70. "Without Fear and Beyond Reproach (The Good Knight), Pt. 3"
The first thing Trent did after he was finished laughing his happy ass off at how cluelessly overprivileged Jace was, was to check in on his favorite guests and get them an actual food order placed.
"Alright, sooo, a poulet basquaise for the lady and a duck pâté en croûte for the gentleman." The Arctic looked up from his notepad to address his fellow vulpines. "Yeah, foxes going straight for the poultry, that sounds about right!"
Robin and Marian laughed heartily, though the tod had to cut his laughter off early make sure one important item wasn't overlooked on the waiter's recap:
"And another bottle of wine!" the Englishman said cheerily, finger in the air. "Ah, Marian, my love, shall we get the same wine again, or try a new one? Did you enjoy the first one?"
The vixen chuckled again, but this one seemed just a tad forced. "I think you'd be a better judge of the wine than I, Robin, you drank most of the bottle!" Again she was flexing her own acting muscles; an outside observer would never accuse her of being snappy in saying that.
Her beau replied with his own semi-authentic snickering and turned to their server. "Ah, Trente, mon frère d'autre mère, we'll leave the decision up to you! We trust in your judgment!"
Trent scribbled in his notepad and put it away. "Alright, I'll put those right in!" And off he went to fulfill his vow.
"Thank you, Trent!" Mari bid him as he went, and the couple was alone once again. A good thing they were patient guests, because the only food they'd gotten by that point was a complimentary plate of bread just like their friends had gotten, but they'd hardly touched it; nevermind saving their appetites, the only thing they were truly hungry for was each other's company.
…Oh, and there was also the wine bottle with maybe a sip left in it, that was on the table, too.
"...Perhaps I have been hogging the drink," Robin confessed meekly, briefly pausing to look around and make sure there were no hogs in the vicinity who might have heard that (there weren't) before continuing. "My apologies, my love, I'll be sure to let you have the majority of the next one."
But she just gave him a sardonic smirk. "Well, why shouldn't you drink most of the wine, you are paying for it!"
He giggled. "Ah, correction, madam! The upper-class beach-goers are paying for it!" And he was about to raise his glass to drink from it again before remembering as it was halfway to his lips that the glass was empty.
His belovèd laughed gently once again, but this time it seemed almost melancholic. "Drunk already, Robin? I thought you could handle your alcohol better than that!"
Another automatic chuckle from him. "If anything, Marian, I handle it better than you remember! All those years having to keep pace with a grizzly bear will do that to a man's tolerance!"
A tiny nasal laugh was all he got in response. And his own winning smile visibly weakened as he seemed to reflect further on his choices so far that night.
"...Ah, you're right, my darling, I mustn't mar our first date in years by getting plastered as soon as we get here." He certainly looked like his apology was genuine. "But hey… I will gladly invite you to join me in merry-making if you'd like to play catch-up when the next bottle arrives!"
Luckily for him, though, if Mari was frustrated with him, she wasn't showing it. "Oh, Robin, I was merely teasing," she assured him. "You don't seem absolutely hammered by any stretch." Indeed, while her fiancé was certainly buzzed to some extent, he definitely didn't seem outright inebriated, at least not yet.
As much as he seemed relieved to hear her reassurance, though, he still looked faintly ashamed of himself. "Thank you for your understanding, my love, I just…" A dejected smirk came across his face as he let out an exhausted sigh. "...I really needed a bloody drink! Or… heh, several, should I say."
Well, whether she'd been stifling annoyance with him or not, the vixen couldn't help but be sympathetic to her tod when she heard that. "Arm is hurting that badly, is it?"
But he had this ambivalent look on his face. "Errrr… aye, it certainly isn't helping, but it's not just the physical that's anguishing me."
She nodded, smile gone, thinking she understood. "Things between you and Little John are that bad, are they?"
Alas, she did not understand. "...That's also not helping matters, but…" He trailed off to grumble briefly under his breath. "...some recent experiences have the lad and I putting our frustrations with one another aside to focus on our mutual frustrations with our situation, let's just say."
Now Marian had gone from sympathetic to just outright worried. "...What exactly do you mean? You didn't mention any 'frustrations' last night."
"And I'm glad I didn't, because I didn't want to tarnish the moment," he groaned. "Regardless, you needn't worry, dear, it's nothing we can't handle-"
"I'm going to worry anyway because I can see something's bothering you, but I'll worry a little less if you tell me what it is." Now she was speaking sternly, but still a sternness clearly rooted in tough love for him.
And as such, he acquiesced: "Aaargh… how shall I put this, how shall I put this…?" He put his paws on the table and tapped his fingertips together as he stalled; he wasn't unable to look at her, but his eyes were cast down here and there, more frequently than you'd expect from a man who'd been specifically raised not to do that lest he look unconfident. "It's simply that… hrmmm… the joy seems to have been taken out of our work."
Despite her promise, she was now more worried than before. "The joy?"
"The joy, and not just for Johnny and I, but for the downtrodden of this city. After all these years of us helping them, I just can't help but think…" Robin abruptly shook his head violently as if trying to jar loose an unpleasant idea. "...my God, are these people ever going to help themselves!?"
Marian didn't say a word. She just looked stunned.
And he knew that wasn't a good look. "AAARGH, that came out wrong!" he barked at himself, leaning back as he clutched his face with his wrists over his eyes. "That came out very wrong! I…" He put his hands flat on the table and sighed, eyes closed as he regained his composure. "...I love these people, I love them, I would die for them, but…" He opened his eyes to look into hers, and while his expression was completely blank, that was good; he seemed to have calmed himself. "...They've become dependent on us. Reliant." He looked off into space and nodded before his chin came to rest on his folded paws on propped-up arms. "...Yeah… that's it. That's a good way of putting it." But he wasn't looking at her as he said this.
How she wished he would. "What, er… what makes you… feel this way?"
He shrugged, and another moment passed before he answered. "These people do work hard to help themselves; they do, and I feel bad for saying they don't. But…" He groaned at the table. "...We've been doing this for so long, that when we meet these people nowadays, it isn't always oh my God, thank you so much, we love you, won't you please stay for dinner… we still get that, but not as much as we used to. Nowadays we've been getting a lot of oh, you guys again? Cool, thanks, goodbye. And that's it."
The vixen looked like she was trying to decipher an intimidating arithmetic problem. "Erm… so, just so I understand… you're saying that… erm… your work doesn't seem as special to them anymore?"
"Precisely!" the tod answered joylessly. "The… the magic's starting to fade. The fairytale is giving way to reality, and they're beginning to fall out of love with us. Tell me… how is that supposed to motivate me? How is that supposed to motivate us?"
She could agree that his feelings sounded dire, but she wouldn't be content to just accept them without offering a balm for his troubles. "I understand entirely how that could dampen your spirits, but I must say… our waiter and his coworkers certainly seemed appreciative of what you and John are doing."
Looking off to the side, he nodded hastily, as though trying to fast-forward through this tough conversation. "And indeed he did, and I don't believe he was faking it, but…" He patted his paw on the table, betraying his nerves. "...Here's the long answer: even the ones who still adore us - and don't get me wrong, there are plenty of them - they… hrmmm… we've reason to believe they've lost faith that we'll actually do anything to meaningfully, permanently improve their lives." And after struggling so much to look at her as he confessed these things, now his eyes were locked on hers, seeming like they were begging for her to say something to comfort him.
And so she tried: "Oh, Robin, dear, I'm beginning to worry that between the stress of your injury and your strife with your friend might be causing you to think the worst of your situation-"
But it wasn't good enough: "We think this because they've told us as much."
Marian wanted to keep talking, but her vocal cords stalled on her.
"Some of them have even gone as far as to admit to us that they didn't realize we ever thought we could create lasting change for them," Robin continued, "they genuinely thought we were in this to be a permanent Band-Aid on their bad situation until we can't be that for them, anymore."
Her expression was completely blank as she soldiered on. "W-well, Robin, dear, remember, it is a big city, a few doubters mustn't-"
"The few doubters assure us that their opinions are hardly unpopular." At some point, his anxiety had fizzled out again and been replaced with dourness. "...And who are we to tell the people we're sworn to serve that they're lying?"
The vixen felt like she'd just lost a game of chess. "...So I see." Nevertheless, she resolved to reset the pieces and begin a new match altogether. "But if I may say… the Robin I know wouldn't let that get him down."
Yet her tod didn't seem to find that encouraging; if anything, judging by his countenance, he seemed a tad offended, as if she'd just said he was someone unrecognizable to her.
"I don't want to let it get me down, Marian, but… I feel like I'd be a fool not to face the facts at this point." He folded his hands again to try to speak calmly, but it didn't last long before he became animated all over again: "And I could not, in my right mind, blame the people if they did think we were never going to- I-I mean, what progress have we made since everything fell apart four years ago!? Have we made any? Meanwhile…" He paused to pull out another wanted poster from his pocket, unfolded it, and placed it on the table with enough force to debatably qualify as a slam. "...your uncle's brain suddenly turned on and he realized that swallowing his pride and acknowledging that us thorns-in-his-side exist would benefit him more than it would embarrass him! I never thought I would credit him for making a shrewd decision, but here we are, he did."
He finished with a huff, arms folded, glaring down at the paper that represented his enemy suddenly getting his ass in gear while he and his last remaining friend were sinking in quicksand - then he realized he should probably put it away lest a passerby catch a glimpse of it.
"...And again…" he continued, finally looking at her again as he folded the page, "...I don't mean to snap at you. You've done nothing wrong, you've just… hrmmm… struck a nerve that I couldn't reasonably expect you to have known was even there."
Marian had the look and body language of a therapist riding out a patient's mental storm, waiting for them to tucker themselves out. "I understand, Robin. This has been hard for you, and that's why I admire that you and John keep fighting."
Robin smirked ever so slightly at that, along with a one-shoulder shrug. "...Well, heh… one more thing I do hope you remember about me… is that I'm man enough to admit my faults and mistakes. If these people have lost faith in us, that's our fault for not doing more to inspire faith in them. If your uncle finally gets us, that's on us for slipping up." He actually seemed to be smiling just a little, though he was still looking down as he spoke. "I can't control how others think of me, but I can make reasonable assumptions about how they will think of me based upon my actions, so if I want them to see me as their hero, then it's fully my responsibility to perform heroic acts and earn the right to be seen as such."
And he actually seemed pretty calm and collected as he said this; for a moment, his vixen could even believe that he'd successfully talked his way out of his negative thoughts, and she dared to relax a little, sensing that her love was now okay.
But then he said this: "...They could be doing a bloody hell of a lot more to help us, though," he chuckled wryly.
Just like that, she was worried for his sanity again. "Help you… in what way?"
"In any way!" he replied, throwing his paws in the air, but soon enough regained his composure and seemed to pump his hands in front of him as if applying his own brakes. "And again, again… I stress, I am not entitled, I am not some authoritarian like stupid Alan claimed I am, I'd never say these people are obligated to follow us if they don't want to, and I won't tell them that I know better than them what they should do with their lives. But if these people adore us as much as they claim they do… then why have none of them joined us!?" Yeah, that moment of composure didn't last long. "Yes, it's true, most of them have too much to lose, but none of them? So many of them claim they can't find a job that pays their bills and that they have nobody else to help them… well, sod it, if you're flirting with homelessness anyway, join us! If you don't have any friends or family, we'll be your friends and family! We've been doing this for long enough that we've seen kids grow into teenagers and teenagers grow into adults, and when so many of them join gangs or start committing petty crimes, I can't help but think… how was any of that more appealing than joining us!? Fucking hell, do little boys not grow up wanting to be heroes anymore!? No little girls, either!? None of them!?" He crossed his arms as he turned his head to the ceiling and huffed. "...Or has the world already beaten that out of them?"
Earlier, Marian had had the notion that something seemed off about Robin. Now she felt completely confident in saying that she'd never seen this side of him and would never have guessed it was there. She proceeded carefully, as if conversing with a raving stranger: "Well, to the credit of you and your friends… not everyone's as brave as you lads are. I know I would join you lot if I thought I were cut out for it… but I'm simply not, and I know that about myself…"
Robin nodded understandingly, though he was clearly still fuming beneath his smile. "But what separates you from them, my dear, is that you are at least trying to help me by working from within the enemy faction - and a good job you're doing at that, I might add! But you're right: if these people don't have the courage or the luxury to drop everything and join us… have they tried being our allies on the straight and narrow front!? Have they considered political action!? They haven't! Are the cards stacked against them? Absolutely! But it will always be impossible if they don't even try! Even if nothing else, demonstrating the confidence and competence to organize at all would go a long way toward telling City Hall to fuck off! Hmph…" he grumbled again as he trailed off.
"I… I do understand how you can feel that way." She didn't feel comfortable saying anything else.
And he groaned the biggest groan he had to that point. "I apologize profusely for ruining our special evening with my whinging-"
"You haven't-"
"But…" He folded his hands and pondered, face forward but eyes towards the ceiling. "...one of the biggest frustrations with Johnny's griping is that he seems convinced I'm some sort of divinely magnetic personality, which always has me thinking… if I really could effortlessly get anyone to follow my lead…"
He paused and shrugged, wearing a wild smirk, and spoke with a laugh that just sounded…
"...then where are they!? Heh heh…"
…bitter.
That was the word she was looking for. That's what was so different about him: he was bitter. She believed him when he said that he didn't think anyone was morally obligated to exalt him and follow in his righteous footsteps, but he'd clearly been expecting that they would anyway, and now he was bitter that they hadn't. And to a certain extent, she couldn't blame him, considering the circumstances, but still: this had been her favorite person in the world since childhood. She'd never seen him this angry and resentful at any situation he found himself in; even when they were still civilians and the acting career he'd dreamt of was practically nonexistent, he'd still obfuscated optimism to hide how glum he was feeling. Dejected was the worst he ever got; but now here he was, doing a shoddy job of hiding outright hostility towards his community, towards his friends, towards himself. Maybe it's foolish for anyone to say they ever fully know someone else, but Marian could have sworn she knew him better than anybody did, and if he had been capable of being this… this bitter all these years, it was news to her. Either he'd done well to hide it, or all those frustrations he'd described had changed him.
…No, she told herself, no, he's drunk. He's more drunk than he seems and he's saying things he doesn't mean because he's been having very bad luck lately and that would frustrate anyone. This and several permutations thereof she kept telling herself - and for the most part, she wasn't forcing it, she really believed that more than she didn't. Sure, he was good at handling his alcohol, but he'd just consumed most of a bottle of wine for Christ's sakes. And if a little part of her was trying to nudge herself towards writing off all the negativity that had just come out of his mouth, it wasn't even that she didn't want to believe he'd changed; if anything, it was because she didn't want to worry herself that the man she adored had been suffering for years without her and that she hadn't been there to comfort him. Indeed, she'd come here that night hoping to get some grievances off her own chest, starting with asking questions about who that fox boy Robin had sent as a messenger the other day had been who'd mistaken her for a tod. But no, she could save that for another time, because she felt a duty to help her own tod - it was just a shame it was so hard to see him.
(And the thought crossed her mind that hey, if he had to be irritated and intoxicated anywhere, it might as well be here where they were masquerading as snooty rich people. God, if someone met Robin for the first time in his current state, it wouldn't be unreasonable if they drew the conclusion that he was now and forever a douchebag.)
Still wearing a sardonic smirk, Robin quietly looked around - sometimes at her, sometimes at nothing in particular - clearly continuing his monologue in the privacy of his mind. Maybe he wanted her to change the subject so he could think about something else, maybe he didn't, but she wasn't inclined to give him a choice.
"Are you feeling better?" she asked, trying to sound gentle but sensing she'd sounded just a little impatient. "Now that you've had the chance to get that all off your chest?"
He laughed dreamily to himself, shaking his head before giving her his best smile. "I am," he answered with a small nod, not breaking eye contact. And then he took his good paw, reached for one of hers, pulled it into the center of the table and joined it with his bad paw. "And I thank you, Marian," he said as he patted her hand, "for always being my biggest fan and supporter… even when you couldn't be with me, I always felt your presence. And what strength it gave me, what comfort… thank you, my love."
Something about the way he said that tipped off that he was indeed more drunk than he was outwardly displaying, but that statement of gratitude was clearly more than the product of a boozy brain. Taking whatever opportunities she got to make him feel better, she put her free hand atop the pile of paws and patted his right back.
"You're very welcome, Robin," she said in a near-whisper. "And it warms my heart to know that you feel as though I never even left you."
"I didn't feel; I knew," he insisted in a low voice of his own. "I never doubted that your heart and mine were betwixt in ways distance cannot diminish. And so they shall be forever, as the hearts of lovers should be."
The fact that Robin had completely misused the word betwixt did nothing to hamper the way that Marian was an unabashed sucker for lines such as the ones her tod had just sensually spoke to her. But what did hamper the moment was her awareness that she was the less-drunk one who needed to be responsible for both of them and guide the conversation accordingly. They'd had all of last night for mushy talk, now was their opportunity for real talk.
"But please remember, Robin," she urged him, "I'm not your only supporter. There are still thousands of people in this city who believe in you, I'm certain of it. And if it seems the tides are turning against you… well, all the more reason to value your friends who will be there for you when I can't be."
He nodded, though his smile faded as he did. "Ah, you're right…"
"You have John, you have Tuck - semi-retired as he may be…"
When she mentioned the pious old badger, Robin's face markedly shifted to look… nervous, or maybe even embarrassed. But in the vixen's head, that was the tod realizing that he hadn't been appreciative of his friends and being bashful about it, and she interpreted that as a good thing if it made him realize it now.
"...Alan may have denounced you, but I suspect he still cares for you deep down," she continued, "...and, somewhere out there… Will is cheering for you, too."
Instantaneously upon hearing that, Robin balled up his good fist, and with his arm propped up on the table, buried his eyes into his knuckles. "Oh… fuck," was all he could be heard to say.
She expected a bad reaction, but not one quite so… shall we say, visceral. Ah, maybe it was a poor decision to try to reassure someone this tipsy, but at least she could be assured herself that no matter his state of mind, he'd trust she had the best intentions at heart.
She leaned across the table and patted him on the shoulder before just letting her hand rest upon it. "There, there, Robin," she cooed, "I don't know where, but he's out there somewhere… and you're going to see him again, I'm sure of it."
He didn't say or do anything to acknowledge what she'd said. He just kept his face buried in his fist as he took deep breaths through his mouth, cheeks flaring as he blew the air out. Breathe, huff… breathe, huff…
"And I know it will be hard for you, but if you know where they have him locked up, I'll do everything in my power to help you get him out," she vowed, hoping he'd remember that once he sobered up. "I know you and your brother butted heads a lot, but you don't know how restless he was to join you on your mission before he finally did. He loves you, Robin… don't just laud me, he's always been your biggest supporter."
The tod raised his head from his hand but kept at his huff-and-puff breathing. Staring off into space, he hadn't been weeping, hardly even crying - a good actor must be in complete control of their emotions, after all - but his unfocused eyes were clearly glassed over.
"He deserved everything I have…" he murmured so quietly that even his vixen's canine ears could barely make it out.
Hand still on his shoulder, Marian nudged him just a little to get him to face her. "There's still time."
It almost seemed like Robin gulped when she said this, but he did regain the courage to face her.
"...What did I do to deserve you, Marian?" he asked, looking and sounding as drained as she'd ever seen him. "...And what am I going to do to finally lose you?"
She relinquished his shoulder and took his bad paw in hers. "Outlive me," she said, and it was evident that she was being completely serious. "That's the only way you'll ever lose me."
And though he still didn't seem quite comfortable doing so, he managed to crack a smile at that. "Hrm… well then! All the more reason to ensure that never happens!" A beat passed before he felt compelled to add another quip: "But… heh, bloody hell, how awkward would that be, if Johnny and Annie hit it off just as soon as you did what was good for you and left me? Heh heh…" He finished with a chuckle about awkward enough to answer his own question.
Marian laughed politely, not wanting to leave her love hanging even if the thesis of the joke was his fear of them breaking up. Argh, she was conflicted about what to do at this point: she didn't want to waste her breath on someone who wasn't all there, but she didn't want to avoid talking to him like her partner, either; she didn't want to overestimate how much he could handle in that moment any more than she wanted to spend their whole romantic evening emotionally babysitting him.
"You needn't worry about that," she insisted, "she isn't interested in him like that."
Truly an astounding display of acting from the vixen who was lying through her teeth. Robin seemed none the wiser.
"What, not even a little?" he teased with a giggle and a raised cheek.
…And it was at this moment that Marian decided sod it, this was meant to be a fun evening, all of this was for fun, her tod was making merry and being jocular, so she might as well have fun too.
"...To tell the truth, Robin, she's somewhat convinced two lads as close as you and John must be more than just mates!" she joked.
…Bad idea, Mari, bad idea. Not that she needed someone else to tell her.
Robin immediately got pissed - like, in the American sense of the word, he was already pissed in the British sense of the word. And this time, he was clearly cross with her.
"What have you told her?" he asked sharply. "How much have you told her!?"
It didn't immediately click with her what she'd said wrong, but she trusted this tod enough to believe that he wouldn't be livid with her unless he had a damned good reason to be. Her words failed her as she tried to recognize which line she'd crossed. "I, er, erm, I-"
"Don't you dare tell me you told her anything I told you in confidence!"
"I-I didn't-!"
"Then why would she say that?"
"Robin, darling, I swear-!"
"How would she have ever drawn such a conclusion if you hadn't given her such information!?"
…Drawn such a conclusion. Alright… that string of words helped Mari's brain piece together what was wrong. For a moment there, she'd wondered whether there secretly was something between the lads that Annie had correctly guessed, something which Robin would have been displeased to see leaked to the world… but that wouldn't have made sense, Marian personally never got that vibe. No, she'd figured it out: Robin was furious because he thought she'd shared a broader piece of information that was such a non-issue to her that it hadn't even registered in this confusion as something to be kept hidden so deeply.
"...No, Robin, I haven't told her that you're capable of such feelings," she said as calmly as she could after being accused. "That was a conclusion she drew on her own - and even then, she's… mostly saying it in jest."
Robin flared his nostrils and glared at her in silence for a moment, but soon enough released his tension at least enough to speak as calmly as she had. "...Very well, then. I believe you, and I apologize for assuming you'd have violated my privacy like that." He glanced for a split second at their friends down the way, then turned back to his fiancée. "...And with regards to myself and Johnny… well, she's far from the only one to make such a remark, so I can't be too cross with her if she's merely joking. But… no, I can still count on one hand the number of blokes that could make me feel the way Errol Flynn made me feel, and Johnny's not one of them." And he held up a paw briefly as if signaling her to stop something she hadn't started yet. "...Don't tell him I said that, the poor lad's self-image is rough enough as it is, I don't want him dwelling on the idea that I could find him attractive and don't."
"...I see." She nodded the teeniest bit, careful not to say anything out-of-turn again. "...So… does that mean, if I may ask… 'don't tell him that you're not into him,' does that mean he does know about… that part of you in general or doesn't know-?"
"He doesn't," he answered bluntly. "...Not to say he doesn't deserve to know, he's trusted me with enough of his own embarrassing secrets, it's simply… hrm…" His fury was completely gone now and had been replaced with another affect of uncertainty. "...Part of it is apprehension, I confess, I don't think he'd be disgusted or enraged to find out, but… he is still a good ol' boy, I couldn't expect him not to be at least a little skeeved out by it just as a result of his upbringing, nor can I truly fault him for that, merely another victim of circumstance… but more than that, he's simply third in line," he said with a matter-of-fact shrug. "I promised me'self that after you, I'd tell me dad before anyone else - because obviously he'd be understanding - then me mum, and then Johnny in that order."
There were a few ways she wanted to reply to that; part of her wanted to say she understood, but she thought that that was already understood; part of her wanted to ask if he still hadn't found a way to contact his mother and stepfather to let them know he was still alive, but she thought that answer was kind of evident already. Ultimately, this was what she felt it was important to observe:
"...I noticed you said embarrassing secrets."
He just nodded tightly. "I did."
"...I wouldn't call this embarrassing," she told him, with somewhat of a pedagogical tone. "It might not be something to share with everybody you meet, but the world isn't like it was when we were children, Robin, you don't need to be ashamed of feeling such things."
To this, he made a point to look and speak in such a way that he was certainly appreciative of her encouraging words but still steadfast in his disagreement with them. "I agree that the world is more tolerant of that kind of thing, and it's a good thing that it is, but I can't say we're at the point of acceptance yet. Perhaps in the circles you inhabit, Marian, full of open-minded artists, but not the ones I do, and indeed, if there's one thing that I don't love about the working-class people we help…" He put his palms up, looked to the side, and shrugged. "...Once again, victims of circumstance, the powers-that-be have poisoned them with bigotry by convincing them that some others are the enemy, at which point you could have a whole discussion about how much they can or cannot be reasonably expected to come to their own conclusions after such thorough institutional brainwashing. But one way or another, my love… Johnny and I have been called queers and faggots enough times to know these people are far from the most progressive in that regard." Another, more animated shrug with his paws going higher than the last one. "Not at all to say that other classes are doing much better, I can't help but think of Robert Scarlett and his all-encompassing hatefulness… but my point, dear, is that if word got out that once in a blue moon I'll see a bloke who I think could almost give you a run for your money… frankly, they would see that as unheroic. Blimey, they might even find it laughable! And then all our work… would be for naught."
…Hell, was he drunk? Because to Marian, that was a… disarmingly well-spoken argument, but it still didn't sound like the Robin she knew. Well, if he wanted to act like he was of sound mind, she'd play ball.
"Do I not recall you saying that that was something you truly admired about your stepfather?" she asked with a strange air of forlornness, sounding like she was trying to relocate the real him she'd lost. "That he was brave and courageous to admit that about himself all those years ago?"
And Robin nodded. "Oliver was and is brave and courageous to admit that about himself in an era when Maggie Moo-Cow and her ilk were trying to demonize people like him and Jeremy, and I'd like to imagine I'd be brave enough to do the same if I wanted to." And he folded his hands on the table as his smile grew wider, looking very satisfied with himself. "...I simply have different goals than me dad does!"
"...Alright." She'd never imagined them having this conversation, so she hadn't come into it with some specific idea of how it would go, but she just had the inkling that it wouldn't have gone like… that. So content to hide a part of himself, thinking he couldn't accomplish his goals unless he did. Was he different? Or had he always been like this and she'd just never had a reason to notice?
"You're still the only one who knows about that," he said endearingly. "Besides, it's so rare that I see a lad who strikes me as quite lovely as a lady that it's hardly worth mentioning anyway, so why mention it?" (Tell me about it, I didn't know that either until I started writing this part! And even then, during the interview about that night, it was Marian who brought this part up and Robin was very clearly displeased that she had, but when I told him straight-up that I wish he'd told me because this is gonna make it look to my readers like it's coming out of nowhere, he simply said he didn't think it would be appropriate for him to share that with me, which… alright, fair game I guess.)
"Understood," she murmured halfheartedly.
"And I must say, Marian…" he paused to chuckle much more mirthfully than he had been. "...you clever lass, if that was all your way of trying to gauge whether I've been disloyal, no, neither man nor woman has successfully tempted me whilst we've been apart! Honestly, the thought alone would probably sicken me to the point of being… physically incapable, as it were! I could never do such a thing to you when I knew in my heart you'd be staying loyal for me!
Only then did Marian's theater skills fail her. And after a moment of her stunned silence, Robin noticed.
"...Why do you have that look on your face?" he asked.
So either Robin had meant exactly what he'd said, or he'd made a joke that was uncharacteristically unfair and put her in a spot she couldn't talk herself out of. In either case, she hadn't expected to have this conversation tonight, if ever. She seriously debated lying to him outright - but no, why should she have to be ashamed of herself? Four years, Robin, four years, on top of three more before that. But would he accept that? The bad news was… well, he was drunk. But the good news was… he was drunk.
"Oh, Robin!" she giggled. "You don't need to remind me what a gentleman you are! We all have our needs, my dear, and after being so far apart for so long, I'd like to think of myself as a reasonable woman for saying… oh, I couldn't blame you if you'd found another to be that person for you when I couldn't!" She was hoping that with any luck, that reversal would appeal to his addled brain's sense of logic and reasoning.
At first, it seemed to do the trick, or at the very least divert attention away from herself. Robin seemed to have loosened up upon hearing that.
"Ahhh, my love, you truly have the patience and understanding of a saint! But even with such permissions, I'd feel no such need to exercise them! Why would I throw away a romance for the ages just for some temporary pleasure? Good lord, what kind of gentleman would I be if I were to charm some other woman who I had no intention of keeping around once you and I were reunited!?" The tod proceeded to do the leaning-in hands-on-hers thing again, knowing full well that his vixen was an old-school romantic as well who would fall for any little gesture like that no matter how many times he did it. "Because I always knew we would be, Marian," he said in that seductive tone again. "And now… here we are."
…Well, this particular time, she wasn't falling for the touch-her-paw, give-her-bedroom-eyes, use-his-sexy-voice arrangement. This time, there was an enormous hole in the drunken tod's logic. But you know what? She realized this might actually be a good opportunity to test the waters on her rebuttal anyway.
"...But Robin," she replied oh-so sweetly, "...it's alright if at some point you realized… our storybook romance… isn't in a storybook. We might not have ever seen one another again, and… and in that event, would we truly be obligated to deprive ourselves of love… in all its forms?" She blinked her big eyes at him, a few times in quick succession; she knew he found that lovely. "At a certain point… we'd simply be depriving ourselves, would we not?"
Alright, Dear Reader, let's play a game: how do you think Robin responded to that? To recap, he'd consumed a majority of a bottle of wine, but was also notoriously good at handling his drink, was a guy with a reputation of being both a radical egalitarian and a natural leader, and despite his progressive attitudes was really into old-timey chivalry and shit like that in his own relationships. A fox of walking contradictions, having his opinions challenged by the woman he loved and respected. How do you think he'd answer her question? Would he defend, or would he concede?
If you predicted that he'd just avoid the question altogether to ask a question of his own, then fuck you, you cheated, you read ahead. You cheater.
"...Surely you didn't lose faith that you'd see me again, did you, Marian?" he asked, still wearing a look and using a voice that were borderline inappropriate for a public setting. "The wait seemed impossibly long the first time around… and yet, the moment came, we were reunited! So what would cause you to think it might not happen a second time?"
The vixen was struggling not to break her own adoring face to match his. "...Would you not agree, Robin, that it was a great stroke of luck that we were reunited the first time? And what great luck it is that it's happened again!" She tried her beautiful blinks again. "Don't think I'm not grateful, darling… knowing how fortunate we've been has made me all the more grateful. I'm simply saying… some in our situation may not-unreasonably lose faith that such a day might come. But fret not, love…" With the paw he wasn't holding, she ran her fingers down the tufts of his cheek. "...In my heart… I always knew we'd be together again."
He gave a gentle nasal laugh. "...Then why, pray tell, would such a thought even cross your mind, then?"
…And in that moment, Mari began thinking of, of all things, the night at NYU when she and Robin had drunkenly taken Klucky to McDonald's, whereupon the sheep earned her nickname; despite that being over a decade ago, and the trio having all consumed the same amount of alcohol that evening, Mari couldn't remember a thing about that night while Robin could still remember the exact number of Chicken McNuggets Annie had eaten, exactly where in the McDonald's they were sitting, the exact time they'd arrived back at their apartment, and exactly how many times each of them had ralphed in the toilet afterwards. Marian realized now that she'd been a fool to underestimate Drunk Robin's wit; that sharp mind she adored was just too goddamn sharp.
"...You know I could never bear to say anything that might hurt you, Robin." Her tender aura was gone and she just looked deflated.
And Robin didn't look much better as he glanced at the table and patted her hand, as if surrendering. "...Did you… explore other options? You can tell me, Marian, I won't hold it against you."
Damn, damn that handsome face of his; she wasn't feeling ashamed of herself until she saw him look so heartbroken.
"You made your point well, Marian," he continued, "I can't hold it against you if you did. I… goddammit, I take responsibility. You're right, you're right, you had no reason to believe you'd ever see me again. I never wrote you or called you after you moved and got a new number - bloody hell, that sounds like I'm blaming you, but I'm not, I should have done more to find your contact information to reassure you that I was still out there waiting for you…" He finally let go of her hand so he could clutch his head with both of his paws. "Just- just tell me, Marian, I can't stand not knowing any longer. I… I can handle it. It was my fault for leaving you alone, my dear, I… I can't be mad. I won't be mad. Please… just tell me."
"...I did," she murmured, head hanging low.
He nodded, hastily and anxiously, and after it felt like his heart was about to beat through his chest, it skipped a beat altogether before resuming so slowly that his blood surely ran at a trickle. "...Okay… I'm a man, I can handle this." It was clear he was trying to reassure himself more than her, but he was indeed succeeding at staying more calm than not. "It was my fault and I can handle this maturely. Erm…"
They were silent for a second. Robin looked like he was about to start crying, and that made Marian's eyes water just the same. He was looking this way and that, but he was always looking down, as does one who's lost their confidence. But after a moment, he was able once again to look up at her, where her brown eyes were waiting.
"...What was his name?" he squeaked.
…Well, nevermind crying, Marian was nervous again. "Er… his name?"
"My substitute," he said glumly before sighing. "I… I only hope he treated you well."
She was at such a loss for words that she ultimately just said the plain truth anyway because she was simply drawing a blank on any gentler way of putting it. "...R-Robin, dear… it's been four years since I last heard from you… there were several men I gave a chance to-"
"I BEG YOUR PARDON!?"
…Aaand now he wasn't handling it calmly.
And to her credit, Mari stood up for herself: "...I will not grant your pardon," she said sternly, "I just said, four years. You don't stick with the first bloke you meet for four years-!"
"I was the first bloke you met and you stuck with me for more than twenty!" he shot back. "...Or at least I thought you did!"
"Well if you would calm yourself and think, Robin, you'd see it was a testament that I never found a lad I liked nearly as much as you that none of them stuck around for very long!"
"Shwizzity shwooze, I've got booze!" Trent said as he returned with a bottle of wine. "Who's ready for a vintage-!?"
"How many men did you cheat on me with!?"
As you can probably imagine, the server clammed up immediately. "Uhhh, so, um, upon further inspection, this wine is, uh, um, expired! So I'lllllll, uhhhhh, be back in a few minutes!" And the Arctic fox got the hell outta Dodge.
Marian huffed. "Well, knowing your archaic ideas on love, your idea of cheating probably includes every man I went on a single date with-!"
"It does!"
She put her defensive anger on pause to wince at him, seeing as he might as well have just adamantly insisted that you could dig through the Earth and pop out in China. "...No, Robin, it simply doesn't. There were men I went on a single date with, of whom very few got a second date, and so on until you have a very small number of lads who I actually… consummated with! Do you care about that number, or the number of men I gave even an hour of interest to?"
"Both!"
"Robin, keep your voice down!" she chided in a harsh whisper, then was silent for a moment as she looked at her folded hands.
"...Well?"
"I'm counting!"
"You have to COUNT-!?"
"Thirty-four."
The tod's jaw dropped. "...Thirty-four-!?"
"In four years!" she reiterated. "That's just the number I gave a first date to. That's… what, eight and a half a year? Not even one a month?"
"And how many of them did you go all the way with?" He was still fuming, but he was at least acting civilly now.
The vixen rolled her eyes. "Four, five, six maybe? I repeat: four… years. And the longest any of them lasted was probably not even six months."
Robin simply nodded very slowly and sarcastically, face forward but eyes at the ceiling. "I can accept this… I'm not happy about it, but I can accept it. I'm not mad… I'm just disappointed that I waited for you and you… didn't wait for me."
But Mari stood firm. "I'd be lying if I apologized, Robin. I had no reason to believe I'd ever see you again… again. I'd been loyal the first time, and those three years were lonely enough. I couldn't do that all over again for God-knows when it was even less likely I'd be lucky enough to find you again. This isn't that Adam Bell movie where he and Eve are older and she's joined a convent because she could never love another - and that's another thing, we're getting older! I'm not going to waste my youth on a fairytale romance that's too good to be true!"
But he was unmoved. "You really think it's too good to be true?"
She took a deep breath through her nose and tried to attempt another line of reasoning. "Robin… when you sent that lad to deliver me that letter instructing me where to find you… he thought I was a tod."
That succeeded in getting him to drop the anger and start looking worried. "...Wait, he did!? Christ Almighty, the word I'm going to have with that lad-"
"No, Robin, he meant nothing by it, it was an honest mistake," she insisted, "...and I know it was because he's far from the first one to make it. My point, Robin, is that I've been dealt a very… odd compliment all my life: time and time again, well-meaning people have told me I look beautiful in a way that is curiously… unfeminine. Not masculine, per se, but… androgynous is a word some have used. And they do still say that I'm beautiful, which I appreciate, but they suggest that… that if not for my clothes, I could pass for a handsome tod as likely as I could pass for a beautiful vixen. And for fuck's sake, Robin, I'm a tall girl, most men of our species are like this to me," she illustrated with a hand up flat, roughly level with the underside of her chin. "Most men aren't content with a woman taller than them, a good number of the tods who gave me a chance thought getting with a vixen like me would be… exotic."
She was succeeding in getting Robin to sympathize; he looked disgusted. "Tell me who these perverts are and I'll give them a damn good beating-!"
"I'm certain you will!" she interrupted. "Because you're a very big, very strong tod who would make any vixen feel safe and protected in your presence as a woman wants to feel with a man. Robin…" Her words got stuck in her throat as she tried to maintain her composure through saying some sentences that were gonna hurt. "...despite what some have said, I've never considered myself that beautiful. But you? You're handsome… dashing…" But then she shook her head, deciding she didn't need to list all the synonyms after all. "...and I think you know it. I don't know how I found a man as perfect as you, inside and out… and I've always thought that… while you were out here on your own… you could easily get any other woman you wanted. Vixen or otherwise, or even a guy if you crossed paths with one of the half-dozen blokes on Earth who tickles your fancy. And for that reason…" She looked down and shrugged one shoulder. "...I figured that I likely wouldn't have it as easy to find love as you regardless, so why not try if I'm unlikely to succeed anyway?"
What Robin really wanted to tell her right then was what had happened the other day while the aforementioned lad had been delivering their letter to her; Robin and Johnny waiting at the bar down the street, Rob goading Johnny into getting over his self-defeatism regarding romance and talk to some women just for the bear to not only steadfastly refuse but call Robin's bluff about how supposedly easy it was, inspiring Robin - purely for scientific purposes, and taking no pleasure in using these ladies as experiments - to try to get a woman to agree to a date to prove his point… only to find out that no, Johnny was right, it was tougher than Robin had thought, and the bear was likely also right that it probably had something to do with how the fox had never had to hit on women as an adult since he was still with the same girl he'd known since childhood. He wanted to say that no, it wasn't that easy for him to land literally any woman he wanted, and that he wouldn't necessarily want to either because he didn't have that connection with them like he had with her… but he couldn't say that, are you fucking crazy? At best, she'd be annoyed that it had seemed he'd used those females as test subjects, regardless of whether he'd clarified that he felt the same way as it was happening but was trying to do it to help his friend… and at worst, hell, it'd sound like he'd been lying about not cheating on her (or, rather, attempted cheating, which could come across as even more pathetic since it wasn't even successful). No… he had to just nod and accept that she thought he was a beautiful man, he had to do the socially-correct thing he'd always been taught and accept the compliment… and then he had to do his duty and reassure the woman he loved.
"...Marian…" he began softly, "...you are the most stunningly gorgeous woman I have ever seen… and I suspect that that will be a record I will never see beaten." And he meant it.
But she was in no mood, and quite frankly, while she was usually a fan of simple compliments, that one just seemed low-effort in a moment like this.
"...Am I, Robin?" she asked, eyebrow raised, and the lights of the restaurant shimmering in the moisture upon her vulnerable eyes. "...Or am I just the only vixen you don't need to get down on your knees to kiss?"
Before he realized it, his face twisted. "...Why did you feel the need to say that?"
Her countenance was so stony it may as well have been carved out of granite. "Because I've wondered that often."
Robin maintained his mild glare. "...I remind you I've been called a monster quite a few times in my life as well, my dear," he said before pausing to clear his throat just loud enough for her to hear it, "...including by myself, when confronted with my physical resemblance to another freakishly-tall monster I know-"
"Oh, your dad's an arsehole, but he's ridiculously handsome, too," Marian grumbled. "Probably why he's an arsehole."
The tod's eyes narrowed. "I really don't care for that comment."
The vixen crossed her arms. "I really don't care for you pretending to take responsibility by saying oh, I never called or wrote you because you moved and changed numbers when you never called or wrote me before I moved, either."
Robin just started sputtering in disbelief. "...Marian, we were new to this new life of ours! We were afraid they'd track any letter or phone call we made and get you in the crosshairs! By the time we figured out that we ought to send letters from Otto's address and use his phone, your information wasn't good anymore! And then the second time, the Disasters happened and you got whisked back to Washington before I had a chance to get your updated details!"
Marian didn't look impressed. "You didn't have any friends who could find that information on the internet? It's not the Eighties anymore, Robin."
And Robin was sputtering all over again before he decided to just stop trying to reason with her. He put his paws up to signal he was done, then stood up from his seat. "I need to have a slash."
"Makes sense, you've certainly drunk enough."
He just walked past her without acknowledging that remark.
But some others had plenty to say when they saw him walking.
"Wait a minute, he's getting up!" one of the congregated rich people said.
"Where's he going!?" asked another.
But the direction in which he was looking and the path he was taking made it easy to extrapolate.
"He's hitting the men's room," Ashley concluded, at which point the kangaroo looked around to his fellow gentlemen. "Hey, any guys among us who he didn't get a good look at back at the beach?"
"Oh! Ou-our son!" an older bearcat woman with a faint Southeast Asian accent stammered excitedly, gesturing past her husband to their twentysomething offspring. "He wasn't at the beach at all, he's just joining us for dinner!"
"Yeah, and I'm here to pay for your meals after you two got robbed!" the adult son protested, his own voice denoting that he'd clearly grown up stateside. "And now on top of that, you want me to go stalk a dude in the bathroom!?"
"Duy!" the binturong father scolded, a thicker accent than his wife but nothing racist-sounding or anything. "The money you pay comes from a job I got you at my company! You are indebted to me, just do this!"
"Oh, so you giving me a job equals out to me snooping on the guy who robbed you-!?"
"Kid, just go!" Ronnie barked at him, and several others agreed with the antelope for once.
"This could be a great chance to get a leg up on him," Ashley explained with the tone of an army general speaking to a soldier, "and him not having seen you before gives us a golden opportunity we can't afford to waste."
Duy tilted his head and winced. "What do you expect me to do?"
"Gather information!" the female kangaroo hollered, Lisa not having nearly the restraint her date had but seeming like she didn't want to. "Pretend that bloody pom is your enemy and figure something out about him that you can use against him! Ask his name, where he lives, what he does for a living, and he might just slip up!"
"You can observe him, you can talk to him, whatever you feel like you need to do," Ashley elaborated. "But we trust you already know how to schmooze someone so you can screw them over."
The bearcat wasn't looking any less perplexed. "Why would I know how to do that?"
"Because you wouldn't be sitting here among us successful people if you didn't already know how to get ahead in business-"
"Uh… Ashley?" Marcia piped up as politely as she could. "...His dad just said he gave him his job, remember?"
For the first time that night. Mr Underdown looked less than self-assured as he realized the antelope had a point. "Well, kid, you're gonna have to learn these skills eventually, so this is a great chance to learn. Now go."
And many among them egged Duy on, most notably his parents who were berating him in that way that immigrant parents are famous for. Sensing he didn't have a choice, the binturong got out of his seat and made his way towards the restrooms.
Let it be reiterated, Dear Reader, that there were still some regular comfortably-middle-class people at Le Bon Chevalier that night, suburbanites with no knowledge of the famous criminals let alone personal politics for or against them, patrons who were just there to splurge on some fancy-but-not-too-fancy cuisine on a summer evening. One of them was in the men's room as Robin arrived, a gopher minding his own business as he was finishing his business at the urinal. Imagine his surprise when a lanky fox with an English accent waltzed up to him and started talking to him - or perhaps talking at him.
"Thirty-four men!" Robin fumed to his neighbor, the fox so flustered that he was having trouble undoing his fly. "Me girlfriend cheated on me with thirty-four men!"
"At once?"
Robin stopped struggling with his belt for a moment to just glare at the gopher, then got back to fighting his trousers while growling under his breath as the stranger walked away from the trough - giving an odd look to the third person who'd observed the exchange.
As a rule, for a great proportion of men, their biggest fear is another man's confidence, and indeed, witnessing that little scene made Duy feel more than a little intimidated. So this fox was one of those mythical Guys Who Talks to Strangers at the Urinal, huh? It took a certain level of self-assured sangfroid to be such a no-fucks-given kind of man; the bearcat still wasn't entirely sure what he was expected to actually accomplish in this lavatory, and now he was at a complete loss for what he could even do. Should he just report back that the group of wealthy robbery victims had best exercise caution around this guy since he clearly wasn't afraid of anything? No, no, if he did that, his dad might fire him. It seemed almost to Duy that his only option was to play this stranger's game. That said, the binturong was so hung up on the fox having the courage to strike up a conversation in the men's room that he failed to even realize that a very important sound was absent.
Ironic, considering his godlike showing of social confidence ten seconds prior, but Robin was actually having some trouble. But none of it had anything to do with anxiety; having had self-esteem systematically drilled into his head since a young age, pee-shyness had never been an issue for him, not even if he had known he was being watched. No, rather, that thing had happened where Robin had stood up, started walking, and apparently jostled his bladder in the process, immediately realizing he needed to go much more than he'd initially thought. It was one of those cases where he'd been holding it for so long that now it didn't want to come out.
And that opened the door for Duy. He approached the trough and went through the motions of readying himself for action, knowing full well he didn't have any bodily need to be there and would probably embarrass himself before all was said and done. He wasn't going to look directly at his neighbor for several reasons, not the least of which was that this fox towered over him so their eyelines weren't exactly aligned, but his periphery was doing its best:
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" Robin grumbled under his breath as he seemed to be giving himself a one-handed Heimlich maneuver below his belly button. "You're never like this, what's with you today!?"
Only now was the bearcat starting to put the pieces together that the fox was struggling; talking to the gopher had still been a power-move that had solidified Robin as a formidable opponent in Duy's mind, but this at least convinced the young man that this stranger was not invulnerable. But still, what could the binturong actually… say? Or do?
Meanwhile, Robin was swaying backwards and forwards, eyes pursed shut, whisper-singing a water-related song to try to turn the spigot on. "Heeere commmmmes the raiiiiin agaiiiiin, fallin' on my heaaad like a memmmorrryyyyy…"
…Well, hell, the fox had already set the precedent that Guy Code was out the window, so Duy knew that in all likelihood, Robin wouldn't respond poorly to a conversation, but he still couldn't think of any way to break the ice that wasn't completely stupid… which made him wonder whether he should just go for broke and try to play it off as humor. But did he dare?
"Sooooooo baaaaabyyyyyyyyy, TAAAAALK to meeeeeeeee… liiiiike lovvverrrs dooooooo…!" Finally, Robin got a trickle going. "...Bloody hell, better than nothing."
Of course, we only know this exchange happened because Robin still remembers it. When I tracked down Duy for an interview, having already heard Robin's account of this scene, I successfully predicted that there was no way in hell Duy would admit he actually said this:
"...Nice cock, bro."
"Thanks, I grew it myself!"
…Holy shit, that actually worked. And better than expected; the stranger had actually built upon the bit. Now, with contact established, Duy could take this a number of different ways.
"...Don't mind me, just… just trying to lighten the mood," the bearcat said, trying not to mumble his words too much. "Couldn't help but hear you telling that other guy about your female when I walked in, figured you could use some… positivity."
The fox chuckled. "Trying to help another man out, eh? I can appreciate that."
A lot of guys would get violently defensive if another man offered to 'help' them in a men's room, and Duy knew that, but the binturong had gambled that this stranger wasn't one of those guys, and it seemed that that gamble had paid off. After deducing that Robin wasn't afraid of shit if he could talk to strangers in the bathroom, Duy had contemplated how there were two kinds of guys who could possibly be that self-confident: those who were confidently mean and those who were confidently friendly. And yeah, the fox had been fuming when he'd walked in here… but considering the subject matter, Duy had gotten the vibe that this was the anger of a kind man who'd been hurt. Maybe he was right, maybe he was wrong, but so far, it was working in his favor.
"Women, am I right?" he snickered.
"Women, indeed…" There was that training Robin had received as a lad to say things he wouldn't usually say for the sake of not losing his audience - though with his freshly-addled mind, his inhibitions to not say vaguely-chauvinistic things probably weren't working at full strength anyway. "...But I shouldn't have troubled that other gentleman with my problems and I mustn't trouble you either, either."
"...Got it…" the binturong murmured as he brainstormed a new angle. "...So… you're… British. Um… how's that working for ya?"
The Englishman chuckled. "Excellently! I love my homeland, but I couldn't imagine having lived in one tiny corner of the world my entire life!"
Duy nodded quietly; he was still operating under the assumption that the fox was an American putting on a stellar English accent as a confusion tactic, and that rumors of him being an infamous modern-day highwayman were overblown. "But you… live here now?"
"Yes, sir, and I wouldn't have it any other way!" His smile grew wider… then softened again. "Well… sometimes I would…"
The spy found that interesting. And as long as the bandit was being so candid… might as well keep pushing the envelope. "...I'm Duy, by the way."
Robin smirked. "Oh? Can you introduce me to your brothers Huey and Louie then?"
The bearcat took a second to breathe and compose a civil response. "It's… a Vietnamese name. Spelled like Guy."
And the fox was so embarrassed that one could audibly hear the trickle stop. "...OH! Oh, a thousand apologies, sir! That- blimey, that was incredibly insensitive of me! Erm… wow, oops!" He paused to nudge his bladder area to get the waterworks going again. "...I'm sure that's far from the first time you've heard that line."
"It, uh… yeah, I've gotten that a lot, but, like, I get it, it's a name most people in America haven't heard." But far from being livid, the binturong figured he could use this as an opportunity. "You can make it up to me by letting me make fun of your name."
Robin perked up; you just know that image-conscious fox would jump at any chance at redemption.
Let's take a moment to peek into the mind of Moderately Intoxicated Robin: not only did he still have the wherewithal to not just blurt out his actual details, but he could still remember the full biography of his new secret identity to a T. His new name was John "Jack" Wigglesworth, he was from Leeds rather than Sheffield, his birthday was the eighth of August instead of the eighth of November, his driver's license listed him as four-foot-eleven instead of four-foot-ten and he had his immigration papers along with an SSN which was [WHOA, turns out that's some random guy's real Social, yeah I'm not printing that], his bear friend was Robert "Bobby" Van Bommel from the Northwestern Mississippi suburbs of Memphis, and they were both starving thespians who were renting a room from a suburban fox family who had a spare bedroom after their older son moved out to Zootopia where he was no longer in contact with his folks. Simple, done, easy. Just like reciting his A-B-Cs.
What was wavering in his sloshed state, however, was his judgment about what false information he should and should not choose to share.
"Fair enough," he began with a glance and a grin, "the name's Jack Wigglesworth; a pleasure to make your acquaintance!"
Duy's brain nearly ground to a halt. "What… the hell… kind of name is that?"
Robin giggled. "Go on, give me your best shot, I can handle it!"
The bearcat just kept puzzling over it. "That… that sounds like it should be the name of a cartoon character."
Indeed, Johnny picked that name from some cartoon fox in an old program I'd never heard of! And Robin almost said that out of his forced instinct to make interesting small talk, but he still had enough control of his brain not to - no, instead, he let something else slip that wasn't totally a lie.
"Ah, but it's a name you won't soon forget, now is it!?" the fox beamed as he finished what he'd come here to do. "You remember that name, Duy! It may soon be coming to a screen or stage near you!"
The binturong didn't understand at first. "...Screen or stage?"
"Why of course, I'm an actor!" Robin beamed proudly as he zipped up. "And knowing how yanks are such suckers for tall, handsome, classy Englishmen like myself… shan't be long before Jack Wigglesworth is a household name!"
"O...kay then…" Duy didn't know why this stranger was sharing this information - but if the bearcat was supposed to be here on a reconnaissance mission, he was getting plenty to work with.
"And by the way, Mister Duy," the fox said as he looked down at the binturong and patted him on the back (making eye contact that was friendly but direct in a very specific don't worry, I'm not looking at anything else sort of way), "I admire your bravery to be sociable in the men's toilet. The idea of a loo being an antisocial space is a very new concept, historically speaking! The bloody Romans had entire gigantic rooms of toilets for men to converse and socialize in!"
Duy looked about as uncomfortable hearing that as you, Dear Reader, probably did reading that. "...That sounds terrible. Like actual hell."
Robin chuckled, shrugged, and looked off in some other direction. "Ah, what can I say? I'm an old soul who adores things from antiquity… which is why I am not to be fucked with, with a bow and arrow!"
"...Hm… well, Mister Actor, sounds like they oughta cast you as… uh…" And luckily, the fox was no longer looking at the bearcat to gauge his telling facial expression, so Duy was able to play his epiphany off as him forgetting the name: "...Adam Bell?"
"That's the dream, isn't it!?"
The binturong was jarred for a second as everything clicked. A professed affinity for archery and Adam Bell and the courage to initiate small talk in a men's room… from a guy accused of targeting the wealthy for robbery. Oh. Oh, shit. That boar couple hadn't been exaggerating when they'd said this guy was apparently a local legend. This guy was legit, he had a specific goal, and he probably had more guts than all the rich people combined. And as we've discussed, Dear Reader: to many men, fewer things are more terrifying than another man's confidence.
Not that Robin was picking up on any fear from his new acquaintance:
"And because you seem secure in your masculinity, Mister Duy," the fox continued as he walked towards the sinks, "I trust you won't be offended if I offer some help. Now, let's not play coy, we both know I didn't hear anything happening on your end. But that's nothing to be ashamed of, I have countless friends who have shy bladders! I recommend holding your breath, the pressure forces it out!"
Another comment from Robin that would probably result in him getting his ass kicked if he'd said it to the wrong guy, but the fox was playing the game very well, he'd correctly surmised that the bearcat two feet shorter than him was no threat. And since Duy felt like he'd gotten what he'd needed anyway, he felt no need to raise conflict. Instead, he merely forced a chuckle and remarked:
"Heh… how drunk are you?"
"Drunk!?" Robin called over the sounds of running water as he washed his hands. "I'm not drunk, I'm simply merry!"
Meanwhile, the pretend couple had moved on from talking about Robin's personal bullshit to talking about Rob and Johnny's shared bullshit, specifically the stuff Annie hadn't heard yet because Robin hadn't cared to tell Marian the night before, either.
"...Ye dragged a bunch o' lads into this!?" the sheep asked incredulously.
"We didn't wanna drag these kids into this," the bear grumbled, very much incorporating his paws as he explained; "we… well, shit, we kinda did, then we regretted it because we realized we were makin' rash and irresponsible decisions because of how desperate we are for fresh blood, but by then some of them decided they loved the idea and weren't gonna take no for an answer, but only two of them, the third one was smart enough to stay outta this life, so now Rob and I feel personally fuckin' responsible for breaking up this friend group - which, we did, we are responsible for that - and we tried telling these kids straight up that we were only gonna allow them to tag along on the most basic, low-stakes stuff we do because we're not interested in endangering children again… well, teenagers, I guess, not that anyone's countin', but hey, in our defense, they're at that comin'-of-age age where they need guidance now more than ever and they are clearly not getting any from their parents - and in at least one of their cases, we know that firsthand, because - same reason we can't just tell these kids to take a hike - we're fuckin' living with one of their families!"
"WHAT!?"
Johnny looked like he needed a breath after that run-on sentence before he could continue. "...Again, we didn't want to, but the cops found our fuckin' camp, and the kid said his family had a spare room they were looking to rent since his older brother moved out, we were kinda panicking…" He stopped to swig some wine he didn't even particularly like. "...It's a fox family and the dad's idea of being a role model for his son is to constantly try to one-up Rob as the alpha at every opportunity. Guy's big enough of a tod that he felt the need to buy a house even I could fit in, but Rob still makes him look like a child standing next to him, and this dude is wildly insecure about that…" He trailed off as he reflected on the fact that using the word wildly to describe the vulpine patriarch was accidentally fitting. "...I'm surprised Rob didn't tell Marian that that's why she met him at a house in the suburbs of all places."
"Och, but I can see why he dinnae think it was worth mentionin', given the mood," Klucky scoffed. "...You lads really have been up to a lot lately."
"And yet we're still spinnin' our fuckin' tires…" the bear muttered. "...Oh, and I forgot the best part! The kid who decided he didn't wanna play Heroes with us? He's the goddamn police chief's nephew!"
The ewe looked profoundly skeptical. "...Surely you're jokin', lad."
"My hand to God," Johnny swore, paw raised in oath. "...Or, the, uh… hell, the sheriff, Bushel Britches is the county sheriff now! I keep forgetting that after the department merger a few weeks back. But anyway, by the sound of it, this kid - who is the furthest thing from Ward besides the same misspelled name, which really shoulda tipped us off if we weren't dumbasses - seems like this kid and his uncle used to be on good terms, but, uhhh, we ruined that too, I guess? Well… heh, at least we don't have to worry about him squealing on us!" Another drink of wine that he didn't really want to take; it just seemed like he wanted to stop talking about this and was using it as an excuse to segue into something else. "...But the way we see it, this ain't any more immoral or irresponsible than what ol' Rob did with Skippy. The end!"
Annie nodded without much of an expression, just seeming to accept this conclusion. "Aye, it was rather silly to have a seven-year-old fight alongside him against the police!"
But he was visibly confused by that for a moment. "...N-no, I… I mean, sure, there was that too, but I was talking about what happened with him and Toby on Halloween that ye-" And then he realized what wasn't adding up. "Wait, that's right, that woulda been after you and Marian left town! Alright, so… you remember 9/11?"
You could paint a painting perfectly replicating the look of sheer bewilderment on her face when she heard that, wondering what the heck that had to do with anything, but any art museum worth their salt would reject such a painting for looking too cartoonish. But before she could say anything…
"Mes amis…" their chamois server greeted as he approached with a covered plate, setting it on the table before them. "Compliments of the chefs for what I understand is some great contribution to the community!" Without further ado, he lifted the lid to reveal the delicacy.
"...Escargot," the sheep observed unenthusiastically.
"Bien sûr," Gaëtan affirmed with somehow even less enthusiasm.
The bear just blinked at the snails for a second before turning to the waiter. "Is this like those Cinnamon Twist things they give ya at Taco Bell after they fuck up your order because nobody buys 'em and they just wanna get rid of 'em?"
The chamois gave him a very… French look. "...Non. They are a gift."
"It's alright, man, you can tell us," Johnny insisted, his tone of voice sounding friendly despite not looking even remotely appetized. "We've got plenty of friends who work in food service, we get how these things work!"
But Gaëtan was too European for this conversation and decided to reroute it to what was really on his mind: "Are you two ready to order?"
"Och, we forgot to look at the menu again, dinnae we?" the sheep grumbled as she made a point to waste no time in scrutinizing it now, and as the bear realized she was right and did the same, neither of them noticed the waiter roll his eyes with deliberate exaggeration.
"I can come back later-"
"Don't worry, Gayton, we'll find sumpthin' fast," Johnny promised as he flipped through the pages hurriedly to find a dish that didn't seem too fancy for his blue-collar tastes. "Annie, lemme know if you see anything that looks good."
"Shall I be on the lookout for some seafood for ye, lad?" she chuckled despite being completely earnest.
But her fake boyfriend looked up to show her that he was utterly repulsed by that offer. "Aw… God, no. If there was one good thing about getting kicked outta the house right after high school, it meant I'd never hafta eat fish again if I didn't wanna." And back to browsing he went.
Yet that statement had surprised her. "...A bear who doesn't like fish?"
"Hate it." He didn't even look up this time. "Shellfish ain't much better. Gimme poultry or insects any day. Even my brother could only tolerate seafood, but then again, that guy's idea of good eatin' was to lick live ants directly off the ground like a fuckin' animal…" Only now did he look up, to glance apologetically at the chamois. "Sorry, I keep forgetting I'm in a classy establishment, this place is above my usual caliber."
"I'm sorry we are not the Taco Bell like you are used to, monsieur," said the server, "but I'm sure you will find something you will like on our menu. I will be back momentar-"
"Ohhh, no you're not, hold yer fuckin' horses, we'll be ready in a second." Johnny went back to examining the entrées, but gave Annie a quick look to indicate he was talking to her again. "So yeah, long story short… I swear to God, if I somehow ever have a cub, that kid's gonna be allergic to fish because it's just not in their DNA to eat it."
"...Interestin'," was all she could think to say. She turned back to the waiter. "Er… can I have the… coq au vin?"
Gaëtan didn't even pretend to hide his confused and disapproving look for the ewe ordering meat. "Coq means rooster, madame."
So the chicken-loving sheep gave him a dirty look of disapproval right back. "I know that, monsieur."
The chamois just shrugged and jotted it down in his notepad, then addressed the bear: "And for you, monsieur, may I suggest the chicken confit? They are simply very large chicken legs, would that be unfancy enough for you?"
Now Johnny looked the most displeased out of any of them. "Yeah, sure, screw it, gimme the closest thing ya got to a fuckin' chicken tender kids meal, y'know?" he scoffed as he rather forcefully gave Gaëtan the menu back. "Does it come with fries and a toy?"
The waiter shrugged. "You can keep the bones, they are kind of like toys. I will put your orders in right away, mes amis." And with a mocking smirk, he walked off.
"...What an arsehole!" Klucky spat as soon as the server was out of earshot. "Och, maybe you shouldn't tip this guy… he's European, after all!"
But Johnny was still glaring at roughly the space Gaëtan had occupied - or, rather, something past it in the same direction. "The hell are they staring at?"
Annie turned to look at whatever her companion was looking at, expecting that perhaps what he was referring to was an instance of some strangers staring at them. But instead, she saw that Robin was passing by on the other side of the restaurant, on his way back from the facilities. As he did, several patrons at several tables he passed seemed to be badly and obviously watching him, not an ounce of shame to be found on their persons; come to think of it, several others in that section of the restaurant looked like they were very tempted to stare at the fox, eyes as far to one side as they could be without turning their heads. Still one or two others seemed to chastise someone in their party for staring so rudely.
"Why they all givin' Robin that look?" the bear wondered distrustingly.
The ewe did indeed find it peculiar, but not quite alarming. "...Maybe because ye don't see a fox his size every day?"
Johnny still looked skeptical, but he shrugged. "Well, between that and Mister Pretty-Boy's Hollywood-good looks, the guy sure commands attention-"
"Lad, please stop dwellin' on that," Annie implored him in a hushed voice. Or I'll be tempted to tell ye that I think ye look so much better than someone as generically handsome as HIM! "...Why, did ye think they might be starin' at him for other reasons?"
He no longer looked so sure himself. "I mean… I guess him sticking out like a sore thumb is a more likely reason than…" He trailed off to think for a moment. "...This place is too… middle-class for someone who might recognize us to be here, right?"
She needed clarification. "Recognize ye as in… poor people, or…?"
"Rich people," he answered. "Who we've robbed. Like… recently."
Klucky gave the staring people another glance, wondering whether their sense of dress might give away any clues as to their social status. "...Do you recognize any o' them?"
"No, but I'm the beast of burden who does all the grunt work while half the time stupid Robin gets up close and personal with all our clients without me," the bear grumbled. "Today I was the one who pretended to drown while he sized up all our targets." And then, if only for a moment… he looked worried. "...Any of those people coulda been at the beach and I wouldn't have any way of knowing. Rob could remember them, but I bet ol' Loverboy's so focused on romancing his girl that he ain't even paying attention to his surroundings. Dumb son of a bitch…"
He went back to looking angry, and the sheep took up the mantle of looking concerned; once again, he'd made more sense than she'd been ready for. She gave the area where the starers sat one more look - and this time, they did stare back at the faux couple, at which point the two both averted their gaze.
"...Okay, that can be attributed to them just havin' that feelin' that someone was watchin' them," said Annie.
Johnny nodded, but he didn't look content. "Makes sense… I'm still gonna keep an eye on them, though."
But even as he did, he had no way of knowing that the bearcat walking out from the bathroom hardly two minutes after Robin had was any more than incidental. The gathering of barons waited with bated breath for him to retake his seat, then wasted no time asking questions.
"What did he say!?"
"What did you get from him!?"
"Did he sound like he felt guilty!?"
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN," interrupted Ashley in a voice that wasn't particularly loud or deep, but resonated at just the right frequency to get everybody's attention. "Give him a moment, he just got back." He gestured to the young binturong. "Whenever you're ready, tell us how it went. Get anything good?"
Duy didn't look too sure himself. "Uhhh… first things first, I just assumed this guy would be American, but he was talking with a British accent… and it was a really good British accent that he never slipped up on, so…" He turned to the boar couple who would know best. "Was this guy actually British, or was he just putting on an accent to fuck with me?"
The couple gave one another a look as they tried to remember.
"Uh… so when we ran into them, the fox sounded American enough but had a really weird accent we couldn't place…" the sow recalled, "...but the cops told us later they think he's a British guy, so that was the fake accent."
The crowd processed that information and just seemed confused.
"He's British!?" Ronnie asked incredulously. "Does this motherfucker even have his Green Card!?"
"He's actually a bloody pom!?" Lisa echoed. "I was just having a laugh when I assumed that every fox must be English, but he actually is!?"
"Let's have him deported!" shouted somebody whose identity has been lost to time, and many among them cheered in agreement.
"Everybody, everybody, calm down!" the male kangaroo ordered, calmly but firmly with his hands up to signal a halt. "I'm sure the authorities would have done that already had they had the opportunity… and the ability." He turned back to Duy. "What else did you get? Did he tell you anything about himself?"
Duy nodded. "Uh… said his name was Jack… Jack, uh… Jack Wiggler or something-or-other like that, said he's an actor and that he's really good with a bow and arrow."
Mr. Underwood glanced at the boars again. "Any of that check out, or was the fox lying about that, too?"
The couple shared another look; this time, the husband answered: "We've never heard that name before in our lives, and the cops didn't give us one, either… but the bow-and-arrows part kinda sounds familiar."
"Well, for me…" the bearcat spoke up again, "...what made this all feel more legit was when Adam Bell came up, and he was all like, 'yeah, of course!' So between that and what we're accusing him of doing-"
"That's it!" the sow said with a snap of her fingers before pointing at Duy. "Th-the cops told us the criminals were doing some sort of Adam-Bell-y charity-type operation by robbing people they saw had money!"
Some gasped in horror, some murmured in worry, and others were simply speechless.
"I'm calling it," said Ashley, "this is our guy."
"And, uh…" Marcia piped in meekly, "...good news and bad news… I think the part about bows and arrows might have been a very good piece of information to know, too…" And as she trailed off, the antelope pointed up at the nearest wall.
Which was to bring attention to all the walls and their decorations, which besides suits of armor included swords, shields, staffs… and a good few bows, some with one arrow, some with none, and some with an entire quiver full of them.
"...Well, hell," the ringleader grumbled as he looked around at his impromptu crew. "Does anybody here have experience with medieval weaponry?"
Perhaps unsurprisingly, nobody said a word.
"...Why are you asking that, though?" asked the male antelope, starting to lose his patience - both with the kangaroo's leadership, and the fact that someone who'd wronged them all was sitting comfortably in their midst while they spoke in circles and didn't do anything to stop him. "C'mon, Ashley, it's not like he's gonna grab some weapons off the walls and singlehandedly start fighting us all off, is he? What is this, a cartoon!?"
Ashley turned very slowly to face his detractor. "If this fox is crazy enough to rob several dozen people in broad daylight, Ronald, we can't assume what he is and isn't going to do. And I didn't give you permission to call me by my first name."
Ronnie just glowered at him. "You just called me by my first name!"
But without even having to orchestrate it, one of Mr. Underwood's followers inadvertently got him out of having to address that discrepancy:
"Oh, and another thing that really freaked me out," the binturong added, "...that fox is one of those guys who talks to other guys in the men's room. Like… while you're going."
About ninety percent of the men and a decent proportion of the women among them heard that and immediately looked disturbed, perturbed, or otherwise uncomfortable.
"That fox really IS unpredictable!"
"I thought that was illegal!"
"This guy must not even be afraid of GOD!"
And upon hearing this chorus of horror, Ashley gave Ronnie a glance with a cool and confident smirk:
"I rest my case."
The antelope was steaming.
Hey, we haven't checked in on the kitchen staff in a while, have we? Let's do that.
¡...LOUUUUUUUIIIS!
Su nombre artístico es…
¡LOUUUUUUUIIIS!
"...Dom, I'm actually kinda digging this song."
Grita la gente al verlo…
¡LOUUUUUUUIIIS!
"Man, Jace, you're just saying that to lose Racism Points!"
Todo romántico es…
¡LOUUUUUUUIIIS!
"...So if I actually like it, then how am I supposed to say that so you believe it!?"
Luchando con el tráfico…
¡LOUUUUUUUIIIS!
"Well, then you're screwed!" the tayra chuckled.
The deer rolled his eyes so dramatically that his head was turned back towards the ceiling, followed by him aggressively tossing the butt of his latest cigarette into the pot of used water that constituted his ashtray - he missed, and it bounced off the rim and fell into a gap behind the stove.
Kwame stopped what he was doing to give Jace a look reserved for the terminally stupid. "Man, go get that thing before it burns the fuckin' restaurant down!"
The buck narrowed his eyes and shook his head a little. "Okay, Mom," he spat before going to retrieve the broom. "As if you like working at this place any more than I do."
"I don't like workin' at this place, but I got bills to pay!" the hippo shot back, pointing a spatula at the deer. "We ain't all like you with a rich mommy and daddy to support us if we wind up unemployed!"
Now it was Jace giving Kwame an 'is-it-offensive-to-call-you-stupid-because-you're-clinically-mentally-disabled?' look. "Dude, twenty pages ago, you were making fun of me for working here because my parents cut me off after I got a DUI!"
Off to the side, Domingo snickered. "He's got a point there, K-Dog!"
The hippo looked uncertain for a moment, but eventually shrugged and got back to his work. "Ight, I'll grant that, that's me takin' the loss on that one."
And right around that moment, Trent stormed in through the kitchen door, ripping a page out of his notepad and handing it to Jace. "Table thirty-nine is pissing me off. Spit in their bourguignon, will ya?"
The buck smirked. "You don't gotta tell me twice!"
"What's thirty-nine doin' to ya?" asked the tayra.
"Just some kangaroo couple with absolutely no patience," the waiter grumbled.
"That's not that uncommon," remarked the hippo.
"And I'm pretty sure they have it in for me because they hate foxes or something."
Kwame paused before amending his previous statement: "...Hell, I'll spit in their food, too, then."
"Me, too," added Domingo. "By the way, speaking of foxes: I'm covering the basquaise, I'm makin' sure that shit comes out fresh as a muthafucka! I wanna treat these two!"
"Well, that's good to hear, but… speaking of 'speaking of foxes'..." said the Arctic, "...couldn't help but overhear our boy might be in trouble. He and his vix were fighting, apparently he's accusing her of cheating."
The tayra and hippo both looked startled, as if Trent had just told them that an ambulance had just gotten T-boned by a garbage truck outside the restaurant.
"Aw, man!" Domingo lamented. "She really gonna cheat on British Malverde like that!?"
But Kwame just huffed. "Hmph. Stupid ho."
The other three were quiet for a moment and glanced at one another, each looking like they had found that comment excessive but didn't wanna be the dork who pointed it out.
So the task fell to the one who figured he could hold this over the hippo's head: "Well, damn, Kwame, goin' straight for the jugular there, eh?" asked Jace, trying not to start laughing. "You accuse me of being racist, meanwhile you hear that some female might possibly have cheated on some guy and you immediately just seethe with rage at her, huh?"
"Y'all're actin' like I just called her a cunt." Kwame didn't even look at him.
"Naw, man, it's less the word you said and more the way you said it," the buck elaborated. "Like you had this look on your face like she just killed your mother. Hell, you still do."
"And what Jace don't even know is that yeah, these two ain't seen each other in… what, four or five years?" Domingo tossed in. "Like, yeah, it sucks if she cheated on him, and I'd be mad too if I was in his position, but… fuck, multiple years without contact as far as we know? Who wouldn't cheat? Man or woman?"
Jace had to wince at that. "Wait, why do we know this much about these people's love life?"
They ignored him and Trent built upon what Domingo had said: "Plus, let's be real here: he probably cheated, too! I mean, how wouldn't he? I know no fewer than a dozen women of varying species who have a crush on him. If I were as panty-wettingly handsome as that dude, I'd be waist-deep in vix pussy! Like, just, fuckin', bein' devoured by vulp vadge like a mouse in a Venus flytrap!"
"I still don't know who these motherfuckers are, but if I'm stacking up Racism Points, Kwame should have to start collecting Sexism Points," the deer proposed.
"I actually agree with that!" The tayra sounded like he was in disbelief of his own assertion.
"Kwame, we're gonna tell Julie that you hate women and then she's never gonna wanna hook up with you!" quipped the fox.
The hippo stopped what he was doing and leaned down over the little Arctic. "Just because she's a hippo-fuckin'-potamus don't mean I have the hots for her!" The look he gave him clearly conveyed that he'd knock the waiter's lights out if it wouldn't probably kill him.
But Trent knew the chef couldn't lay a hand on him without winding up with one hell of an assault charge. "Never quite said you did, now did I?" he replied with a foxy smirk.
Kwame just kept glaring at him.
"I'll back him up and you can't give me Racist Points for that," said Jace, "we all know that you, specifically, have the hots for that hippo, specifically!"
The largest of the chefs just gave his coworker a dirty look before pointing to two plates of food under a heat lamp. "Forty-two's ready to go," he muttered.
"Got it," said the server, trying to contain his laughter as he took the dishes out.
Moments later, he arrived in the section where a bunch of parties were conversing vivaciously with one another; Trent hadn't yet picked up on what they were discussing because he hadn't been listening because he couldn't possibly have cared less about whatever it was. And delivering the muskrats their food, he was expecting to leave the table still no more privy to their controversial topic.
"Alright, sooo, we got a quiche and a tartiflette?"
The couple didn't even verbally respond to him; they simply pointed to their respective dishes, looking very annoyed to have to interact with a working-class person.
"Hey. Waiter," said someone behind him.
The Arctic turned and saw an antelope couple, the husband looking eager, and the wife looking embarrassed.
"Ronald, what are you up to now?" asked the cold-hearted kangaroo gentleman at table thirty-nine. But Trent and Ronnie both ignored him.
"Can we order a bottle of wine for our friends over there?"
Trent turned to look where he was pointing, and found that the antelope was referring to the English fox couple.
And at first… the server's face lit up. Were these formerly-impoverished people who'd finally escaped poverty thanks to the help of these local heroes, people who now wanted to repay the favor? I mean, they had to be… why else would they recognize them?
"Uh… yeah, sure! Absolutely I can bring them some wine and put it on your bill!"
"Alright, but… can you bring the wine here first?" Ronnie asked, trying to contain what was becoming a devilish smile as he patted something between his hands. "We wanna… attach a gift to the bottle. A note!"
…Okay, that was… an odd request, but nothing completely alien yet. "Aw, it's fine, I can attach it for you and deliver it!"
"Oh, no, no, it's fine, we can do it ourselves!" the antelope insisted. "...Actually, come to think of it, just one glass will do-"
"Ronald, what the hell is that in your hand?" Mr. Underdown demanded.
Ronnie's confidence evaporated, and his wife instantly looked furious.
"What is that!" Marcia said more as a statement than a question as she yoinked something out of her husband's hooved hands. It was a pill bottle. "My Valium!? Did you take this from my purse when I wasn't looking!?"
"What was that going to accomplish!?" demanded the female kangaroo. "Did ya think all those bloody pills would just dissolve or something!?"
"Hey, at least I'm tryna be fucking proactive here!" Ronnie shot right back. "Instead of talking about strategizing but never actually doing anything! Ain't that right, Ashley!?"
Trent, now having completely figured out what was going on here, felt the need to speak up: "So, uh… I'm their server too, actually, and, uh, now that I think about it, I, uh, I needed to cut them off already, they've already had too much."
But the male kangaroo simply turned to him and gave him a condescending look. "You'd best get out of here, kid."
And as much as Trent wanted to tell Ashley to go fuck himself for calling him a kid… the server did agree with the rest of that sentence.
"...Back so soon, Trent?" the tayra joked.
But the Arctic fox was in no jocular mood. "Guys, I think Big Red might be in more trouble than just with his vix."
Indeed he was.
"You were going to poison him with Valium!?" one or another of the rich people asked of Ronnie.
"What does a Valium overdose even do!?" queried another.
"What were you gonna do, anti-anxiety him to death!?" still another demanded.
"I was trying to be resourceful!" The antelope was standing his proverbial ground, unashamed of his actions. "As long as this guy's obsessed with medieval shit, we might as well try to take him out in some medieval way! And it's not like any of us carry fuckin' cyanide capsules with us! Or anything liquid!"
"I carry shoe polish," the boar gentleman said as he pulled a small bottle of it out of his breast pocket. "Good for keeping myself presentable on the go."
Ronnie and several others narrowed their eyes at him. "...W-well then you're fucking weird! The fact of the matter is we apparently can't just get the cops in here-!"
"Because they've proven useless at catching these creeps time and time again!" Ashley interjected. "Now you're going to have to stop talking out of turn, Ronald."
"And that's another thing! I still do not get why y'all are just… following this guy's lead!" the antelope said to the crowd. "What's he doing that I'm not!? …Hell, he's doing less than I am! At least my poisoned-wine idea was an idea, meanwhile fucking Ashley here just wants to game-plan and never actually play the game!"
"Because we're dealing with a very powerful enemy," the kangaroo growled at him, "so we need a plan that's fully thought out before we execute it. Rome wasn't built in a day… and it didn't fall in one, either. And I repeat that you are to refer to me as Mister Underdown; my first name is reserved for people I respect."
Mr. Hurd just stayed silent for a moment, glaring back at the man who was plainly calling him unfit to be more than a follower. But in that fleeting moment of tension, the antelope decided to blaze his own trail.
"Fine," he said flatly as he stood, "tell me if you respect me after this." And off he walked.
"Where are you going!?" Ashley demanded, and several others in the group asked what's he doing? or similar questions in hushed whispers behind him. But Ronnie was undeterred.
Upon the tod's getting back from the loo, things at the foxes' table were… tense, to say the least.
"So… land any good acting roles?" Robin murmured boredly.
"No… Washington isn't the biggest theater city…" Marian muttered, "...like Philadelphia-"
"Oh, my God!" Robin groaned as he put his paws over his face. "I said I was sorry on several occasions about wasting a year of our lives in Phila-!"
"Hey, buddy!"
Robin turned around to see who this strange voice behind him was. "Yes?" he asked impatiently.
Ronnie's devilish smile was coming back. "I remember you! You're that really tall fox we met at the beach, begging for money! The one with the broken arm!"
Short, sweet, and to-the-point. Our hero couldn't help but look like he'd seen a ghost. And as for Mari, she looked not unlike she had four years prior when her uncle had ordered his cops to shoot him dead.
"I see you must've got plenty of donations if you can afford a nice dinner like this!" mocked the antelope.
The Englishman struggled for words. "I… I've never seen you before in my life, sir…" He knew damn well he had.
Ronnie's eyes narrowed, but he was still smiling. "Citizen's arrest."
The antelope promptly backhanded the fox across the face with all the force he had, and Robin fell like a ragdoll out of his seat and onto the floor. He was still conscious, but writhing in pain as he clutched his aching head, a perfect opportunity for Ronnie to lean over and talk down to him, loudly for everyone to hear:
"YOU FUCKED WITH THE WRONG GUY-!"
And that's as far as the antelope got before the words literally got stuck in his throat, where a big brown paw had grabbed him, lifting him off his feet, and throwing him down through a neighboring table all in the span of hardly two seconds.
"YOU LAY A HAND ON HIM AGAIN, YOU WATCH WHAT FUCKING HAPPENS!" Johnny roared down at the antelope laying amid splintered wood and shattered plates.
"RONNIE!" Marcia screamed across the restaurant. "DID YOU FORGET ABOUT THE FUCKING GRIZZLY BEAR!?"
"YES!" her husband groaned as loud as he could.
