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_ Part 4 _

(Marek)

We left our game of Regicide half finished, and while it hadn't whipped up the positive, lively atmosphere that I'd hoped for, the six of us had at least enjoyed what had come so far. At least, nobody had got bored enough to drop out. Sure, that might've been a low bar to clear, but the further we battled through the day, the more I was willing to settle over what constituted a victory.

By half past five, the fish and the nut loaf had cooked through fully, ready to be served along with all the other sides and starters that Sam and I had prepped. Nothing had been dropped, spilt or burnt. I didn't dare sound my relief out loud.

I left Sam to oversee the finishing touches to what he and his parents would be served up, pulling out my fold-up dining table and chairs from their hiding spot beside my cabinet. Efficient, I told Ma, preempting her query over why I didn't have a 'proper' table I'd barely use overcrowding my apartment.

I unpacked and set everything up in the corner, right beside the windows offering a sweeping view of the park as dusk moved towards dark. The path lights flickered beyond the rustling bare trees, winding their way across to the illuminated windows belonging to the surrounding apartments, and to the little Maleni housing complex nestled on the hillside across the park. Surely, they all sat packed with people partaking in their own festivities, no doubt revelling in a far more party-like spirit than what we had ourselves here.

Never mind. I had no time for thoughts of self-pity, nor to lament over a gathering that'd yet to finish or fail. Food would help fix this. Food fixed everything.

One by one, Sam and I brought out the various plates and dishes, the Maleni ones held in his paws while I in turn held him. A few trips later, with the table set, we were ready to go. Time to call our parents over to gauge their approval.

My ears flicked upright, Sam's too. Ma and Dad oohed and ahhed, nosing around and admiring all the food we had here waiting. Their smiles said everything. In fact, I damn near expected Dad to start drooling over the fish acting as centrepiece.

They did eventually settle in their seats facing the park, offering me space to help Sam over to the farside of the table where we'd chosen to set up the tissue box-sized Maleni equivalent. He and his parents would have space there. All important, even though it meant the two of us would be at opposite ends of the table from each other. Needs must, we decided.

The final task before we too could settle was to help Mr and Mrs. Cerveny over to their seats. Unfortunately for them, this old table of mine didn't come with any kind of lift or means for them to make it themselves. I could barely draw breath as I carried them over from the couch. Like taking half a dozen steps across a minefield rather than my living room. Once I got them to the table, man, they couldn't hop out of my paws fast enough.

As I negotiated myself down into my seat at the head of the table, I was happy to hear the series of metallic creaks I drew drowned out by some actual conversation. Admittedly, it mostly revolved around Ma and Dad discussing all the different food options they had before them, and also offering Sam praise for how well he'd dished up what he and his parents had on their serving plates.

My little 'panda's ears twitched and his muzzle brightened. As he thanked them, I'm sure I could see the red beneath his cheek fur from all the way across the table.

"Again," I said to him, and his parents by extension. "If any of you want any more, let me know and I'll gladly serve it up."

"Thanks, hon. Will do."

I waited for the complaining of my chair to quit, shifting and wiggling as I had to. These folding seats weren't the biggest, or the most comfortable. Sam's smirk suggested my performance had one grateful viewer at least.

"Okay. It looks like we're all ready. Let's try and remember how to do this..." One by one, everyone turned to me. As host, with clasped paws, I had one last task to perform before we could dig in. "As we all sit gathered here, we extend our thanks to the gods for blessing us with this, the gift of a new year... May they offer us luck, health and happiness, and, uh... may we continue to honour their names by living with not only them in our thoughts and in our hearts, but also each other, our dearest loved ones. Gods bless."

"Gods bless," came back as a chorus, right before the clanking and clanging of plates and cutlery.

Ceremonial stuff complete, all the food Sam and I had slaved over began moving around at speed. From where I sat, everything looked good, smelled good and most importantly, appeared to go down even better. That went for the Maleni servings, too. Everything had cooked, boiled and been served up great, and as my parents had already told him, Sam had done an amazing job of cutting and presenting everything for him and his family.

After hours of peeling and chopping this morning, of cooking and preparing this afternoon, all the effort had led to success. My parents wore wide smiles as they ate, as did Sam as he chewed on a small slice of fish. His parents, too, were as happy as I'd seen them all day. Not a tough ask, but heartening to see all the same. I could breathe so much easier, even with how close I had to be to the table with this chair for skinny butts grumbling below.

"This fish is cooked perfectly," Ma said from her seat on my right, closest to Sam. "So tender."

"The potato salad's great, too," Dad mumbled past a mouthful, cream smattering his cheek. "Have you tasted it?"

"Not yet." My eyes met Sam's. His ears splayed. My little 'panda knew me too well. "Sam had himself a little taster earlier. Didn't you?"

He stayed quiet, snatching another piece of fish off his fork with one hell of a side-eye.

"Oh, Marek," Ma complained. "Don't be mean."

"Huh?" Dad was lost in his seat between us.

"Don't worry." She brushed her own cheek as a signal to clear the mess on his. "Just eat your dinner."

"Hmpf... Now that I can do."

Conversation continued, albeit in fits and starts. That wasn't anything unusual, not for my family anyway. Whilst food sat on the table, that'd always be the focus for me and my Dad at least. But with everything that had come before, the pressure I'd felt to help generate some kind of ease between everyone here, what we had didn't sit well enough.

The divide between Visoka and Maleni-sized tables couldn't be missed or ignored. It wasn't nasty, but the conversations that rolled around rarely crossed family lines, even with attempts by myself and Sam to help tempt them.

What's more, I couldn't say that my parents were helping, Dad especially. Not because of anything they'd said, but just by their manner I suppose. Open, cheerful, passionate: three traits that I'd struggle to list as negatives in their own rights, but maybe less so when played out around a pair of shy, reserved Maleni.

Like most times I ate with Dad these days, the topic of discussion didn't take long to switch to rushball. He'd ask me about how I was getting on in my amateur league, and I'd in turn ask him about how the Pirates were getting on, season ticket holder that he was back in Karnik.

For the former, I told him about my long stint in the starting lineup since the beginning of the season, how I'd regained my place last month after three weeks out injured, and that my first game back came with a crushing victory. For the latter, Dad gave a rundown of the last few games the Pirates had played, which players had screwed up and how, and voiced his growing concern that they'd miss out on the grand final playoffs if they didn't 'sort their sorry selves out'.

Throughout, Dad's passion showed, beaming wide with every barked word, arms up and waving with every detailed story, and gut bumping the table with every impassioned jolt forward. Troublesome enough for Ma and I trying to keep our wine glasses straight, but even more so for Sam and his parents along the table, reaching out to steady just about everything wobbling in front of them.

I could see the frowns and the disgust on Mr. and Mrs. Cerveny's faces. Dad was oblivious, and honestly, Ma as well. Without drawing attention to our smaller guests, I tried to get Dad to at least calm down a little. After a confused retort of whats and whys, he _did_manage to contain himself for a brief spell, but it didn't take long for his gut to start shaking the table again.

Sam's parents weren't happy, and Sam didn't look best pleased either. Not through annoyance, but through hurt, resignation. The same sensations that I had bubbling under the surface. Our attempts at blurring family lines had failed. From here, I conceded that we'd have to settle on hoping for things to play out without further incident, without anyone feeling any more awkward or uncomfortable from here. My heart started to break. I'd wanted this all to be so much more.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Sam offer me a stealthy wave from just above his table, silently mouthing three simple words for me: I love you.

I began to choke up like crazy, eyes dampening as my smile creased them to their fullest. As I returned a muted 'I love you, too', I had myself a much needed reminder that my little 'panda and I were here for each other at least.

Barely even half an hour later, and all that food, all that work, had all gone down and gone down excellently. A consolation prize of sorts.

Looking out over the table, feeling twice as heavy as when I started, there was barely a bite left to be eaten on anyone's plates, or the serving dishes in the centre. Even the nut loaf had gone, and not just the small section I'd sliced off for Sam to prep for his Ma. Man, I made music with how far my relief and my full stomach had me settling back in my chair, bringing out all kinds of crackles and crunches. Everyone else at the table held similar positions, fully satisfied with the fare on offer.

On top of that, like some kind of social renaissance, stuffed bellies offered fertile ground for the shoots of a conversation to emerge, sprouting from the most mundane of chats Sam and I were sharing about how busy I'd been at work. Maybe there'd be hope for us all yet.

"Honestly, the uptick in my workload started months ago, way before we closed our plant over in Velika." I reached for a sip from my third glass of wine, hoping that my stomach would find a place for it. "But ever since then, we've had so much more work come back to our main site here. Our operations and engineering departments are swamped."

"Sounds about right," said Sam's Ma, chiming in and beating him to the punch.

"I've had the same experience at my place," his Dad added. "Everything's moving out of Velika at speed."

"It's been happening more and more over these last three years. Ever since the VPU gained their majority in the Velikan cabinet..."

"W-Wait." I looked at Sam, equally shocked, then back to his parents. "Sorry?"

His Ma sat up straighter, holding her own half-empty glass. "Vodaskal's business secretary has been pushing for and passing all sorts of measures to attract companies unsettled in Velika here, along with Bolstrovo..." She turned to glance up at my parents. "...and also Zolnia I believe, amongst others."

Ma and Dad's jaws began to drop, too. Damn. That must've amounted to more than everything else Mrs. Cerveny had said that day put together. Sam had sunk way down in his seat, embarrassed, anxious or both. His Dad too, I think. Politics... Not the best topic for a post-Blessing Day dinner discussion, but as a teacher of the subject, I guess we'd finally found a topic to pry her from her shell, as Sam might've put it.

"That could be... That might have a little to do with it?" I needed more wine. Full belly was good, but a fuzzy head suddenly felt like a must. "I can't really speak too much about work details... and I don't have much knowledge about the inner workings of the corporate side, either."

"Oh, well, I'm quite certain," she shot back, unfazed and aloof. "It's all stemmed from the so-called Size Equality Act that the Velikan government brought in early on, and all the subsidies for local, Velikan-owned businesses that were supposed to help native workers. Native Visoka-sized workers, I should say. Not that it has done much to help..."

Oh my gods. Where was that wine bottle? Usually, it would've been Dad, or possibly even Ma making a fervent outburst such as this. They were still firmly in shock though, probably wondering as I was where all this passion and forthrightness had been hiding.

As for Sam and his Dad however, still hiding away in their seats, I figured they'd seen all this before.

"Those subsidies, the percentage that went to companies supposedly favourable to the VPU, like those that reportedly donated to their election campaign, is staggering." Mrs. Cerveny held up a finger. Damn, I felt like I was front and centre in her classroom. "Whereas other companies not on the side of favour, they were left to struggle on in a stalling economy, against the Polcian and other non-Velikan competitors they were supposedly going to be protected from."

"Ma, leave it," Sam insisted, muttering like a scolded cub. "It doesn't matter--"

"It's certainly not great what's happening over there," my Dad said with caution, ears folding back from the steel of Mrs. Cerveny's glare up at him. "But at least it's a small something for the struggling workers to see that some of their employers are being helped."

"You'd think so," she snapped back with venom. "The problem is there's growing sentiment that large amounts of those subsidies are being pocketed by their upper management, rather than invested in people and promoting jobs as intended. Your regular Visoka and Maleni-sized Velikans alike suffer most." She shot out a short, sharp grunt of a chuckle. "It's almost as if it was a lie intended on getting them into power."

"Honey." Mr. Cerveny set his paw on hers, correcting his glasses, and his grimace. "Would like a refill--?"

"Nothing changed for your everyday man on the street, no matter how much was promised by those lying, self-serving, overgrown sizeists..."

Wow... My glass was empty. I reached for the open wine bottle so fast I almost knocked the damn thing over. I caught Ma watching me, ears flat to her head. Mine weren't far from matching her's. Too bad that didn't help me avoid hearing all this mood-killing chatter.

"They_are_ bringing jobs, though," Dad argued, leaning forward to barge the table with his midsection one more time. "My brother Jerzy lives over in Kremensk and had been in and out of work there for years."

"Dad, no," I growled out under my breath, prodding him in the arm. "Don't--"

"Since the VPU came in, he's finally managed to find himself a good job on an assembly line, working at a big new factory on the old docklands that opened, thanks to those subsidies you mentioned."

I threw back a big chug of my fourth glass of wine. My chair groaned as loud as I wanted to. Fuck. How I wanted it to collapse and take me along with it.

"So, to say that it's helping nobody, that just isn't true." Dad's finger jabbed out. Sam's Ma looked pissed. "Now, I don't agree with the VPU and what they stand for, but they have helped local companies compete with Polcian ones, and all the extra advanced automation they've taken there over the years. Not just there, in fact, but to Zolnia, too."

"Well that's alright then!" Mrs. Cerveny snapped. "Never mind people like my brother, who thanks to the VPU lost his job, his home, his whole life, and has had to move back--"

"Honey, honey." Mr. Cerveny rubbed her on the arm, then moved down to take and squeeze her paw. "It's fine. Leave it there."

Dad huffed. From the droop of his shoulders, I thought, I hoped he'd conceded. "I'm sorry. I was just explaining my experience."

"An experience that is just one example," Sam's Dad replied. "I'm happy for your brother, but none of these companies are going to keep building factories or creating jobs out of thin air... Maybe with the exception of in engineering or maintenance, for when they have no choice but to turn to automation in order to keep up with their competition."

"Look," Sam's Ma said pointedly. "The fact of the matter is, everything happening over there is just a way for those in control to make money. All under the guise of helping the common Visoka-sized Velikan at the expense of us Mal... Maddening. It's all so maddening."

"Hmm..." Dad rubbed his chin. Gods, why wouldn't he stop? "And you know all this? About the jobs?"

"Dad, come on--!"

"Not for sure, no," Mr. Cerveny retorted. "But let me tell you, we've moved more and more work away from our site in Sokolka these last few years, and I don't doubt it'll continue."

"Well..." Dad swallowed hard, gripping one paw with the other beside his empty plate. "At least Jerzy has the option to follow it back here if it does happen." He shook in his seat, back straightening. "And at least if any of those engineering jobs come, it'll suit people like you Marek, eh?"

All eyes moved onto me, from Dad's oblivious, momentary glee to the cold, hard glares of Sam's parents. Any time now, chair, and let the floorboards collapse along with you. "Heh, I, uh... I'm happy working at Fiala, honestly."

Silence. For the first time that day, I welcomed it. How in the world had things gone that badly that quickly? Even sitting in the vicinity of that discussion had me scared to see Sam's mouth open, wondering, worrying over whatever downward direction he could possibly take us.

"Charkava?" he called, clapping his paws and thumping them to that little table. "I could really go for a Charkava right about now. Anyone else?"

"Yes!" I banged the table hard enough to make my plate and wine glass jump. "A hundred percent."

"Please," Ma answered, then turning to rub at Dad's arm as he sat there, shoulders limp and head hanging, staring at the table. "Sweetie? Charkava?"

"Yeah, yes." He juddered back to life, warming for Sam. "Thank you."

"Would you like some coffee?" I asked of Sam's parents, wary of their folded arms and pointed muzzles. "Something else?"

"We're fine with the wine," his Ma threw back. "Thank you."

My Ma hmphed hard enough to judder the table herself, following Dad by throwing her arms around herself too. Neither of Sam's parents appeared to notice, or care. Right then, I shuddered as if someone had thrown open these windows and let in all the icy cold rain. Man, I never thought I'd be so glad to get up from a dinner table.

---

(Sam)

"What in the world just happened there?" Marek grumbled, flopping forward to rest his arms then his head on the kitchen counter. "Ugh... Thank you for saving me."

"It's fine." I took a seat on his forearm, running my claws through the fuzziest of his cheek fur. "Plus, I really wanted one of your Charkavas anyway."

"Heh." He lifted enough for me to see the smile he pushed through his pain. "You can always make yourself one, you know."

"You do it so much better." I leaned over to kiss the side of his muzzle. "Plus your coffee grinder is as tall as I am."

That drew a bigger, soul-lifting laugh from my 'panda, followed by a paw at my back to push more than just my claws into his fur. "We'd best be quick, before they really start going at each other."

"I'm sure it'll be okay," I lied directly into his ear, nosing down at the thicker fuzz at its base. "Just... talking politics and such over a New Year's table is always a good way to create a disaster. Thanks, Ma."

"I wished I hadn't brought up work to you now."

"It's not your fault. We were talking about how busy you've been at your_job. No-one asked _her to start talking shop."

"I suppose..." His sorrow broke his voice, and began breaking my heart. "Plus..."

"There's more?"

"Well..."

"What is it?" I leaned away from his ear, looking him in his eyes. Their green shone a shade dimmer. "Did I do something?"

"No... Not directly."

"So I did, then."

He lifted his head, helping me onto a seat straddling his muzzle. "See, refusing the offer of a drink after a meal can be seen as rude in Zolnia."

"Really? I, uh, didn't know. Damn, I shouldn't have offer--"

"It's just a stupid old tradition. It's not your fault." He ran a fingerpad over my tail. "Besides, we're not in Zolnia. As much as my parents might forget that... Amongst other things."

"It's not like my folks are helping exactly." I pushed forward to smooch the fur between his eyes. "Who the fuck wants to talk about Velika, honestly?"

"I think it's safe to say nobody's getting along or looking to talk tonight. Not in a good way anyway."

"We are at least." With both paws, I petted and rubbed the width of his white-furred eyebrows.

"Aww." His cheeks creased along with his eyes. A single claw running from my neck to my tailbase got me trembling and grunting. "That goes without saying, little 'panda."

I fell forwards, hugging at his brow, nuzzling deep into his turquoise-tinted headfur. "At least things can't get any worse from here, huh?"

"I hope not... I really do."

We rushed the coffee along as fast as we could do, grinding the beans, boiling the water and allowing the two to settle and mix in our glasses. The problem with Charkava, for all its positives, was it wasn't like making instant. Marek probably wouldn't have appreciated the comparison with something poured from a jar, but hey, he was the coffee expert between us.

The minutes went on like hours, waiting, waiting. I must've asked a dozen times if we were ready before Marek finally offered a nod.

He put the three glasses belonging to him and his folks on a platter, adding my little milk-tinted serving before depositing me safely in his shirt pocket. On the ride back from the kitchen, I could see the backs of Marek's folks clear as day, tails curled around their chairlegs, shrinking as much as a pair of Visoka could. To their right, eyes forward, sitting motionless at our table, my folks gave nothing away. They appeared as divided as they could be, not a speck of common ground to be found. Gods, as it turned out, I didn't know the half of it...

Hearing Magda and Viktor chattering away, my first reaction was one of relief. I thought, hoped, they might have found a way to build bridges with my folks. That was until Marek carried us closer, and I could understand... that I couldn't understand a word they were saying.

What's more, as we reached the table, I could better hear my parents talking, too. To each other. Fast. In a language that didn't fully sit right with me, either.

"I don't know why they have such a -pristup-," Ma grumbled, clear as day to anyone in the living room.

"They -nerozumi-," Dad replied. "How can they? They have never -nezazhil-."

Marek began to bark out sounds towards his folks, setting down their drinks to fully immerse himself in their native Zolnian. It might as well have been muffled, murmured noise for all it meant to me. Almost Velikan, but not at all.

As for my parents, even if I could climb down to the table from the warmth of Marek's pocket, I doubt I'd have wanted to be anywhere near them, cold and callous, complaining on and on about Magda and Viktor in Vodak. As much as I struggled to fully understand them, I didn't miss the hypocrisy of Ma's complaints about them speaking Zolnian to each other. Right then, something snapped inside of me. My jaw tightened. I'd had enough of their shit, and they needed to be told as much.

"Ma, Dad," I growled, dropping into my school-grade Vodak, if only to save the feelings of Marek and his folks. "Stop being...offensive, uh, rude."

"We're not," Dad replied, craning his neck up to find me at Marek's chest.

"You are. Marek and his parents... They..."

"They, what?"

"They..." Ah, fuck it. I was too pissed off to humour them. Velikan it was. "They don't speak Vodak. Don't be mean!"

"Exactly," Marek stormed with enough edge to have his folks' ears splaying. "Sam and I have put so much work into today, the least you can do is respect my home. Velikan only when I have guests. Please."

"Anyway." I wasn't done yet. For me, Ma and Dad were the worst culprits for all the discomfort of the day, dinner especially. "For how much you two bang on about preserving our language, I figured you might appreciate others doing the same for theirs."

Everyone went quiet. No-one dared look me in the eye. Be it rage or adrenaline, I was puffing like I'd just finished a full-pace run. It needed Marek and his finger to settle me, rubbing circles at my stomach through his pocket.

"Zolnian is kind of our first language alongside Velikan," he explained, winking.

"The sentiment is right though," Viktor added, as quiet as I'd heard him all day. "It's our history and culture. Here before Velikan, and afterwards, as it should be."

"It's... important to preserve," Ma said, peering off out of the window. "Vodak is part of our identity. It shouldn't be lost, even if kids these days are happy to just speak Velikan and Polcian."

"Look at Bolstrovo," Dad called, finally looking back up at me, then at Viktor. "They're a cautionary tale. Nobody speaks it there anymore. It's a shame."

"It's something to be celebrated," said Magda. "Our differences, along with our similarities."

"That's what grandma used to say, Ma," Marek replied with a snort. "But that was about their neighbours and their interspecies marriage, and all of granddad's complaining about foxes and otters not being 'right' together."

"Yes, well..." She waved that away. "It applies here, too."

"It does." Ma beamed as she turned back from the window, up to me, then up further to Marek. It filled my heart. Watching us as she did, I expected a comment on that note... about... a mixed-size relationship, maybe. Something to be celebrated. How I'd have loved to heard-- "All the more reason for you to work on your Vodak, Sam."

"Huh? What?"

"You barely made it three sentences before you gave up."

"I wasn't practicing, I was trying to stop you--!"

"You know..." Dad glared at me over the top of his glasses. "Maybe we should make you use it around the house."

"No chance."

They both laughed, far more smiley and upbeat than just a moment or two ago. It gave space for Marek's folks to start pressing.

"Don't think you're getting off easy," Viktor told him with a devious smirk. "What in the world has happened to your accent?"

"What about it?"

"You more or less sound like a Vodak now!"

"If you say so," Marek grunted, throwing a paw to his hip hard enough to rock his stomach, and me in his shirt pocket. He knew as well as I did that his Dad spoke the truth. "Anyway, we're talking about languages here, and I think you'll find my Zolnian is perfect."

"You're rusty."

"Like fuck I am."

"Marek!" Magda snapped. "Not at the table."

"I'm twenty-nine in March, Ma."

"Still..."

"Would it have sounded less offensive in Zolnian?"

His Ma tutted, corners of her mouth creeping upwards. "Honestly. Blessing Day of all days."

"Anyway, Dad. If I am rusty, blame it on speaking Velikan day to day, or Polcian when helping tourists here or talking to my colleagues over there." He nudged his Dad in the shoulder. "How's _your_Polcian?"

"Don't start on that."

"Why?"

"We barely learnt it at school in my day, that's why."

"It's not much better now, but we both watched enough Polcian TV when I was a kid."

"I just read the subtitles."

"Whatever the case," Marek waved his arms, reaching full on gloat mode. "This afternoon was the first time I've used my flawless Zolnian since I was back home last summer."

"Rusty--"

"As for my accent... well you spend ten years living in Vodaskal and see what happens."

Dude... My big 'panda was just too good with words. As fun and as lighthearted as this all was, he'd absolutely destroyed his Dad there. With my folks still peering up, waiting for me to justify myself, too, I'd have loved so badly to follow in Marek's sizeable footprints.

"As for me... Yeah, it's been a while since school, and nobody really uses Vodak day to day anymore... Shoot me." I bounced with Marek's snickering, grinned to the sound of his parents joining him. "But! At least I've kept my accent."

"Hey! Mean."

"Sorry, hon."

"No you're not." He huffed, prodding a claw into the small of my back. "Are you?"

I turned around to prod then rub at his chest. "...No."

The hug from his paw soothed me almost as much as the ripple of laughter that rolled around the table. Nuzzling into his shirt, squeezed closer and tighter, the squeal he won out of me rose to join the lighter, happier atmosphere now filling the apartment.

His big heart beat strong for me, carrying like music to my ears. My heart thumped along with him. Added to our song. I came close to grabbing his shirt and clinging on tight as he scooped me up out of his pocket. Fortunately he didn't intend on moving me too far away. From my seat at the table alongside my parents, I still had a perfect view of Marek's beautiful smile, drawing me in so completely, that I almost missed his Ma's paw coming to grab the wine bottle beside me.

"Dana, Ben? May I pour you a glass?"

"Please." "Thank you."

My folks' unisoned approval didn't stop me leaning over with an outreached paw. "I can do it."

"Please, I insist." Magda held the bottle between her thumb and two fingers, moving it with care towards Ma's glass first. With surprising, near-surgical skill, she filled the glass just shy of its brim before shifting to repeat the gesture for my Dad. I shouldn't have been, not with how talented and careful my Marek was, but... I was shocked.

"What's for dessert, then?" Viktor called out between sips of his coffee. "It better be good."

"Sernik," Marek confirmed with pride, glancing over to me and my parents. "Zolnian cheesecake."

"Oh, I love Sernik!" Ma rose her glass to him. "But I must confess, I never realised it was Zolnian."

"I'll let you off," Viktor shot back with the kindest grin. "You have good taste."

"Do you have fruit with it, Marek?"

"He_better_ have fruit with it."

"Yes, I've got fruit with it." Marek crossed his arms, glaring at his Dad with half-lidded eyes. "But only enough for Sam and his parents."

"Aw."

He shook his head, grinning as he pushed his large self up from his creaking chair once more. "I'll get it, Sam. You all stay here and enjoy your drinks."

And enjoy, I did. Not only my coffee, but... everything. The mood had lifted so far from the frosty unpleasantness that'd put a dampener on dinner, continuing to rise as the chatter flowed freer. Of course, on top of our parents slowly bonding closer over the most unexpected of bridges, a huge helping of fruit and cheesecake only helped lift everyone's mood higher still. Honestly, the only downer of the whole experience came with the knowledge that I'd need to go on one hell of a run to work all this off.

Happily, the good vibes didn't end there. With all the food gone and drinks finished, the time came for our parents to really take centre stage... by delving deep into the past to dig up a whole selection of increasingly embarrassing childhood memories. From my first day of school, when I cried my eyes over being parted from Ma, to my first day of high school, when the tears flowed over my first ever mixed-size class experience.

Marek joked with me, offhandedly stating how much times have changed, smirking with a look that said he might treat me to some far better mixed-size experiences later that evening.

Not that he'd escape unscathed. His parents took great pleasure in talking about how small he was as a cub, and how he'd always needed stools and the like to help him around the house. Marek had groaned enough at being reminded of that, but his complaints got even louder once his Dad described how baggy his first ever school uniform fit, even with it being the smallest size.

"Maybe I'll have to start calling you little 'panda," I called, winning a glare from Marek that told me our mixed-size fun that evening would involve me getting put firmly in my place beneath him. Double win.

After that, the time came for us all to gather around Marek's coffee table once again. We still had our game of Regicide to complete, then a second one right after. Marek took the win the first time round, much to his boastful amusement, directed mostly towards his Dad over obliterating him in combat twelve attack points to one before claiming ultimate victory.

As for the second round, that proved to be my Dad's time to shine. As low key as he remained throughout, occasional question over armour item cards and their suitability to his character aside, he held no prisoners when it came to rolling over the rest of us. Wielding one hell of a broadsword, he took out me, then Marek, then smashed Viktor too. Not done there, with Marek's helping paw, Dad rounded things off with a dice roll high enough to clear the castle walls early, setting him up to blitz the king right there in his throne room.

"That's not fair," Viktor complained, paws clamped to the arms of his chair. "At your size, all you had to do was find a gap in the walls and squeeze on through."

My jaw dropped against the rim of my second glass of Charkava. Marek's eyes went wide, too. As one, we whipped our heads towards my Dad here on the coffee table with me.

He frowned, mouth twisting tighter and tighter... giving way to the smuggest grin I might've ever seen from him. "I think you'll find it was a gap in the castle gates I found this time around."

Viktor clapped his paws together, falling back in his seat, laughing so hard that the damn floor rolled, almost rocking me off of my tabletop cushion. His eyes creased up tight, like Marek's at his most contented. He infected the rest of us, Ma included. "A third game? I need to see if there are any Visoka-sized gaps in that gate..."

We all took him up on that offer, playing out another equally enjoyable, joke-filled round. The party atmosphere I'm sure both me and Marek craved had finally arrived, living on way beyond the game's conclusion.

After that, with Regicide packed and put away, the time came for our folks to drag us all the way back for a second stint of childhood stories. While nothing could match what'd come before in the embarrassment stakes, Marek barked and complained with every tale aired on his behalf. For me though, hearing all those little moments, all those tiny details, were a welcomed treat. Small windows offering me a view, an insight into his past, and a means to get to know my big 'panda even better. I was so grateful to Magda and Viktor for sharing. Enough so that I only barely cringed when the time came for my folks to humiliate me instead.

In fact, the evening went so well, filled with so much joy and high spirits, that 11pm rolled around in flash. Hours had passed in minutes. To everyone's disappointment, my folks included, the time had come for them to take their leave and head on home.

"Ma, Dad." I rushed on over to the front doors. "Your umbrellas."

They paused midway through slipping their shoes on. Dad glanced at me with a jolt. "Oh, I forgot about those. Where were they?"

"Marek took them to the kitchen." I handed him his, then Ma's to her. "Left them in a mug to dry off."

"Oh, that was good of him."

"Yeah, he's thoughtful like that." My paws sank into my pockets. "Are you sure you don't want to stay the night?"

"No, no, we don't want to be a bother," Ma replied.

"You wouldn't be. I'm pretty sure he was planning on you staying tonight and his Maleni guestroom is all made up ready."

"It's fine," she sang with insistence. "Our taxi's on the way anyway."

"Well... alright then." I gazed down at my shuffling feet. "Did you both have a good time?"

"Yes," Dad barked, fast and hard enough for me to believe it. "Absolutely."

"I'm glad that we finally got to meet Marek," Ma added.

"Same." Hearing that had my tail tip sweeping over wood. "It's been a long time coming."

"He's lovely. Very welcoming. Charming."

"He is... So much."

"Big, too." Dad snerked. "Even for a Visoka."

"I_did_ try to tell you." My tail moved faster, further. "And that's exactly what I thought the first time I saw him walk into the gym."

"I can believe it!" He beamed hard enough to nudge his glasses upwards. "He's a good one, though."

If I wore glasses, I'm sure mine would've lifted even further. "Glad you both think so. Really glad."

Right on cue, the floor juddered beneath us. My parents' ears shot up, while I enjoyed a familiar show, the trembling and thudding strengthening and sounding to an unmistakable rhythm. "Is that you, hon?"

"It is." Marek poked his head around the corner, grinning down at us in the hall. "You heard me coming?"

"Felt you, too."

"Guh. And there I was being careful."

"_That_was careful?" I heard Dad mutter under his breath.

"Time flies, doesn't it?" Marek shuffled into the hallway proper, towering over us all for the moment.

"Yes..." Ma gawked at the bottom of his shin as he took one last rattling step, then all the way up to his sweetening smile. "It does."

I tapped her on the arm. "You get used to it, Ma."

"Heh. R-Right." Nerves underscored her chuckle.

"Sorry. Let me get myself down there." Marek put a paw to the wall, using it to help negotiate all of his considerable, floor-rattling self down onto a knee. Once there, he bent down further, cutting himself down from the height of an apartment building to about that of our house, roof and all. "Thank you so much for coming. I've loved having you."

"Thank you, too," Ma replied, losing most of the tremble in her voice.

"We had a good time," Dad added, handling this all far better. "It was great to meet you."

"Oh, and you too. I'm glad we've managed to today, if only because it's saved me from negotiating your front lawn the next time I take Sam back home."

Neither of my parents responded. I'm not sure they knew how to.

"He's joking," I called, jogging the few steps over to bat at the bottom of his thigh. "Stop it."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Marek held up a paw, hugging me into the bulkiest part of his muscular leg with the other. "But seriously, I would gladly offer you a lift back home, but I drank... a little more than I expected to at dinner."

"Oh, thank you, but that's not a problem." Ma's tail swayed. I figured she'd shaken off the shock of Marek's arrival.

"We planned on getting a taxi back home," Dad added. "We usually do."

Ma's phone buzzed. She pulled it from her purse to take a look. "Speak of the devil... 'Your taxi is in the area. Please make your way outside'."

"I guess that's that then."

"Alright." Marek heaved himself forward, offering a finger to my Dad that he gladly accepted. "Safe trip." Then, he moved it for my Ma to take. "Hope to see you again soon."

"Definitely..." She paused mid-shake, peering off down the hallway to the light creeping from the larger guest room. "One thing, Marek."

"Sure."

"Please tell your parents that we said goodbye... and offer them our best wishes."

"I will. Of course."

"And also... our apologies for earlier this afternoon." Her ears sank back. "And at dinner. We..."

"It takes us some time to settle," Dad confirmed. "In... new environments."

"Huh?" I scoffed out loud at that. "It's just Marek's apartment--"

Marek squeezed me deeper into his voice-muffling warmth, watching over me with lifting cheeks as he rubbed a finger between my ears. "No, I understand. Don't worry."

My folks both smiled. Grateful. Ma even more so as she clasped her paws together. "Well, we should make a move."

"See ya," I called from my giant hug, trotting on over once I got free. "Get home safe."

"We'll see you when you're back home Monday."

"Tuesday," Marek muttered.

"Yes, Tuesday, sorry."

"Oh. Yeah." I heard and felt my big 'panda's tail lash behind me. "I'll catch you then."

I stepped outside Marek's Maleni front door, sharing a big hug with Dad, then Ma, before waving them off down the corridor. I hovered for a moment, watching them make their way towards the elevator under the safety of the sheltered path. Once I saw them round the corner and heard the ding of the doors, I took my cue to head back inside.

Marek kneeled in wait for me. Always a heartwarming sight. Less so however were his ears, missing their usual high perk.

"What's up?"

"Hmm?"

"Something wrong?"

"Oh, nothing." In flash, they corrected themselves. His big cheeks rose for me. "They both seemed to have a good time... in the end."

"They did." I walked on over to my compacted house-sized 'panda. "Hard as it is to tell with them something. All in all, it went great."

"Good." Marek extended out an upturned paw. "Luckily for us, we've still got a little more time left this evening."

"Great."

His paw passed me by, two of his fingers returning to press between my legs and curl up against my crotch and stomach. I could settle back, Marek's palmpad as my cushion as he lifted me up to bump his nose to mine. "I think Ma wants to share more memories about me back in high school, once she and Dad are finished in their room."

"Nice!"

"Heh. Not really. If I have to hear about how much they spent on clothes for me during my growth spurt one more time, I think I'll lose it."

"Eighty Tolars in your first term alone!" his Ma cried out from the spare room."

"There you go--"

"And that's not including your shoes!"

"Thanks, Ma!"

I snickered hard. Marek, too. I kissed him on the lip and hugged at his muzzle. "The moment my little big 'panda became a big big 'panda."

"Something like that." His nose lifted to bump my chin. "Let's go get comfy while we wait for them to tear me to pieces."