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A New Family -- Chapter 1

What isn't said is known.

Marlo caught himself staring down at the ivory tray he was holding on to with a tight grip, whereupon he'd deftly balanced two small cups of green tea. Then he caught his reflection on a nearby mirror -- an unsure looking fox stared back at him, wide-eyed and a little round around the edges, with long strands of red and white fur that'd been neatly tied up to maintain a semblance of professionalism.

The motto rang in his head as he made his way to a curtained doorway at the far end of the Imani Family office. He paused for a moment, surveying the small meaningless gift he carried in his hands -- not a drop out of place -- and to steady himself before entering the matriarch's room.

This was when he heard them, a pair of hushed voices entrenched deep in conversation. They seamlessly swapped between English and another language he didn't quite understand, but he didn't stop long enough to get a good grip of their conversation.

One voice he recognized immediately: matriarch of the Imani Family, Samara Imani. Marlo felt a tightness in his chest whenever he heard her talk, her voice light and airy and so full of life.

The other voice was feminine but rough, like the grinding of gravel under boot. She only ever spoke when spoken to, abrupt, short, but with a modicum of respect that made Marlo think -- this one's alright.

"Ahem."

He was snapped out of his thoughts as a hand fell on his shoulder, long and thin fingers almost talon-like in nature. A painted dog stared at him with squinted eyes from behind a pair of bespoke circular glasses, their perfect symmetry broken by imperfect cracks that ran along the lenses. His frail build, hidden underneath an oversized black peacoat whose collar had been popped comfortably around his neck, was betrayed by the surprisingly strong grip he had on Marlo's shoulder. His disapproving glare chilled the fox's blood.

Bassel, captain of the Imani Family office. His boss, after the matriarch. A cold, calculating, and merciless man who...

"And what are you doing, little fox?"

... cared little for inefficient incompetence. Bassel's oriental tone of voice seethed with spite. He cocked his head and smiled down at Marlo, but there was nothing caring or inviting about it.

Marlo, choking on his own words, merely gestured at the tray of tea he carried in his hands.

"Ah, good." Bassel leaned in until his snout was just inches from Marlo's ear. Marlo could feel the cold tingle of fear grasping its way down his spine. "Get in there, little fox."

The conversation between Imani and the stranger came to an abrupt halt as Marlo was shoved into Imani's personal office. The matriarch looked up at him, surprise colored on her face before she smiled and waved him in with a simple gesture of her finger.

"Come, Marlo. Sit with us."

She was a small cat, lithe but strong, her fur a dull yellow and deep black in splotches all over her body. Her tiny triangular ears twitched in expectation. Wide blue eyes waited for movement or answer. From beneath a loose-fitting dark red robe slinked a thin and long tail that swished back and forth with every breath of air. Her small smile was kind, comforting, and reassuring.

Imani was unlike himself, or Bassel, or the rest of the boys that comprised her family. And she was nothing like the stranger who sat opposite of her.

At a glance Marlo could tell that this one was a hyena, if not by the profile of her body then by her scent alone. She was a big one too, built wide and tall, her muscles so easily visible even through the thick coating of rough yellowish-brown spotted fur.

She didn't spare Marlo the time of day. Her eyes were locked on Imani.

"Have a seat," Imani repeated, her tone of voice now more closely resembling a command rather than a request.

Marlo, having finally snapped out of his train of thought, quickly made his way to the low-sitting table where Imani and the stranger sat at either end of. It was a small and intimate setting; the look the stranger now gave him was unwelcoming. He made an effort to avoid her gaze as he found his perch off to the side on one of the floor cushions.

"Refreshments!" Imani exclaimed as Marlo first handed her a cup with a gentle and refined tenderness. "Marlo, you read my mind."

Marlo smiled as he grabbed the other cup and finally turned to look at the stranger. This hyena... she now glared at Marlo with a rather overwhelming ferocity. The way she sat, with her back perfectly straight and her hands clasping tight to her knees, made her out to be an intimidating wall of living muscle. Ugly scars marred her face, cutting into her fur, with a particularly deep one running along the length of her snout.

He caught himself staring, if only for a moment, and in a split second remembered that his matriarch was there as well, watching and waiting for him to finish. Marlo silently placed the other cup of green tea down in front of the hyena, who looked like she was ready to snap at his neck, and quickly retreated back to his own personal space.

Intruder.

"Yara," Imani began after having a long and silent sip of her tea, "this is Marlo."

Marlo looked at Imani, who kept her feline eyes locked on Yara, and then he looked at the hyena -- Yara. Knowing her name didn't make him feel any more comfortable.

"The fox," Yara mused, her eyes still on Marlo. The way she studied him made Marlo want to crawl into his own skin. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so...

Back when Imani had first welcomed him into the family. That's the last time he felt so judged.

"-- someone a little more robust."

They'd been talking about him. Marlo quickly recentered himself in the conversation.

"He'll get the job done," Imani continued, her tone of voice now a little colder, speaking as if he wasn't even in the room with them, "and he'll do it fast. Isn't that right, Marlo?"

"A job?" He questioned, unable to hide his uncertainty. Now the two women were staring, one smiling and the other scowling.

"A simple one. Right, Yara?"

Yara sighed and turned her attention back on Imani.

"He can't do it."

Marlo frowned and in a moment's notice he raised his voice, whatever bit of confidence he could scrounge up finally starting to come through. "No, I can do it. Whatever it is." He glanced at Imani, who through her careful expression seemed to reflect a small bit of pride, or at least that's what he thought he saw. That made him feel good. Made him feel important.

"Well, there you have it." Imani set her cup of tea down. "To business, then. Yara?"

"It's a small matter," Yara began. She didn't even look at Marlo; "and one that Imani thinks you'll be able to handle. A valuable of mine was recently stolen -- I need it back."

Imani cut in with an obvious clearing of her throat. "I recommended you, Marlo. You've done this before. You've done it well."

He had, numerous times in fact. Marlo nodded, his attention now squarely on Yara, who still didn't look at him. The way Imani said that word... Don't make me out to be a fool, Marlo.

"By when do you need it?" Marlo asked.

"This time tomorrow," Yara answered.

He finally found it in himself to smile at the stranger. She finally found it in herself to look at him right in the eyes. She was much like Imani in this regard -- when you looked her in the eyes you couldn't bring yourself to look away. Brown pools of burnt honey. Deep down, something sparked within Marlo. A feeling; a need.

He wanted to impress her.

"You'll have it by tonight."

And there it was -- surprise. A small quirk of her brow. The slight twisting of the edge of her lips into what he could only assume was satisfaction, or amusement, or both.

Then Yara brought her own cup of tea up to her lips, the china dwarfed by her large hands, took a loud sip, and simply muttered: "Good."

***

Marlo stepped out of the Imani Family office and into a sweltering heat that made him quickly unbind the top-most buttons of his floral patterned dress shirt, which was lazily tucked into a pair of dark blue jeans. He absentmindedly ran a hand through his soft warm fur, already feeling the dew of sweat coating the strands, and took a step back until he was back inside the cool safety of the building.

The district of Sairobi was only a few blocks large, no more than a fifteen minute walk from end to end, crisscrossed by a network of narrow alleys and thin streets that turned what would have been an easy-to-navigate section of the city into an interconnected maze so densely packed that one could spend hours lost and confused.

Marlo still didn't have a full grasp of all that it had to offer. Being shoved into the deep end of the Imani Family's affairs only complicated matters. If there was one thing that Marlo understood well enough was that Sairobi came with its own baggage.

It's why, even in the assumed safety of the open air and broad daylight, Marlo did not allow himself to let his guard down. Eyes on the back of his head, ears on full alert, all the while he scanned every person that crossed his path.

The small metal pin on his chest that separated him from a civilian was as much a badge of honour as it was a bullseye painted on his back.

The family office opened into a narrow street which connected Sairobi's two main north-to-south thoroughfares. That made it somewhat of a busy street -- he waited until enough of an opening was made available to him and then stepped back out into the heat, blending in just behind a group of students too busy talking to themselves to notice him.

Marlo only cast a cursory glance at his watch before quickening his pace. Four o'clock on the dot; seven hours to find his man and deliver on the promise he'd made to Imani and Yara. He didn't have so much as a second to waste.

"His name," Yara had said to him a few minutes after her somewhat meager approval of him, "is Washington Fellburg. He's gone underground like the rat he is."

It was more than enough for him to go off on.

"And when you find him, you tell me exactly where he is. I want to look him in the fucking eyes."

Marlo split away from the group of students and turned left into Telvanni Boulevard, a wide street that barely saw a moment of quiet peace. Little pop up stalls lined the streets beside long-running businesses that'd somehow clawed their way to the top or just barely managed to survive.

Normally they'd be his priority: updates, collections, and dealing with any trouble that needed correcting. Uphold and maintain Samara Imani's reputation. Although Marlo knew he was pressed for time, with the deep-set knowledge that this job was perhaps more important than Imani had made it out to be, Marlo was thankful for the change of pace.

He disappeared into a network of alleys east of the boulevard, and the few eyes that'd been following him since he stepped out of the family office lost track of him entirely.

***

Six long hours had passed, and in that time Marlo had found his man. He thought he'd been quiet and careful, just like he usually was, but a bloodied upper lip told a different story.

He waited outside the doors of the family office, wavering where he stood as he struggled to fight off the pounding in his head. Marlo licked the inside of his thumb and aggressively rubbed it just above his upper lip, directly below his small black nose. He tried to scrub away the dried flakes of dark red blood that'd hooked onto his fur, but all he did was reopen the wound, causing him to flinch at the pain.

"Idiot," he hissed before knocking on the door.

Imani's voice could be heard from within the office, just audible enough for him to notice, calling him in.

He checked his watch again. Forty-five minutes before the deadline -- he could have done better.

The Imani Family Office was deserted, illuminated only by the light that came from Samara Imani's personal office. A lingering trace of microwaved fish made itself painfully aware. Marlo first peeked into the office before setting foot inside. Even Captain Kitsuragi, who normally hung around until the late hours of the night, was nowhere to be seen.

Only Imani remained. She sat on the same floor cushion as she had been earlier today, her hands holding gently to a small cup of freshly brewed tea. She did not immediately call out to Marlo but rather chose to stare at him as he meandered through the darkness, catching a misstep here and pained sigh there.

Marlo tried to hide the clumsy nature of his results, but by the time he'd ducked past the curtained doorway of Imani's office, it had all but revealed itself to her. From the look of her eyes he wagered that it was more obvious than he first thought. Marlo instinctively brought the back of his hand up to his snout, as if hiding the wound would help.

"I take it that things didn't go as planned."

Marlo's ears fell flat over his head, his gaze wavering for only a moment before locking back on Imani's. At first he was going to nod, knowing there wasn't a point in arguing the little details, but then shook his head and held out to her his prize: a sealed envelope not much bigger than the palm of his hand. He hadn't looked inside but he knew it was laden with documents.

"What Yara was looking for -- Fellburg gave you trouble?"

"Not him, Matriarch. Just one of his guys."

"And him?"

"Dealt with," Marlo muttered.

"Yeah, I can tell." Her voice was smooth and... comforting. "Sit. Let me have a look."

Marlo had learned the hard way that denying Imani's requests was a shortcut to trouble. He knew that his answer should have been, 'Yes, boss,' but requests like this always seemed to take him by surprise, and all he could really ask was a meager, "Boss?" As if this were the first time she'd ever asked such a thing from him.

"I said sit." Imani's tone shifted just enough that Marlo was moved to action. He almost bowed, and with the sealed envelope held tight in his hands he made his way over to that same seat he'd taken when Imani had introduced him to Yara.

For one second he almost caught a look down her chest with her silk robes hanging so loosely around her body -- Marlo averted his eyes as he sat on a floor cushion, crossed his legs, and set the envelope down on the table.

The way her feline eyes stared at him almost felt as if she were looking straight through to his soul; no hiding any secrets from her. That's what she was looking for, wasn't it? Secrets not brought to the family. Marlo felt like he had nothing to hide but still feared what she'd dig up. Something new every day.

"Yeah," Imani muttered as if she'd had a look at his thoughts and agreed with them, "he did get you good. Does it hurt?"

Marlo honestly replied with a rather curt, "Somewhat."

Imani set her tea down and reached with her left hand to hold on to his face, those thin fingers clamping around his jaw, her small black claws pinching past fur and into skin. Marlo tightened himself up, head raised a little higher, his chest puffed out an inch or so, and gulped hard as she maneuvered his head this way and that with a slight tug and pull.

Her hand was soft and retained the tender heat of her tea. It was...

"It's superficial," Marlo whispered as she turned his head to the right. She was looking at all of him now, checking him out to make sure he wasn't hiding any other wounds. "It'll heal."

"It'll scar if you don't get it looked at. You have a nice face, Marlo. Don't soil it." Imani let go of a breath she'd been holding on to for a minute. "Still, it'll net you some points with her."

"Her -- You mean the hyena?"

"Yara, yes. She's..." Imani finally let him go. Marlo stretched his jaw and scratched where she'd been touching him. He could still feel her hand on his face; "... not like me. More of a -- well..."

"Old school."

Imani laughed, and even though Marlo couldn't tell if it was genuine or forced he found himself smiling. Regardless of its nature it was airy and friendly. "Old school."

"So, where is she?" He glanced around Imani's otherwise empty office.

"Twenty-four Hour Happy Bathhouse." Her tone of voice was dry and humorless. "Before you ask, that's her family office."

"Oh! She has a family of her own? I didn't -- She didn't give me that impression at first."

"She didn't have one before; she does now. It's a small outfit, but so was my family when it was first granted to me. Not that you'd know." Imani leaned back a little bit, her hands now resting on her lap. Marlo could feel more than see a sudden shift in tone and tension. Imani was holding something back, although it wasn't for long. True to her nature, Imani went straight into it: "I need you to understand something, Marlo. Are you listening to me?"

"I am."

"Yara was more than capable of handling this job on her own. You do know that, right?"

The idea had crossed his thoughts. Just looking at the hyena gave him the impression that she didn't like to leave things up in the air for someone else to handle. It was the posture, the strength, and the scars. She got her hands dirty.

Marlo nodded.

"I made her a promise a long time ago. If she ever got a family of her own, I'd help her. I'm true to my word, and had she not remembered my promise I still would have kept it. It's my flaw."

"If I may?" Imani nodded. "I don't consider that a flaw."

"Not now. Not yet." Imani sighed. "I promised to give her someone good. Loyal, obedient, smart."

Something welled in Marlo's stomach. A pit opened up in his chest. "Oh."

"Which... is where you come in."

"... Oh."

Marlo hated the silence that had fallen over the office. He could feel his heart pumping right up against his throat. The general sense of unease escalated to the point that he didn't know what to do with his hands, and so he stuffed them under his legs as he chewed down on his bottom lip.

A test. A promise made. And what about him?

"Would you have done it had I told you before?" The look Imani gave him was clear -- she read his thoughts as they flashed across his face.

Marlo did not hesitate to answer, nodded, and replied with a simple, "Yes. Of course. If you'd asked me."

"Of course," Imani echoed. "You've always been good at doing what you're told, you know that?"

A comment like that would have normally warmed his heart. "You could call it my flaw, right?"

"A good flaw to have in this line of business. Marlo, if you're angry, you can tell me."

"No, no. I'm not angry, boss. I just," had a thousand questions. Where did Yara come from? Why him? How long ago had she decided that it would be him? And he was, more than anything, confused; "don't really know what to think. Who else knows?"

"Just Bassel. The boys will be told tomorrow."

"And Captain Kitsuragi agreed?"

"He didn't say no."

"Right, well," Marlo took a deep breath as he reached for the envelope he'd brought with him. His prize -- Yara's prize, although now he'd be delivering himself as well; "I'll just get my things and-"

Imani cut him off with a quick motion of her hand, silencing Marlo in an instant. Obedient, loyal, and smart. He couldn't help but feel somewhat like a fool as well.

"Don't overthink it, Marlo. You've got a good head on your shoulders -- use it. And... don't let your guard down, okay?"

He nodded, and smiled, and for the first time in a while saw Imani as something more than just his boss -- a friend and confidant, and someone he could rely on. Do the right thing. Make her proud. Don't make her out to be a fool. The weight of trust had been placed squarely on his shoulders.

"Yes, boss."

"Can't call me that anymore," she replied, her tone light once more. He could feel the tension ebb out the room.

"I guess you'll be needing this back?" He started to undo the Imani Family pin that'd been tacked onto his shirt, but she shook her head and waved her hand away dismissively.

"Keep it. You earned it a long time ago. It's yours." Her eyes flicked out to the open doorway. "You've got about fifteen minutes before your deadline, Marlo. Go make a good first impression, hm?"

"Yes, bo--" Marlo stood with a swing of his body, "Imani. And, thank you."

She watched him go, studying him carefully. His ears still flat over his head, slumped shoulders, the way his long and fluffed red and white tail swished with every step he took.

For Samara Imani, who felt as if she'd just betrayed Marlo's trust, this conversation could have gone a lot worse.

For Marlo, who was replaying the conversation in his head as he walked out the family office, the conversation felt worse than a punch to the face.

Despite Imani's kind words, he could not shake the feeling that he was being punished.

***

Twenty-four Hour Happy Bathhouse was a shoddy little place tucked away in one of Sairobi's damp, dark alleys, flanked at either side by both a sex toy shop and a thinly-veiled love hotel whose neon red sign flickered in its last throes of life.

Once again, Marlo couldn't help but feel as if he was being punished. This... this couldn't couldn't be a family office. He'd heard of some of the small-time families operating out of bars, clubs, and rundown apartments, but... this?

A small gaudy sign was set up just outside the bathhouse's smoky glass door, all lit up with a ring of fluorescent lights, with a thick black power cord running from it to the inside of the building. It advertised their services and looked like it'd been put together by a child or an adult with bad taste in digital design.

"Superior service," Marlo began to recite, his voice a low bored drawl, "at affordable prices. Open at all hours. Ask about our deluxe package... What?" A small caricature of a hyena mockingly winked and grinned at him.

This had to be a joke.

A part of him really wanted to go back to Imani's office and call her out on it because this... this couldn't be real. But another part of him, the rational one, knew this was as real as it was going to get, and like it or not he was stuck with whatever lay behind those doors.

He'd made it this far; it wasn't like he could back out either.

Marlo tried to ignore the smell as he walked up to the door. It wafted from every direction, a sort of musky after-sex kind of scent which settled like a heavy fog, weighed down by a muggy and steamy atmosphere that threatened to choke his lungs. Stepping inside did not help the matter either -- the assault on his senses left him dizzy where he stood as he walked into what could only be described as one giant sauna.

As if it weren't hot and humid enough already.

The entrance to the bathhouse was nothing more than a small hallway which ended at a front desk that'd been cut out into a wall and then veered into a sharp left. The walls were decorated with an eyesore of a wallpaper, bright purple and orange and peeling at the corners. Ominous stains littered the carpet beneath his shoes.

Where there should have been someone waiting to greet him, he instead saw nothing but an empty desk accompanying a beat up old leather office chair. Marlo cast a glance to his left and saw the hallway continued on to a set of large black doors. With nobody in sight, the fox leaned over the table and began to read off the names he could see in an open guest list.

Barely any names and not a single one that he could recognize.

Then he reached across the desk and swiftly struck a bell which dinged loud against his ears. Marlo flinched, struck it again, then hopped back and away from the desk. About a minute passed by before he contemplated ringing it again, then...

"We're closed!" The voice that yelled out from beyond the doors was distinctly masculine. "Get the fuck out of here!"

But the doors were unlocked. And wasn't this place twenty-four hours?

Marlo sighed, reached back over the desk, and rang the bell again.

Now the voice was irritated. "Fucking. Closed! I swear to fucking --" Heavy footsteps began to approach. Marlo held tighter to the envelope and backed up a step as the door was slammed open to reveal a hyena who, for all intents and purposes, could have been Yara. It was the lack of breasts that set him apart, a distinctly more feral look to his face, deeper voice, and... "Hey! I said we're closed! Get out!"

... and he wasn't wearing clothes. Nothing. Not even a fucking towel. Marlo stared, stunned, just trying to process what exactly he'd been looking at before his brain finally caught up with his racing thoughts.

"I -- M-Marlo... I..."

"What!"

His cock hung limp between his thighs, its skin dark and taut against a girthy shaft. That's all Marlo was even able to process before he finally, finally, forced himself to turn away from the sight.

"Yara," Marlo said after finding his words. "Looking for Yara. I'm Marlo. Imani sent me."

The hyena squinted at him, one large hand resting up against the door as the other came down on his hip. Those fierce dark eyes didn't even blink. Marlo, his curiosity getting the better of him, sneaked another peek: broad and strong chest, long arms, shaggy wet fur, and a heavy set of balls cradled beneath--

"Oh, shit," began the hyena, a slow realization finally settling in, "you're Marlo."

"That's... that's what I said."

"Shit, you are small." The hyena chuckled, turned, and waved Marlo in with a heavy-looking shrug of his arm. "Come on."

This bathhouse was nothing more than a single large room with a steaming pool built into the center of it. To their credit, Marlo could immediately tell that this room gave off a better impression than the entrance hall or the outside. Its dim lighting and bubbling background noise provided a comfortable atmosphere.

But the air choked the life out of him. Marlo's floral dress shirt clung tight to his damp fur. The only thing he could really think of was how desperately he wanted to throw off his clothes just so he could breathe.

Marlo looked around the room and finally spotted the naked hyena, who'd just grabbed a towel from a nearby bench and wrapped it around his waist. It was... it didn't really help much.

"What'd you say your name was again?"

"Marlo," he replied, feeling a sudden weight on his shoulders.

The hyena crossed his arms, cocked his head, and stared at Marlo with a rather dim expression in his eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"Uhm... what do you mean?"

"Hey, I'm just making sure that you're sure that you're Marlo."

"I'm positive," he replied, perplexed. Every so often his gaze flicked downward -- through the towel he could see the outline of the man's shaft.

"Well I just expected someone a little more... sturdy? Shit, Imani really fucked us, huh?"

That mention of Imani almost forced Marlo to take a step, his right triangular ear flicking in what could only be referred to as irritation. But Marlo reminded himself of the fact that Imani wasn't family anymore, Yara was; this man, whoever he may be, was clearly involved with Yara in some way.

"Cut the little guy some slack, asshole."

Yara had been watching their interaction from the pool, for a moment unpleasantly surprised by Marlo's lack of situational awareness. He hadn't as much as looked in her general direction, but he liked to pretend like he'd taken stock of his surroundings.

But it was dark, Yara reasoned with herself, and he's small, and my brother was being a fucking idiot.

Besides, he'd brought himself willingly, and with a gift in hand to boot.

"Over here, fox."

Marlo followed that familiar voice until he laid eyes on the stranger -- Yara. She was leaning back against the edge of the steamy pool, her arms splayed out wide to either side of her body, the back of her head supported by the concrete edge. Her soaked fur darkened to a uniform dark brown. The whole of her body, right up to her collarbone, was submerged underwater -- he knew for a fact that she wasn't wearing anything as well.

He'd hesitated for a minute too long; a large hand fell hard and tight around his shoulder as a looming shadow cast itself over him. The male hyena's presence was overbearing -- he almost had to crane his neck up just to look him in the eyes.

Marlo was helpless in his grasp. Prey in the hands of a predator. He felt claws trying to dig past the thin threads of his floral shirt as the man began to guide him around the pool toward Yara, each rough shove forcing Marlo to stumble forward and regain his footing.

"See you've met my brother. Marlo, Caine. Caine, Marlo."

"The pleasure's mine," Caine muttered with a squeeze of Marlo's shoulder. "Yara, is this really...?"

Yara answered with a nod of her head, her eyes momentarily closing as she took a deep breath. "Yeah, that's him alright. You smell that, Caine?"

Marlo was now just a few feet away from Yara. He couldn't see much under the water, but when she rose back up he almost caught sight of her chest -- deep curves accentuated her cleavage. He struggled to focus on her face, and then struggled to focus on her entirely as he both felt Caine's breath on the back of his neck and tasted it on his lips.

Caine held on tight to him and took a deep breath of Marlo's scent, then seemed to savour it for a moment with an audible and hungry smack of his lips. Marlo's fur stood down the length of his arms and, involuntarily, he squirmed in Caine's touch. He knew that he couldn't get away but his body tried nonetheless. Then Caine growled, shoved Marlo aside, and began to fiddle with his towel.

"Smells raw," Caine muttered as Marlo once more regained his footing, his mind voicing complaints but his throat finding nothing but empty words as he watched Caine strip down to nothing once more in front of him. In front of Yara -- she didn't seem to mind, but found Marlo's reaction amusing. "Smells clueless."

"You're the fucking clueless one," Yara snarled as Caine stepped into the pool, pausing for a second as the sudden heat seared his skin before he fully submerged himself into the deep end. "He smells like a fight. Isn't that right, fox?"

"A... fight?"

"I can see it on your face. You didn't have an easy time getting that stuff," she pointed at the envelope that, for a moment, he'd forgotten about, "right?"

"It wasn't difficult," Marlo finally said, "but it wasn't easy either. They-"

"I see it." Yara gave him a predatory smile. Marlo couldn't tell if this was a good or bad thing. "It's a good look on you, fox. The bloodied lip, I mean. But more importantly..."

She gestured for the envelope with an upturned hand and Marlo, immediately and somewhat obediently, walked up to her side, knelt, and placed the envelope in her hand.

Her breathing was hard and heavy, with a deep inhale through her large nose and a loud exhale from parted lips. The way she smiled at him was all sharp teeth from end-to-end, a few of her canines chipped and cracked, somewhat dulled in color and covered in a thin layer of saliva.

"Good boy," she whispered. Marlo shivered, stood, and stepped away from the hyena. Caine laughed as he waded around the steaming pool. "And Fellburg?"

"I..." It was easy to talk to Imani. She patiently waited for him to find his words. She understood him. Yara... Her impatience was palpable, and Marlo couldn't help but find his words getting caught up in his throat. "Dealt with him."

"You what? I thought I told you-"

"He didn't give me a choice," Marlo explained, somehow managing to not raise his voice, to sound submissive and respectful. But he could tell that he was toting the line here. Yara's breathing had quickened. Caine stood still and stared directly at his sister. "I did what I had to do."

"Imani said that you were her best."

"I am."

"Hah! So you are..." She turned her eyes to her brother. "Caine?"

Caine sighed, shook his head, and once again began to wade through the pool. "I guess he'll do..."

"Yeah," Yara turned her attention back on Marlo, "he'll do. Word of advice? Try not to look so uncomfortable. It's making all of this," she gestured at herself and Caine, "kinda weird."

"R-Right," Marlo muttered, "of course."

"And, uh... welcome to the family."