Club Fang

 The private room mirrored the elegant simplicity of the main dining area, with its low, circular table and expansive glass walls that showcased the breathtaking panorama of Dala'Bon's sprawling cityscape. The absence of a transparent floor, however, provided a sense of privacy and intimacy, shielding the occupants from the prying eyes of the cooks below.

Three figures occupied the room, their diverse forms a testament to the city's eclectic mix of inhabitants. A stout beaver man, his fur meticulously groomed, sat beside a slender alligator woman, her scales shimmering under the soft light. At the head of the table, a mallard man, his argyle suit looked soft but had a sheen to it, almost like it was wet. The duck-man nursed a drink, his beady eyes fixed on the newcomers.

"Fang, it's been too long!" the mallard man exclaimed, his voice a surprisingly deep quack that echoed through the room. "Welcome, welcome. And who is this enigmatic human you've brought with you?"

Kev, taken aback by the duck man's unexpected appearance, offered a polite smile. He'd conjured up images of a powerful lion or a hulking gorilla when Fang had mentioned his friend Ralph. The reality, a dapper mallard with a penchant for fine dining, was a delightful surprise.

Fang strode confidently into the room, his presence commanding attention. He took his seat at the opposite head of the table, gesturing for Kev to join them.

Kev, still mesmerized by the sprawling cityscape below, reluctantly tore his gaze away from the window and approached the table. Choosing the seat across from the beaver-man who was now, apparently, trying very hard not to look at Fang.

"Ralph," Fang began, his voice booming with warmth, "this is Kev, my new personal assistant. Kev, meet Ralph, one of my oldest and dearest friends."

The mallard man extended a webbed hand, his smile wide and welcoming. "Raphael, actually," he corrected with a chuckle, "but Ralph is perfectly acceptable for friends. And, a friend of Fang's is a friend of mine."

Kev shook Ralph's webbed hand, surprised by its firm grip. He took the seat beside Fang, his nerves settling slightly under the duck man's affable demeanor.

The alligator woman, her movements surprisingly graceful for someone of her build, approached the table. "Can I get you something to drink?" she inquired, her voice a soft, raspy purr.

Fang didn't hesitate. "Whiskey, neat, for me," he ordered. "And for Kev..." He glanced at his assistant, a questioning look in his eyes.

Kev, still a bit overwhelmed by the opulence of the surroundings, opted for something simple. "Just water, please," he replied.

The alligator woman nodded, her smile revealing a row of surprisingly sharp teeth. She retreated to a corner of the room and pressed a discreet button on the wall. A section of the floor silently retracted, a hidden elevator that connected directly to the kitchen below. She stepped onto the platform, balancing the empty tray in her hands, and disappeared from sight.

Kev watched in fascination as the platform descended, the opening offering a glimpse of the bustling kitchen below. It was a marvel of engineering, a testament to the ingenuity and extravagance of this world.

"And this," Fang continued, gesturing towards the beaver man, "is Roan, the architect responsible for this magnificent building."

. "Nice to meet you, Roan," kev said, a friendly smile on his face.

"We've met," Fang interjected, his voice cold and clipped.

Roan's smile faltered, replaced by a nervous twitch of his whiskers. The beaver man's eyes widened in alarm. "I... I don't believe we've had the pleasure, actually," he stammered, extending a trembling hand towards Fang.

Fang's grip on Roan's hand was strong, almost painful. "Your name is on the blueprints of every building the city wants to erect on my property," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "We've met."

The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with unspoken threats and simmering resentment. Kev, caught in the crossfire, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsure of how to navigate this sudden shift in dynamics.

Ralph, sensing the rising tension, interjected smoothly, "Fang, Roan is one of the most sought-after architects in the world. His designs are visionary, his attention to detail unparalleled."

Fang released Roan's hand, his grip loosening but his eyes remaining cold. "That doesn't excuse his... transgressions," he muttered, his voice still laced with a hint of anger.

Kev, eager to diffuse the situation, turned to Roan with a curious question. "Do you draft in 2D or 3D?" he asked, his voice friendly and engaging.

Roan blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. He flexed his hand, the lingering sting of Fang's grip a reminder of his precarious position. "I still prefer to draft by hand," he admitted, a hint of pride in his voice. "I know it's slower than using a computer, but it allows me to... think more. To truly connect with the space I'm creating."

Kev nodded, a genuine interest in his eyes. "I did some drafting before my current job," he shared. "Nothing as grand as this, of course." He gestured towards the breathtaking view of the city.

Roan's curiosity was piqued. "Do you have a degree in architecture?" he inquired.

"No, electrical, actually," Kev replied with a sheepish smile. "But I ended up doing mostly drafting at my last job."

Roan's demeanor softened, a sense of camaraderie replacing his earlier nervousness. He pulled a chair closer to the table and engaged Kev in a lively discussion about their shared experiences in the world of design and engineering. Kev found that even in this conversation he felt a bit lost, Roan's mention of new materials and equipment reminding him how out of place he really was. 

The waitress returned with their drinks, placing a double whiskey in front of Fang and a glass of water for Kev. Fang downed his drink in one swift motion and immediately signaled for another.

"Would you like something to eat?" the waitress asked, her gaze flitting between Fang and Kev.

"Steak, rare," Fang ordered without hesitation.

Kev glanced up from his conversation with Roan. "Grilled chicken and asparagus, please," he requested, his voice polite.

The waitress nodded and disappeared, leaving Kev and Roan to continue their conversation. Kev, despite the lingering tension between Fang and the architect, found himself enjoying the exchange. It was a welcome distraction from the complexities of his new life, a reminder of the skills and passions he'd brought with him from his old world.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Fang's face after watching Kev engrossed in conversation with Roan for so long. He cleared his throat, drawing Kev's attention back to him. "Enjoying yourself, Kev?" he asked, his tone a bit sharper than intended.

Kev, startled by the sudden shift in Fang's demeanor, quickly turned to face him. "Yes, very much," he replied, a nervous smile playing on his lips. "Roan is fascinating. I didn't realize architects could be so... passionate about their work."

Ralph, ever the astute observer, picked up on the subtle tension in the air. "And how about you, are you enjoying yourself, Fang?" he inquired, his voice laced with concern. "It's a surprise to see you out and about. You're usually so busy at the club."

Fang sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I wanted to introduce Kev to you," he admitted, his gaze momentarily lingering on Roan and Kev. "But it seems Roan has stolen the spotlight tonight."

Ralph chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that echoed through the private room. "It's hard to compete with a star architect," he said, his tone light. "But regardless, I've heard the club's been doing well."

Fang nodded, a hint of weariness in his eyes. "As well as it can, considering the circumstances," he replied. "You know the city doesn't sleep."

Roan, sensing the shift in Fang's mood, quickly interjected. "My apologies, Fang," he said, his voice sincere. "I didn't mean to overstep. When the council asked me to propose another block building, I thought they would put it further out or demolish an older block to accommodate it, not encroach on your property." He paused, his gaze nervously gauging Fang's reaction. "I've read the old blueprints for your mansion. It's a beautiful building, a true testament to architectural history."

Fang's tense shoulders relaxed slightly, his ego momentarily soothed by Roan's compliment. A flicker of pride returned to his eyes. "I made that deal with the city years ago," he explained, his voice regaining its usual confidence. "By preserving half the property as a city park, they were supposed to allow me to use the rest as I saw fit, without altering the allowances or codes."

He sighed, a hint of frustration returning to his voice. "But the newer city council members want to renege on that agreement. They want to build, expand, modernize... and they see my property as prime real estate."

Ralph, who had been listening intently, chimed in with a concerned quack. "I hope the city doesn't decide to remove the park," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "I love taking my morning walks through those woods. It has been a daily ritual since I moved here."

Roan nodded in agreement. "They'd be fools to try," he added. "The people love that park. It's one of the few green spaces left in this concrete jungle."

Just then, the waitress returned, balancing a tray laden with their orders. Fang's steak, cooked to a perfect rare, sizzled on the plate, while Kev's grilled chicken and asparagus looked equally appetizing. The aroma of roasted garlic and herbs filled the air, stimulating their appetites.

As they began to eat, Ralph cleared his throat, drawing their attention. "Roan," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "I have some private business to discuss Fang. Would you mind stepping out for a few moments?" 

He turned to Roan with a charming smile. "The lovely waitress here can give you a tour of the kitchen if you'd like," he offered. "I'm sure you'd appreciate the culinary artistry on display."

Roan, eager to escape the awkward tension between Fang and himself, readily agreed. "That sounds delightful," he said, rising from his seat. He bowed slightly to Fang. "Farewell, gentlemen. It was a pleasure meeting you, Kev." He offered a polite nod to Kev, a genuine smile replacing his earlier nervousness.

With that, Roan exited the private room with the waitress, leaving Kev and Fang alone with Ralph and the lingering scent of anticipation. 

As soon as Roan was out of earshot, Fang's facade crumbled. He slumped back in his chair, a frustrated growl rumbling in his chest. "That was mean, Ralph," he muttered, his voice low and accusatory. "Bringing that beaver in here, knowing full well how it would get me worked up."

Kev, who had initially thought Fang was overreacting, felt a chill run down his spine as Ralph burst into laughter. The mallard man wheezed, clutching his sides. "I thought you were going to gut him right there on the spot!" he gasped, tears of mirth streaming down his face.

Fang glared at him, his jaw clenched. He stabbed a piece of steak with his fork, a silent display of his displeasure. "You really almost got me to make a scene, you foul fowl," he growled, his voice thick with annoyance.

The tension hung heavy in the air for a moment, but then, surprisingly, Fang's lips twitched into a reluctant smile. Ralph, catching the shift in his friend's expression, let out another hearty laugh. Soon, both of them were roaring with laughter, the earlier animosity replaced by a shared amusement.