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Biscuit was up a bit early the next morning, shielding his eyes sleepily with one paw as the late-rising sun poked its rays through his window. Squinting through the light, he could barely read his alarm: 8:45 am. He stretched out, his purple-covered footpaws spreading the fabric around them as his chubby toes spread apart. Heh...he'd fallen asleep with those stockings on, and his feet sure felt warm and cozy at this point... He supposed he could leave them on for a bit longer.

The Srothar took his time waking up, this time managing quite the hearty breakfast of eggs, pancakes and bacon to make up for the lack of one the day before. In truth, the meal was rather rudimentary, though still satisfying; he might work at a restaurant, but he wasn't really much of a cook. Perhaps preparing it was the best part; still wearing those silly socks, he had found himself bouncing to and fro the cooking pans and the fridge, having a bit of fun simply padding the fabric about on the tiled kitchen floor.

He put the socks away in his dresser as he prepped further for work; perhaps he'd have a bit more fun with them later. The feline even felt a bit sad exposing his feet to the cold air again, though he resolved this matter by padding into his hot morning shower. Having the privelige of taking his time, the puss pampered himself passionately, going through his usual cleaning routine at a slower pace. Thank goodness the apartment's water heater was quite large~

Just as Biscuit finished drying off, though, he heard a firm knock at his front door. "Uh...just a minute!" the feline shouted, picking out one of his new shirts from yesterday's shopping bag and donning it properly before hustling over. That was odd; he rarely got visitors, especially at such an odd hour...

The loud colors of an almost-snappy suit was the first thing to catch the Srothar's eyes as he opened the door, identifying the individual rather immediately. "Um...hey, Rayner. I...never gave you my address before."

The weasel gave a sheepish grin, hands dug into his deep vest pockets. "Hey, I likes ta keep up wit' my best customers. Sorry fo' tha general intrusion though."

The Srothar shrugged, opening the door politely for the unexpected guest.

"Naw, thanks, I'll only keep yo' a minute. Just closed tha bar after a businizz meeting, an' I'm 'bout ready to hit th' hay. But there was...somethin' important I wanted ta toss yer way first." Rayner finally removed his right paw from that pocket, a small card soon offered forward.

Biscuit took the card with a raised brow - which quickly furrowed angrily as he read it. A drawing of a cutesy cartoon pig in a stock wizard hat danced on both sides, and bombastic text existed in the middle, written in far too fancy a font...

_ Quillan the Quizzifying! _

_ Authentic Magician! Open for private and public venues alike! _

_ Inquire at 3092 West Highroad, New Redhurst _

_ Host the show of a lifetime! _

Rayner leaned against the doorway quietly as his friend analyzed the business card, taking a cigarette out of his other pocket and idly slipping it between his lips just to chew on it a bit. The feline's anger was visible at this point, causing the weasel to sigh. "That piggy left that at tha counter before he left. I was gonna just trash tha thing, but maybe, I figured, ya should have it. I know dat shit ain't makin' yas happy, but...I'm a multi-enterprisin' businessman...ya know wha' I mean?"

Biscuit WAS pretty unhappy, but that last remark made him blink, looking up at the weasel with a quizzical expression. Much as he considered the bartender a trustworthy and honest friend, he...was vaguely aware of the weasel's...side-venues. It didn't take much observation to note that Rayner's bar was nearly always dead; much as the Srothar enjoyed the peace, such a business couldn't stay afloat with so few customers. It was an unsavory word to call the bar a 'front'; but given the secrecy behind what else the weasel did for money, Biscuit had no doubt such things might be...less than legal. He had no desire to judge; whatever the weasel did, he was still an honest businessman, and undoubtedly did all that he could to make his customers happy. He certainly achieved that as a bartender in the feline's eyes, at least.

...But now, Rayner was directly calling attention to his 'other business', something he'd never done before. It had...quite caught the cat's attention. "Yeah...what's your point?"

The weasel played with his cigarette a bit. "It's like dis. Sometimes, ya have businizz partners ya aren't tha biggest fans o'. Sometimes, ya want ta have nothin' ta do wit' 'em. But sometimes, tha best thing ya can do is interact wit' 'em - learn 'bout 'em. Simply becuz they're less dang'rous to ya dat way."

"...And this 'Quillan' is dangerous?" Biscuit concluded, teeth gritting tensely.

Rayner crossed his arm a moment, letting out a non-committal 'ehhh!' "Can't speak too far. He could be. I've seen 'is type before - he's got a lot more under th' surface. And it probably ain't too good..." The weasel shifted, standing straight again and letting out a chuckle to clear the tension. "But heys! It's ya choice what ta do. Jus' be careful, alright bud?"

"Mm...yeah. I will." the feline nodded, slipping the card over onto a table just inside. "Thanks again, Rayner. Glad you got my back like this."

"A weasel like me, I look out fo' my friends n' customers. It's good karma, good business." Rayner gave his suit a slight adjustment, giving a small bow and a slick grin to his feline friend before turning 'round, his thin-fluffed tail swaying as he slunk off.

Biscuit gave a farewell nod as the bartender left, closing his door and looking once more at the card in contemplation. Perhaps he would...follow that up, later. Much as he didn't want to do so, the weasel's words were wise. 'Magician', huh... He flicked his left ear, that strange ring jostling against it; perhaps the pig had something to do with that too...

~ - ~

"...Yeah. He got the card. Bartender finally passed it along." the large hippopotamus nodded pointlessly to the cell phone held to his floppy little ear, wide gut shifting uncomfortably against the brick walls of the narrow alleyway he occupied...rather completely. It was the best vantage point to watch the Srothar's apartment from, but it was in no way comfortable for the portly giant.

"Oh, good, good! I don't believe our magnificent feline would much appreciate another direct visit." joyfully spoke a foppish voice on the other line, a porcine snort sounding as this other speaker chuckled to himself. "It's only a matter of time that he'll come by now; but do keep watch on him quite thoroughly until then, won't you, Glenn?"

The grey-skinned ungulate took a moment slip out of the alley now that the coast was clear, re-tucking his intimidating-looking leather jacket back over his belly; that darn wall had hiked it up! "Uh, sure thing boss! But, what if something happens before he does that?"

"Oh my, well, felines are curious creatures; he'll not take too long. Though if he does land himself in a spot of trouble with those voracious habits, I suppose we'll just have to bail him out of wherever he gets locked up!"

"But...boss! That would cost a lot of money, and you don't have...uh...much, now?"

The pig on the other end paused, voice turning a bit snippy for a brief moment. "I...need no REMINDER, Glenn. Hoho...but he's worth a lot to us. If we save him from the law, then he'll have no choice but to...partner!...with us. I'm sure he already feels that pressure...after eating that POOR, poor mouse. Such a shame..." The magician's voice dripped with fake sympathy for the devoured rodent. "But so it goes! It merely helps lead our fluffy feline friend into the embrace of my asylum. And...oh, such PROFIT he'll bring, that beautiful, savage animal!"

"But...what if he, like...bites the dust? If he's eating people, the police might...shoot him or something..." the hippo swayed anxiously.

Another pause...and a colder tone arose from the pig. "Well, then! That would be...simply unfortunate. But you'll retrieve the ring off of his corpse, in that case; it's MUCH more valuable than the cat. Then, we'll just have to find another Srothar...one perhaps easier to convince to sound reason, hm?"

The tubby 'potomus gulped. "G-gotcha, boss...sounds g-good."

~ - ~

The rest of Biscuit's morning went along well, and before long he was on his way to work. He appreciated not having to jog this time, having left much earlier...though he still found himself a bit out of breath by the wobble and heft of his thicker belly by the time he arrived to the restaurant. It had been a good test for one of these new shirts though, which handled his weight fine aside from getting a tad disheveled by the exercise.

Griffy was nowhere to be seen for the first half of the shift...though this wasn't surprising. The otter tended to take half-shifts on days following his date-nights...and one could only imagine the reasons why he might get...delayed. The Srothar preferred not to think too hard on the matter, though he trusted his boss having good reason for the decision; and besides, the otter always diligently made up the lost time on other shifts.

The mustelid showed up right on schedule at the halfway mark of the business's hours, as Biscuit was taking his lunch in the break room - a delicious helping of fries and a bacon-burger courtesy of their chef. The otter gave him the usual cheery greeting...and then sat down next to the fluffy feline, grinning notably up at the cat.

"Don't you usually have lunch before coming by on half-days?" the Srothar asked in mild confusion, not certain why his boss wasn't launching into his manager's office to work on paperwork and spreadsheets as was the norm.

"Well, yes, to save time; and I did, so I do need to get to work. But there's this thing called 'socializing', Biscuit." the otter teased with that smile, letting out a cute little giggle and patting the feline's soft thigh. "I had news! Or rather, an idea."

The Srothar clasped the glass of milk he'd gotten with his meal, sipping it casually...and somewhat nonchalantly letting his face blush warmly to the otter's webbed pats. "M-mm?"

"If you're not doing anything tonight...how'd you like to come by my place for a date?"

This cheery, direct question made Biscuit nearly spit milk all over the table, but the cat sputtered and swallowed after a moment, setting his drink down with a sheepish expression. "U-uh... W-well... You're...and I'm not..."

Fortunately, Griffy was not easy to offend; in fact, he covered his big-nosed snout with one paw, barely stifling a laugh at the scene. "Oh, dear! I shouldn't have asked that while you were drinking, clearly!" The otter gave his back a pat, making sure he was breathing okay before continuing. "Hun, I know you're not gay, don't worry. I haven't seen a bit of that kind of 'desire' from you, for anybody. But a date can be about other things, you know. Other desires."

"Like...what?" the feline gulped, tail swishing a bit. No, he really didn't know.

"Like...this~" Griffy reached frontward again, nestling his hand against the Srothar's gut, and teasing a scritching digit along a fold. Inevitably the feline let out a small rumble of bliss, the otter smiling at the purr. "See?"

Biscuit crossed his legs a bit shyly. He did secretly or not-so-secretly like such attention, but... "You...wouldn't do anything I..."

"Hon, we otters are sneaky sometimes I admit, but I wouldn't make you do things you wouldn't enjoy. How would I anyways? You're twice the size of me!...if not a bit more with that tubby 'ol gut!"

The Srothar nodded with a sigh of admission; he did trust his boss. Still...this was such a bizarre thing to ask him! Though it was even more bizarre that he was considering it... "Is this because you wanted to see me in those...stockings?"

"Well...yes, guilty! I am that shallow." Griffy chirped with a shameless waggle of his tail, before sitting a bit more still. "Though it's not just that. You remember what I said yesterday, yes? I wanted to encourage you trying new things. And what better way than to offer new things for you to try?"

"I might not like new things, though." the feline spoke quietly, less in resistance and more in worry that he might offend.

"And that's okay too. That's all part of trying, hun - you have to learn what you like." the otter crept his paw around the Srothar's gut, rubbing in slow, gentle circles - making it clear he would stop if desired. "Even if you don't want to do anything else, I'd be pleased as punch if you joined me for dinner, at least. You know I started this restaurant all by myself...and if punching numbers and paying bills wasn't so important, I'd be right in that kitchen prepping half the dishes at least! I still do it at home, for me and my other dates, but I always look forward to serving friends for the first time."

The Srothar reclined in his seat, letting out a little huff of bliss as his gut was kneaded a bit more; certainly not resisting, as bashful as he felt. "I...can come for dinner, sure. After that, the other...things... Uh...maybe?"

"'Maybe' is plenty good enough for me, hun~" the otter grinned nearly from ear to ear, giving a couple more pats to that lovable scaled cat-gut before hopping up from the table. "I'll capture you at closing~"

Biscuit spent the rest of his shift wondering if he'd made a mistake. He did care about his boss, but...he was never one for social events, let alone a...date! He questioned how platonic such an event with such a promiscuous otter could be... Yet at the same time, Griffy was an amazing person, and he deserved...at least one date. He'd...try it.

Still, the cat remained quite the bundle of nerves after he had finished cleaning the last tables of the night, and had helped the kitchen staff tidy up their stations for closing. Griffy took a tad longer with his duties, though eventually unearthed himself from the manager office with an all-too-energetic gait. The Srother idly wondered if otters ever actually GOT tired...

The two of them wandered down the block to Griff's car once more, the otter surely noticing Biscuit's nerves but wisely calling no attention to it... Instead, as they drove, Griffy elected to explore light topics of conversation and learn a bit more about his date. The feline did perk up a bit when music was brought up, the two finding they both rather enjoyed a bit of relaxing jazz from time to time.

When the car stopped near Biscuit's apartment door, the cat was temporarily confused. "Why're we...?"

"Your stockings, silly! Even if you don't feel like wearing them, I'd really like it if you brought them along, just in case!"

"You really are that shallow." quipped the Srothar with a lightening chuckle. "Fine, fine."

The otter, of course, noticed that the purple socks were no longer package-sealed after Biscuit had brought them back to the car. Griffy merely beamed to himself for a time, assuming the best; but after a bit more driving, he couldn't help but ask. "You tried them on?"

"...Mmhm." Biscuit remarked, shuffling his feet and looking down at them.

"Did they feel nice?" the otter had to know!

"...M-mhm." mumbled the embaressed Srothar, clenching his toes as he watched down at them. "They're...really comfortable."

The otter didn't want to overwhelm his dear dinner-guest with endless squees of happiness, and so elected to happily thump his tail along the upholstery instead, letting out a happy giggle at very least! "Well, I'm glad to hear that dear~ I really, really am~"

The trip ended soon enough as Griff pulled into his driveway. His house was modestly-fancy, a one-floor place that was reasonably-sized from an outside glance. For a diminutive otter though, it was probably quite spacious, Biscuit reasoned. This logic ran true as they entered into the warm, cozy building. A mix of furnishings existed around the rooms, such things like couches and chairs often having dopplegangers nearby them; one otter-sized, one normal-sized. Clearly Griffy enjoyed guests, and enjoyed having them be comfortable. The feline had been worried that the place would have a rather...adult flair, but in fact it was quite clean and welcoming...though the plush furnishings and soft shag carpet fluffing between his toes allowed for both comfort and pleasure, he supposed.

The Srothar was quickly ushered to lounge on the big 'ol leather couch in the living room, the otter happily bouncing over to a stereo on the opposite wall. A few button-presses and smooth jazz began to flow from the device, a nice piece utilizing a pleasant acoustic guitar...

"Ice Blue Hills?" Biscuit remarked, placing the familiar album's name. "I didn't know you listened to this group too."

"Oh, yes! I just love the Flightless Squirrels, their music sets the perfect mood for a nice night with company~" the otter chirped, clapping his webbed hands together. "Why don't you unwind for a while? I've got a number of things pre-prepped in the kitchen, but it'll still take a bit to whip it all together." Griffy began to hop off to the kitchen, but then stopped and spun about with his rudder-tail. "Oh, would you like a drink first? I've got water, soda, a few bottles of margarita..."

"Ah...well, sure. I wouldn't...mind a margarita, sure." Fruity alcohols weren't usually his first choice, but a bit of a buzz sounded nice. He chuckled quietly as the otter happily fetched the drink and returned it to him, feeling quite a bit weird that his boss was serving on him, and so eagerly at that...though he couldn't deny, the otter's genuine eagerness was more than a little bit cute.

The otter was then lost to the kitchen, the clattering of pots and pans and the sizzling of food soon sounding out, though not overpowering the jazzy melodies. Biscuit was starting to feel a little looser, sipping the lime-flavored beverage for a while before glancing over to the arm of the sofa. He'd left his stockings there; brought them in to make the otter happy, though he'd not been sure if he actually wanted to wear them around...others. Well...

"Oh hell, why not." the Srothar rolled his eyes at himself, setting his drink on the nearby coffee table before grabbing the socks. He shyly propped one leg over the other, slipping the first sock on with ease; a shift of his legs and the second sock slipped smoothly on too. He'd clearly loosened them up just right from when he wore them the other night...and now, they honestly felt even more comfortable than before. Quite comfortable... The cat laid back with a sigh, resting his head against one of the couch's end-pillows (sporting a little cartoon otter floating on its back; how appropriate~) as he laid out along the length of the roomy leather furniture...flexing and stretching out his feet to admire their appearance in the soft stockings.

"Dinner is ready!" the otter triumphantly announced while turning the corner into the living room, his little tongue panting just a bit from all the cooking he'd just performed. Griffy went a little wide-eyed as he noticed the Srothar's new attire, his hands plopping against his cheeks. "Awwwww! You put them on! Oh hun, they're toooooo cute on you!"

Biscuit sat up with a start as Griffy suddenly materialized, instantly embaressed by his fabric'd feet despite his willingness to don them. He crossed his legs a bit on the couch, half-hiding his feet as he curled his toes bashfully; but in truth, his new pose was accidentally even cuter than the original one! "I...u-uh." He slowly pivoted to sit normally on the couch, digging his stockings into the shag carpeting for a moment before scooting back and...letting his feet prop up into view again. He was...totally unsure of how to handle himself right now!

"Oh my gosh dear, you just don't know what to do when you get a compliment!" remarked the otter in a good-natured tease. "Don't you worry, you don't have to show them off to me unless you want to. You can make that choice later, anyways; why don't you hop those purple feet up and join me at the dinner table?"

Well, the Srothar knew better how to handle himself around food. A blush held to his face the whole time, he nonetheless gladly joined his...date...in the dinner room. The large wooden table was decked out with good food, albeit stereotypical food for an otter to cook up: steamed crab, buttered clams, and tender fillets of both catfish and cod sat in a lovely arrangement. Two side-by-side chairs were pulled out already for the two of them; it was obvious as to which Biscuit was meant to occupy, considering the other held a booster seat for the otter to sit level with the big table. The feline found his gut rumbling wantingly before he'd even managed to sit all the way down, eliciting a giggle from the mustelid.

The two rather enjoyed their meal together. The jazz still filtered nicely into the adjoining dining room, and they both talked about their interests and hobbies. Biscuit had never had quite such an open conversation with another person, not even with Rayner...it was odd, but, he found himself rather enjoying it. Griff was a far more interesting fellow than the feline had ever given him credit being. For instance, he'd never realized that the mustelid had once had a wife, and even a child, but a divorce had occurred and Griff had seen neither since. Biscuit would never had guessed the otter had settled down like this once, given his interests in other males nowadays...though that perhaps explained the interests a bit better. Most surprising about this story was that Griff seemed not at all bitter about any of it; he simply chalked it up to one of life's many experiences, and one he had grown from. ...Suffice to say, by the end of the meal Biscuit had found a deeper appreciation for his boss...and, date.

The Srothar attempted to assist in the clean-up of the dirtied dishes afterward, but the cheery otter would have none of that; a guest was to be treated like a guest! The feline surrendered, returning to flop belly-up across the couch once more, rubbing his well-stuffed gut as his host cleaned things up. He soon heard the otter pad back into the living room; and this time, he elected to remain relaxed and sprawled.

"That was an excellent meal. My compliments to the chef~" Biscuit remarked with an appreciative smile.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all hun! It's nice to see such a sweet cat enjoy some traditional otter-cooking~" Griffy smiled back, still seemingly full of energy...his eyes trailing along the Srothar's lazy body, and getting a shameless gander at those stocking'd paws as the feline idly flexed those toes. But then the mustelid's gaze wandered to a nearby wall clock, noting the time. "Mm...now, if you do want to head home, I suppose I should probably take you back soon..."

Biscuit shifted for a moment, taking a moment to think. That was the original plan, yes. But... "...That really won't be necessary."

The otter seemed surprised at this. "Hun?"

"I...you had other things you wanted to do with me, right? So...I'll stick around. Maybe spend the night too...if you'd want that, I mean. Is that a good thing for a date to do?"

Griffy nearly leaped into the air from elation. "O-oh, hun, of COURSE you can stay the night! I've got a guest bed you could use, or you could sleep on the couch, and I've got blankets in the closet..." the otter rattled off the information in an elated tizzy, considering what would most make his guest comfortable.

"Dates usually just share a bed, right? Unless yours is too small. ...Uh..." The Srothar paused for a moment...wondering to himself just what he was saying. The words had just fallen out of his mouth...as if he'd easily wanted to say them.

"W-well...no, my bed is plenty big enough for...ALL sizes of dates...!" the otter let out an adorable 'eep', now his turn to blush, as he didn't expect such a suggestion from his feline friend! "G-goodness, hun! Are you sure?"

WAS he? Not really. ...Maybe it was the margarita making him not care. Oh, to heck with it; if he was going to abandon his common sense, he may as well go all the way! Biscuit quietly stood to his feet, walking up to his confused yet eager date...and hefting his heavy belly lightly against the otter's snout. "Long as you show me what you were gonna do with this...as well as whatever else you were gonna show me. Color me...curious."

Griffy let out a high-pitched squeeeeak as the scaly gut nuzzled his face, his tail quivering in absolute amazement and obvious approval. "Wh-who are you, and whatever did you do with Biscuit?" he remarked in jest, wrapping his arms around the gut in a belly-hug before slowly stepping back. "Oh, hun!! You've made this otter's night...and believe you me, this otter will make your night too!" The mustelid offered a webbed paw to his feline companion. "Speaking of my bed...won't you join me to my room? There's plenty of space for us there..."

The Srothar chuckled at the reaction of his lil' friend, more and more admitting just how adorable the otter could be. He still had no idea if what he was doing was 'right' for him...but if it wasn't, he could just stop it, right?

Heh...yeah, why the heck not.

Biscuit gently clasped the otter's smaller paw, his digits tickled a bit by the ott's webbing, as the mustelid led them both into the back hallway...