Serval and Sheep (Chapter 36)
Hafsa and Molly go to the supermarket together.
The sun is a pale orange by the time Hafsa and Molly leave the shopping district. With armfuls of colorful bags weighing them down, they slowly amble their way back to the bus stop.
Of all people to go on a shopping spree with Hafsa on the weekend, the last animal she expected was Molly. The Pallas cat is an infamous recluse, preferring to sleep the days away and surf the internet all night during every weekend. When Hafsa mentioned going down to town to buy some things, she nearly bit her tongue right off when the smaller cat asked to accompany her.
Though the serval enjoys Molly's snarky presence, she had planned to go to town precisely to be alone. To say that she was shaken by that night with Desmond would be a grave understatement. The crying, the emotional vulnerability, the handholding, the recounting of childhood trauma... To put it in simple terms, things got to real too fast. Way too fast. Now, all that's left is the painful weight of regret festering in her stomach.
She shouldn't have done that. She shouldn't have done any of that. She shouldn't have cried, she shouldn't have stayed behind the gym for so long, she shouldn't have dropped her smile for Desmond, and she certainly shouldn't have asked him about himself. Because now...
"Hey Hafsa," Molly's monotone voice sends a jolt down her spine, and she is suddenly thrust out of her thoughts. "Before we head back, I still gotta get one last thing."
The serval smiles. "Haven't you wasted enough money on those worm on a string things?"
Molly shoots an intense glare at her. "I still need more to complete the curtain I'm making, AND that's not what I need to buy right now. Just come with me."
She makes a sudden turn to a street on the left, off-route from the bus stop. Hafsa knows better than to try to reason with a Pallas cat, so she just sighs and goes along with it. The two cats end up facing a nearby supermarket; the Tamandmart.
"You should've told me you needed groceries." Hafsa eyes the smaller feline skeptically.
"Well, I'm really only here for one thing." Molly ruffles through her bag, finally producing her old duct tape wallet and snapping a dull, grey card from the folds. The card reflects the light of the setting sun and reveals a distinct shining insect-shaped patten. As soon as Hafsa realizes, she lets out a groan.
"You're buying sectpro now?! Is this why you wanted to come to town with me?!"
The Pallas cat shrugs. "My rations got renewed today. Might as well get it out of the way now. Figured I should do it at the end of the day, or else you'd spend the whole day sulking about it."
"You figured right, because I'm not going in there to buy sectpro." Hafsa huffs.
"Can you chill? It'll take two seconds, I already know what I want."
"It's embarrassing!" She whines.
"You're overexaggerating! Every carnie buys bug meat, that's why we all have this to begin with!" Molly waves the grey card in the serval's face.
Hafsa's ears flatten. "Don't call it that! It's gross enough to call it sectpro, don't go calling it--" He voice lowers to a conspiratorial tone. "bug meat, and flailing your card around like that, there are herbies nearby."
"Then just stop whining and come with me so we can go home already."
The larger cat pinches her brow ridge. "Fine. God, you're so embarrassing."
"I'm punk, baby girl."
The pair jam their shopping bags in the key-guarded lockers and grab a green shopping basket. They begin their trek through the aisles of produce, products and paraphernalia until they reach the depths of the supermarket. Wedged between the strange jars of pickled somethings and dusty boxes of whatever was a discreet entrance to a back room, partially obscured by heavy strips of dark rubber flaps. The sign above read, in bold lettering "SECTPRO PRODUCTS" accompanied by the same insect logo on the grey card. From the flaps emerge a middle-aged osprey, who lands a nervous eye on the girls while clutching a small box of... that, in his claws, before quickly scuttling off.
Hafsa grimaces at the sight of this, instinctually backing up a few paces and moving her eyes to the random goods on nearby shelves.
"Just hurry up and get what you need." She mutters to her friend.
"Are you sure you don't wanna come with me? I bet if you actually looked around you'd find something you'd like. Bunch of new products every month."
An irritated glare is enough of an answer for Molly to back off into the concealed room by herself (and her basket). Hafsa can only take a few seconds loitering around the area before being compelled to browse the other aisles, where other animals were.
She had only ever gone to the sectpro (or insect protein) areas once or twice as a child with her mother. This was back when she still ate insects. It was just a thing her parents made her eat, same as any veggie.
The problem with sectpro is that it is gross. Sure, the actual flavor and texture of most insects aren't too bad, and they range from pastes, to pills, to sauces, to puffs, but it's the principle of the thing.
The extra protein of insects are for carnies and only carnies. So every month, when her card would renew, she would have to skulk into that dingy room like a thief and stock up on... bug meat. Icky, slimy, creepy, crawly bug meat. She's heard her fair share of what herbies think of sectpro. The judgemental stares her mother used to get when exiting out the aisle, the whispered comments at any carnie who brought sectpro to the cafeteria. It's dirty. It's gross.
So as soon as she moved away from her parent's watchful gaze (as they always insisted she get her protein) she hasn't once used her grey card. And she never would again. She could always just eat more tofu.
After her lap around the market, she tiptoes nearer to the flap-protected entrance in the hopes of spotting Molly finished with her business. Much to her frustration, she is not. How long could this possibly take?
The serval slinks closer to the entrance, feigning interests in the nearby canned goods. She presses her back against the wall (accidentally banging her head against a nearby fire extinguisher in the process) and lets out a cough.
...Nothing.
She offers a throat clearing. A pronounced one.
...Silence.
Hafsa's temper gets the better of her. As quick as a bullet, she smashes through the rubber flaps and aims for the solitary Pallas cat's exposed back.
"Molly." She growls. "Let's go. Now."
The other feline only offer an amused side eye. "I can't decide between these insect burgers or these roasted crickets... The burger is more expensive but the crickets--"
"Just take one and leave!" Hafsa hisses.
Molly smirks. "Hey, would you lend me your card so I can buy both? Since you never use yours anyways."
"No way. They keep track of your balance, and I don't want any record of having bought any sectpro ever."
"My, aren't we dramatic?" Molly hums in the most amused voice she can muster. "I'm just gonna pick at random then. Eeny, meeny.."
While the cat continues the old chant, lazily hovering a finger between each product, Hafsa dares to glance around the room. Illuminated by two fluorescent tubes (in reality, only one, as its burnt out brother hasn't shined in a long time), the room buzzed with an unpleasant energy. There were all the standard sectpro items staring at her, stuffed into discreet boxes, cans, bags and jars.
But Molly was right. There really is some new stuff. Insect teas, coffee blends, lollipops, even bath salts were scattered across the shelves. It depresses Hafsa to know the huge market for this kind of stuff has created so much innovation. A quick look into Molly's basket shows she's clearly sparing no expense either. Although a more subtle carnivore might make several small trips to the sectpro aisle throughout the month, Molly is not subtle. She stocks up an entire month's worth of bugs in one go. Mortifying.
"And you, are, it!" Molly's finger lands on the insect burger with a decisive poke. "Alright, that's that. I'm all done."
"Wow, already?" Hafsa mutters.
"You're such a drama queen." Molly scoffs. "You realize literally every carnie buys this stuff, right? They sold sectpro candy grams during Lupercalia, remember?"
"Yeah, I approved it, remember? There's nothing technically wrong about it, but it's creepy, and unsettling. If carnies can spend their lives without eating insects, why shouldn't we?"
"Because we're not robots, Miss Priss. Live a little." The Pallas cat sticks out her tongue and shoves the plastic-wrapped patties into the basket.
"Pass."
At the register, Hafsa insists on waiting by the exit. Staring out into the dusk-tinged streets, she forces quaint distracting thoughts to overrule any notions of bugs or sheep. However, her ears perk up when she overhears Molly's distressed voice.
"What do you mean it's tomorrow?"
The cashier, a baggy-eyed ferret, hands her grey card back to her. "Miss, your card declined. It says here that your rations renew tomorrow, not today." The line behind the Pallas cat sizzles with muttering.
Molly groans. "You've gotta be kidding me..."
The bus ride home is quiet.