FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

When it comes to alcohol, there are plenty of things that just don't mix. For Rhannah, her worst combination is the mixing of business with pleasure. The VIP from the big Pharma company rattles on and on about the newest advances in antibiotics, talking about how "Viper's patented technology will not only increase yield, but it will also promote better health for your workers."

Truthfully, Rhannah lost interest in the pitch around the time the woman mentioned that they hadn't yet begun bovine trials--that her dairies would be the ones that would go through such measures, but be well compensated for the gestures. Now, the businesswoman ignores the rest of the speech, staying only for the propriety of it. Instead, her focus shifts over towards the bar. While she swirls her straw, her cheek firmly in one palm, she catches sight of someone quite interesting.

Sitting at the bar is a mare, dressed in a tank top and jeans. Her arms are tense with muscle and stress, and the grip on her glass of whiskey is like a vice. The horse contemplates the glass for a few seconds, perhaps doing some soul-searching in the amber elixir, before she downs it with a quick gulp, only to hail the bartender for another one.

Rhannah had never seen this horse here before. This curiosity looks to be the type that would frequent seedy establishments. But, there's a story in this one beyond what is obviously apparent, and Rhannah is much more interested in trying to figure that out than she is in trying to dissuade this pushy pharma pusher.

"And so, with the connections you have, we'll be able to get the trials underway, and get you ready for increased production and quality of all of your products."

Rhannah takes a sip, looking the snake in the eyes. When she pulls her mouth away from the drink, she says, "I'm sorry, hon, but I don't see this working out."

The snake's tongue flicks out, her eyes widening. "I... I don't understand."

"I pride myself in my all-natural milk production, and I wouldn't give my employees an untested drug if I wasn't comfortable giving it to myself. Besides, our production is fine enough that we don't need to risk our health on profits. If you want a supercow, you're going to have to ask somewhere else."

"But, what about the-"

Rhannah holds a finger up, and the snake focuses on it. "Tut tut. You didn't listen, sugar. I'm not interested, and I haven't been interested since you set this place up for our meeting. If you don't know where to take a connoisseur, you don't know how to win her over. Honestly, what do they teach in business schools nowadays?"

"Miss d'Ayrie, this is highly-"

"Tut tut, hon. I think we're done here. Thank you for your time. But, I insist the drinks are on me." With that, she pulls out her card, placing it on the table. "I'll appreciate it if you'd let me finish my drink alone."

The snake huffs, slithering out of the table and whipping out her phone, her hisses disappearing off into the distance. This gives Rhannah the opportunity to turn all of her attention to the mysterious mare. The horse is no longer alone, as a weasel has joined her, slinking over by her side and whispers something to her. Her grip on her glass tightens.

"Boy..." Rhannah whispers to herself, enjoying her own drink. "You'd better take the hint."

Of course, the way he continues to speak, loud enough for even Rhannah to hear, tells the cow that he's far too drunk to even care.

"Come on, babe... ish too late fer you to be here all on yer lonesome. Howsabout we do something, spechiul, huh?"

"Not interested," comes the curt reply. The horse pulls out a small wad of cash and tosses it to the bar. The tender swipes it up, giving her a look to bail her out of trouble.

She holds up her hand, shaking her head, and then pushes herself up.

The weasel places his hand on her shoulder, standing behind her, head comically poking out from beside her. Once standing, her physical dominance over him is quite apparent, yet the clenching of her fist much less so.

"Whash the matter?" He growls. "Too good fer me? All I wanted waash to give you a good weekend, but you had to be a bish about i-"

He doesn't finish his sentence, as she spins around and introduces that fist of hers right to his face. Two other men stand up, larger than their weasel friend and looking outright pissed.

Rhanna brings her drink to her lips. The mare's hoof snaps up, impacting with a hard "crack" to the neck of one of the wingmen. At the same time, a couple of too-fast-to-follow strikes land on the other. By the time Rhannah finishes her sip, both men are on the ground.

The tender pulls out his phone, shouting at the horse, but she snorts and walks out, passing by Rhannah's booth. For a split second, their eyes meet, and Rhannah can see all the pain and determination that flows through this woman.

A moment after the mare disappeared, Rhannah stands up herself and straightens out her jacket before walking towards the door.

"Hey!" The bartender calls out to her.

Rhannah stops, looking over her shoulder. "Hm...?"

"You can't leave. You gotta tell the cops what you saw!"

Rhannah shrugs. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was just there enjoying my drink. I didn't see anything."

Once outside, she pulls out her phone. "Hey, Chance. I need you to call up some drinking establishments. I'm looking for someone."