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Sydney went back to his own life and left Manny to face his sister alone. Given her current state, that was probably a wise course of action. After the wolf had gotten back inside the warehouse, Rosie slammed the heavy door behind him, pivoted upon one well-formed hindpaw, and gave her brother as scathing a look as she could manage. Manny had the vague sensation of his fur catching aflame.

Always one to keep her temper in check - or at least finding more appropriately destructive ways to use it, when necessary - his sister did not raise her voice above its usual, smoky, dulcet tones as she enquired, "And just what have you embroiled me in now, dear brother?"

Raising placating paws before him, keeping his tail low and his ears forward, the elder wolf smiled softly. "Nothing that should have gotten this much attention, to say the least. Just wanted to help an old flame make a few bucks."

"Manny, on our mother's mantled mane, promise me that this 'old flame' doesn't have an Irish name."

"Why ever would you think that?"

"Because despite how many old flames you might have fanned, only a very few would merit this much trouble."

"Are you accusing me of being a wanton?"

"More like a serial monogamist."

"Cereal's good. They do say oatmeal helps lower cholesterol."

"And it also stuffs haggis."

"That's Scots, not Irish, and it was Peregrine Grimthorpe doing the stuffing, as I recall."

"Manny, I'm being serious."

"So am I. When a highland bull of Perry's size sets his sights on you, it's best not to struggle too much."

Rosie stepped closer to her brother, her long thick tail swaying pleasantly behind her, her muzzle fashioned into the coldest possible smile. "Wanna play pool?"

The wolf was just beginning to wonder if he should have outfitted himself with a steel athletic supporter when the cheery trill of his cell phone made his eyebrows rise. "I thought you'd blocked the signals around the warehouse?"

"I shut off the jammer when you got rid of 'em, flea-head." The phone trilled again. "Think you should answer that?"

"I'm sure it can go to voice mail." Three rings.

"I can hack your phone too, Manny."

"...yup, suppose you can." The wolf reached into his shirt pocket to retrieve his phone before the fourth ring subsided. He held it up to his ear and muzzle, responding with, "Haley's House of Happiness, Where the Customer Always Comes First."

Rosie looked as if she'd like to have performed a face-palm but was resisting so obvious an expression of her annoyance.

"I hear ye might have had a wee touch of excitement there, boyo."

"Why Liam," the wolf said brightly, "what a strange coincidence; Rosie was just talking about you."

The younger sibling expressed herself loudly with a comprehensive series of epithets in both English and Spanish, a collection truly astounding in their range, speed, and variety of subject matter. Manny looked at her mildly astonished. "If she'd heard you talk like that, Mother would have washed out your mouth with soap."

"Where do you think I learned that all from?"

"Now that you mention it..."

The voice on the phone lilted softly in Manny's ear. "Should I take that t' mean ye've nay had chance to tell 'er?"

"We were just getting to that when the local excuse for a constabulary dropped by for a chat."

"And after your wee bit of a natter, what became of ye?"

"A bit of mopping up, literally and figuratively." Manny began padding back toward the T junction, patting the marred plexi as he passed it and taking a left, further into the warehouse.

"And no one's on yer tail?"

"Not even in a happy-fun-time way." A glance over his shoulder confirmed that his sister was following dutifully behind. "It was strictly an eyes op - they weren't equipped to deal with any quantities of contraband, and despite the best efforts of every three-letter organization in town, if they'd blown the door down and come up empty, they'd not hear the end of it."

"I'll be thinkin' 'USA' is a three-letter organization itself. What's stoppin' em?"

"We've got the entire place on a hard-wired feed to a nearby server farm. One alarm, and everything we've got on the cameras uploads to social media."

"Couldn't they shut it down?"

"DDOS." The wolf continued to weave his way through the comparative maze of the warehouse interior as if following a trail only he could see or scent. "Too many sites would have it too quickly, and then the video would be downloaded by any number of political action groups before it could be stopped entirely."

"Remind me nae t' get ye mad at me."

"Only if you upload video of us during that weekend in Monte Carlo."

"Embarrassed?"

"Not at all. I want a cut of the pay-per-view."

"WTMI," Rosie said, softly but firmly. "Will someone tell me what is this all about?"

Manny rounded the last corner of his twisting journey through the warehouse and waved an unconcerned paw at what appeared to be a large air conditioning intake vent. "You want to be around when I disclose the goods, Liam?"

"Wouldn't miss it for tea with the Pope."

"Hang on then. I'll set the phone down and put you on speaker." The male wolf made good his plan, took a ratcheting screwdriver from a nearby bench and set to work on the grille.

His sister looked on in mild disbelief. "You put it in the a/c system? I hope it's not a volatile gas."

"I was just talking to Sydney about that." Manny waved his sister closer. "Put your paw down here."

After a moment of doing so, she looked up. "No air flow. It's a fake."

"I think of it as a tip from th' telly," Liam piped up. "Surely ye've seen This Old Safe House?"

"Forgive me for livin', but I never heard of it."

"You are now officially off Bob Vila's Christmas card list." Manny continued his efforts until he could swing the grille away, pivoting it around on one of the upper bolts. "This meet with your approval?"

Rosie picked up a nearby flashlight, turned it on, and leaned into the space where a half-dozen fairly large crates lay in wait. None was locked, at this point, so she cautiously lifted one of the lids and peered inside. It must have taken either her eyes or her mind a little time to adjust to exactly what she was looking at. After that came another barrage of language, even rougher than the first and including more than a bit of Yiddish besides. An appreciative whistle came from the cell phone's speaker.

"Don't tell me Mother taught you all that as well?"

"No, that was from Dad."

"I'd have liked 'im," Liam's voice grinned.

"You'd have raised a glass together, I suspect."

"Tequila?"

"Bushmills."

"There's hope fer your kind after all."

"Spics and micks, a natural combination."

"All's fair against th' orange man," Liam chuckled. "We still a go fer shipment?"

"We're packing_those?"_ Rosie spat in disbelief.

"There's a desperate need, lass," the Irishman said softly. "Ye've no idea what it's like o'er here. We paint the happy faces for the tourists, but it can be scary otherwise. The war, it's on th' streets, in our homes, and even between strangers. A lot of folks could be hurt, and badly."

"This is supposed to fix all that?"

"No, lass... it's supposed to help even th' odds a bit in our favor. It's not like th' States, where ye can pack one in your pants or purse, and none to stop ye. Over there, ye can carry 'em out in the open, they say. If they're used properly..."

"That's a pretty risky statement, especially for single-action." Rosie sighed and snapped off the flashlight. Looking up at her brother, her eyes glinting a bit in the weak moonlight streaming through the high windows, she grinned."Viva la revolución. Count me in."

"I've ta'en the liberty of bumpin' up yer travel plans a tad. You know th' call t' make when yer set t' go."

"We'll be seeing you soon, Liam."

"Keep yer tails safe."

"That all?"

"I'd make mention of other items, but there's a lass present, and I wouldna have her think ye've made me lose all me manners."

"Too late," she grinned.