The twins' harmonious time together stretched on well into the night. Although mostly redundant now, Crimson did return to her massage, if only to humor Clover; perhaps this was her way of making it up to her sister for all the suffering she'd put her through earlier today. It obviously wouldn't be enough to warrant forgiveness, but it did seem to work alright in making Clover forget about it, for the bodyguard kept smiling like she hadn't all day.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. Right when Clover was beginning to hope the amazing feelings sweeping through her would never end, it randomly occurred to Crimson to look at the clock. The red twin then gasped aloud – she hadn't realized how much time had passed since they'd first started talking. "Oh my stars, would you look at the time! When did it get so late?" she exclaimed as she abruptly let go of Clover's shoulders, and stood up – much to the latter's disappointment, who turned herself around to verify what time it was.

"It's not even 1:00 AM," she pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I told ya I'd fix you up and that's what I did; I didn't bring ya over so we could have a slumber party. I had plans to go somewhere else anyway – got stuff to do," Crimson explained cryptically.

Clover's gaze followed her as she moved away from the tub and back to the mirror to check on herself some more. "Such as...?"

"Y'know... stuff."

The orange twin narrowed her eyes with a disapproving scowl. Having been in this same situation many times, what was on her sister's licentious mind was no secret to her. "Riiight..."

Crimson briefly looked over. "What?"

"C'mon, don't think ya can hide from me why you came up here besides to talk! All that grooming, the lame bedroom eyes, the perfume... You're going out to some bar to pick up boys again, aren't you?"

"Like I said, dear sis, none of your business."

Clover reached for the wine, courtly sipping what little was left of it. "So you are. Figures."

"Well, what is it to ya? Can't a lady enjoy her love life without being policed?"

"Hey, make no mistake! I'm not gonna tell ya you're grounded; you're old enough to do whatever you want! I just don't think it's the smartest idea for you to go out alone with everything that's going on right now... especially after dark."

"Oh, but I won't be alone – that's the whole point!" Crimson cooed into the smirking reflection. Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she stepped away from the mirror, before casting her gaze on the other lemur. "As for what to do with you, well... I don't mind ya staying there a bit longer – but your idiot friends are leaving now, and you too must be long gone by the time I've returned! This house has to be empty, capiche?" she briskly added, grabbing a bunched-up towel from the wall rack and laying it down on the floor by the mat. "Dry yourself with that – try not to spill water everywhere – oh, and don't forget to drain the tub and blow out all the candles before ya leave the room. And remember: I catch ya snooping 'round, you're dead!"

With these words she opened the door. She couldn't wait to restart her old course for the night, the one this fortuitous reunion had shut down much too soon. She had one foot in the hallway – when a sudden cry rang behind her.

"Crimson, ho – hold up a sec!"

With her hand still on the handle, she hung her head, exhaling in annoyance. "Yes?"

Clover was fidgeting around in the water, not sure how to put her thoughts into words. All she was certain of now was how much she loathed the sight of her sister walking away from her again. However she felt about her deeds, frankly, she was tired of having everything between them go on like this, of resigning to a status quo that only evoked feelings neither of them really desired or enjoyed. When she gently clutched her shoulder and found no pain no more, when she looked back on the cesspool of grief she'd dug herself into by rebuffing Maurice's advice, was when she realized what a terrible mistake she had made. But now, she had another chance to make it right...

...And it wasn't one she was going to throw away.

Suddenly, the words of her aye-aye friend shot into the fore of her mind, word by word: If you just gave it a shot, maybe you'd find that all you needed to reach a mutual agreement with your sister was one tiny little push in the correct direction!

Perhaps it'd be worth a try after all. She couldn't keep living in fear of her own flesh and blood forever. Furthermore, doing this would also give her a pretty believable excuse to watch over Crimson, therefore ensuring her safety in case Pam did indeed try anything; that dastardly mongoose would think twice before she showed her face with Clover around.

It was now or never. Crimson had begun staring at her; she could tell she was growing impatient. She had to say something, or she would leave.

"Uh... um..." The simple act of opening her mouth caused her pulse to skyrocket. "Why – why don't we go to this place you're thinking of together, you and I? Just a couple hours, if ya want; it could be fun!" she muttered, smiling shyly.

Crimson shut the door so the boys downstairs wouldn't hear them. The look on her face was priceless. "You, with me, cruising for a score? Excuse me? Are you hearing yourself?! I mean, sure, I guess you can come – if you wanna be nothing but a third wheel, and straight up slaughter the mood and ruin my chances! Ya don't know the first thing 'bout hooking up!" Huffing, she shook her head. "Yeah, no way – you already have your lil' circle of pals and your big fancy nightclub to go back to – the least you can do is let me have this!"

"But listen, I don't want to get hooked; I just wanna be with you!"

"Why?"

Clover glared at her as though she were joking. "Um, 'cause you're my sister?"

"So?"

"What d'you mean 'so?' That's what sisters do – they hang out together! They go out to places and share stuff and – and dance and laugh, and have fun! Why can't we try to be like that for a while? We're still a ways away from the pageant; wouldn't it be better if we spent that time like a real, normal family instead of..." Her voice tightened a notch. "...Repeating what happened today?"

Crimson seemed to mull over this. After what she'd secretly witnessed at the glade, she'd thought that matter had been long left behind. Clearly, she'd thought wrong...

Seeing that she didn't look very receptive to the idea, Clover tilted her head to one side, her ears drooped submissively. "C'mon! You'd really pick some random bloke you're never even gonna see again after tonight over me? You said ya were looking for someone to confide in; well, here I am! I can – I can be a good listener... sometimes! But those pervs from the bar? They're only in it to get their bloody rocks off! Once you've given them what they want, they won't sit down to have a heart-to-heart with ya; no, they'll just leave without so much as a 'thank you' and move straight on to the next girl! Is that how you wanna get on by? Wouldn't ya prefer something a lil' more meaningful, even if for a couple nights?"

Crimson shot her an uneasy frown; there was a lot more truth in her sister's words than she'd like to admit. Still, it was not enough for her to make a decision.

Thus, Clover thought of something else – if the last-ditch strategy she had in mind didn't work, then she'd be safe to write all of this off as a lost cause. "Look, either ya let me come along, or I'm quitting the pageant – plain and simple," she declared tersely, crossing her arms below the waterline. "Take it or leave it."

"Like hell you are!" a wide-eyed Crimson blurted out. The immediacy with which she had reacted to that couldn't have saddened her more (yet not surprised her less). She tried to play it off as nonchalance with a tepid roll of the eyes, yet the other twin saw through the guise anyway; she covered her mouth, before quickly easing her tone. "I mean... you can't dip on us now; you're the only one who can stop Pam!"

"Try me." Clover wouldn't budge.

Crimson's jaw fell agape. Even if her sister was most assuredly bluffing, she feared she could be bullheaded enough to actually go through with this just to prove a point. It was a risk Crimson was not willing to take... even if it meant sacrificing her own plans for the second time tonight.

Sighing aloud, she turned back, and reopened the door. "...Don't take too long to wrap up," she grumbled, "I'll be waiting downstairs. The place I was going to ain't far; we can hang out there if ya like." She paused – just before she walked out of the room, she glared back one last time, a near-unnoticeable smile sneaking around her lips. "Oh, and, er... I'm... I'm glad you're okay... wimp."

Then, she quietly closed the door.

About fifteen minutes later, Clover was out of the bathroom and ready to go. She had also taken the liberty to remove the tissue from her nose, as the bleeding had long since ceased. Following a merry reunion with her colleagues, who couldn't have been any happier to see her in such healthy spirits again, she told them of her and her sister's newly-hatched scheme. At first they thought she must've been pranking them, but when Crimson confirmed it was true, they jumped in almost unanimously – the smile that had lit Maurice's face upon hearing the news could've brightened the blackest night. He didn't know what had transpired between the twins to make Clover change her tune, though he wasn't going to pry; he was just glad that this was finally happening.

King Julien was the only one slightly miffed by this; of course he could see the benefits as much as everyone else, yet the notion of having to share all that time with Crimson as well unnerved him. However, returning to Club Xanadu alone was out of the question – he had promised Clover he'd stand by her through thick and thin, so that was what he was going to do. He'd figure how to handle his disgruntled ex as they went.

For now, he would simply keep to himself and not interact with her unless he had to – not what Crimson would've preferred, but manageable. There wasn't much in the way of group talk while she led the others through the jungle. Julien had to put up with Mort's niggling yapping every time they came across something that caught the mouse lemur's eye, like the squawk of a seagull in the sky or a gecko scurrying into the bushes; and Crimson, unhappy with the way her night was turning out, had barely spoken a word. Only Maurice and Clover, being at the back, were engaged in any kind of relevant talk. By that point, the grass under their feet had started giving way to sand, the trees and vegetation became sparser, and the tranquil swishing of the sea could be heard coming from the not-too distant coast.

"Just so you know, Clover," the aye-aye was telling her, "I'm very proud of you for doing this. I can't imagine how hard it must be for you; it takes a lot of courage to pull off something so personal."

She looked at him with the same half-nervous, half-dejected countenance she'd been showing the entire walk here. "Yeah, well... I'm not so sure I've made the right choice. When Crimson came to me to chat, she did it only 'cause nobody else will give her the time of day, and now that she's got her fifteen minutes of attention, all she wants to do is sideline me again like it meant nothing. She'd rather be with some prick who only sees her as a cheap playtoy than me." She shook her head to herself, for a moment considering turning back. "Who am I kidding, I'm just wasting our time. This is gonna go nowhere." Then, with an overt tinge of sarcasm in her voice, she added, "I mean, I just had to coerce my own sister with threats into spending one miserable night with me; that ain't nothing to feel down about."

"Come on, don't sing defeat just yet! At least you can now say you tried, and besides, you have us to fall back on in case anything happens – which it won't." Maurice gave her a reassuring smile. "Trust me, everything will be okay."

"It better be. I wouldn't wanna end up digging an even deeper hole than the one we're already in. That's-

"Here we are!"

Crimson had come to a halt to look ahead; their beachfront destination, the Bootlegger's Bay cabin, stood just beyond the line of coconut trees, its silhouette etched in moonlight. "There it is, fellas: the only thing that's kept this girl sane all these months. I know it's not much, but... it's something." Shrugging, she carried on down to the beach and up the boardwalk – everyone but Julien followed her closely, curious as to what this place had in store for them.

The king, for his part, appeared even less eager to go in there than her; he'd become so – dare he say – spoiled by the nightly grandeur of Club Xanadu that most ordinary bars looked like hovels by comparison, and this one was no exception. He'd never been to it before – its rather cumbersome distance from the kingdom's main grounds, where all the best hotspots were, had always made him abstain from visiting it. There was simply no reason for him to head this far out when the infinitely superior nightclub provided him with everything he could ask for.

If there was one thing he had to concede, however, it was that this place was certainly pleasing to the eye. The picturesque breadth of warm colors emanating from the cabin contrasted nicely with the colder hues of the surrounding oceanic panorama, lending a homelike spirit to it. The structure itself was covered in thatched roofing, from end to end. Two huge tiki idols carved from baobab wood stood guard like unearthly sentinels on either side of the entrance; they were at least two or three heads taller than the average lemur, and the manner in which their toothy grins gaped under the flaming lights verged on eeriness. Yet Julien smirked to himself; if these had been real, living beings with real, movable mouths, he could've comfortably stuffed Mort inside one of them. Just above, a rudimentary, yet colorful wooden signboard displayed the establishment's name, illuminated purely by torchlight.

All in all, Julien's biggest gripe about it was the jarring size of its clientele – it was so quiet inside that he had to peer through one of the windows to confirm it wasn't completely uninhabited. This puzzled him; it wasn't like the beach was empty. There was a sizable amount of lemurs hanging around – more than enough to fill up the bar – yet most of them seemed to be acting as though it didn't even exist.

"Um, doesn't this joint look kinda... you know... dead to you guys?" he asked his friends, who didn't look too bothered by the popularity crisis they'd found themselves in.

"Well, forgive me for not taking you to a five-star hotel, milord, but this is just about the best my circumstances allow for!" Crimson butted in before any of them could reply. "Ya think I come here every other night 'cause I want to?"

"I think it's quite lovely for what it is – nevermind a nice change of pace from the usual routine," Mort peeped, starry-eyed at the sights.

"Agreed; who needs ritz and expensive frills when you have views like these? Big X, take notes!" exclaimed Maurice.

Julien glowered down at them. "Please, the Big X eats this salty dungeon any day of the week, you heathens! I mean, where's the people, the music, the tasty beats that are supposed to keep us up till dawn? I don't see any of that here! I bet they don't even serve any quality alcohol!"

"Then leave. Nobody's forcing ya to stay," his ex-lover said as she went inside. Julien exchanged glances with the others, then morosely followed her in.

At least His Majesty could take solace in the fact that the bar was even prettier on the inside than it was on the outside. There was hardly a thing here that wasn't ornamented in some way or another: a ship rudder hanging on a wall, adjoined by lifebuoys and a bevy of fish species that looked so lifelike he couldn't tell whether they were real or artfully-done imitations. On another wall, surf boards, paintings, and tiki carvings and masks, the latter two blurring the lines between their offshore origins and the native traditions of the great African island. On the ceiling rafters, fish float lamps of warm and cool colors alike, hanging around a shallow forest of plant life. The bar area itself was thatched all over just like the roof, and even the cocktails in the customers' tables were for the most part served in shiny tiki-shaped ceramic mugs.

And yet, all this charm could do little to improve the king's opinion that they would've been better off somewhere else. At least the bar seemed to be in no short supply of drinks, so he had that to look forward to.

As soon as the group walked through the door, they were spotted by the bartender, who had seemed to have run out of drinkware to clean, and now distracted himself by doing the same with the shelved stock – when he saw who was coming in behind Crimson, his mouth fell open, and he became dangerously close to dropping the bottle of rum he was holding. "Oh, hey, Crimson! You – you're back!" He hurried to return it to the shelf, straightening up to make himself look more presentable in presence of royalty. "And with very special company, I see!"

"Yeah, there's been a change of plans, I'm afraid," she replied less-than-enthusiastically. "Did ya guard my table like I asked?"

The man swept his hand in its direction – just as he'd foretold, nothing had changed since the departure of his most faithful client. "Still there. Been keeping it clean and comfy just for you, baby girl."

"Hmmm..." Grinning, she sauntered up to him, and gave his right cheek a brief affectionate caress. "Now there's a good boy... Say, would ya be so kind as to dust off your wares and serve me and my friends here something to take this blasted heat off? We're all in need of a lil' uplifting."

"Oh, of course! Just place your orders; it's not everyday we receive a visit from the top dog himself and his entourage! It'll be an honor!" He stared at Julien with a big welcoming grin on his face, which was listlessly returned. He could tell at a first glance that, much like Crimson, he wasn't here because he wanted to, but because he had to.

"'Sup, dude," he muttered, waving. "Please tell me the reason this pub is so empty is nothing I should be worrying about – you know... 'cause it is a pub, right?"

The other lemur didn't quite understand what he was implying, yet kept smiling as though he did. "Uh, yes, sir. It is. We only sell food and licensed drinks here; no funny or illegal business."

"Cool."

Then Maurice hopped onto one of the many vacant stools, which, in line with the overall theme, were sculpted in the shape of tiki heads. "Why don't you guys take a seat while me and Mort take care of things over here?" he suggested; the king nodded his response, and off he went with the girls. "Any of you want something in particular? A few snacks, some beer... Perhaps a frozen margarita, Your Majesty?"

"Meh, anything will do. Just make sure it's strong, with a nice beachy flavor."

"Yeah, you be the judge, mate. We trust ya," his guardian reiterated. The aye-aye looked at her sister, who shook her head.

"I'm fine, thanks."

The three proceeded to take their seats around Crimson's old spot by the window. There was not a smile in sight; Clover was having some heavy second thoughts about this, while the animosity between the king and his would-be queen was thick in the air. To counteract this, Julien turned his head aside and pretended to get lost in the peaceful goings-on of the beach below, very obviously wishing he could be somewhere else. He could feel those beguiling blue eyes he once could not get enough of boring into him so disparagingly, and this was making him extremely uncomfortable – but then, all of a sudden he caught how she glared over to her twin instead, having realized she, too, was being peered at.

"Ugh, now what?"

Clover's gaze flickered between the bartender and her. "'Baby girl?' Seriously? Who's he, another one of your disposable boyfriends?" she asked, as though expecting the answer to be a resounding yes.

"Oh please, get your head outta the gutter; he's just an acquaintance," Crimson explained, "His name is Dwayne; decent fella. Quite the looker too, but I don't think of him that way, y'know? Not every guy I meet has to be a one-and-done thing."

The orange twin put both elbows on the table, arching a brow. "Hm, really? Your original goals for tonight say otherwise... but I digress – if that's how the people here treat ya, I do wonder why you're in such a mad hurry to get into the Xanadu. I mean, it may be a lil' inactive and whatnot, but aside from that, you seem to be doing fairly okay in the... companionship department. Ya wouldn't have wanted to come back here if that weren't the case. Just tell your 'friend' there to set up a music system somewhere, install a bunch of strobe lights, and you're all set – parties with plenty of seaside fun and boys to romance every single night. You'll laugh at the notion of even having a nightclub around."

"Oh, shut up. You think you're so special, looking down on me from your ivory tower; well, you aren't. You be the one forced to crawl 'round this backwater hole with nothing to keep ya entertained for months on end; see how long it takes before ya start begging for a way out," the red one hissed, deducing Clover was making fun of her out of spite – which her next sentence failed to deny.

"Well, there's always a way if you're willing enough. Knowing ya, I'm honestly floored you haven't tried to take one of your 'shortcuts' into the Big X..."

Crimson chuckled at her understandingly. "Who says I haven't? Heh, believe me, sis, if only Butterfish weren't such a tough nut to crack, this place would be the last I'd be in right now. Seriously, I must've tried every trick under the sun to get him to let me in, but nothing fazes him... so I just did the sensible thing: give up." Then she shrugged, her tone adopting a slight hue of revulsion as she added, "But hey, it is for the best; every second I spent degrading myself flirting with that simpleton was a second I spent wishing someone would come and put me outta my misery."

"Well, that's good you stopped; you do know he has a wife and a kid, right?"

"Yeah, unfortunately, I guess he's just not into smaller girls, given the kinda company he keeps, so him holding off my wiles for as long as he has doesn't surprise me. Y'know, as much as this whole dilemma with the club has made me hate the bloke's fat guts, at least I'll give him that: he's loyal to his partner and always sticks by her side – unlike someone else I know..."

Though she wasn't looking at anyone in particular when she said this, it couldn't have been more evident who she was referring to. Letting out a sigh, Julien rolled his eyes at her and, rather than retorting something to defend himself or telling her to drop the subject already, simply stood from his seat – and walked away. He wasn't in the right frame of mind to start squabbling with her yet again, especially not in the middle of a small, quiet bar replete with strangers.

The two twins stared at him as he went to help Mort and Maurice with the drinks, after which Clover shot Crimson a hard glare.

"...You just can't give that a rest, can ya?" she whispered then.

"No! No, I can't! And neither should you!" her sister protested rather noisily, "Why are you always defending him, huh; what if you were in my place? Would ya let him rip your heart outta your chest and stomp all over it, and then carry on with a smile like nothing happened? Somehow, I don't think so!"

"Listen, we're not having this discussion, so shut your whiny gob and let it be!"

At these words, Crimson crossed her arms and bounced back in her chair to rancorously stare out the window. Not even ten seconds later, following her king's example, Clover got up, too. "I'll give an extra hand to the guys," she mumbled, "They kinda look like they need one."

The other twin covertly peeked over once she'd been left alone – they most definitely did not look like they did.

"Ignore her, Your Majesty," Clover told Julien once they were out of earshot, "She just wants to get under your skin."

He waved her off. "Ah, that's alright. Some folks choose to live in the past; if that's what she wants, that's her prerogative. She'll probably be mad at me till the day she kicks the bucket, or I kick the bucket – whoever does it first. I've made my peace with that."

"I know... Just... just try not to add fuel to the fire, okay?"

"Of course! This could be the night for you, Clo-Clo; I'll do whatever I can to stay in my lane."

She smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you. Anyway, let's get our drinks on, and go on from there."

"Awesome! How are those coming along, by the way?" he asked Dwayne.

"Coming right up, Your Majesty!" he responded; in less than a minute he had the last of the cocktails mixed and poured into four mugs, whereupon he garnished them with fruit, straws, and tiny paper umbrellas, and then presented them to his fellow lemurs with a wide, beaming smile. "Here you go – one spiced piña colada, one blue lagoon for the lady, and two classic Mai Tais on the rocks, as requested. I hope they'll be to your liking." This time, Julien smirked back; the poor man was obviously exalted to not only serve someone of royal stature, but to have something to do other than clean things hardly anyone was using.

"Much obliged." The ringtail scooped up both Mai Tais in his hands (one was for him, the other for Mort; the mouse lemur had insisted on it), and he was on his way back to the table – when the shrill voice of his little friend suddenly called out.

"Hey King Julien, check this out!"

Looking quite excited, Mort was hopping up and down in front of something that he couldn't believe they'd missed before: the jukebox, still sitting in its unattended corner. Julien's eyes widened as he stepped over, giving Mort a shove with his foot. He could count the number of times he'd seen one of these in a single hand; in his world of bass-boosted stereos and ear-blisteringly loud speakers, such a bizarre and outdated device was little more than a fun novelty for more specialized venues. At last, something to smile about!

"Oh! Nice little doohickey you guys got here! Finally something to get the party started!" Slot by slot, his eager eyes began to skim through the track list. "Boy, look at all these genres: we've got pop, some rock, surf stuff, house, reggae, country, a bit of funk on the side – and hey, feast your eyes on that! 'Until the Sun Comes Up'...! Wow, and here I thought every copy of that ditty had ended up in a landfill or something after we disbanded the NWF!"

"Well, it was a number-one hit on the charts, and we did 'sing' it... Makes sense it'd have some fans left," Maurice opined as he arrived with Clover.

Julien huffed at him. "And what fans they were... I still remember those groupies like it were yesterday. Such good times..." Then he looked back at the bartender, his smile lapsing a bit. "What's up with the thing, though; why isn't it playing any music? We could get something resembling an actual good time going on if it were!" he argued, yet just before he could be warned not to bother, the king handed his drinks to his advisor (who already was burdened enough carrying his own), and he selected the song that long ago had catapulted him to pop superstardom. "Nevermind, I'll do it."

Then he waited and waited, yet to his dismay, the song would not start, testing his already-thin patience. "Uh, hello? Is this junk heap gonna do anything or not?" He pressed the button again, to no effect. Then, as if gripped in the cruel, sudden thralls of desperation, his fingers began fiddling with every button, every switch, and every little widget that'd move, but nothing was able to bring the ancient machine back to life; he even checked around the back to see if it was plugged in. It was. "Agh, why isn't it working?! Did you guys forget to pay the electricity bill?" he asked the barman, seemingly unaware of the fact that the overhead lamps were all on, and therefore the question made no sense.

"We didn't, Your Majesty," Dwayne explained to him, "I was gonna tell you – sadly, the damn thing hasn't worked for weeks. It fell over and now we can't figure out what's wrong with it; something must've been dislodged or broken off, or gotten stuck when it did. Me and some of the other staff have tried looking into it ourselves a few times during our free time but, at the risk of stating the obvious, we're not mechanics. I'm very sorry."

Julien's face fell at the disheartening news. "You gotta be kidding me..." Then, ignoring to retrieve the drinks from Maurice, he plodded back to the table. He waited for his associates to take their seats and distribute the mugs before he threw himself onto his chair – as far away from Crimson as the limited space would allow. "Well, then these better get me fired up quickly, 'cause to be fair, I don't know how else I'm gonna be able to stand being here all night. No music, no people... What have I gotten myself into?" he muttered as he snatched up his Mai Tai, intending to find himself at the bottom of it in as short a time as possible.

"Now you feel my situation, hey?" Crimson hissed at him from across the table, "Not so fun when you're the one it happens to, is it?"

"Ah, be quiet, woman; don't take it out on me! I'm not the one who put you here."

"So ya see how unfair it is then?"

"Unfair, maybe. Unjustified... Well, in good faith, I can't say it isn't. As the old saying goes: you reap what you sow..."

She inched closer toward him, frowning. "And that's supposed to mean...?"

"It means what it means. Look, just let me imbibe in peace; I'm not gonna play your game."

"Why not? You too chicken, big boy?"

"Crimson...!" Clover growled under her breath, yet her sister refused to back down. She was so sick of him she wanted him to disappear from here.

"What? By all means let him explain himself!" she continued hounding the ringtail, "If he's man enough to lay me down and shag me, he can damn well say a few words to my face!"

"Crimson!"

"Yeah, I said it! Look at him now, pretending to act all shy and innocent... Heh, back then he sure was anything but!"

Mort, confused, nudged Maurice; he'd heard Clover use that word a handful of times, too. "Hey, didn't 'shag' mean-

The advisor planted a hand over his mouth; now wasn't the time for absurdities.

Shrinking away with discomfort, Julien turned himself to the window to chug his Mai Tai in silence as though Crimson were not there. He felt trapped – it would make no difference whether he ignored her like he was trying to do, or spoke to her like she kept goading him into; she was going to be mad at him either way. If it were up to him, he would've left for good to spare everyone the awkwardness, but he couldn't just abandon Clover and expect her to fix this for him... so it was with a heavy heart that he resigned to stay right where he was.

"Oi, Ju-Ju!" He twitched at the sound of fingers being repeatedly snapped at him. "Fossa got your tongue? Hey! At least have the decency to look at me when I talk to ya!"

"Crimson, that's enough!" His bodyguard dutifully came to his defense; however, before she could start scolding her sister, he raised his hand at her, commanding her to stand down. Since he didn't have much choice, he ultimately went with what he figured would be the least detrimental thing to do.

He swiveled his chair so that both lemurs were face to face, then put down his cocktail. "Look, Crimson... I'm gonna make a couple points clear before we go any further tonight," he said, his voice hushed but decidedly fierce, yet neither aggressive nor hostile; he was going for a more diplomatic approach, something that was a lot easier for him than it was for Clover. "One: let's keep our, um, personal business on the down-low, okay? Nobody outside this table has to know about that. Two: we get it, you're angry; you're angry at me and at the club, and at all those guys who've given you the cold shoulder, which is totally understandable. I feel for you, really – you're a girl who, well, has certain social needs that just aren't being met, and me, being someone who's all about that stuff too, can see how crazy it would make you. Now, with that being said, I don't think that makes you automatically free to run around like you're the queen of the jungle, treating everyone as if they owed you a damn thing; nobody gets banned from the Big X without a reason, and you've got a hella long laundry list of those. Take a good look at it, and ask yourself whether you don't deserve what you got."

"How can ya say that? I was never given a chance to prove myself!"

"And they should've given you one, but they didn't. And that's fine; when this is all over, you'll be right up there with the best! So please remember to save the I-wish-you-were-dead shtick for another time, and show a little more respect; we're kinda gonna need it if we wanna make it through to the end. That's all I ask of you. Please."

"Respect...?" A low rumble rose from Crimson's throat as she slid her chair back, and slowly stood up. Red from anger, she leaned over the table to stare into his amber eyes. "Ya want me to show ya respect? Alright... I'll show ya respect."

Suddenly, she seized the king's Mai Tai – and before either of his companions could stop her, she launched its contents at him with a lightning-fast flick of her wrist. He didn't even have a moment to gasp; the ice-cold drink struck him squarely in the face and chest, staining the silver fur an iridescent orange that soon soaked into his belly and lap. The cherry and lime slice used for garnishing, along with the mint sprig and ice cubes, were all cast to the floor, where they rested in the middle of a small puddle. His whole side of the table was drowning in liquor.

"How's that for respect, ya repellent lil' wankstain?!" she yelled at him without the faintest smidgen of remorse.

"Have you lost your mind?!" her outraged twin shouted – in a single bound, the bodyguard was out of her own seat to take her by the arm, reining her in like a mother to a rebellious child while Maurice, Mort, Dwayne and the waiter, plus several patrons scrambled around His Majesty with hoards of napkins and wet towels, all loudly voicing their indignation. "What the hell d'you think you're doing?!"

"Only what he asked me to! You're supposed to obey a king when he gives you an order, right?"

This retort caused Clover's grip to slack slightly, allowing Crimson to yank her arm free. Then, she threw Julien a glare of deepest hatred, as though she yearned for nothing more than the need to follow her assault through with a well-earned slap across the face, before glaring at her sister instead. "Y'know what? Y'all can burn in hell. Each and every one of you. I'm grabbing the first guy I see out there and I'm legging it outta here with him – at least he'll make my time worthwhile, unlike the lot of ya cretins. Have a nice bloody night." And with that, she whipped around... and calmly strode off to the exit.

"Crimson!" Clover called after her, "Crimson, get back here!"

She did no such thing. She was gone in a blink. The entire room fell quiet.

Fortunately, thanks to the quick action of the other lemurs, every smear could be wiped out without them leaving any noticeable marks. The waiter then mopped the mess on the floor and cleaned the table; in no time flat, everyone had returned to their posts, and everything was back to normal – except for the now-empty chair where Crimson had just been.

"My gods, I'm so sorry, Your Majesty!" Clover babbled in a rushed attempt to find excuses for her sister's conduct, albeit unsuccessfully. "I – I don't know what to say; she must've-

He raised his hand at her again, hushing her. He had no desire to hear it.

They just sat there, pondering how could've everything gone so wrong so quickly, when Dwayne's voice broke the silence. The kind bartender was fixing Julien another Mai Tai to replace the lost one. "...You'll have to forgive her, Your Majesty," he said, an apologetic gleam in his eye, "This isn't her first outburst of the night. Er, would you like me to inform the manager and... uh, well..." He let the question hang in the back of his throat, for he didn't want to tell out loud what he was thinking of, though Julien still guessed it with ease.

"Ban her? Nah, there's no need for that. A little wetness never hurt anybody," he replied, clearly displeased that his pristine coat had very nearly been tainted. Yet, at the same time, he couldn't entirely fault Crimson for doing this; as pedantic as her undying hatred of him was, it couldn't be denied that he'd brought it all on himself, hence his barely making a fuss about it.

"Yes, sir." Dwayne nodded. Shortly after, he finished up the new drink and passed it over to the waiter, who delivered it to the king with a servile bow. "She's always like that around here, you know?" he continued, "Always bored and moody – ever since most of our clientele decided it wasn't worth it to keep coming here anymore, it's like she's been stuck in a terrible rut..." His thoughts hearkened back to that troubling conversation she and him had had not long ago; the entourage was listening to him intently. "Tonight though... she didn't look bored or angry or anything. She just looked... sad. I think she must be going through some pretty touchy... issues regarding her personal life."

Becoming suspicious, Clover slitted her eyes at him. "Issues? What kind?"

Dwayne stored away the ingredients he'd mixed the drink with, then propped both of his rough knuckles on the counter. "Well, ma'am, I'm not sure I can disclose the specifics there – consumer privacy prevents me to – but I will say that, from what little I've gathered... I'm looking right at them."