Note: Takes place the evening "Steven Floats" ends

"MARCUS!"

A wheelchair-bound male with deep tan skin, balding black hair, a mahogany vest, dark brown jacket and shoes, and black jeans paused tending to the jasmines and peeked an eye over his shoulder at the entrance to the family flower shop.

Rotating to about-face, Marcus smirked at the visitor's identity, thick square eyebrow perked at his scowling new neighbor of the past few weeks—and mentally sighed in relief at the animal brought in by said neighbor.

A thinner, darker skinned man with an upward pizza-shaped topknot stomped into the spacious room, footsteps echoing against the burgundy tiled floor. He held in his hands a familiar canine whose long golden fur shimmered in the fading evening sunlight streaming through the display windows.

Marcus remained unfazed as the man reached him.

"Yes, Koko?" he asked in a smooth bouncy Peruvian accent.

The Ghanaian fellow lacked the mood for pet names as he held the animal away from himself at arm's length as though handling radioactive material, fingers avoiding the dog's underbelly lest he risk bite marks again. Once he promptly plopped the canine into the flower man's lap, 'Koko' deepened his displeased expression and stuck an irate finger at Marcus, voice low and brisk and threatening.

"Your dog was in my kitchen, harassing my daughters and my mother!"

"Harassing": now there was a new word to add to the ever-growing 'Flores Book of Exaggerated Misdemeanors'. Marcus absently started scratching in between his dog's ears, the canine quite content with both the attention and her current location's warmth despite the forced removal earlier.

Right then, the Peruvian's nose caught the faint scent of ozone, partnered with the fading tenseness in the canine's shoulders.

The marshmallows must be all gone, he realized with a cringe. Note to self: tell Kurtis ta add that ta the grocery list.

Meanwhile, Kofi's rant raged on. "I do not even know how she got in my restaurant in the first place!"

"Hmm," Marcus sidled his eyes for a second, not entirely sure what his neighbor expected for an answer. "Rrrrandom kindness?"

Again, Kofi radiated no amusement.

Before the Ghanaian could continue his tirade, a ringtone set to the tune of Davey Yonder's "Saturn" interrupted the conversation. Raising his left index finger to get a moment, Marcus pulled out his dark red cellphone and placed it to his ear.

"Helloooo? Oh yeah, I can put ya on speaker. Un momento."

A switch to the proper button later, he was holding his phone out, face set at Kofi with an expression full of 'Oh, you in troubllllle', while the familiar voice of a certain Jenny Pizza bounced from the screen, bludgeoning her father with all her teen fury.

"Dad, leave Mr. Flores alone! Sparky was standing in front of the entrance lookin' all sad and tired and you're always gettin' on our case about animals hanging around where either the customers can see them or the food's in reach, so I let her in from the back door. 'Sides, Kurtis told you straight up the day they moved here that she's the cleanest, best-behaved dog this side of Beach City, and when has Kurtis ever lied to you?"

Okay, those were all valid points, but still! "Young lady— "

"Ugh! Look, Sparky wasn't even getting anywhere near the customers or the food. She was just hanging out with Nanefua and you know how good Nanefua is with dogs."

"Well the last time someone let her in— "

"Yeah, Pops, I remember what happened last time." The eye roll in Jenny's tone could not have been more palpable. "To be fair, though, if I were a dog and saw you marching at me with a death glare, I would've been branding an axe like crazy, too."

"Tomahawk, Kiki," a similar female voice stated in the background with a deadpan tone. Marcus could easily picture the dismissive hand wave Jenny was tossing her sister.

Meanwhile Kofi's left eyelid twitched uncontrollably. This was not the familial support he sought for; then again after all these years as the father of this family, should he be surprised anymore? His growing headache readily agreed.

Now there are times to feel pity for someone, and for Marcus, seeing his pizza-centric acquaintance bulge his eyes out like a squishy stress doll, vein on the left temple about ready to burst, made now look pretty damn appropriate.

After giving a hasty goodbye to Jenny as well as thanks for looking after his furry family member, he ended the call and returned the phone to his pocket. He put one hand on Kofi's stressed shoulder while gently gesturing to the rest of the store with the other.

"Wanna take time ta talk over a drink before ya head back? You been lookin' more frazzled than usual."

Kofi stepped out of the Peruvian's hold and stuck a hand out like a ward against his neighbor's aggravating sincerity. Sometimes he swore this man (the whole family, actually) lived on another planet. "Just...keep your dog on a leash, Flores. I'm not speaking in her defense if she lands herself in the pound."

Pound? Blinking, Marcus scratched his faint goatee and matching moustache with a thoughtful hum, eyes going narrow. "Ehhh, considering dogs don't typically disappear before your very eyes, I wouldn't count on anybody's ability to keep this lightning bug in one place, let alone in a building full of metal. Believe me, we've tried."

And one near-flood from the Beach City water tower was enough reason to think twice.

At wits' end, Kofi simply threw his hands up with a huff of defeat and sulked out the door.

"Look on the bright side, Kofi," Marcus called out in a last-ditch effort to make the peace, "your mother's made a new friend!"

No glass could block out Kofi's heavenward moan.

Or Sparky's whine. Actually, now that Marcus took a closer look, the yellow dog seemed pretty exhausted—not just physically, but emotionally as well.

Out of concern, the man held the canine closer to his chest.

Make that a ton of marshmallows.