Club Fang

The first light of dawn crept through the curtains, rousing Kev from a surprisingly restful sleep. The events of the previous night, a whirlwind of introductions and unexpected intimacies, swirled in his mind as he stretched and yawned. He made his way to the bathroom, the cool water on his face a refreshing start to the new day. A quick change into some of the clothes Horns got him, and he was ready to start the day.

Back in the kitchen, Kev found himself once again grappling with the unfamiliar task of making coffee without electricity. He'd managed to boil some water on the stovetop, lighting the stove with a match was a small victory, but the process of filtering the grounds proved to be a messy and frustrating endeavor. Just as he was about to give up in defeat, a knock sounded at the door.

Horns stood on the threshold, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced by a weary slump. "Morning, Kev," he greeted, his voice raspy and tired.

"Come in, Horns," Kev said, gesturing towards the couch. "You look like you could use a seat."

Horns gratefully accepted the invitation, sinking into the cushions with a sigh. He pulled out his trusty pouch and rolled a joint with practiced ease, the familiar scent of the herb filling the air.

"Long night?" Kev asked, watching Horns light up and take a deep drag.

"It was a good night, for the most part," Horns replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "The first half was smooth sailing, but things went back to their usual chaos once you headed to bed."

Kev raised an eyebrow, curious. "What happened?" he asked, watching Horns intently.

Horns shrugged, a weary smile playing on his lips. "Fang just being his usual self," he explained. "Pacing the floors, barking orders, checking every little detail. You know how he gets."

He noticed Kev's struggle with the coffee-making apparatus. "Here, let me help you with that," he offered, stepping forward and gently grabbing the filters.

Kev gratefully relinquished control of the coffee-making operation, taking a seat at the small kitchen table while Horns worked his magic. The mooseman's large frame made the already cramped kitchen feel even smaller, but Kev didn't mind. He was grateful for the company and the distraction from his failed attempts at caffeine.

"I think Fang's just worried about the club," Kev said as the moose-man handed him a cup. "He's trying to do what's best for the business, even if his methods are a bit... intense."

Horns nodded in agreement. "I know his intentions are good," he said, his voice laced with a hint of frustration. "But sometimes he goes overboard. He ends up intimidating the staff instead of inspiring them."

Horns took a sip of his coffee, a contemplative look in his eyes. "You know Rebecca, the cat girl who brought you your food and drinks the past two nights?" he asked, watching Kev's reaction.

Kev nodded, remembering the friendly waitress with the piercing green eyes. "I do. I introduced myself to her last night."

Horns leaned forward, a hint of intrigue in his voice. "She's the first waitress who's volunteered to serve Fang," he revealed. "He usually scares them off, and there's always an argument about who has to wait on him."

Kev's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Fang had seemed stern, but not particularly intimidating during their interactions. "Really?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

Horns chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the couch. "She even volunteered to take the VIP table again tonight," he added, shaking his head in amusement. "And that's without even getting a tip from Fang. Most of the staff avoid him like the plague, but she seems ok with him... or rather, you."

He paused, his gaze meeting Kev's. "Fang's almost a completely different person when you're around, Kev," he observed. "Much more relaxed, more approachable. She hasn't seen him like that without you, so she's not scared."

Kev chuckled nervously, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "That sounds ridiculous, Horns," he said, shaking his head. Yet, he remembered the way Fang had yelled at the woman he'd fired just hours earlier, his voice loud with anger and frustration. Was Fang really acting differently around him?

He poured himself a cup of the freshly brewed coffee, the rich aroma filling the air. "Thanks for the help," he said to Horns, offering a grateful smile.

He took a sip of the hot beverage, savoring the warmth and caffeine jolt. "So," he asked, turning back to Horns, "what are your plans for the day?"

Horns let out a long, weary sigh. "I'm heading home in a bit to catch some sleep. Hopefully, I'll get a few hours of peace before the madness starts all over again tonight."

He looked at Kev, a hint of concern in his eyes. "Is there anything you need before I head out?" he asked. "Anything I can bring you later?"

Kev shook his head. "I should be good for today," he assured Horns. "Thanks for everything."

Horns smiled, a genuine warmth radiating from his tired eyes. "Anytime, Kev," he said, patting Kev's shoulder gently before lumbering towards the door. "Just holler if you need anything."

With a final wave, Horns departed, leaving Kev alone once more in the peaceful sanctuary of his apartment. He settled back onto the couch, cradling his warm mug of coffee, and opened one of the books Horns had brought him.

The book, titled "A Brief History of Dala'Bon," offered a fascinating glimpse into the city's past. Kev learned that the mansion, now transformed into Club Fang, had once belonged to a powerful family, their lineage stretching back centuries. The property, once a sprawling estate on the outskirts of the city, had gradually been encroached upon by urban development, leaving the mansion and its surrounding woods as a secluded oasis amidst the concrete jungle. Part of the estate had even been converted into a large city park, a popular destination for families and nature enthusiasts.

Dala'Bon itself was known for its thriving tech industry, a hub of innovation and progress. Kev couldn't help but chuckle at the irony. The medieval-themed club, with its rejection of modern technology, was nestled in the heart of a cutting-edge metropolis. It was a testament to Fang's vision, his ability to create a space that catered to a primal longing for a simpler time, even amidst the relentless march of progress. 

Flipping through the pages, Kev frowned. The topical overview on the early pages was easy to understand, a summary of sorts, but the book was very dense, filled with references and names that held no meaning to a person from a different reality. Where were the Tiipita Islands? Who was Emperor Tusk? When was the year 3921? And to top it off, what was the current year? He put the book down in frustration, he was beginning to get anxious. This was an awful lot of lore to this coma dream.

Feeling a surge of restlessness Kev decided to take a walk through the backyard to clear his head. He craved fresh air and a change of scenery. As he passed by the cleaning crews, they nodded respectfully, a marked improvement from the curious stares he'd received the day before. He returned their greetings with a friendly smile, a sense of satisfaction warming his chest. It seemed his efforts in the kitchen had earned him a measure of respect among the staff.

Cindy must have put in a good word for me, he thought to himself.

He found a secluded bench nestled beneath a sprawling oak tree, its leaves providing a welcome respite from the afternoon sun and lit a cigarette, the smoke curling lazily upwards as he took in the serene surroundings. The manicured lawns, the vibrant flowerbeds, the gentle trickle of the fountain... it was a far cry from the chaotic energy of the club's interior.

As he exhaled a plume of smoke, he noticed a familiar figure approaching from the direction of the kitchen. Reepia, her chef's hat discarded and a cigarette dangling from her lips, strode purposefully towards him, her sharp eyes fixed on his face.

"Too good for my coffee now, boy?" Reepia asked, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

Kev grinned back, taking a drag from his cigarette. "Not at all, Chef," he replied, his tone light and teasing. "But being in your kitchen yesterday blessed me with enough culinary talent to brew my own this morning."

Reepia snorted, a cloud of smoke escaping her nostrils. "Don't get cocky, human," she warned. "I've heard rumors that you have some sort of magical hold on the boss. He's been practically purring like a lovesick kitten since you arrived."

She paused, her gaze lingering on Kev's face. "You need to become nocturnal, boy," she advised, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "That mangey mutt has got his eyes on you for some reason. It's good that Fang finally found a chew toy, even if you're useless otherwise"

She took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling slowly. "And besides," she added with a sly grin, "If you stay up all night you won't be here ruining my last cigarette of the day."

"I think the real trick will be getting Fang to be awake during the day," Kev countered, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "I've been thinking about it since I talked to Horns this morning."

Reepia paused and scowled, tapping her boot on the edge of the cast iron bench with a metallic clink. "Horns is a good one," she said, a rare note of fondness in her voice. "That big oaf is the only one Fang has never freaked out at. He's got a way of calming the boss down, even when he's at his most... volatile. But even he can't get Fang to take a nap."

Kev took a drag from his cigarette, his gaze focused on the smoke curling upwards in the still air. "If Fang could just get a few weeks of normal sleep, it would probably help his stress levels immensely," he mused. "He could keep working, just a bit less."

Reepia scoffed, a cynical laugh escaping her lips. "Fat chance of that happening," she retorted. "He's been like this since he opened the club twenty years ago. Workaholic to the bone." She paused, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "But if you manage to get that old dog to learn a new trick, I'll make you coffee every morning, personally."

With a final flick of her cigarette, Reepia turned and headed back to the kitchen, leaving Kev alone with his thoughts. He finished his own cigarette, a sense of determination settling over him. Reepia's challenge, though delivered with her usual gruffness, had sparked a fire within him. He was going to help Fang, even if it meant going against the grain of the wolfman's ingrained habits.

Kev stood up, brushing the stray leaves from his jeans. He took one last look at the tranquil backyard before heading back inside, ready to face whatever the rest of the day, and night, might bring.