Go out for a drink (Yeens Day 1)

.>You spend the morning hours agonizing over the email along with the best resources your google-fu can come up with; in the end you feel like you've learned very little. Everything you find either tells you things you already could assume, or is written in thick legalese; you know just enough to know that the bits you don't know are important.
.>By noon you've given up for the day. The state respects the areas traditions enough to provide you a lawyer, but until they actually get assigned to you (and presumably get in contact with you), there's not much you can do.
.>Aside from stress out and worry.
.>And you know what goes well with that?
.>Booze. Not beer-- Booze.
.>You get dressed-- enough to not look too out of place day drinking at some dive bar, anyway-- and head out from your apartment. You don't have any hard stuff at home, and you're terrible at mixing drinks anyway. The neighborhood you're in-- Chutesville-- may be shitty, but you've heard that the bartenders in it aren't. At least, not as bad as you'd be, with your lack of knowledge, experience, and materials.

.>The sun is shining as you move along the street, letting you see the trash that lines the concrete in its full glory. If you could afford to be anywhere else, you would; there's a reason you try and spend most of your time either at work, at the range, or at the shops.
.>Literal garbage lines the curb, abandoned cars and overflowing dumpsters taking up space in the alleyways and vacant lots. The concrete is cracked, and it's hard to find any greenery or shade. Potholes the size of mortar impacts line the road, and the occasional abandoned shopping cart lays abandoned on the sidewalk.
.>Fortunately for you, you're alone as you amble along. Aside from wolf-whistles and cat calls (both literal) from the occasional passing car, of course, but none of them wanna stop around here either. Still, you keep your head on a swivel; at least you can see, unlike the night.
.>You don't go out past the parking lot at night.
.>Maybe your assigned wife will live somewhere a bit nicer.

.>You shake your head, trying to physically clear the thought out. The time for moping is at the bar, wherever you decide to go. You pull out your phone and have a quick look at what's open nearby.
.>A thought enters your head, and you can't help but snort.
.>Maybe the courts will go easy on you if someone takes advantage of you, walking around distracted like this. There's plenty of stories about it-- some dumb, distracted human wanders into a neighborhood he shouldn't and gets yanked off into an alleyway. Or just stripped right there in the street.
.>Issues of harassment rarely get brought to court or really punished-- Pat's charge of it against you is just for sting-- but to their credit, they take **** seriously. Special Assignment Pool and detainment seriously. But what matters to you is that the victims-- invariably human males-- usually get benefits. Perhaps a delay in a concurrent trial, or even a reduction or dropping of charges?
.>Fuck. You really do need a drink. That shit happens at night, anyway.
.>You pat your Tokarev, nestled in your waistband. You'd be in deep shit if an officer caught you carrying, but they hardly patrol this neighborhood.
.>And if something were to happen, it wouldn't be hard to claim your assailant had it on them. After all, if Rebecca could use it, pretty much any anthro could. And it's cheap enough to make sense, given the spending habits of most around Chutesville. Maybe...

.>You sigh, digging your nails into your palm. This court shit's certainly not good for your mental health. You make a note to ask your assigned lawyer to countersue.
.>A neon sign catches your eye, pushing your dark thoughts back a little. "Pomewater" it reads, with... an apple? a heart with a little leaf on it? You're not sure. What matters is that there's also a neon "open" sign lit up, and the tinted windows promise a bit of privacy-- from the sun and from passersby. You check your phone: not too many reviews, solid 3.4/5.
.>Good enough.
.> You walk in, and are immediately greeted with a familiar smell as your eyes adjust. The shape of the dimmed bar is still coming into focus when you realize what the smell is, the soft sound of pop music filling your ears.

.>You turn quick, but not quick enough; a large hand closes on your shoulder, stopping you in place.
.>"Whoa there, lil' humie," a chuckling voice says as you're turned back around, "You seem a little lost again!"
.>The large hyena from the day before grins, looking down at you as she pulls you close; a new wave of that distinctive yeen musk washes over you as you're pulled into the bar.
.>"It ain't safe for small fries like you around here," she says, tucking a strand of curly hair under her snapback as the rest of the pack encircles you, "Wouldn't be able to live ourselves if we let you go out... you could get hurt!"
.>The bar is filled with the sound of yipping laughter, drowning out your bewildered attempts at speech.
.>"Ooh! Ooh! Hold on Shay," a familiar voice says as you're dragged further in, "He's makin' demands again!"
.>The yeens struggle to stifle their laughter, all staring down at you as Shay lets you go. You try not to let on how stressed you are-- you don't do very well.
.>"I don't suppose I can get a drink?" you manage.
.>Your request is of course met with rancorous laughter; if you weren't gonna get tinnitus from your firearms habit, you're gonna get it now.
.>"Sure you can, cutie!" a big one says, snatching you up before the others can, "Come on, I'll get you seated."
.>You can hear the complaints of her sisters as she rushes you over to a booth, your face pressed into the 'Breakfast Club!' shirt-- which is covered in chibi breakfast foods.
.>"I'm Rae," she says, depositing you into a booth before sliding in next to you, letting you see that there is indeed a small nametag on her massive chest, "I'll be your server today."
.>She leers at you with a hum as you scramble upright; you realize that she trapped you in the booth partially to lock you in, and partially to block the others from getting to you as they tug on the back of her shirt to little effect.
.>"You said you want a drink?" she asks, scooting closer to you, leaning down close, "I'd recommend the--"

.>She's interrupted by a bout of snarling: the remaining four hyenas are fighting for a chance at taking the other side of the booth, the one on the end doing her best to stay in place.
.>"He's mine!" Rae snarls, though her sisters ignore her, "There's other tables to serve!"
.>"Fat chance, ya fat bitch!" the one with neon hair-- Kris?-- says back, “Lil' humie's the only one sad n' stupid enough to come day drinking here!"
.>As Rae starts to assist her sisters in unseating the offender, you take a quick look around through the stained glass atop the booth wall: she wasn't lying. You're the only one here.
.>As you ponder what the fuck you're going to do, the girls finish sorting themselves out. The two you recognize as Kris and Shay are stuck outside the booth, while a skinny one with a Marlyn Monroe doo and larger one with a Rosie Riveter bandana in her hair occupy the other side. All of them, for course, lean in as close as they can, offering views of their cleavage and fang-filled smiles.
.>"You look so stressed, lil' guy," the bandana one says, walking her fingers across the table toward you, "What's wrong? Get stood up?"
.>"No, I--"
.>"That wolf from the range is sooo uptight," the skinny one interrupts, feeling for your foot with her own, "I'll bet she don't put out."
.>Rae puts an arm around your shoulder and squeezes you close, cooing "Don't bother with them, I got you. Just tell me anything you want."
.>Cackling ensues as you try to speak, only to find your face pressed in the plush side of her chest, the slight smell of bacon engrained into it cutting through the stench of yeen-musk.
.>"Cut the shit, all of you," says a smaller voice, making the laughter die down, "Rae, take his order and get on it. The rest of you get back to work-- you're on the clock."
.>A familiar chorus of growling starts up; you're able to shift around in Rae's grip just enough to see the tiny hyena-- Jamie-- standing next to the booth, hands on her hips and stern look on her face.

.>"Do you want B to come out and see this is what you're all doing?"
.>The growling dies down at that remark, Kris and Shay shoving past Jamie before the two girls in the booth do the same, blowing kisses to you on their way out, flipping the bird at Jamie.
.>"That means you, Rae," the little hyena says, crossing her arms.
.>"I'm the one taking his order!" the big yeen shoots back, squeezing you against her side again. You stay frozen, unsure if that's better or worse than struggling at this point.
.>"Then get up off your ass and do it right!" Jamie says, getting loud for her size.
.>Rae's ears turn back a little, but she complies, letting you go and sliding out from the booth, doing her best to hip-check Jamie. The little yeen steps to the side, watching with an unusually stern eye. With a great sigh, Rae turns back to you and leans over the table, dropping her chest on it with a loud 'thump' that makes it shake slightly.
.>"What'dya want for grub, cutie?" she asks, almost as close to you as before-- even with your back to the wall, " I can make whatever you need."
.>"I just want a drink, I don't want--"
.>You see a fang poke out as her lips curl in a silent snarl.
.>"Could you make those fried pickle things?"
.>"A course!" she says with a cheery smile. She ruffles your hair before standing up and scribbling something on her notepad, squeezing her chest for you. "I'll be right back."
.>She again tries to hip-check Jamie, but again the little hyena sidesteps. Good thing too-- you're fairly sure she would've been sent clear across the room. Instead, the little yeen stands at the edge of the booth, leaving you a way out. Though the look of concern on her face tells you not to run for it.
.>"What the hell are you doing here?"
.>"...Day drinking," you mumble.
.>Jamie opens her mouth to berate you-- then decides not to.

.>"What'll it be?" she asks instead.
.>You hesitate, trying to read her expression when there's a loud squeaking noise-- Kris and Shay are cleaning the bar off, looking back at you over their prominent posteriors as they're bent over. Laughing, of course.
.>"Come on,--" Jamie starts, drawing you back to her as she pauses-- "Sorry, what was your name?"
.>"Anon," you say. You sigh; may as well get what you came for.
.>"White russian. More russian, less white."
.>Jamie nods, and struts off back to the bar. Kris and Shay immediately stop their 'cleaning' and try to beeline toward your booth, but the other two are quicker; Marlyn Monroe and Rosie Riveter seem to appear from nowhere, the former managing to slip in beside you. Kris and Shay stomp back to the bar, appearing to clean it for real this time.
.>"So, Anon," Marlyn says, putting an arm around your shoulder and sniffing at your hair, "Really, why is it you're here? I wasn't able to give you my number yesterday, so that couldn'tve been it."
.>"He was fated to come here," the bigger yeen across the table says, grabbing your hands, "I could feel it at the range."
.>"Ignore Aja, she's just weird," Marlyn says to you, though she doesn't stop her sister from rubbing your hands with an interest that seems beyond mere lust. "I'm Margo, by the way."
.>"All I wanted was a drink," you say, doing your best to stay calm as Margo pulls back a little to look at you, "I didn't have any good stuff at home, so I ended up here."
.>"No one 'ends up' anywhere," Aja says, squeezing your hands with a wink. She turns them over and begins tracing your palms with her claws, just light enough to only break one layer of skin.
.>"She's into witchy stuff," Margo explains, "Read too many a them 'Perry Otter' books. Now she think she a fortune teller or somethin'."

.>You want to make a comment on her hair, but decide against it. So does Aja, mainly because she's engrossed in your hands-- not by lust, but something else.
.>"Now come on, Anon," Margo says, "Tell us what's wrong..."
.>Her fingers dip down to your waistline, balling around your belt.
.>"...We can fix it better than ****..." she growls into your ear.
.>There's a laugh. A normal sounding one: you turn to see Jamie has finally returned, white russian in hand.
.>"We'll see about that," she says, sliding the glass over to you before crossing her arms.
.>You get the feeling she's waiting for you to drink, so you do, pulling one hand away from Aja: extra vodka, just like you asked, but not so much that you can't taste the liqueur.
.>"This'll fix me for a while," you sigh, setting down the half-drunk glass, "Thanks, Jamie."
.>"Now go on, your work's done," Margo says to her sister, shooing with one hand, "I'll handle him the rest of the way."
.>The little yeen snorts. "Have fun with that."
.>You're a little confused as Jamie walks back to the bar, leaving you to the palm reader and the palmsy movie-star look alike: has her sympathy for you run out? Has her patience with her slacking sisters ended?
.>You get your answer as you see ripples in your milky drink: Rae pulls up to the table, an enormous basket of frickles in hand.
.>"Move, Margo," she says, "I got a customer to serve."
.>"I'm comforting him," she shoots back with a growling edge, "He's stressed, if you couldn't tell."
.>...She's not wrong...
.>"I'm the server, that's my job," Rae says, "Not my fault I was faster and that it's slow."
.>Margo growls, beginning to massage you roughly-- you wince, the act clearly for show. Rae huffs in response, and turns around.
.>"I'm sitting down in five seconds," she warns over her shoulder, "Five, four, three, two..."
.>"Alright, alright!"
.>Margo scrambles out from the booth. You don't blame her: you make sure to give the huge hyaenid plenty of room as she enters the booth, setting the basket between you.
.>"Why don't you bitch at Aja?" Margo growls, hands on the edge of the table.

.>"'Cause I'm actually helping," the curly-haired hyena says, continuing to run her claws over your palm. She seems to be content with just your left hand, so you reach for the basket of frickles with your right-- only to find one already at your mouth.
.>"What do you think?" Rae asks, shoving the pickle-chip against your lips, "Go on, try it!"
.>You take it from her, glad she doesn't insist on another right away. She stares as you chew, trying not to look right back at her.
.>"It's pretty good, Rae," you say, offering the best smile you can manage before downing the rest of your white russian to dull your nerves.
.>"Okay, now try one of these," she says, pulling another fried shape from the basket. You manage to catch it before she can shove it in your mouth; apparently, she wasn't satisfied with just chip-shaped pickles.
.>"I didn't know what you'd exactly like, so I made a variety," she says. She wasn't lying: spear pickles, babies, huge dill-pickles all lay in the basket covered in crispy batter.
.>"That's thoughtful," you manage, watching her ready another variety as you take a bite of her current offering.
.>"Jamie!" your overly-attentive, overweight waitress yells over to the bar, "Get him another drink! He's still stressed out!"
.>"You're no help," Aja mutters-- your palm did jump a little at Rae's bellow
.>Rae snorts, shoving a spear pickle into your mouth. "And what are you doing, great wizard?"
.>Aja says nothing; you're beginning to ask the same question Margo did earlier before she ran off.
.>"Whatever," Rae shakes her head, "Anon, tell me a little 'bout yourself. You must live around here, since I didn't see no car pull up."
.>"Yes," you answer, if only to give yourself time to chew, "I moved here a while ago. Rent was cheap."
.>A chorus of laughter echoes throughout the bar, Aja included-- you notice that the other three yeens are cleaning the adjacent booths, ears pricked.
.>"Got that right," Rae says, feeding you a baby pickle now, "Why come to New Apple? Work?"

.>"College, at first," you say, "But now, yeah, work."
.>There's harmony as the sisters all "oooh," though this time Aja abstains.
.>"A learned little human. I bet that's why you're all stressed."
.>Rae pulls you close to her again, this time leaving your face open to the air.
.>"Might not be much of a study partner," she whispers as much as she can, "But I could--"
.>"That's not why!" Aja gasps suddenly, letting go of your hand before grasping it again. Though this time it's not about gypsy magic.
.>"Something happened at the range yesterday," she says slowly, staring you in the eyes, "Something that'll change your life. And you're afraid."
.>Rae is about to say something, but then she sees your expression-- presumably shock with a hint of wonder-- and closes her mouth, taking back the pickle she had primed for you.
.>"Of course!" Kris jeers from the edge of the table now, "That's when he met me! Don't worry, Anon, I won't go too hard on--"
.>Someone smacks her-- seemingly as drawn to Aja as you are.
.>"I'm right, aren't I?"
.>You nod slowly, the mix of booze, the gazes of 5 huge hyenas, and what appears to be magic filling you with uncertainty.
.>"Well, go on," Shay says, sliding in next to her fortune-telling sister, "What is it? She did her palm-reading for free, only fair you tell us what it was."
.>"I... Uh..."
.>Another glass slides over to you; Jamie stands at the edge of the booth, appearing just as interested as the rest. And you know what? It feels pretty nice.
.>"Well," you say, taking a drink from the fresh glass before exhaling heavily, "I'm getting fucked. Fucked by the anthrostate-- no, not the state. Just one bitch. You ever meet a german shepherd named Patricia at the range?"

.>Your audience shakes their heads, though Shay pipes up "I think I saw one walking past one time."
.>"She's got a problem with me and Talia. Me in particular. And... yesterday, she had a chance to finally do something about it. One of my guns malfunctioned in front of her, and now I'm getting charged with like five or six different things."
.>"How can she do that?" Aja asks, the others sharing looks of disapproval.
.>"I don't know," you sigh, taking another drink, "But she's making damn fine use of it. If I can't fight it, I'm getting put in Special Assignment."
.>The pack "ooohs" again, though this time it sounds sympathetic.
.>"Yeah, a little guy like you don't belong there," Kris says, "You seem a little screwy, but not like some kinda terrorist or psycho. Might be an improvement over that RSO though."
.>Jamie hits her, neither of them breaking concentration on you.
.>"Well, thanks," you laugh dryly. You do feel a little better; maybe this wasn't such a bad misadventure after all.
.>"She and I are trying to figure things out, since she was there and Pat also charged me with False Courtship Claims."
.>Even through the two extra-strong russians, you can feel the mood change around the booth.
.>"So... wait, you were lying when you said you're with the she-wolf?" Margo asks.
.>"Well, no," you say, your nerves firing up again, "We're not married-- we're still doing courtship. Which is why--"
.>Rae shifts you closer and presses her nose into your hair, sniffing.
.>"--I don't smell like her. Exactly. We both kind of smell like gunpowder anyway. You know. Being on the range..."
.>You trail off as Rae loosens her grip on you, seemingly satisfied with your nervous ramblings. Hopefully she puts the nerves up getting manhandled.
.>You empty the glass as they stare, taking your time and turning inward. Talking about the situation out loud is cathartic, but it also reinforces how much of a shitsuation it is. Or maybe that's just the booze.

.>"Anyway, that's why I went out day drinking." you sigh. "I'm glad I came here--"
.>The whole table lets out an "aww," Rae squeezing you affectionately to her,
.>"--But I should probably get going."
.>Their reaction this time is a bit less pleased.
.>"I'll pay your tab," one offers; "Decompress a little more," says another.
.>"More readings could help," Aja says, but Rae pulls you forcefully into her lap and cradles you away from the others, saying "You didn't finish your order!"
.>"If he's got to go, he's got to go," Jamie sighs as her sisters clamor around your booth.
.>"I'm not letting him go out," Rae says, squeezing your face into one of her breasts, "It's dangerous for a man like him!"
.>"Yeah, Jamie," Shay agrees, "We're 'looking after our customer,' like you always tell us!"
.>You do kinda feel like they are... but that might be the booze and the big, plush breast you're pressed into right now. There's the fresh smell of fried food baked into Rae's shirt, too.
.>"Then you two should have no problem giving him an escort," you hear the little hyena say, "Get his face out of your tit, Rae, and let him talk. You can get him a box if he really needs it."
.>The full-bodied hyena reluctantly cradles you a bit lower, and you find yourself sharing the feeling more than you'd expected. The pack stares at you in anticipation-- and you don't find yourself terrified. In fact, you almost feel the opposite.
.>"You know... Maybe I could stay a little longer..."

.>It's five hours later when you're finally able to smell something other than yeen-musk again-- though it's still there, and not just because Shay and Rae are on either side of you, walking you back through the streets in the late sun.
.>Not that you necessarily regret it. Even without the booze, you'd probably have thought it was a good time. The pack was, of course, ecstatic that you decided to stay a little longer. Things were slow, so you were about their only source of entertainment on the job.
.>And contrary to what you worried, they didn't get too egregious with their 'entertainment,' if only because they were each trying to prevent the others from getting too far along with you. Probably was why Jamie sent two of the sisters back with you.
.>Not literal sisters, you learned-- there are a few different families working at that bar-- but definitely sisters. They all work close, live close, play close. Though they're each a little different.
.>You found it a little strange their numbers were halved from the day before for that reason, but 'time off' made sense. Only so much space, after all. And only so much traffic. They'd come in for later shifts, when business picked up. Apparently it's not so dead at night, which is why the sisters eventually agreed to walk you back before then.
.>Though part of you thinks it's because they didn't want any more competition.
.>You do your best to try and not look like you're on your tiptoes as you're escorted toward the door by the two much larger women, their hands gripping your upper arms, but it doesn't work well. The three remaining yeens fill the bar with their yipping laughs, Rae and Shay doing the same when they realize what they're doing.
.>"Maybe I should just carry you," Rae laughs as you tiptoe onto the street. The heat is oppressive now, but you can smell again.
.>"Nah," Shay says, letting your arm go, "That'd hurt his little pride."

.>Rae makes a cooing noise before doing the same, letting you get your footing before moving.
.>"Which way, Anon?"
.>"I'm on Glendale," you manage, struggling a little to keep up with their long strides, "So, uh, this way until with hit it, then right."
.>Your escorts deliver you to the front door with little trouble and only a little mischief, bopping you back and forth between their hips just a few times for fun. It was a little fun, you'll admit. What was nicer was being able to walk the street without worry: you may have been buzzed, but you noticed the distinct lack of catcalls or slowdowns from passing cars, as many as there were.
.>And much to your surprise, Shay and Rae weren't overly affectionate themselves-- perhaps they were a little serious about guarding you. They mostly just talked with you; Shay's got a music collection and Rae has a small library of cookbooks.
.>Once you arrive at the front of the apartment building, Rae hands you the little box of frickles you didn't manage to finish, even with occasional help from the girls.
.>"Alright, Anon, good luck with the case!" she says, before leaning down and giving you a sloppy kiss on the forehead, "And come back around if you need a good meal; I promise, it'll be better than any bar-food you've ever tasted!"
.>"Uh, sure," you say, unsure if you'll pull through, "I--"
.>"Tell you what," Shay interrupts, pulling something from her low crop top and handing it to you, "Here's our card. You give us a call if you need our... services."
.>"...Escort services?"
.>"Yeah," she nods, her tone making it obvious which she means, "Those."
.>She gives you a kiss too as you stand there a little dumbstruck, this one on the cheek, before the two of them turn tail.
.>"Bye-bye, Anon," Shay calls back to you, Rae waving, "See you soon."
.>"Uh, yeah," you manage, offering a wave back before you get your head again and go inside.

.>Back in the relative safety of your apartment, you examine the card: it's got the same logo as the sign, though the apple is a little more detailed. 'Service and food ripe as the Pomewater,' it reads. You scratch your head; you've never heard the term before, and you're a history nerd. And given the theme you saw inside-- rustic, almost English-- the whole place seems a bit more highbrow than the girls are letting on.
.>You let out a little sneeze; christ, even the card smells like yeen. Though, given where it came from, that's not surprising. You give yourself a sniff-- yep, you smell like them too.
.>Your phone goes in the shower as you're trying to process what happened today, of course, and you scramble only to find it's a text from Talia.
.>'Get anything done?'
.>You make her wait until you're out, choosing your words carefully.
.>'I think I got some witnesses.'
.>'Witness-witnesses?'
.>'Character witnesses. They're not exactly priests themselves, but there's a lot of them.'
.>'Well, some is better than none. Talked with the gun people; I think they'll handle that side of things better than whatever DA you're assigned. When you get their info, send it my way so we can talk.'
.>'Sounds good. I'll update you as soon as I can.'
.>You lay in bed for a bit, trying to sleep as something nags at the back of your head. You give in, booting up your computer.
.>You've got research to do.
.>And it ain't about law.