Dance of the Mongoose (Midnight)

The first day was the worst. So many people needing his attention so much work piling up. Either way, reports were in, orders made, today at least was done. The punk was wiped and just wanted a nice cup of –

A familiar whistle gave the punk pause. Clearly an overdue meeting.

Estaban lounged on the sofa in his room. A book in one hand, a delicate cup filled with steamy, fragrant, tea and a ceramic pot on the small coffee table.

Vas was instantly swamped with a mix of anxiety, anger and … and … envy! He could smell the tea clear across the damned galley.

“Took ya long enough ta finish.” Estaban said peeking over his book. “Ya gained weight.”

Vas went near-instantly red in the face. ‘Did he just call me fat?!’ Anger or embarrassment he did NOT know which … both most likely.

“Shouldas have gotten biggah.” He said sipping his tea.

“My range of motion is just fine.” Vas griped.

“Uh-hum.” Estaban said not convinced. “Sit.” He motioned to an empty seat, leaning forward to put steaming tea in an empty little cup.

It was near impossible for Vas to say no. Not only because the tea was equivalent to catnip … well … mostly … that tea smelled amazing. Warily like a street cat Vas took the seat carefully taking the cup.

“Oh quit being so drahmatic.” Estaban said the book in his hand drooping.

“You inject a healthy dose of paranoia.” Vas said flatly.

“I wern’t that … well … “ Estaban gave a predatory smile. “ … arrite fair enough.” The man chuckled.

Vas felt like a mouse with a cat’s paw on his tail. Nothing about that was reassuring.“Case and point.” Vas said taking a sip. Damn that man and his good taste in tea. He reached for his smokes but stopped himself.

Estaban quirked an eyebrow. “Old habits do die so terribly hard apparently ...” He said holding out his hand.

Vas frowned passing his less than pristine pack of nearly empty cigs. It was black with a four-leaf clover logo and “Lucky Clover” as the brand name.

Estaban extracted a black cig for himself passing the pack back. “Look at us … like old times … tea, cigs …”

“Why are you here.” Vas said liting a cig for himself and holding out the lighter to Estaban.

“Thought that was clear.” He said taking a long drag his dark eyes glittering.

“What was it you said about assuming?” Vas sipped his tea.

“It’s a killah.”

“So, why are you here.” Vas asked again.

“Before Ah answer just can’t help but wondah … you and pigtails … Serena ... you two …” Estaban made a motion.

“What? NO! What the hell? Bùyào biàntài!(Don’t be perverted!)” Vas said flustered his face flush. Twice in one gorram day!

Estaban laughed. “Boy what are ya dead down there? Ah swear you were cold fish then and you’re a cold fish now. Dare Ah said a dead cold fish.” He continued to laugh as Vas’s expense. “I came to see if it was true. Word was you might be still kicking, so I had to see for mah self.” Estaban explained true to his word. “I havtah admit … I am glad news of your demise was greatly exaggerated.”

“Are you planning on keeping that way?” Vas asked eyes Estaban through his cigaret smoke.

The man leaned back and shrugged. “Jury’s still out.” He said contemplating. “Ah get it … you wanah … play pretend, like you’re some well heeled house dog. Make friends, rut , one would hope, … that kinda stuff. They picked you up at the pound took you in thinking you have a sweet disposition. But just below the surface? We both know you’re rabid, no one can take that outta yah. You’re a huntin dog, no more, no less. My hunting dog. If ah can find ya so can they, only difference is how long it takes for that to happen,” he warned cryptically. “Ah’m content to keep it to mahself for now. After all, I am deeply enjoying this hospitality.” Estaban added, far too pleased with himself.

Vas drained another cup getting up. “Ima, satte iku.” He rumbled.

“Tonbo wa yoku yasumu.”

That was enough to give Vas pause before walking out grumbling as Estaban watched, a wicked smile on his face.