board stands out to me. I reach up and pull the flyer off the board, holding it in front of me. I read it aloud.

"K.K. Slider: live next Saturday at the Summer Market. 8 PM."

Tate brushes his hair out of his eyes and looks at the flyer in awe. "No way," he mutters. "K.K. Slider... Wow."

"We should come see him!" says Kyle. "Hopefully Don and I won't have to work overtime."

"I'm down for it if you guys are," says Tate. "I wonder how expensive tickets will be..."

I tap the toe of my shoe in the grass and shrug. "I mean, Tota never charged anything back when he was younger."

"Tota?" asks Tate.

"Yeah, that's K.K.'s real name. Totakeke Slider. I've called him Tota since we were kids."

"Hold the phone. Are you saying you know K.K. Slider?"

"We met when we were little. He used to busk in my hometown outside my mom's corner store. My friend Rover, the guy who always rides the trains, was close with him too. The three of us would goof around and play music on the corner. We even made a makeshift stage, once."

Tate laughs and crosses his arms.

"You're serious?" asks Tate.

"One hundred percent," I say. "I haven't spoken to him in a long time, though. I still have his contact in my phone."

"Tell him you're coming to his show, then!"

"No, I'll surprise him. He doesn't know where I live now. We should all make plans to see the show next Friday! He won't be expecting me at all."

Tate and Kyle nod and agree enthusiastically.

"I should call Rover, too." I say. "I'm sure he'll be just as happy to see Tota."

"Invite him down here, then!" says Tate. "Bring him to lunch this Saturday, too! And Labelle!"

"You sure about that?" I ask.

"Hell yeah, man! You talk so much about the two of them. It's time we all meet 'em."

"Awesome! I'll let them know. Make sure you tell Bianca."

"Nah, I'd rather see the look on her face when Labelle Able walks into our kitchen."

"She'll freak," says Kyle. "Even worse than that time you tried to smoke in the house, Tate."

"That was ages ago. She'll be grateful for this."

We trudge across the market, arms loaded with bags of ingredients. We continue our discussion as we pile into the car and leave the Summer Market in our dust. As Tate and Kyle go on about K.K.'s concert, I take the moment to myself and call Rover.

"Hello...?" yawns the cat as loud static shuffling fills the background.

"Napping again," I say. "You didn't fall asleep on a train this time, right?"

"No, smartass. I'm at home."

"Well, pack your bags. You're coming to Oraton to stay with me for a while."

"Really now? Why so sudden?"

"Having a get-together this Friday."

"That's real short notice, Donder. It's already Wednesday."

"Also, I just found out Tota's gonna be performing Saturday of next week."

I wait for Rover's response as the sound of shuffling takes over the speaker. I wince and hold the phone away from my ear. Several minutes later, Rover picks the phone up again.

"What was all that?" I ask.

"Packing," says Rover. "I'll be there Friday morning."

Beep!

"That was fast. Hey. Hey? Rover...?"