Kev finally relaxed a bit and enjoyed his meal. The tuna was flaky and flavorful, the asparagus perfectly tender-crisp. It seemed like the worst of the business negotiations were over already, and they had gone relatively well. Sure, Fang had almost lost it there for a second, but Kev felt good. It seemed like Fang had gotten a great deal, and he didn't even have to do anything other than call the old goat-man... Pops.
Kev sipped his cranberry drink and looked around the table. Everyone was eating with an intense, focused energy. Horns was hunched over his plate, Dale was methodically working his way through his meal, Bozeman was grumbling but still eating, and even Fang was attacking his own dinner with a renewed, happy vigor. Kev grinned. Reepia's food never seemed to disappoint.
Before he knew it, he was finishing his salad and lighting a cigarette. He glanced over at Talon, who had just finished his own glass of milk with a contented sigh. "Guess Rex isn't the only one who likes milk," Kev said with a grin.
Talon merely nodded. "Milk has protein."
Kev knew that Talon must be feeling a bit out of place at the table, sitting across from the woodpecker woman, Nail, who had deconstructed her shrimp salad and was now neatly arranging it on her plate before eating. But Kev hoped Talon would understand that he felt a bit out of place, too, sitting across from the otter-man who had, at one point, called Bruno over to... feed him.
Kev remembered Bruno standing hunched over the table, using a fork to spear a piece of salmon and delicately place it into Warlock's waiting mouth. Kev had tried very hard not to look up from his food and make eye contact...
However, there were not many other places to look. Baphomet was still sitting stock-still, slowly chewing, his eyes sweeping across his new nephews or cousins or... something. Next to him, Sterling had only cut his chuck into a few large pieces. The cobra would then unhinge his jaw and, with a series of slow, muscular contractions, swallow the large hunks of meat whole. And finally, there was Kick, who was just enjoying his burger, but he was so far diagonal that it would be strange if Kev was eating with his head turned.
But now, everyone was done. He sat back and let Talon's "protein" comment wash off him as he took another drag from his cigarette.
Baphomet's bell jingled. "Now, my son," he said, his baritone voice silencing the chatter, "now that we have eaten and our spirits are high, I must admit to you a weakness of mine."
Fang suddenly paid attention. "And that would be?"
The Father folded his hands. "Your room... in the west wing... it was inspired... the years of entertainment."
Kev glanced over. He didn't expect the ascetic goat to be a show tunes guy... but he was a priest...
"My son. Show me a fight."
Kev frowned. But he was a priest...
Fang looked back at Rex, who shook his head. "Nothing scheduled in the pit tonight, boss."
"My apologies... Pops," Fang managed to get out, before pausing to shake his fur a bit. "Fewer fighters are willing to brawl without a camera on them... like anyone will truly care other than those who are close enough to smell the blood."
Baphomet's rectangular pupils dilated just the smallest bit. "A member of your security, then. There really is nothing like watching two brave souls struggle so fiercely."
Before Kev could stop it or Fang could approve it, Warlock leaned over to the goat. "Mr. Kev told me earlier that they do not want to sacrifice any pawns right now. They are running low because they are trialing a 'day off' policy."
As Baphomet was informed about the strange human worker's rights ideas, Fang quietly questioned his human. "When did you tell him about the day-off policy?"
Kev ashed his smoke and shrugged. "Sometime during the tour."
"Tour?" Fang questioned. "What tour? What are you talking about?"
"I gave him a tour," Kev rubbed Fang's arm quickly before leaning back in his chair again. "While you were sleeping. It was simple, and he was fine... weird... but fine."
Fang smiled and nodded, but when they turned back to the Mafiosos, Baphomet was saying, "Absurd. It's just a duel."
"Ha." Everyone turned to look at Rex. The tiger just sneered. "Real fights don't have rules. Duels are just sports."
Baphomet's bell jingled as he turned to look at the tiger by the door. "Sometimes," he said, "restrictions make the whole thing more enjoyable."
Wondering what Baphomet had meant by "duel," Kev finished his drink. Warlock had said the same thing earlier, and Kev had thought it just meant a fight, but apparently, it was a specific type of fight.
"Pussy shit," Rex scoffed and crossed his arms, looking away.
Baphomet sighed. "So we will not see the tiger. But maybe another? Sterling here is quite formidable in a duel." He gently gestured to the cobra man, who looked over and spit into the cuspidor again before grinning at Fang.
Kev, a bit too emboldened by his drink, couldn't take it anymore. "What do you mean by 'duel'? I haven't heard of it before." He glanced towards the country-western cobra. "Do you walk ten paces, then turn?"
Baphomet raised an eyebrow. "No. Gentleman's rules."
"Like boxing?" Kev asked.
Rex burst out laughing. "Shut up, human! He means natural weapons only!"
"Thanks, Rex," Kev muttered, pulling out another cigarette.
"Bah," Fang scoffed. "In the fighting pit, you only have your claws and teeth. You're just asking for a regular fight."
A ping of spit hitting the small brass spittoon in front of the snake-man rang out before he spoke. "I reckon... Mr. Rex over there is still as well-known as a flea on a hound's back. So when word got around the territory that he was still dustin' up them brave boys and girls ornery enough to try him, the Natural Fighting Coalition began promoting duels like it would make the rain fall in the desert in August." Sterling spat again. "It's on the ol' electric campfire now."
Kev had a hard time understanding the cobra, but he hadn't realized Rex was some sort of underground fighting star. Was his "undefeated" title something that predated his work for Fang?
"I watch it sometimes," Rex said dismissively, "but those wimps are in a ring with a padded floor. Sand is much better. Helps staunch the wounds, so it's not such a mess."
Baphomet's eyes were closed, and he had that slight smile on his face again. "Oh yes, a duel would be so wonderful after that meal. A perfect way to spend the evening with my new son."
Kev watched in slight horror as the goat raised his finger and pointed... at him? No, over his shoulder. At Talon. "...the newcomer must be good."
Kev felt a wave of absurd shock turn to absurd dread as he realized Baphomet was pointing at Talon.
"If there are no weapons in the club, then he must be a duelist too." Baphomet looked at Fang expectantly. "Would you deprive your father of a chance to bond with you?"
"I enjoy a good fight too," Fang conceded. "Rex, would you be willing to work doubles to guard Kev during the day if Talon is injured?"
"I'm already packing my bags, boss," Rex grinned.
"Alright," Fang growled. "Talon-"
"Is not a duelist," Kev said quickly.
The others looked at him, confused. He was too, but he pushed forward. "You said duels are 'natural weapons only,' right?"
"Yes," Baphomet said. "It is the most popular fighting sport currently. No-holds-barred cage match. The only weapons are your God-given ones."
Kev nodded. "I understood correctly. How about we have a different type of entertainment and let Talon demonstrate his skills?"
Talon looked over at Kev, his sharp eyes filled with utter confusion.
"Wait here," Kev said.
He stood up, his chair scraping slightly on the slate floor.
"Where are you going?" Fang reached for his human.
Kev reached out and squeezed the wolf's large hand. "I'll be right back."
Kev just walked past Rex as the tiger reluctantly opened the door. But out in the hallway, he felt like he needed to power-walk. He doubted they would be willing to wait very long for their after-meal entertainment, and he wanted desperately to prevent Talon from being forced to fight the cobra man, or worse, Bruno.
He found himself in front of the private billiards room and unlocked the door with ease. He barely looked at the room as he grabbed a handful of the darts from the board and nearly jogged back to the conservatory.
As he returned and spread the darts out on the end of the table, he was disappointed to hear Baphomet already dismissing the premise. "A child's game..."
Kev waved Talon over.
The eagle glanced around at the expectant faces as he quietly walked to Kev at the end of the long table.
"What are you doing, Mr. Kev?" he whispered.
"I'm doing my best to keep you from fighting either of their guards tonight," Kev whispered back, as he shoved the darts into Talon's hand. "Now, do you feel good? Are you feeling accurate? If you're feeling sloppy, just let me know."
Talon's hand clenched around the darts, and his eyes narrowed. "I am not sloppy."
Kev nodded and turned to the others. "This is a fun one. A human folk tale."
He looked around the room, his gaze scanning the lush plants, until he picked a sprig of small, white flowers out of a vase against the far wall. He bent the stalk of the branch and stood at the far end of the table from Talon.
As he tried to fix the plant on his head, he gazed at Talon and suddenly felt quite stupid. The table was so long. He knew he'd taken a minute to walk across the room and pick the correct target for Talon, but now, seeing the distance... he couldn't even tell the color of Talon's eyes from here.
He struggled to get the plant to stick, finally settling with tucking it behind his ear, so the white blossoms stuck up just above his head.
"So, in the real story," Kev said, his voice feeling a bit dry, "it's an apple. But I didn't have an apple, so I guess Talon will have to hit the flowers."
Kev swallowed. He could feel the flowers brushing against the side of his face. He really should have not drunk before this. He was feeling like he did on his first few nights, when he needed the alcohol just to be able to hold any sort of conversation with Fang.
He glanced over and saw Horns restraining Fang, who seemed quite concerned. On the other side, the Mafia trio were watching intently, while the lawyers seemed a bit underwhelmed. Finally, he looked up at Talon, who was already holding a dart in the throwing position. Kev shivered. Was there any time to take this back?
He froze and nearly shit himself as he saw Talon's hand move forward suddenly, sending a dart barreling towards his face.