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Hrvalye sat on a barstool, his back leaning lightly against the bar. He had his arms crossed, scrutinizing each new patron. Couple, couple, throuple, too young, couple, gaggle of pregamers, and... what ho!

Cecina saw the same thing. "Mine."

Hrvalye turned to look at her, his mouth agape courtesy of the cheek muscles of insult and incredulity. "Madam, please. You claimed the last one."

"And it turned out he was actually waiting for someone else." She crossed her arms as she gave Hrvalye a sidelong glance.

"And I let you have him out of gentlemanly courtesy. My last one was a total dud," his stare grew more pointed, "And the one before was an abject failure thanks in part to my distracted wingman. And we are not here for you. This is my... rebound." he scrunched up his mouth as he said the last word. "I just need a quick lay." That's pretty base, Hrvalye. Then again, you're a sweet guy. You do what you do.

Something about the tone of the monologue suddenly made Hrvalye realize he was dreaming. Lerians generally have a slightly greater propensity toward lucid dreaming than humans, and although Hrvalye didn't get too lucid too often, it happened frequently enough that he had some decent control of events. Haven't been here in a while. I'll let it play out naturally. Could be... fun.

Cecina uncrossed her arms, rolled her eyes, and gestured toward the new fellow with open palms. "Fine. You can have him. Assuming he's as thirsty for cock as you seem to be tonight."

Hrvalye knocked back the last of his drink, which was something akin to a French 75. A true gentleman's drink. "And if he's not, maybe you can snap 'im up, darlin'." He'd watched a couple of Westerns recently, and he tried with very limited success to mimic the accent of some generic outlaw. He hopped to his feet, switching back to modern Pacific, "But something tells me I'm more his type."

"You have literally no idea what you're talking about," she said, taking a sip of her own French 75, "But first," she turned back toward the bar and waved at the bartender, shouting, "One consolation whiskey for this asshole! He's gonna need it!" In case anyone wasn't sure who she meant, she pointed with both index fingers at Hrvalye, who shook his head.

"Classy, Cecina. Hopefully Studmuffin didn't notice, because if he did I'm cutting you off." He started sauntering toward the area where Studmuffin just planted himself. It was close enough to their original seats that Cecina decided to stay put and watch for now. Studmuffin turned when he noticed him approach with his easy smile and shapely legs. Hrvalye was quite pleased that he seemed to be within the man's range of interests. "Good evening, fair sir. May I buy you a drink?"

Hrvalye had no clue what he was doing, but he figured he'd learned enough from lerian and human pop culture to manage the pickup experience. Studmuffin seemed to agree, transparently looking Hrvalye up and down and grinning, "Good evening, fair stranger." He beckoned with his open hand for Hrvalye to take the seat next to him, and Hrvalye bowed and obliged. Studmuffin's grin shifted into a wry smile, "So you're the consolation whiskey asshole that lady was screaming about?"

Hrvalye grimaced, "My friend is very drunk."_She was actually halfway through her second drink. _"She wants to help me make friends, but sometimes she gets carried away. So, what are you having?"

Studmuffin nodded and winked, "Whiskey sounds good--Gyornan; preferably Fennerbrin."

Hrvalye nodded back, "My second favorite Gyornan." He signaled the bartender, who walked over. "Shellai, may we please have two Fennerbrins? One with a splash of water, and one..." He turned back to Studmuffin, who waved his flat hand in a horizontal line in front of him. "And one neat."

"You got it, Hrvalye," she said with absolutely no emotion as she grabbed a couple of glasses. She was a stone of a woman when the bar was busy, but she became very slightly softer with him when things were slow. He'd been coming to this bar for seven years, mostly without intending to take a random stranger home, but he only came once every several months. For some reason, though, Shellai always remembered him. He loved her for that.

"So, Fennerbrin is your second favorite, eh? I wonder what your first is."

Hrvalye was not a whiskey connoisseur. He didn't have a favorite. Nor was he a whiskey drinker of any kind, despite Cecina ordering him some house swill for consolation. He smirked in an attempt to dodge, "That, fair gentle, I can divulge later. Tell me about you." He set his elbow on the bar and rested his head on his upraised hand, looking Studmuffin over, trying not to look too hungry.

Grimmel is here.

Studmuffin started speaking, but Hrvalye wasn't listening. He just saw Grimmel walk in, and they locked eyes across the room. Son of a bitch. Hrvalye looked away and focused back on Studmuffin, who was saying something about being from a family of farmers, but cold stuff and things, yada yada.

Grimmel is coming.

He bore a striking resemblance to Studmuffin. Hrvalye hadn't realized until now. As Grimmel got closer, Hrvalye raised his finger to Studmuffin to interrupt his spiel, "Sorry, there's something I have to deal with..." He started to stand.

Then someone out of nowhere stepped in front of Grimmel, facing him. Now that's a fucking wingman.

"Step aside. I wish to speak with Hrvalye." That voice. He spoke with a perpetually sarcastic tone that effortlessly veered between imperious and smarmy as the occasion warranted. The voice you might expect from a villainous royal lion. Hrvalye would forever feel an irrational enmity toward the English--and movies featuring lions--thanks to Grimmel.

So would Cecina. "Stay back, you limey bastard. He doesn't want to see you. No one does. Go home." Her eyes were no doubt beautiful and deadly now. Hrvalye could pause things to take a look, but no; not this time. Instead, he put his hand on her shoulder. Hrvalye and Cecina had developed a special tactile vocabulary, but this touch was pretty universal: I've got this. Cecina turned back to him, and he could see the expression in her eyes morph to forced neutrality. She took a deep breath, nodded, and stepped to one side.

And there stood Grimmel Pyrallian, a tall, handsome beefcake who prided himself on wearing very expensive clothing that hid his physique yet teased at what was underneath. His golden fur was well-kempt, and his black mane was intricately braided courtesy of his valet. His bearing told the world that he was of old noble blood; a modern-day relic that stoked conflicting emotions among all who encountered him. For six months, Hrvalye was under his amorous spell, but that ended quite abruptly last night. Now, as he faced Grimmel just a few feet away, Hrvalye's stomach turned, and his right hand unconsciously balled into a fist.

Grimmel's smile never looked more cruel and insidious. "Well thank you, my dear Hrvalye," he said, "For bringing your pet to heel."

"My pet?!"

"His pet?!"

The simultaneity of the response was impressive, if predictable, and Grimmel's smile grew wider now that he'd clearly gotten under their skin. A good portion of the room was now watching, even though the only English speakers present were Hrvalye, Cecina, and Grimmel.

Grimmel took off his glasses and foppishly cleaned the lenses with a cloth, lowering his gaze to focus on his work. "I'm so sorry to have upset you both. But Hrvalye, you did truly hurt me deeply last night. I'm seeking your apology."

"Apology?!" Hrvalye shouted, another nerve struck, "You slept with my sister!"

Like a bolt of lightning Grimmel's head shot back up, his amber eyes darkened with fury, and he roared, "Knave! I dare you to say that in Arvanyan so these people can understand that baseless accusation!"

Hrvalye could tell his reaction was a bald ruse--maybe even a trap--but he was so furious that he didn't hesitate. _"You! Slept! With! My sister!" _

A gasp went up around the room.

"Slander!" cried Grimmel, and before Hrvalye could react, Grimmel swung his hand, slapping the backs of his thick fingers against Hrvalye's snout.

As soon as Cecina saw Grimmel twitch, she leapt between the two men. She wasn't fast enough to stop Grimmel from striking Hrvalye, but she did box him out immediately afterwards, and she was able to body-block Hrvalye and grab his arms before he could lunge at Grimmel.

Hrvalye could hear Grimmel laughing behind her, and as he tried to free himself from Cecina's clutches he let forth a guttural yawp much too loud for the room and Cecina's very proximate ears. Wincing, she crashed her horns against Hrvalye's to command that he stop.

Hrvalye immediately complied, but he was practically growling with the leftover effort. "You would accuse me of slander, you mangy cur!" His chest heaved rapidly as he yelled past Cecina's shoulder, now switching back to English, "I accept. Five days. Central Courthouse."

Shellai appeared from behind the bar and injected herself between the belligerents. She had only part of the picture, like just about everyone else at the bar, but she didn't appreciate the violence this prick inflicted upon an affable sometime-patron. "You! Get out! Now! And forever! Or I swear I will tan your hide while you're still wearing it! Fancy-ass connections be damned!" She stood there, pointing two fingers toward the door as she stared daggers at Grimmel.

Hrvalye was grateful for Shellai's reaction. And rather touched. Yes, she probably would've kicked out anyone who assaulted another patron, but Hrvalye felt like she was actively taking his side more than she would for some rando. He already had Cecina's backing, but she would support him no matter what he did. Having Shellai join in made him feel a little more validated.

Grimmel reassumed his deplorable smile and bowed, "I wouldn't dream of injuring the pride of so august an establishment. I bid you a good night, fair lady." His newly neutral eyes turned back to Hrvalye, who was still seething but no longer struggling against Cecina, "I look forward to our rendezvous in five days, Mr. Hederian. I will arrange for the doctor and magistrate." And then he turned debonairly on one hoof and walked out with the gait of a total and complete asshole, the crowd parting before him.

Hrvalye sank back into his stool, his descent aided by Cecina, who still held his arms. Once he was safely settled, she assumed the seat formerly held by Studmuffin, who apparently beat a hasty retreat while Hrvalye wasn't looking.

Hrvalye instinctively inclined his head toward Cecina, tilting it slightly to his right. She tapped her horns against his with a similar motion, at which point they both leaned towards each other, their horns scraping together until they found equilibrium in the countervailing forces, which was the only thing keeping them from falling forward. It was an unusual gesture among lerians, but it wasn't unknown--mostly shared among close friends, like a sort of hug of camaraderie. Usually for safety it would be done in groups of three or four, and while standing, but the grooves of Cecina's horns made it easy for the two of them to find a stable spot.

Hmm. We do this a lot, actually. Is that ironic?

Hrvalye was still breathing hard, "I take back my insinuation from earlier. You're the best wingman a guy could ask for. Sometimes."

She smiled, though Hrvalye couldn't see it, "I know. You would've done the same for me."

"That's true, but I don't have your reflexes. It might have ended differently. Hopefully we'll never find out."

"I don't usually date bulgy hunks. If things escalated I think we would have it under control."

"Ha. Yeah." A beat. "Also, realllllllly sorry about screaming into your ear."

"Mhm. How are you feeling now?"

"Better." And with that, they simultaneously applied extra force against each other, and with practiced timing there was a light, sliding clack as they pushed themselves away and back into upright positions. Apparently people were still watching them, because there was a light round of applause, which grew a little louder as others paid attention again. Hrvalye blushed, but fortunately the bar was too dimly lit for it to be visible to most. He wasn't sure if they were supporting him against Grimmel, or if they liked his and Cecina's maneuver, but he was fine with either, and he self-effacingly waved his thanks.

"Drinks are on the house, Hrvalye," Shellai said, now back behind the bar.

He smiled, trying to forget the last five minutes, "I love you, Shellai."

"I'm not sleeping with you though."

"Okay."

Dreaming Hrvalye giggled a little at himself. That was probably the single silliest, most palate-cleansing moment of the bar scene, and it was one of his favorites.

Cecina grabbed the whiskey on the bar in front of her, and raised the glass to Hrvalye. He picked up his own and clinked it against hers, then took a sip. Cough, sputter. He took another sip, this time sufficiently prepared, and he came off looking less pathetic. Cecina actually seemed to be enjoying hers. "So, I have a feeling I know what just happened, but it sounds ridiculous to say. It's not a--"

"It's a duel." Hrvalye took a gulp. _Mistake!_Big coughs this time.

Cecina leaned forward and patted him on the back a couple of times, both out of sympathy and possibly to help with the coughing. When he finished she leaned back once more. "I can drink that, you know."

"No, no, it's fine. If I'm going to pick up Studmuffins I need to acclimate myself."

"Fair enough."

"But this time maybe I'll just hire a gentleman of the night." He swirled the whiskey around in his glass and admired the flow of color, "That way I won't break any hearts."

"Or steal my quarry."

"I thought you didn't date hunks."

"Sometimes a girl has to broaden her palate."

Hrvalye half-closed his eyes and nodded. A few seconds passed in silence, giving him the opportunity to think about this duel he just agreed to. There was a lot to consider. But there was one thing he wanted to square away immediately.

"So, listen, before we get fully liquored up, there's something important I have to settle. Regarding the duel." Cecina nodded, following Hrvalye's lead and turning quite serious, especially when Hrvalye switched to Arvanyan. "In every duel, the prime combatants each have a trusted lieutenant: a second. I don't know much about archaic jurisprudence, but I know that the second shares some of the legal risks that come with a duel, and the consequences can be very messy. Grimmel is big, and strong, and he bamboozled us--and especially me--so efficiently that is was embarrassing. I think he is expecting me to pick you as my second, and he'll use that to build up even more of an advantage because we'll both be wound up and more susceptible to whatever tricks he has planned."

She nodded solemnly, her eyes dark, "I understand--"

"But," Hrvalye continued, leaning toward her, "You know me better than anyone. You have been there for me countless times in so many ways. I need someone I can trust. A stalwart, unflinching, loyal friend. That's you, Cecina, ploy or no ploy. There is no one in the world that I would rather have at my side, and I will do everything I can to protect you from the fallout if I'm defeated. Will you be my second?"

He laid it on thick, but he was channeling those words straight from the deepest core of his being. Dreaming Hrvalye's own heart fluttered as Cecina's irises wrinkled the tiniest bit, like a freshly washed round tablecloth shrinking as it dried too quickly. With the round pupil in the center, her eyes almost appeared to take the shape of flowers, colored with cascades of varying shades of lime green. _"Of course I will, Hrvalye!"_She leapt to her feet and wrapped her arms tightly around him. He heard her muffled voice speaking into his mane, saying something along the lines of, "That was so sweet. Of course."

He embraced her back, awkwardly pushing her a little so he could stand. He had direct access to her ear, so he whispered, "I meant it. Thank you."

No matter how clear a memory feels, it's always at least partially inaccurate. All the more when the memory is experienced in a dream. Most glaringly, Hrvalye and Cecina's English was definitely not this dexterous back then. But Dreaming Hrvalye was pretty sure this moment was being rendered with high fidelity, and he could practically taste the joy that came with being able to genuinely say all of those things to Cecina--followed by the bitterness of the knowledge that he damaged their relationship with his untoward comment this morning.

And he heard another round of applause.

They both realized what was happening and released each other with a laugh, Cecina picking a single tear out of the corner of her eye. "Still just friends! Sorry for the misunderstanding!" Hrvalye shouted to the room, which reacted with a collective murmur of disappointment.

"So," Cecina said, sitting back down, picking her whiskey back up, and trying to look nonchalant, "Now that you've manipulated me into risking my... reputation? Career? Freedom?" Hrvalye nodded at the first two, but shook his head for the third. "What exactly should I do to prepare?"

"To be clear, we should both come out of this okay, even if I lose. I just have to do it honorably, and last more than one turn." The last clause was mumbled quickly. There was no guarantee that Hrvalye wouldn't fall immediately. Grimmel was several inches taller and a lot heavier, and he probably concocted some grand scheme to do more than mildly embarrass Hrvalye and Cecina.

"But," Hrvalye continued, "As far as preparations, we definitely need to get you fitted for armor and we ought to practice our dueling technique. Also, you may want to make sure your will is updated. Probably other things too, especially etiquette-wise, but I don't remember."

Cecina started to take a drink as Hrvalye talked, but slowly spit the whiskey back into the glass at the mention of her will. "What? Will?"

"You probably won't die, don't worry. Especially not with the doctor onsite. It's just generally good practice."

"Am I even fighting, though?"

"No, I mean--it's rare. Very rare. And it only happens at the instigation of the second. But you have to stand there, in ceremonial armor, and possibly watch me get my ass kicked by Lord Dickfucker." Her irises flattened as though to ask if that was really the best Hrvalye could come up with. "Anyway, are you telling me there is zero chance that you'll involve yourself if that happens?"

"If you get destroyed in the first turn and I step in and last longer, does that mean we'll both be okay?"

"Yeah. I think so. But if you go down in round one, you'd be just as fucked as me."

She paused to think, pulling at her thin beard. "All right. I still don't have anything to will to anyone, though."

"It's not like I have anything valuable to will either." His money was mostly tied up in his trust fund, which would revert to his mother should anything happen. "But I don't want my sisters fighting over my sweet collection of sunglasses." He paused. Cecina waited. "Yeah, I definitely need to write Hrevorca out of my will now."

Cecina sharply inhaled through her teeth. "I did not picture Hrevorca to be the backstabbing type."

"Same." Hrvalye took a big sip, and this time it went down fine. "I'll probably forgive her eventually, but if I die this weekend she is getting shit. I didn't tell you it was her?"

Cecina shook her head, "It's still raw for you, Hrvalye. Didn't want to ask."

Hrvalye half-raised his glass and took another big sip. "Did I tell you why he slept with her?" She shook her head. "He hasn't confirmed this, but I'm pretty sure it was because I made fun of him for getting 'pubic rot'." Hrvalye mimed the airquotes and Cecina's eyes became paler with surprise. "Motherfucker showers every damn day." Her eyes grew paler still. "And doesn't like to dry, and doesn't like to rinse with protective cultures."

"Are you okay?" She signaled with her eyes at his undercarriage.

Hrvalye nodded and knocked back the last of the whiskey. "Yeah, but I haven't..." he widened his eyes and tilted his head to give his meaning, "For a while, partly because of that."

She shook her head in sympathy, starting to bring her glass to her lips before she remembered the high backwash concentration. She set it back down and pushed it forward on the bar. "So, let's find you that hooker!"

Hrvalye shook his head, "I don't think I'm in the mood anymore. If you're up for it, I'd rather hang out here with you--and Shellai, the love of my life." Cecina smiled and nodded. Instead of reflecting the expression, Hrvalye unconsciously frowned a bit. This evening took a turn. He might be in trouble now. And he didn't want an anonymous rebound that resembled Grimmel to make him feel better. He didn't know what he wanted anymore, except for what the pheromones from the encounter with Grimmel were telling him. They were probably telling Cecina the same thing.

The dream's script called for him to tell himself: Maybe someday, Hrvalye. When you're braver and less vulnerable.

But tonight, the monologue received a bleak extension: Or maybe never. Maybe you'll just have to make new friends.

The regret that Dreaming Hrvalye felt was palpable. This was the wrong time for this dream. For several moments everything stood still, waiting for him to advance the plot. Then came a clarion call from a distant corner of his mind.

All those words you shared this night mean more than one offhand drugged comment about horns, Hrvalye. You are good. She sees that. She loves you.

Finally, he worked through the knot in his throat, waving back to Shellai and trying to smile, "Two Fennerbrins, please. One neat, and one that's half water."