Shenlong watched blankly as Del moved away, finishing the final cleanup for the night. It was late, well past midnight, and they were the only two people left in the dim, medium-sized bar. The woman vanished into the back with an armful of dishes, and reappeared empty-handed several moments later. She wiped down the counter and then hopped easily over it, and then walked from table to table setting the chairs upside-down on top of them.

Shenlong eyed her as she moved. Now that she wasn't behind the bar, he was able to get a better look. She was in her early twenties and was small for a woman of her age, but at the same time her limbs were quite long in proportion to her body. Despite her lankiness, she didn't move awkwardly, instead maneuvering her way around the tables with equine grace. Shenlong felt his upper lip curl. Prey.

She scooped up a worn duffel bag and hooked it over her shoulder, then settled down in the chair next to his.

"So- what's your name?" Shenlong's mouth moved before he gave it permission to do so.

"Shenl- Shen." Why was he still talking to her?

"Well, Shen, are you coming home with me or not? I'm a decent cook, and I've got a nice, big shower." He hesitated over the offer, torn between the instinct to pull away and the lure of warm water. He was out of his depth here; people hated him, hurt him, and tried to kill him. They weren't nice to him. They didn't offer to help. He didn't know how to deal with it.

So he reverted to a reliable self-defense tactic. Being an ass.

"Well gee," he slurred at her, the alcohol making him unable to drawl and smirk as he would've liked to. "I usually don' go home 'till leasht the third date. How do I know you're not plannin' to take advantage of me?" He didn't say no. He was uncomfortable. He was a little scared. But he couldn't make himself say no.

He expected her to stiffen, to draw back and glare. But she didn't. Instead, she laughed for the second time that night.

"Shen, you're drunk, dressed like a hobo, and smell like a wet cat." A yummy, masculine, wet cat, she thought, but he doesn't need to know that. "Trust me, your honor is safe." She stood. "You coming?"

Normally, he would've replied to that with a snarky comment, or a snarl, but the alcohol was weighing down his thought process. As he pushed up out of the seat, he told himself that he was going with her because he wanted food and a shower. Not , he told himself, because she's warm and sweet and soft and looking at me with big dark eyes. The floor shifted underneath him, and he stumbled, feeling nauseous. He hadn't had that much to drink, had he? Enough to make the bartender cut him off...

A warm arm slipped around his waist, and a soft form pressed against his side, tugging his arm gently in an invitation to let her support him.

Touch! Danger!

Shenlong gave a choked snarl and hurled himself away, reacting sharply to the sudden contact. Was she attacking? The position wasn't a prelude to any type of throw that he was familiar with, but she must've been planning something, she wouldn't come near him otherwise. He crouched next to the nearest table, eyes feral as he panted slightly. He'd hardly ever been touched outside of a battle or a lab. Only once or twice, brushing shoulders with a stranger on a plane, shaking hands. No real contact. He waited for her to come after him, to attack him.

She didn't, though. She stood where he'd left her, the surprise on her face slowly bleeding into sympathy. She crouched down and held her arms out towards him, speaking softly.

"Somebody messed you up good, didn't they? C'mon, now, darlin'. I was just trying to straighten you up so we can walk to my place, hey?" She murmured, her voice low and soothing. He crouched, half under the table, hands up and shielding his face as exhaustion and alcohol and the deep depression that had made him try to will himself to death squeezed like a fist around his heart and lungs. Del kept up her gentle murmur as she settled to her knees and slowly moved forwards, steadily, hands reaching imploringly towards him.

"C'mon, Shen, let's go. I've got a warm meal and a shower, and then you can sleep for as long as you want, in a real bed. Let's get out of here, okay? You'll feel better, I promise." He flinched away from the first touch of her fingers on her shoulders, trying to stop himself from trembling. She gently, slowly, slid her left arm around him and drew him up and away from the table. He stumbled along with her, stiff, not sure what to do with his arms and legs.

Luckily for him, Del was used to managing all sorts of drunks, even violent, contact deprived ones. She shifted under his right arm, tugging it across her shoulders, and supported his waist with her left. She fit perfectly under his bicep, a cushioned heat against his side. Shenlong shook slightly as she moved him towards the door, torn between pressing closer and fleeing. She kept talking, distracting him from his fragmented thoughts.

"There we go. See, I'm not going to bite. My apartment's pretty close, just down the street. I own the bar, so I live nearby." She paused to lock the door on her way out, and then resumed walking, slowly, letting Shenlong lean heavily against her. He wanted to run, strike her, grab her by the hair and sink fangs into her tender throat, bury his face into her shirt and pull her against him and- and what was he thinking? I'm not thinking. I'm drunk.

Del led Shenlong down the street, turned the corner, and tugged him up a pair of steps to a greening copper gate. She fumbled in her purse for a moment, shifting against him, and the sensation of being touched without being hurt was so unusual that he had to stifle a gasp. Then she was unlocking the door and latching it behind them, pulling him through an alcove into a warm, cozy little apartment.

The tiger went stiff, twisting his head from side to side and sniffing at the new area. He pulled away from Del with a low growl, and stalked around the flat, weaving as he checked behind doors and in closets. She watched him closely, arms folded over her chest, careful to not interfere while he convinced himself that the area was safe. After a moments hesitation—she had a feeling that the man wouldn't take well to being led like a child for a second time—she spoke up in a casual, friendly voice.

"Why don't you have a seat on the couch while I fix us something to eat? I don't have a TV, but you can check out the books-" she jerked her thumb towards the towering set of oak shelves that kittycornered the living room- "if you're into that sort of thing." The woman bit her words off before she started babbling at him, and then trotted into the small kitchen and opened the refrigerator. As Del rifled through the draws, trying to decide what to feed her new roommate, she heard several unsteady steps and then a solid thump. From the sounds alone, she couldn't tell whether he'd decided to sit upon the sofa or if he'd collapsed on it, although she guessed it was the latter.

She could tell from the scent of the man that he was some kind of cat, which made him a carnivore. He'd prefer meat to the fruits, grains, and vegetables that were the main components of her diet, so she tugged out the single package of hamburger meat stored in the back of the freezer.

Most humans would be startled to discover that the rarity of a true species coincided with the rarity of its xenomorph counterpart. While housecat morphs were fairly common, it was highly unusual to encounter a tiger or lion changeling. This, along with Shenlong's current unwashed and heavily inebriated state, caused Del to mistake him for one of his smaller brethren. Because of her error, she invited him into her home, which she may not have done had she discerned his true species.

Thus it was shown that the course of destiny can be changed due to a single man neglecting to shower.