Truce.

Grimm and Mars were lying in the grass, groaning. They were both flat on their backs, looking up at the sky, and probably not thinking about the series of odd decisions that led to this point.

"Fuck," Mars said, panting, "That was great."

"Yeah," Grimm said, also panting. "I haven't had a fight like that in a while."

"Truce?" Mars asked, reaching toward Grimm's prose form.

He took her hand and shook it. "Truce." With a loud, exaggerated groan, the bull sat up. His body ached.

Mars did the same. They were sitting up, but with their backs to each other. "Oh, man," she sighed. "You've got moves, dude."

"Same," Grimm said, chuckling. A loud gurgling sound came from Mars's direction, so the bull looked over his shoulder.

Mars rubbed her stomach. "Sorry. Still hungry." She grinned and moved to a crouching position, giving Grimm a glimpse of her ass. Her cheeks jiggled slightly as she shifted.

Grimm let out a long sigh, then smiled. "Fuck it," he said, laughing. "Let's eat! You beat me, after all."

Mars looked back at him. "True!" She paused for a second. "Although technically I also lost."

"Eh. As I said, fuck it," Grimm said, crawling over to his food stash.