Toby bounced around the room. A pair of young boys pranced along behind him.
It was late afternoon and he was helping Aunt Vivienne run the Rei Memorandi toyshop. Everyone else was out but he, Toby, he was there to help.
Currently he was helping by showing the children how much fun ReiM's toys were.
*bounce*
"You like puppets? Everyone likes puppets!" He grabbed two sock puppets from the shelf and slipped them on.
"I'm Mr. Argyle!" Toby chirped in a voice which sounded, perhaps, more like a chipmunk than a sock. He lifted his other hand and turned it to "look" at the first puppet. "And I'm Mr. Stripy! Hey Mr. Argyle... you smell like an old shoe!"
The boys giggled. "Stinky!"
"You think I'm stinky?" Mr. Argyle pouted. "I'm not stinky; I'm better 'n you anyway. Look ..." Toby ran over to a pile of toy balls and grabbed one with Mr. Argyle. "So what does a bouncy bouncy ball taste like Mr. Argyle?" Mr. Stripy asked.
"Mmmmmfffmmmfmmmff. Ptoooie!"
The ball popped out of the puppet's mouth and landed in a basket across the room.
Within moments all three were running around the room, stopping at makeshift bases and tossing balls in a basket.
"Ptoooie! Ptoooie! Ptoooie!" they cried as their sock puppets spat out the balls.
"Toby, excuse me?"
The pooka looked up to see Aunt Vivienne peeking around the doorway.
Toby jumped up, brushed himself off, and braced to attention. "Ma'am, yes, Ma'am!"
Still wearing Mr. Argyle, he saluted sharply.
The boggan sighed.
"This is serious, Toby. I'm afraid I'm going to have to go out for a while."
"Is everything okay? Are you okay? Do you need to sit down? Do you need a friend to go with you? I could help better than anyone, I bet. Lemme just grab my jacket and I'll fly to your rescue and save the world." Toby gestured extravagantly and brought up the puppets.
"Toby can do that!" said Mr. Stripy.
"Toby can do anything!" said Mr. Argyle.
"No, no; nothing's wrong," Vivienne said soothingly. "I just got a call that Myra's having her baby. You know I promised to be with her since her own mother can't be there. So, I'd like-"
"Oooooohhh! A baby!" Toby bounced excitedly. "A wonderful happy sweet icky little baby! Are we going to be there all night? Will-"
"Young man!" Aunt Vivienne held a hand up quellingly. "_We_ are going nowhere. I am going. You," she frowned at him, "You are going to stay here and watch the store and close on time."
His face fell and he blinked rapidly. "Not going?" he whispered.
"I know you know how to close out the register," Vivienne continued sternly, oblivious to Toby's crushing disappointment. "When I come back, I expect to see everything neatly totaled up, put away, and locked up. Understand?"
Toby sighed and nodded. "I guess."
"You'll do fine; Toby," Vivienne patted his cheek. "I have faith in you."
Toby perked up. He snapped off another salute. "I will endeavor to complete my mission satisfactorily, staff sergeant."
"I'm sure you will, Toby." Vivienne sighed in turn. She seemed to do that a lot for some reason. "I'm going to get my coat and go out the back door. You need to go watch the register now."
"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" Toby slipped off the puppets, spun on his heel and marched toward the front room. As he left, he thought he heard Vivienne mutter to herself. It sounded like "...less than an hour to closing, thank goodness."
Toby continued to march briskly on his way. He had a toy store to run.
Toby stared at the cash register.
The cash register stared back.
He had already done the less boring bits of closing the store: checking for errant customers, dimming the lights, locking the door, hanging the hand-painted "Closed" sign, and circling the store once more in case any toys were running rampage while no one was looking. (Well, it could happen.)
Now he had to total up the day's sales and make sure that the cash and checks totaled up correctly.
Booorrring!
Toby nibbled his lip. He could just lock everything up; after all, Vivienne could do this job much better than he could. It would really be better to generously let her do it and not risk messing everything up. That would just mean she'd have to fix it afterwards and just make more work for her. Why, it would be kind of him to let her be sure that it was all done right by allowing her to do it herself.
["I have faith in you."]
*sigh*
Reluctantly, he rang out the register and opened the cash drawer. He'd start with the paper money first.
One. Two. Three. Four, five, six, seven... wonder how Myra's doing with her baby?
Drat.
One, two, three, four, five... seventeen, eighteen... thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two... two, two, two... "Choo-choo!"
"Chug-a-chug-a-chug-a..."
He pushed the stack of bills around the counter. The money train sped down the desk, negotiating sharp turns, running through tunnels, crossing high bridges. Don't go off the rails! Coming 'round the mountain (register) now...
Register.
Ah, oops.
Toby sighed and stared balefully at the register.
One. Two. Buckle my shoe. Three. Four. Shut the door.
... Was that someone at the door?
No.
One, two, three, fourfivesixseven... fifty. One hundred. Two hundred.... Finish the bills, count the change. Roll up the pennies, roll up the dimes, Roll-out the barrel! We'll have a barrel of fun...
Quarters! He picked up a quarter, displayed it the empty store. "Now watch as I make money disappear!"
He frowned. It was more fun in front of people. All he had for an audience were the silent books, quiet toys, and brooding register.
Finally he had all the change rolled up or stacked. Neat stacks of bills, neat rolls of coins. Sort of like little logs. Or cannons.
Cannons from an army attacking - Fort BillStack. A nigh-impregnable fortress protecting the treasures of ... Chocolate Mint Land!
"General Quarters! Orders, sir? Bring up Corporal Nickel's infantry and Captain Pfennig's artillery! Send the troops of Captain Dime around the side! We attack at dawn! Boom! Bam! We have them on the run, boys; press the attack! We'll show the scurvy dogs they cannot hoard all the riches for themselves!"
The army attacked the fort. Massed charges swept forward and were repulsed. Artillery bombarded the battlements. Finally, cunning warriors discerned the fort's fatal weakness and the besiegers swept forward.
"Charge!" Commander Toby yodeled. "We shall be victorious! Aha! BOOM! BAM! BAM! Rah! Victory is ours!! The fort is destroyed!"
Musket and cannon and the cruel hand of fate wiped Fort BillStack from the land and swept it into the dustbin of history.
*Chi-chang!*
Bills fluttered to the floor and the coins tinkled and bounced across the ground.
Oops.
Toby stared down at the mess of cash and coin rolls scattered all over.
Oh well. At least the banded bills wouldn't need to be counted again.
He picked up the money and began again.
Toby propped his chin in his hand and glared at the register, which ignored him with magnificent indifference. The blasted thing wouldn't add up correctly. He'd counted it all twice - every stinking penny of it - and still it didn't add up.
Toby crossed his arms and frowned fiercely at the errant receipts. The register must have made an error somewhere; someone had hit the wrong keys and entered the wrong amount for something.
Well, he wasn't about to spend all night fretting about Vivienne's problems. He'd just have to do something to fix it. Yes, and then she wouldn't have to worry about it; would never know there was anything wrong.
Whistling merrily, Toby put the money and receipts in their envelope and stuck them in the drop-safe. After removing the anomalous overage, of course. No sense in leaving it for Vivienne to fret over.
Toby smiled happily. It was good that he'd stayed. Vivienne had a register that balanced and he had some extra cash. He did a little happy otter dance. It was a win-win situation.
He skipped upstairs and gulped down some food from the kitchen. Mmmm, leftovers. As soon as he was done, he dropped the dishes in the sink and grabbed his leather jacket and wallet. He checked his appearance in the hall mirror (oh, yeah, who's a handsome otter?) then skipped downstairs to get his new (second-hand) motorbike. Moments later he was zooming along the street, ready for fun.
It was an out-of-the-way place. Mortal eyes would see the worn facade and boarded-up windows and look no further. Changeling eyes would see past to the welcoming light shining through the frosted windows and the Gothic-lettered sign that read "DARK WATERS".
Toby preened his whiskers and strutted toward the entrance.
The troll at the door looked down on him with a sour expression. "I.D."
"Eye-dee-hoe to you too, neighbor!" Toby cheerfully replied, walking on past.
A heavy hand on his collar pulled him back to face the bouncer.
"Hey! Watch where you're putting your hands; I'm not that kind of an otter!" He brushed his leather jacket. "Not unless you've got a bit more couth than you're showing right now, at least. And a nice fireplace. Can't do without the fireplace. Though perhaps if you-"
The troll leaned down. "Shut up and show me some I.D."
"Yes sir, shutting up right now..." Toby paused in his pooka outpouring and gaped in surprise. This wasn't standard procedure. "You're serious?! You're carding us? Enforcing mortal laws? Hey... I'm the otter, I'm the one who's supposed to make the jokes and ice cream cake around here."
He puffed himself up and glared at the troll. "I'll sic the union on you!"
The bouncer scowled. "We got word. The cops are cruising the bars - like they got nothin' better to do - and you know they got seelies in the ranks." He turned his scowl upon Toby. "Now I know you been here before and ain't caused no trouble, but tonight we gotta play it cool."
"Hey, I'm cool - we're talking zero degrees centigrade! I'm iceberg lettuce! Look out Titanic, you're going down!"
Toby displayed his fake driver's license, which showed him to be just over eighteen. He really could drive, now (quite expert at it, really, ready to challenge the Indy 500 except that he didn't want to show everyone up) but the age shown was maybe just a tiny little bit fudged. The troll nodded, inked a rubber stamp and stamped the back of his hand.
Toby examined the stamp critically. Something else new. "You gotta a new ink pad?"
"Sure; just for you."
"Well, well, my adoring public." Toby gave the troll a little wave and slipped inside.
There was only a scattering of customers at the tables, and none on the dance floor, so the bar was relatively quiet. Toby swaggered toward the bar.
"Barkeep!" Toby called. "My usual libation!"
Someone whistled behind him, "Yo! Tobias-sweet'ums!"
Toby turned at the familiar voice to see a satyr trotting up to him. The other fae was dressed in a black coat with black lace sleeves, tight black pants, and a ruffled black shirt accentuated with a blood-red cravat.
"Jonas! Old pal! Old buddy! My man! Aren't you colorful tonight! What's shaking?"
The satyr grinned at him. "Nothing yet. But the night is young!"
Toby smiled broadly and leaned against the bar. "And as it ages we shall drink many marvelous toasts to its good health!" he proclaimed.
He swept up his drink, took a healthy swig - and immediately spat it back out. Argh! Horrible! "What the frell is this? Barkeep! Are trying to poison me?"
The bartender gave him a small grin. "Your stamp says you're underage. You need to be twenty-one to be served alcohol in this state."
Jonas laughed and slapped his knees. "He served you Near-Beer? Oh now, that's funny."
"No, it's not!" Toby protested indignantly. What a way to start the evening. "I paid bad money for that fake I.D."
Jonas winked at him. "I'll buy a beer and share it with you; how about that?"
"Now that's the action of a true friend. In fact, your face should be in the dictionary next to 'best friend'! Or at least in a thesaurus. Maybe a cookbook."
The satyr whispered something to the bartender and he nodded. He came back a few moments later and placed a root beer float in front of the two youths.
Toby frowned at the drink. It wasn't real beer, but it was yummy and sugary and ... Jonas had played a trick on him. A good trick, but one couldn't let such things pass without protest. Jonas deserved that much.
"Root beer?" he protested. "Oh, very funny! I ask you; is this the act of a friend? A good friend - a true friend - would have gotten me something alcoholic that would make my head spin and fall down and maybe throw up a couple of times."
Jonas eyed the drink and slowly licked his lips. "Well... if you don't want it...."
Toby snatched the glass up and held it to his chest. "I didn't say THAT. I do totally hate ice cream floats, you know."
Toby put a straw to his mouth and took a good slurp. Then he waved Jonas to take the other straw. Toby licked his lips and sucked slowly at his straw, eyeing Jonas lasciviously over the top of the glass. Jonas chuckled and punched him on the shoulder. "Tease!"
When they finished the float, Jonas waved his hand at the rest of the bar. "Look, Toby... this place is dead. Why don't we go where there's some hot Glamour action?"
Full of sugary goodness, Toby bounced eagerly. "You gotta place in mind?"
"How about a mortal dance club?" Jonas waggled his eyebrows. "We can take your bike and cruise! Just think - music... dancing... girls..."
"Woo-hoo!" Toby clapped enthusiastically. "With water slides and sushi bars! That's more like it!"
Moments later they were zipping down the streets of Boston; the goth satyr snugged up on the narrow seat behind the otter pooka.
"Hey! Watch those hands! Or move them over to the right," Toby wiggled a little.
"I'm just trying to hold on!" Jonas protested.
"Hold on to what?"
"I may be a satyr but I'm a straight satyr!"
"Says you and your last boyfriend!"
They stopped at a light, waiting for the cross-traffic to pass. "Shouldn't you be wearing your helmet?" Jonas asked. "I mean, if something happens my horns will protect me..."
Toby frowned. The last time he'd been out on his bike, someone had taken his helmet and painted it bright pink. There was no way Toby was going to wear it until he had it properly re-painted. If he hadn't known Jonas was out of town last weekend...
"Pffft. Pookas never need helmets!"
Their banter was interrupted by the roar of a pack of Harleys. A half-dozen sidhe in leather pulled up next to them.
"Nice little rice burner you got there," the pack leader drawled.
Toby sneered back. "Ha! It just looks like a rice burner. Beneath the most carefully crafted Glamour in the world this is actually a marvelous winged chariot, covered in gold and rubies and little tiny seashells. Only I don't like to make people jealous - so tiresome, you know - so I never reveal it to anyone. Except girls sometimes. You understand. At least I'm not over-compensating for..."
Jonas smacked him in the back of the head. "Shut up!" he whispered in terror.
The sidhe laughed. "You got guts, kid," he said. "Maybe we'll catch each other again some other night."
The light changed and the pack roared straight off.
Toby turned right. Jonas immediately protested. "Wait - the club is the other way!"
"Oh, and I definitely want to follow in the wake of stuck-up old sidhe exhaust!"
After a quick detour they arrived at the club. Thumping dance music could be felt through the sidewalk. "Let me go first; they know me here," Jonas said.
"And they still let you in?" Toby asked in a disbelieving tone. He waved a hand. "Ah well, no accounting for taste. You may lead the way and prepare them for the glorious sight of me!"
They opened the door to the odors of perfume, mixed drinks, and human sweat. The music rolled over them like a wave. Two muscular men with their arms crossed stood by the doorway. Jonas spoke and handed something to them and they let the pair pass.
Stairs just inside descended to the bar and a large dance floor. A young man in a booth was spinning disks on a pair of expensive turntables while people danced to the barrage of music. Glamour flickered above the dancers like occasional fireflies as the human drive to create, enjoy, and live on the edge sparked off flashes of energy.
"Oooo!" Toby said approvingly. His voice was drowned under the music. Conversation was nearly impossible.
Jonas raised a hand to his mouth in imitation of drinking. Toby responded with two thumbs up and handed him some of the overage from the toy shop.
As the satyr got them real beer Toby watched the dancers. Some moved with silky ease to the music while others rattled and jiggled their limbs with demented abandon. One particularly frenetic young woman seemed torn between being angry at the ceiling and casting spells at the floor. Near her, a young man was apparently repeatedly catching and releasing invisible bats, while a pair of teens seemed to believe they were windmills. Toby smiled broadly, caught up in the dancers' enthusiasm.
Oh yeah.
Forgetting about Jonas and the beers, Toby dove into the crowd on the dance floor. Happily, he gave himself up to the dance, stepping and spinning merrily to the music. Oblivious of anything but the pounding rhythm and the movement of foot and arm, leg and body, Toby danced.
The music changed tempo, becoming quieter as slow electric keyboards took over most of the sound. As many of the dancers left the floor to rest, Toby drifted to the edge of the floor and looked around for Jonas. The satyr was chatting with a pair of young women at a side table. Toby waved and headed over to join them.
He looked over the women as he approached. One of them was definitely going goth - black dress, black lipstick, and shoulder-length black-dyed hair. From the look of her skin, Toby guessed that she was actually a blonde, or perhaps a redhead. Her brunette friend was dressed in a casual green cambric skirt and vest over a loose ivory blouse.
"Oh, hey, Toby," Jonas slid one of the beers over to the pooka. "These are Debbie," he nodded toward the goth, "and, ah, Jill. And he's Toby."
Toby raised his beer in a salute. "Charmed, m'ladies."
The girls giggled.
"Is he for real?"
"More real than you could possibly imagine!" Toby chirped. He swigged his beer. Rich, locally brewed ale flowed over his tongue. Mmmmm.
Jonas grinned at him, then turned his attention back to Debbie. "So," he said, "Wanna dance?"
"Why not!" She extended a hand to him and he raised her from her seat. The two slid fluidly over the floor in a dance that was half sweeping waltz and half slow tango. They moved together, twirling gracefully back and forth across the room. Debbie's eyes shone, and she laughed in delight as Jonas spun her around and led her back into the dance without hesitation or bobble. Glamour suddenly flared from her like fire. Toby cupped his chin on his hands and smiled as he watched the other fae bask in the flowing energy.
"Don't they dance divinely?" he asked Jill. "Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers couldn't do better!"
"More like Gomez and Mortica Addams," Jill smirked. "He a good friend of yours?"
"Friend? We just go everywhere together and hang out all night long and have breakfast at Tiffany's by daybreak! Never saw him before in my life!"
She laughed. "You're cute. I like cute. Even in leather, I like cute."
Even in leather? The leather was hawt. "Cute? Me? No! I'm rough and tough and chew nails for breakfast, and I'm much much older than I look!"
"That wouldn't be hard."
The airy music faded out and was replaced by hard driving bass drums. Jonas and Debbie took the change and ran with it. Toby gestured towards the floor. "Are we gonna sit here all night or let them have all the fun?"
Jill and Toby took to the dance floor. They shimmied and shook to the modern musical rhythms. Within moments Jill began to light up - the sheer joy of dancing causing the Glamour to rise up in her. Toby followed her steps as she lit up like a lighthouse - her Glamour reaching out like it was seeking a home.
Come on baby... right here... who's your daddy?
As Toby fixed his attention on Jill, her Glamour fixed itself on him. They drew close and the smell of her hair mixed with his leather heightened the taste of her Glamour. Ooooh, yeah; warm all over.
Toby smiled blissfully at Jill as he danced, eyes half-closed. Good beer, good dancing, good Glamour - who could ask for more?
His revery was broken by the sudden change in the music and an abrupt shutdown of Glamour. His eyes popped open. Jill grabbed his hand.
"WE GOTTA GO!" she shouted over the music. "NOW!"
She pointed towards the stairs and he saw several police officers starting to enter the bar.
Toby sneered at the police but joined the small tide of people running toward the rear door.
They burst outside and found themselves surrounded by group of police and their cars. "We want to see ID, people!" a cop yelled.
Toby did a little dance and sang softly under his breath. "Itsy-bitsy spider climbs up the waterspout. Down comes the rain to wash the spider out." Jill was staring at him. He ignored her and continued, wiggling his fingers like spiders, "Out comes the sun and dries up all the rain. And the itsy-bitsy spider crawls UP THE SPOUT AGAIN!"
The cops suddenly started waving their arms and slapping frantically at their clothes. Toby giggled and grabbed Jill's hand. Together they rushed past the distracted policemen.
" 'Scuse me, pardon me, 'scuse me, pardon me," he heard Jonas chant as he and Debbie followed in their wake. They ran from the club exit without pursuit. They rounded a corner and stopped to catch their breaths.
"We just missed a raid!" Toby exclaimed. "And I was so looking forward to being hassled by people with nothing better to do than to inspect my perfectly legal I.D. and buy me chocolate bars."
Jill laughed. "They change the music to cue people that the cops are coming."
"Not that I was in any trouble," Debbie groused.
"It's not fair! I'm almost twenty-one!" Jill complained.
"Me too!" Toby said excitedly. "What a coincidence!"
Debbie came over and wrapped an arm around Jonas. "You boys wouldn't happen to know someplace where we wouldn't get hassled just for dancing?"
Jonas grinned and pulled out his cell phone. "I happen to know where 'Lotus and Moly' are playing."
"Dude! Have you been holding out on me?" Toby waggled a finger at Jonas. "Greedy goat! I shared Jessie and her band and lemon drops and honeydew with you!"
Jonas shrugged uncomfortably. "Yeah, but they're... a bit raw for me."
Toby sniffed. "Your taste is all in your mouth."
Jill stepped over. "Hey, who's he calling?"
"He's trying to get hold of no one in particular, especially not a club owner. " Toby winked at Jill and bounced on his toes. "Got wheels?"
Jill nodded.
"Well if you two want to spend more of a boring night with us two old geezers who just happen to know where a live band is playing you certainly mustn't follow us. We'll be the Wyld Ones on the winged chariot!" He glanced back to where the cops were back to hassling people, albeit with occasional twitches and slaps at their clothing. "Just as soon as the Keystone Cops are done with their dance rehearsal."
With a rattle and a roar they careened up to what looked like an abandoned building. Only the sound of mellow electronic music floating through the night hinted that there was life inside.
"Follow me," Jonas said.
Toby gestured toward the building. "Don't you love it? So cheerful and bright? They like everyone to know about this place so you can see that they always fly day-glo banners and light up big neon signs!"
They entered a long hallway. Just inside sat a large man sat on a bar stool. Beyond was a second set of doors where the music slowly pulsed out. Jonas flashed the man a peace sign. "Elizabeth sent me!" he declared. He pointed to Jill and Toby. "They're okay."
"Okay? Okay!? We're terrific! Exemplary! The very model!"
The man's eyebrow twitched upwards and he nodded. Without asking for identification he stamped the back of their hands.
As they entered the bar Debbie drew a deep breath. Instead of cheap chairs and wobbly tables there were groups of sofas, comfy couches and low tables. Men and women in various shades of black lounged about or danced leisurely. The singer crooned and moaned while the band played slowly and easily behind him.
"It's heavenly," Debbie remarked.
"It's 'The Addams Family' ", Jill said, wrinkling her nose.
"It's a home run!" Toby exclaimed. Now this was a club. Mmmm, goths.
Debbie and Jonas glanced between each other and the dance floor.
"Hey, hey, you two! There'll be time for boogie shoes later! Don't let us get a booth while you go wandering away to do the light fantastic!"
The couple bounced away and started a dramatic, cheek-to-cheek parade across the dance floor.
Jill shook her head. "I've never seen her act this way. And this place!"
A man in tight Edwardian clothes stepped up to them. He bowed graciously, took Jill's hand and kissed it.
"Charmed," the man murmured.
"Hey! What am I? Chopped sushi?" Toby complained.
The man smiled and kissed his hand too. "Charmed," he repeated.
Toby looked slyly up at the goth from under fluttering eyelids. "You say the sweetest things."
"You two seemed... a little out of place." The goth gave them a wink. "We have a strict dress code, you know."
Toby glanced down at himself. Black boots, faded black jeans, black leather jacket. Perfectly proper otter wear, if maybe just a little more along the lines of motorcycle chic than goth. "Oooo, next time I'll remember to wear my purple pants!"
"I'm sure you will." The goth glided away.
Jill rubbed her forehead. "I need a drink."
Toby touched her shoulders. "Been wandering lost through the hot Indian day too long? Then let Gunga-Tobias supply you with refreshments!" He jumped up and saluted. "Yes sir, yes ma'am! Cakes and ale by my swarthy hide! Cheerio and bombs away!"
He paid for the drinks with the overage from the toy store. He felt quite pleased - not only had he fixed a problem for Aunt Vivienne but now he was supplying need intoxicants for himself and his new friends! He walked back, balancing the tray with one hand. He flicked his whiskers like a moustache. "Voila! Tall, dark and foamy!"
Jill reached for the drink and slugged some of it down. Toby took a swallow of his. He wasn't going to get her drunk and take advantage of her. She was getting drunk all by herself.
But she needed cheering up. "Hey! Did you know I'm a magician?"
"Huh?"
"I make things disappear! I can make my drink disappear," he took a larger swallow. "I can make money disappear..." he took out a coin and performed a bit of sleight of hand. "But I can't make fish disappear. Nuh-uh. You can serve me as much cod and swordfish and lobster and you won't see it vanish from the plate!"
She put her hands over her face and started to chuckle. "You are the strangest guy; I swear."
Toby bowed with a flourish. "Why thankee, ma'am. Right honored to hear it. How 'bout we saunter over to the ol' corral and - count the chickens." He waggled his eyebrows expressively.
Jill laughed out loud. "Do even you understand what you're talking about?"
Toby waved a hand dismissively. "What is understanding compared to the path?"
"Ha!" She pointed a finger at him. "I know that one. Understanding is a three-edged sword."
"Beware of shadows," Toby intoned, grinning. "They have a way of moving when you're not watching."
As they traded banter back and forth, Toby glanced around the room. The band was oozing Glamour - meaning it was coming off them as slow a molasses, as dark as molasses, as sweet as molasses. Goths in their black on black outfits paraded by, dimly glowing with it; Debbie perhaps most of all.
Toby didn't mind. He didn't have to spend time on dance lessons to get his taste; he just acted like he normally did and drank deeply from Jill's laughter.
Of course, there was still space on the dance floor, and the rhythms called to his feet enticingly.
The band revved up the tempo and moved into a swing tune.
Toby bowed to Jill again and offered her his paw. "Shall we, my lady?"
Several hours later they left the bar and shared out a seafood platter at an all-night diner. After all, one does not live by Glamour alone. And there was nothing better after an evening of dancing than seafood. Except maybe chocolate. Or strawberries. Or ... well, life was full of neat stuff. There might not be time to try it all, but that was no reason not to try!
Outside the restaurant, the two fae walked the mortals to their car. "Toby, you've been a sweetheart," Jill said a bit boozily. "But I think we should end the night here... okay?"
Toby shrugged to himself. He hadn't really expected anything else, and it had been a fun evening anyway. "The night cannot end until the night is done. Do you prefer rare, medium, or well-done?"
"Good-night, Toby," Jill said firmly. She gave him a brief hug and stepped back.
"I shall treasure the memory of this night in my heart forever," Toby assured her. Or at least until something else interesting came along.
Debbie and Jonas, meanwhile, were exchanging phone numbers and giving each other silly grins. As the girls drove off, the satyr sighed. "I'm in love..."
"When aren't you in love?" Jonas fell in love at least once a week, and fell out of it again as quickly.
"No, no. I mean it. Did you see how we fit together, dancing away? I tell you, she's the one for me." His face got a dreamy look to it. "And she even knows how to tap dance..."
Toby slapped him gently. "Hey, you, you're thinking much too straight! You're not Glamour drunk!"
"I'm drunk on love..."
"You're not confusing friendship with food," Toby snorted. "Just like Ryan last week, and Michelle before that, and, um," he snapped his fingers, "Betty-Boop before her. She's all chocolate cake and ice cream! Does that make her a soul-mate." He sighed. "Jonas, ol' pal, are you getting silly over a mortal girl? You know how well such things work."
"So? Fae and mortal relationships have worked before," Jonas said defensively.
"Oh yes...with the mortals being rolled up in honey and living long and glorious lives!" He tapped on the satyr's forehead. "Hello? Anyone home? Even I who have never ever ever heard any of the legends and lies know that!"
"Toby... I'd like to start settling down," Jonas said quietly. He shuffled his hooves. "I mean, I won't be a Wilder forever you know..."
Toby choked. "Settle down?! You aren't serious, are you? She really must be nothing special."
Most likely Jonas would be back to crying on Toby's shoulder in a few days, and off with another girl soon after that. Still...
The pooka shook his head slowly. "Hope it works out not at all for you, man."
"Thanks, Toby."
He dropped the satyr off at his motley and zoomed off into the night. There was still a little money left over. It was good there had been an overage. Otherwise, he couldn't have afforded to by all those drinks for poor thirsty Jill. It was... a gift. Yes! A gift from the gods of Fortune. Maybe he could get some toys for the sick kids in Andrea's ward. Or a present for Roxanne. Or a chew toy for Jessie. Hmmm.
He saw a small store and gas station up ahead and got an idea. He pulled in and topped off his tank. He entered the store and eyed the foodstuffs, candies and cheap toys they had for sale. Yes! Gifts! He snatched up some candy bars, a loaf of bread, some lunch meats, milk, cookies, donuts, canned fruit, and a pair of toy motorcycles.
The attendant gave him a quizzical look.
"Everyone's heard of regular Santa. Well, I'm the Otter Santa. From the Otter Limits! Hook up the reindeer! Zip! Zip! Zip!" He paid for the goods and hefted the bag in his arms. "TALLY HO!"
He held the groceries balanced carefully in front of him and sped out of the parking lot.
Toby drove through the streets and pulled up to a condemned building. There were homeless kids crashing there; he'd seen them several days before. He jumped off the bike, ran up to the door and pounded on it. Ta-ta-ta-da-ta, thump-thump! Hearing noises behind the door, he dropped the bag and roared off, giggling.
"Otter rules again!"
Groaning, Toby rolled over and peered at the clock. No way. It couldn't possibly be that late. He rolled back and buried his face in his pillow for a moment, then sighed and sat up. Oh well. Time for a shower. And a bath. Yeah. Baths were fun.
Freshly bathed and dressed, Toby strolled into the kitchen, looking for breakfast. Aunt Vivienne was there. He waved at her cheerfully, basking in the knowledge of good deeds well done.
She raised an eyebrow and pointed at a plate of pancakes warming on the stove top.
"Toby," she drummed her fingers on the counter top. "About the cash register receipts from yesterday..."
He straightened up and preened. She was going to thank him for his stupendous job.
"There seems to be a bit of an error in the count..."
Oh, dear. And after Toby had gone to all that trouble to make sure everything balanced properly. Some people just couldn't manage anything properly without a pooka's help. He gave Vivienne his best adorable-otter look, smiled winningly, and took a deep breath. "Don't worry;" he said consolingly, "We'll find your error. And fix it good as new! Better than new! Two for the price of one!"
Time to start doing what otters did best.
- End -