A short story...number.
"So, you went back to the temples, got your butt handed to you, and want to go back?"
Annabelle asks with a note of incredulous awe carrying along in her tone. Kneeling by the four foot long fish tank, the skunk watches Nethaniel's long-sword floating in a bubbling mixture of oil. She reaches for the glass, tapping a finger claw against the clear walls. An audible humm fills the room, Annabelle's fur fluffs up quickly from an arc of static shock. Jumping backwards a few feet from the tank with a shrill yelp.
"Told you not to mess with him." Nethaniel crones while leaning back in his office chair, holding an ice pack to his forehead.
"Well, he doesn't have to be such an asshole."
Nethaniel huffs and pulls the ice-bag off his forehead, his headfur dark and matted from the melting ice. "He's an ancient spirit of a warrior from my time. Being trapped inside a blade and let's not forget that he's been used for dark magicka practices multiple times because of his tie to the ley lines wrapping around the globe. I'd be pissed too."
Annabelle rubs her right paw where it was shocked. "So, what are you doing to him now?"
"Basically, the oil bath is acting like a hot springs."
"Ohh, so where's a lady friend for him to oggle and play with?"
Silence fills the office as Nethaniel stares at Annabelle with a deadpan gaze. "By all means, turn yourself into a sheath for him plunge into."
Annabelle spins around, paws clapping together as she faces Nethaniel. "Really? You wouldn't mind?!"
Nethaniel opens a file cabinet drawer of his desk and pulls out a hefty squirt bottle. Annabelle's facial expression changes very quickly when a pair of water streams splashes into her chin and cheek.
"Hey!" She whines, wiping her cheek and chin with the sleeve of her suit jacket. "Asshole."
"He's not fond of you. I didn't want you to get hurt by him."
"I was just joking, yeesh. Haven't you learned by now I don't do that kind of thing?"
Nethaniel sets the squirt bottle down on the desk and props his arm up on his already propped up leg. "Well, there was that incident with the Azul Vampires-"
"Hold on, that was for a mission..."
"Then there was the time you turned me into a were-wolf-"
"Lycan," Annabelle corrects, crossing her arms over her chest, pushing up her chest slightly in her stance of defiance.
"Whatever; oh, there was also the time you got Pepper to turn me into a feral-"
Annabelle cuts him off again. "Hey! You weren't complaining when pounding her hot, wet snatch-box now were you?"
Nethaniel flushes with heat in embarrassment, his ears laying flat. "That...okay, I won't bring that up again."
"Oh? Let's go back to when I /didn't/ turn you into a werewolf and let you burn off all that rut-lust steam so no one else would be infected."
Nethaniel squares his jaw, feeling a few of his molars grind a little bit. "Fair enough..."
"Furthermore! Those incidents weren't even initated by me! Only time I did do anything that took advantage of you was after the charity ball. And you didn't say one word in protest as I took care of you that night."
Nethanial fumes, glaring daggers at his partner until he couldn't hold the gaze any longer and sighs. "Fine, fine, I'm in the wrong."
From behind Annabelle a voice, muffled from within the tank, speaks up to them both. "She's got you whipped boy."
"Shut up Epsilon!"
Annabelle smirks looks over her shoulder towards the fish tank where the long-sword floats in the oil bath. "Well thanks sugar, didn't think you'd stick up for me."
"The whelp has a lot to learn. Besides, with an ass like yours, a succubus slut like yourself can't be all /that/ bad."
Annabelle screws up her muzzle. "Succubus slut? You bodiless, sexist, museum piece!"
Epsilon gave a disembodied amused chuff before falling silent. Still angry, Annabelle turns around and marches to Nethaniels desk. The marble fox watches as she takes the squirt bottle from his desk, then scrambles to roll out of the way to avoid the streams of water aimed for him.
"Your. Stupid. Sword. Can. Eat. A. Dick!"
Nethaniel's desk top was soaked in water as he hides underneath it. "I told you not to mess with him!"
Annabelle growls loudly in frustration, flinging the squirt bottle over her shoulder. The loud clunk of its plastic body bouncing off the glass matched the slamming of Nethaniel's door shen Annabelle storm out.
A few seconds pass before Nethaniel rises from out underneath his desk and after surveying all the ruined paperwork, sits back down in his chair with a uncomfortable groan. The seat of his pants wet from the puddle that was placed in it.
"Geez lad, why don't you marry the wench already. She's loads of fun."
"Epsilon....just shut up."