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Charthur hated this. She //hated// it.
She couldn't stay silent. She had to tell Jasmaby.
But how? It was important to phrase these things properly.
She thought, and came up with [[the perfect phrasing]].
Charthur breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll pay the price, I'll travel far. Where was it made, your stupid jar?" Maybe she could order it tonight and be done with this whole mess.
"Auroria," Jasmaby said simply, examining his floral earrings in the mirror.
"Oh," said Charthur cheerfully, "I actually g--"
"Thousands of years ago," Jasmaby put on finger on his chin and gazed upwards. "By an entirely extinctuished cilivization, if I recall properly."
"Oh," said Charthur, somewhat more quietly.
He resumed going over his outfit in the mirror. "So unless you have a time portal under your bed," Jasmaby checked his scarf, craning his neck this way and that to ensure it was draped perfectly over his shoulders, "I'm afraid you'll just have to suffer the tormture of civilite conversement and good grub."
"But," Charthur said.
"End of story," Jasmaby snapped. He had a way of getting the final word in on a topic.
Charthur huffed, but [[said nothing more]].Charthur sat and watched and Jasmaby finished preening himself in the mirror. He tugged lightly at the hem of a sleeve with a flourish. "There. Perfect," he said to himself.
//Ding dong//, the doorbell rang in the distance. "Ah, our guests!" Charthur shot him a revolted look. How did he manage to do that? Being so on-time felt offensive to her.
Jasmaby ignored her, instead graciously extending a face-up hand. "Escort me down, would you?" Charthur looked at the hand, then to Jasmaby. He was... radiant. There was no other word for it. She swallowed. She tried not to examine her good luck too hard, as if doing so might make it evaporate, but sometimes it caught up to her all at once.
She placed her hand in his, shared a tiny bow with him, and [[led him downstairs]].Arm-in-arm, Charthur and Jasmaby descended the staircase, crossing the grand entrance foyer. As they approached the magnificent double doors leading outside, Jasmaby broke away, rushing forward to fling them open.
"Hello!" he declared. "So good of you two to come!"
"Hiya!" Mellie squeaked. "Thank you for inviting us!" She gave a little curtsey, flaring the hem of her pale blue dress.
"Good evening, uh, thanks for having us." Claude added. He tugged at the bowtie around his neck.
"Oh my gosh," Mellie put her paws to her face, admiring Jasmaby, who reflexively adopted a pose. "We're so underdressed!"
"Nonsense," Jasmaby insisted. He leaned down, and took both of Mellie's hands in his. "You two both look lovely. We're just grateful you could accept our invitation on such short notice."
"Will Charthur be joining us?" Claude asked.
Jasmaby raised an eyebrow. "Yes, of course, she's right," Jasmaby turned to find an [[empty foyer]] behind him. "Charthur? //Charthur!!//" he shouted.
A small voice echoed from the direction of the kitchen: "A brief hiatus, a minor delay! I'm minding the stew, and the soufflé!"
Jasmaby shouted back, "Claude doesn't have his camera! I told you he wouldn't!"
There was a beat, and then the timid response: "Oh. Coming, then."
Jasmaby turned back to their guests. Mellie's expression was unchanged, still perfectly cheerful, while Claude's betrayed only a hint of awkwardness. Charthur emerged from a sidedoor, faltering only slightly as she made eye contact with Claude.
"Well then," Jasmaby declared, clapping his hands together, "[[Shall we?]]"Once dinner had gotten underway, Charthur managed to relax a little. The formal attire thankfully faded from importance once the conversation was underway.
Perhaps part of it was the table arrangement. Jasmaby had done his best, but the simple fact of the matter was that seating the tiny flower cat gelbeast at the same table as the hulking tiger was never going to look exactly right. The [[chairs]] were always going to look just a bit goofy; and that tiny break in the formality was all it took to give Charthur space to breathe.
Jasmaby had just finished his meal, and was neatly arranging his utensils on his plate, out of habit. "So!" he declared, folding one hand on top of the other. "Tell me all about how you two became acquiescents."
"Oh, there's not much of a story!" Mellie chirped happily. "We met at a garden show!"
"I had a display there." Claude added. "They had a whole section for hybrids, so I got to show off some of sturdier varieties. And, well, Mellie happened to come by."
"Ah, what a lovely setting for a first happenstance!" Jasmaby looked at Charthur out of the corner of his eyes. "Why is it that you've never brought me to a garden show, dearest?"
Charthur...
...[[responded politely]].
...[[defended herself]]."Oh, it's gonna be fun! We've started a new segment on weird stuff and calling it, 'Uncovering Dewclaw's Mysteries'. Toyle's been a bit secretive on what we're going to be investigating, but he seems really excited!"
"Oh, Toyle. How is he doing, anyway? I hope he's not too upset by that business before the last war."
Charthur's ears perked up. A wicked grin on her face, she started, "A problem Jas has often faced; in..." but was cut off by an elbow to her side.
"Don't be cruss, dear," Jasmaby said. "Not at the dinner table." The corner of his mouth twitched, betraying a supressed smile.
"Wow, you knew what..." Claude started,
"What she was going to say, yes." Jasmaby interrupted. "Her rhymes make it easy to predictipate
"So what's it like, working for Toyle? Are you still getting used to the job?"
"Oh, it's fun! It's different every day, which I love! And we get to meet so many interesting people!"
"I've always found him a little two-faced, he's left in my mouth a sour taste."
"I'm sure when you get to know him,"
"Well... yes and no? He's not a bad guy, he's just..." Mellie stuck her tongue out of her mouth in concentration, holding her hands in front of her as if trying to box an idea. "...focused," she concluded.
"On himself," Claude added."A little curious, I don't mean to pry; what's it like being a drop, where the air is so dry?"
"Ah, it's fine! I mean, it's a little more work than living somewhere cooler or more humid, but I love Dewclaw!"
"Oh, do you?"
"Yeah! I've never lived anywhere so fun and crazy! There's so many different kinds of people, I love it! Whenever I feel even a little down, I just let myself get lost in the market, and I always find something new!"
"Interesting. You sound like a friend of mine." "A lot more chipper, though."
"Oh, yeah?"
"A friend of mine believes the large number of turf tigers in Dewclaw is due to the same variety you mentioned; that for any tiger looking to find their fashion, Dewclaw holds the answer."
"Oh, cool!"
"
"Fluid, changing, loose and shifting,
Flex yourself, forever drifting."Charthur had spent what felt like an eternity sorting through the chairs in storage with Jasmaby, arranging and rearranging them as he dictated, listening to him anxiously weigh the pros and cons of each potential set.
Ultimately, she had <<insertlink "convinced him">> (via a combination of <<reviselink x "patient counsel" end>> <<revision x>><<gains>>and a well-applied headlock<<endrevision>>)<<endinsertlink>> to abandon any hope of finding four perfect matches, and instead simply pick the most comfortable four. Jasmaby compromised, picking out the best possible fits for their guests. He then selected two that almost matched their aesthetic while also being almost, but not actually, comfortable.
Which is why Charthur was, at the moment, trying to be discreet about shifting in her seat while [[making conversation|Shall we?]]. "I shall add it to the list, sweetheart," Charthur mumbled.
"Marvellent," Jasmaby said, before turning back to Claude. <<display "claude story">>"This is literally the first time you've ever brought it up, Jazzy," Charthur shot back.
"You should know to be proactivated, dear one," Jasmaby said, smiling, one corner of his mouth raised ever so slightly. "Mellie didn't have to tell Claude to take her to the show."
"That's not even how the story went!" Charthur threw one hand in the air in frustration.
"The story which Claude was in the process of telling, Charthur," Jasmaby lifted his chin. "Let's let him finish, shall we? Not everything is about you."
Charthur pointed a finger at him, but opted to roll her eyes and drop the topic instead. He turned back to their guests, and gave them the tiniest shrug.
"Ahem," Jasmaby said. <<display "claude story">>"So as you were saying, Mellie came by your display?"
"Ha ha, yeah." Claude placed one hand on his other forearm, rubbing it nervously. "She caught me off-guard! I was completely head in the clouds. I didn't expect anyone to even talk to me."
"He was holding this massive tree, but he was carrying it so delicately." Mellie rested her chin in her hands, a dreamy look in her eyes. "Something about how gentle he was. Have you ever just known someone was special?" she asked, turning to Claude, who at this point was beginning to blush.
Charthur [[turned to Jasmaby]].Charthur turned to Jasmaby, who met her gaze. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment. "Yes," they said simultaneously.
"So, yeah, that's all there was to it." Claude turned to Mellie, and shared a smile with her. "We talked for 15 minutes or so about gardening, then she asked me for lunch the next day, and that was that."
"I wanted him to ask me!" Mellie giggled excitedly. "But I got bored of waiting, so I just asked him instead."
"Of course, of course," Jasmaby said knowingly. "The cute ones are always oblivitory." Without looking, he gave Charthur a condescending pat on the head.
Charthur...
[[...protested]].
[[...rolled with this]].Charthur placed a paw on her chest in mock offense. "I'm oblivious? Did you say that out loud? Are you not the one with your head in a cloud?"
"Oh, please," Jasmaby lifted his chin slightly, closing his eyes for effect. "I am one of the most perspective tigers you will ever meet."
"You thought Fizzy was a Turf Tiger for two entire wars," Charthur pointed out.
Jasmaby simply scoffed. "I was being metaphysical, obliviously? It was a //compliment//. I plainly intended to convoy that she was //like// a Turf Tiger. It's not //my// fault if //you// didn't understand that."
Charthur sighed. This was a hopeless battle, better left for another time. Instead of pressing it, she [[turned back to their guests]].Charthur stood, leaning across the table with one arm extended to Claude. "We're the cute ones, you and I! Hit me, kid, hit me high!"
"Oh, uh," Claude glanced nervous back and forth between Mellie and Charthur's raised hand. "Uh, um, sure." He lightly tapped Charthur's palm with his. "Boom, uh, I guess," eliciting a tiny giggle from Mellie.
Charthur turned with a wide grin to Jasmaby, who was putting on a grand display of rolling his eyes. "Charthur, please. Is is not possible for you show a smidgen of decorum? We are //trying// to be classy tonight."
Charthur let her face fall. "Is that what's expected of us?" She smirked. "Sorry! You know how I'm oblivious."
"Ugh," Jasmaby groaned, but said nothing more. He knew when he was beat.
Satisfied, Charthur [[turned back to their guests]]."Anyway," Charthur recovered. "You were saying, that," she paused for a moment, and turned to Claude. "Ahem. 'Mongst delicate petals, you found whom; would be the one to make your love bloom."
"Awwww!" Mellie shouted out. "I love that!" She turned to Jasmaby. "So tell me the truth, is she just, like -- always like this?"
Jasmaby smiled a warm smile. "You mean positively mawkish? Yes, definitively." He lay his hand on top of Charthur's. "I imagine Claude loves cultivating flowers as much Charthur enjoys cultivating words."
Mellie giggled. "Yes, he does. And, and!" She suddenly sat up high in her chair. "Speaking of love, can you two help me convince him he should do what he loves for a living?"
"Mellie!" Claude protested. "It's-- it's just a hobby!"
Mellie took on an accusatory tone. "It doesn't have to be. You could start your own nursery! I know you've wanted--"
Claude interrupted, "I don't mind working for Toyle, really! You're making too big a deal out of this?"
Mellie huffed, putting her hands on her hips. "You see?" she said, turning back to the two tigers. "Help me out here!"
Charthur...
[[...sided with Mellie]].
[[...sided with Claude]].Charthur stared at Claude for a minute, formulating. Claude opened his mouth to speak, but Jasmaby waved him into silence. "I know that look. Give her a momentous."
This one would take care. She let the words come, one by one, working forwards and backwards as necessary to fit them together. Then, when she was ready, she spoke:
"It may be rough, it may cause strife,
But seek to live your fullest life.
For me it's fighting; for Jasmaby, fashion.
Happiness only found in passion."
"Yeah!!" Mellie squeaked. "That's exactly it!" She turned to Claude, grabbing his arm with both hands. "That's exactly what I've been trying to tell you!"
"Aw, Mellie..." Claude trailed off. He breathed in, gently lay his hand across both of hers, and said, "I've been thinking about it, and... what if I figured out how much I'd need saved up to do it right... that would give me a target..."
"Yeah!!" Mellie shouted. "I'm so excited to hear that!! Because what's the point of living in a place as amazing as Dewclaw if you're not going to take advantage of it?"
This [[raised a question]] for Charthur.Charthur stared at Claude for a minute, formulating. Claude opened his mouth to speak, but Jasmaby waved him into silence. "I know that look. Give her a momentous."
This one would take care. She let the words come, one by one, working forwards and backwards as necessary to fit them together. Then, when she was ready, she spoke:
"Know your timing, pick your fight,
When it comes to love, do it right.
Hope to win, plan to fail:
thus do cooler heads prevail."
"Aww, no!" Mellie squeaked, slamming her hands on the table without even enough force to rattle her plate. "That's the opposite of what I wanted you to say! You--" but Claude cut her off with a gentle hand on her shoulder (and most of her arm).
"Mellie, hey," he said. "What if..." he bit his lip, pausing there, before continuing, "What if I... don't do anything just yet... but I figure out what kind of savings I'd need to get by? That would, uh, give me a target..."
"Yeah!!" Mellie shouted, gripping his hand with both of hers. "Because what's the point of living in a place as amazing as Dewclaw if you're not going to take advantage of it?"
This [[raised a question]] for Charthur.The question had occured to Charthur earlier, but it didn't seem appropriate to ask. Now, though, she felt she had an opportunity to good to pass up. Perhaps it would help the slight unease she felt in her gut.
She said, with some uncertainty, "Actually, uh, Mellie..." as Mellie turned to her, she felt herself her nerve for a moment... but as Mellie smiled at her cheerful, she regained it, and went on, "A little curious, I don't mean to pry; what's it like being a gel, where the air is so dry?"
"Oh! That's not prying at all!" Mellie said haipply. "I mean, the heat's not my favorite thing, but I love Dewclaw! It's just..." She put her paws on her face, squishing herself slightly. "I've never lived anywhere so fun and crazy! There's so much to do, so much variety, everyone doing their own thing, I love it!" She sighed, and looked to the ceiling. "Whenever I feel a little down, I just let myself get lost in the market..." With that, she perked up again, "and I always find something new and awesome!"
"Ah, actually, that's quite intriguing to hear," Jasmaby said, and everyone [[turned to him]].Jasmaby explained, "When you articlate it like that, you sound exactly like a friend of mine. Well," he put one finger to his chin. "A lot more chipper, certainly. But the intext is identical."
He went on, "She's told me before that what she loves about living i--" Jasmaby's voice caught in his throat, his face turning pale. He looked down, placing his hand to his mouth. As Charthur put her hand on his arm in concern, he recovered, and said, "Oh, no, it's just -- how embarrassing, I used the wrong word." He shook his head from side-to-side. "How utterly mortifying."
He cleared his throat and sat upright, eyes closed, regaining his poise. "As I was saying, what she loves about //being// in Dewclaw is how it affects her works." He raised a hand, palm-up, fully into his lecture now. "We were discussing how one kindles creativity in designing a new fashion. Her take on it was that when she feels unable to grasp inspiration, she need only wanble through the city; such is enough to allow it to find her instead."
"Oh, that's neat!" Mellie cheered.
Jasmaby nodded sagely. Charthur had heard this theory before, but it was a good one, so she was content to [[let Jasmaby have his turn orating]] without feeling the need to interrupt.Jasmaby continued, clearly enjoying holding everyone's attention. "This actually led to something further. Have you noticed, the attractestation Dewclaw has on turf tigers? How so many of us are drawn here?" He lightly held his chin. "The streak grows larger month to month, as tigers from all over the contentment come to settle. Why is that, exactly?"
He gave the table a moment to consider this, before answering his own question: "I'll steal her words here: as she put it, because it is a city where you can be yourself. Even if you're not sure who that is yet."
"Oh, hey!" Mellie said excitedly. "Actually, yeah! That's really cool, because, like, I've kind of felt like that? I mean, I used to really have this feeling like," Mellie shrugged, and as she did, a certain indescribable flatness fell across her face. "Who am I? Who am I going to be today?" She put her hands back down, and her familiar features returned.
"How curious. You're sounding like a tiger even more, now." Jasmaby said, warmly.
"A tiger's outfit is their pride; to show the world what lies inside. We call a style a success, when something true it can express," Charthur added.
Jasmaby nodded, first to Charthur, then to Mellie. "It sounds like the mélangedly serves us both. Well, it's certainly why Charthur and I do love Dewclaw so much."
Charthur [[said nothing]], the uneasiness now becoming a sinking feeling in her gut.Charthur looked down at her plate, wanting to say something, but finding herself at an utter loss for words. So it was a relief when Mellie changed the subject: "Speaking of Dewclaw, it's your turn for storytelling! How did you two first meet?"
"In mid-air," Jasmaby said simply.
"In mid-" Mellie trailed off, confusion taking over her smile.
"Yes. Charthur was leaping, and,"
Grateful for the familiar ground, Charthur added, "WA-POW! Right in the gut." She patted herself proudly on the abdomen. "I, in pounce, did with fist collide," she turned to Jasmaby, moving her hand up to her chest and extending the other to him. "My feelings never to subside."
"Out in a single punch," Jasmaby said, making a show of examining his fingernails. "And anyone who's fought Charthur will tell you that's no small achievemendation."
Charthur held up both hands. "I won't lie, the shot was great. It deserves all the praise it's commanded. But you I would evicerate, if only my blow had landed."
"Ah, 'if'." Jasmaby said, turning to her. "It's such a beautiful word, able to render a suppository statement entirely meaningless." The two were grinning now, each [[baring their fangs]]. They held their glare as long as either of them could stand to.
And they burst into laughter. It was a while before either of them could contain themselves, as their guests sat and smiled nervously.
As the last of their chuckles died away, Mellie spoke up, "So, uh," She swallowed. "Gosh, I don't want to be rude! It's just, is that kind of thing... normal for turf tigers?"
Jasmaby waved a dismissive paw at her, still fighting back a bit of laughter in the back of his throat. "Not at all, dear, not rude at all." He gave a little shrug. "I don't know if it's common, but it's not terribly atropical, no. Certainly, Charthur and I saw there was something about the other one right away."
Charthur put on a pleasant smile and nodded. This was technically accurate, and so not worth contesting.
"I will say," Jasmaby went on, "That most tigers I've spoken with have told me what they're looking for in a partner is someone they feel compassionatible with both in and out of wars."
"What many tigers are searching for: someone who's fair in love and war," Charthur quipped, before [[turning back to Jasmaby]].
"So," Jasmaby continued, "That means most relationships between two tigers take a little more time than some species, as the couple works out both halves of their partnership, but for us, well," Jasmaby leaned over, wrapping a loving arm around Charthur, "It was love at first smite."
Charthur followed his lead, placing both hands over her chest. "Alas, my weakness, I, soppy sap: he ensnared my heart in cunning trap."
Jasamby blushed, waving his other hand at her. "Oh, sweetheart!" He turned back to their guests. "To be entirely fair, I didn't know I was going to fall in love with her when I set the trap."
Mellie clutched her hands together, "Awwww, that is so sweet! That reminds me of--" Mellie kept talking, but suddenly Charthur could only hear Jasmaby's last sentence, repeated again and again.
Reflexively, she put one hand on Jasmaby and shoved him back upright. "What?!" she shouted at him. "Wait, wait," she waved her hands in the air, trying to formulate her thoughts. "What, //what//?!"
"What? What is it?" Jasmaby asked. Charthur took a deep breath, [[arranging the words in her head]].She exhaled forcefully through her nose, then launched into it: "What words just issued from your yap? What did you mean, 'it was a trap'??"
Jasmaby looked to Mellie and Claude, sharing their perplexed look, before turning back to Charthur. "I... I don't understand, darling. You were the one who brought it up."
Charthur jabbed a finger at him. "//I// meant it as a metaphor!! Are you saying there was more??"
The ridges between Jasmaby's eyes deepened, his bafflement growing. "I mean... it was obvious you'd try to ambush me. I'd done my research, as you must have done yours."
"Research??" Charthur felt the heat spreading across her face.
Jasmaby nodded. "All I had to do was find a suitable place to wait for your assault. Kid Neon suggested the plaza and told me you would go for an aerial assail."
"Neon??" Charthur shouted, still feeling utterly lost.
"Yes, darling. She had graphs and heatmaps and everything. It was //quite// impressful."
"Graphs??" Charthur screamed.
"You're losing it, deariest," Jasmaby said firmly.
He was right. Charthur turned to her plate, staring into the fine patterns around its edges, trying to [[recognize the world in her head]], while Jasmaby cocked his head to the side in concern.There was a long, resounding silence, before Mellie squeaked, "Yeah, well!! It's a good thing for you two that Claude wasn't there! He would've wiped the floor with BOTH of you guys!"
"No," said the three tigers in unison.
"But," Jasmaby said, slowly wrenching himself away. "I //am// sorry we never had the opportunity to rumble, Claude." He smiled sweetly at the hulking tiger across from him.
"Because my big boy would've given you a run for your money, huh?" Mellie chimed in.
"No," said the three again.
"I would have annihilated him," Jasmaby stated matter-of-factly. "But," and with this, he placed a tender hand on Charthur's head. "There's nothing wrong with being annihilated, is there, darling?"
It //was// sweet, the way he was trying to cheer her up. Charthur tried to muster the energy to respond to it, and...
...[[managed]].
...[[did not]].As much as there was to process, Charthur couldn't help herself. There was simply no way to turn down the opportunity. She put on a grin, and responded, "Oh yes, my love, I think I know. Like that last war, with my one-hit KO?"
Jasmaby ruffled her hair a bit aggressively. "I find it absolutely wondelightful that you can take such joy in getting lucky, my little snowball."
"You'd love to think that it was luck," Charthur started, but Jasmaby moved his hand to pinch an ear briefly, cutting her off.
"Charthur, please. Claude was speaking. How about you let him finish, hm?"
Charthur huffed, but couldn't find anything to say in time. The brief squabble had served its purpose; for now, she could [[stay silent]].Charthur appreciated the effort, but... for the moment, she was too preoccupied to rise to the bait. She signaled Jasmaby under the table with a thumb tucked between her other fingers: their sign for "not now". Jasamby noticed, eyebrows rising briefly, before he turned back to their guests.
Charthur would explain later. For now, she just wanted to [[stay silent]]."Anyway," Jasmaby said, "What were you saying before you were so rudely interrupted, Claude?" Jasmaby asked.
"I--" Claude started.
"Oh, but I did want to say," Jasmaby reached across the table to place a hand on Claude's. "I hope I wasn't misconstrupreted before. I am nothing but pleased to learn that you figured out wars weren't for you. There is nothing more important than realizing what makes you happy," and with this, he stroked Charthur's arm with his other hand.
"Ah, hey, thanks," Claude reached up scratch the back of his neck. "I really owe Eclaire for that, though. They saw it in how I fought, apparently." He grinned, blushing. "Pulled me aside for a talk after a war and, well, changed my life."
"That's wonderful, good for you." Jasmaby said, sounding positively elated. But then he paused, and turned to Charthur. "Dearest, you must have fought Claude. Did you not see..."
Charthur still wasn't quite in the mood to talk. Instead, she glided one hand over the top of her head. "Whoooooooooosh," she explained.
"That doesn't--" Jasmaby's brow furrowed, as they concentrated. "Actually, that sounds exactly like you, in this case."
Charthur nodded, but [[said nothing more|wrap it up]].There was, probably, a bit more pleasant conversation, about Claude and Eclaire, and the growing number of tigers declining to participate in wars ("more war for us," was Jasmaby's stance), and Charthur was sure she was listening at the time, but the details simply skimmed over the surface of her brain.
She tuned back in when Jasmaby clapped a hand to her back and announced, "Well, this has been hyperbolically delightful, but I do afear that Charthur is starting to get a bit exhausted, so I'm afraid I may have to call the evening to a close."
Charthur rolled her eyes, but couldn't quite muster the indignation to really make it count.
"No, no, it's totally getting late!" Mellie reassured him. She leaned over to hug Claude's arm. "I've got to get this big guy to bed, isn't that right, Claude?"
"You know me, never knows when the party's over." The massive tiger smiled down at her, planting a hand on her head and affectionately smooshing it slightly.
Equal parts sad to let the night end and relieved to have some quiet time, [[Charthur stood to see their guests out]].
"I hate this," she declared. Perfect.
Just to make sure she got her point across, she added, "This I hate." And for the sake of clarity, she finished: "Your lame idea, this double date." She worked her shoulders again, trying to loosen up her stiff blazer, to no avail.
Jasmaby took a moment to adjust the frilled neck of his gown before responding. "Yes, well, if you want to tell our guests we're canceling, I suppose I can't stop you."
"Well," Charthur started, but Jasmaby cut her off.
"And if you can find me a substiplacement vase, of course. Otherwise, my 'lame idea' stands."
Oh, was it [[that simple]]?"Ooh, wait!" Mellie burst out, "Can we do a photo? I want something to remember this awesome time by!" As she made eye contact with Charthur, her face betrayed just the briefest moment of tension, before she recovered, "Charthur, do you want to take it for us?"
That was an easy out.
But a few things were nagging at Charthur. The look on Mellie's face may have been the final tiny push she needed to throw herself over the edge.
"No, that's okay, we'll use the timer." She jabbed a thumb into her chest. "It won't come out well without this rhymer!" She blustered.
Jasmaby placed a hand on her shoulder, steering her away from their guests for a moment. "Charthur. Dearest. Are you sure? You don't have to. Don't do this on our accord."
"I'm not," Charthur spat back, but then more calmly, "I'm not. It's for me. Promise." She made a fist, and held it up. "I got this."
Jasmaby smiled at him uneasily, but said, "Alright, love." And then, his voice falling to a whisper, "Squeeze my hand if you have to."
Charthur nodded, and [[swallowed hard]].The two tigers led their guest to the foyer. While Jasmaby exchanged goodbyes with Mellie, Charthur turned to Claude. Looking all the way up at him, she recited, "I bid you adieu, I wish you good night. So happy are we, to extend the invite."
Claude reached out to shake hands with her, although more accurately, he wrapped his entire fist around hers. "Really, I had a great time. Thanks for having us over."<<if visited("...rolled with this")>> As he withdrew his hand, he held it up to her. "And hey, uh, here's to being the cute ones." Grinning, Charthur slapped him high-five, and the two shared a laugh as Claude shook the sting out of his aching paw.<<endif>>
And with that, [[she turned to Mellie|goodbye mellie]].Charthur watched, blankly, as Mellie cleared off some space on the table and propped her elbow on it. She was squinting at her compact, lining up the shot.
"Charthur!" Jasmaby called, and she turned to see him and Claude already in position. She forced her legs to march over to them, cringing as she felt herself cross the perimeter of the compact's view of field. She pressed herself between the two tigers, and slipped her fingers around Jasmaby's, ready and waiting for her.
Satisfied with the composition, Mellie stepped back from the table. There was a slightly "pop" as her arm detached, leaving it sitting on the table as a makeshift tripod. With the arm still attached, she poked the compact, then rushed around to join the other three. In a smooth motion, Claude leaned down so she could hop up on one arm, which he raised to the level of his chest.
"Say 'cheese,' everyone!" She shouted.
Charthur felt her chest go painfully tight.
She prayed [[the plan]] would work.CLICK
CLICK
CLICK
CLICK
CLICK
And with that, [[time flowed once more]].Five clicks. Five photos. Five beats that Charthur's heart had missed. But she was alive. Ha! It worked! She felt herself grinning, the adrenline rush of victory washing over her. As Mellie trotted back to the table to retrieve her compact and her arm, Jasmaby leaned down to kiss the top of Charthur's head. "Well done, love." And then, "You can let go now. I am losing circulation."
Charthur released his hand, too excited to be embarrassed.
Mellie popped her arm back on, and pulled up the photos with a tap. "Oh, this is such a good one!" she cheered. "Aw, except Charthur's blinking in this one." She swiped. "Oh, this one's great, but... Charthur's blinking again..." A concerned look on her face, she swiped again, and again, and once more. "Oh..." she said.
Jasmaby looked down at her, face blank. Charthur [[looked up]], ignoring the bead of sweat forming on her temple."Charthur," Jasmaby said, leaving it at that.
"A cunning plan! Entirely me." Charthur waggled a knowing finger in the air. "You can't fear what you can't see."
"That's..." Jasmaby frowned, brow furrowing.
"Would you say you're proud of me?" Charthur asked, waggling her eyebrows.
"Those... are words I might conceivably say, yes." He lifted one hand, held it in the air for moment, then patted her on the face. "Good job."
The pair turned to their guests. Claude was leaning over all the way to peer at the compact in Mellie's hands, an approving look on his face. Sensing that they were finished, Mellie tucked the compact in her handbag, and the four friends [[returned to the foyer|goodbye claude]]. Charthur faced Mellie, taking both of her hands in both of her own. "Thank you so much, I had an awesome time!" Mellie squeaked. She squeezed Charthur's hands, prompting Charthur to squeeze back, slightly squishing them. Mellie leaned in, and she whispered conspiratorially, "Don't worry. I'll remind you the next time there's a garden show."
Charthur raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Why?" she asked. Mellie gave her what must have qualified for a glare for the little gel, prompting Charthur's memory. "Oh, right! Yes. Uh, thanks."
"No problem," Mellie giggled. Then, suddenly, she moved in to give Charthur a hug around her middle, which Charthur bent over slightly to return. <<if visited("...sided with Mellie")>> Mellie craned up to whisper into Charthur's ear, "And thank you so much for helping me convince Claude about his nursery. You rock, Charthur." She turned her head to give Charthur a tiny peck on the cheek, then withdrew.<<endif>>
With that, the two [[turned to Jasmaby and Claude]]."You know," Jasmaby suddenly declared, "I had such a wonderful time, I don't see any point in waiting to plan our next get-together." He gently placed one hand on Claude's forearm. "Claude, why don't we all visit your garden next time?"
"O-oh!" Claude said with a start. "I mean! If you're sure you'd be interested..."
"I insist," Jasmaby said firmly. "I will be looking forward to your guided tour. You tell me where, I'll tell you when."
"Ah, I'd-- yes, I'd love to!" Claude said. "It's part of the community garden, just next to town hall."
"Oh, perfect," Jasmaby remarked. "There's a Altharian restaurant I adore right nearby. It's exquisite, they import their water directly from the Crystal Farms, it is simply--"
Charthur felt a small irritation forming in the center of her forehead. She weighed her options, and...
[[...interrupted]].
[[...said nothing]].In the middle of Jasmaby's speech about the superiority of Western Altharian vegetables and how even the seat cushions were stuffed with genuine Altharian wool, Charthur released a very pointed, very specific cough.
Jasmaby looked down at her. She looked up at him. She gave him a brief, cross look, glanced down at herself, then back up at him, looking slightly softer, letting her fatigue show through. She cocked her head at their guests. Jasmaby simply stared for a moment, before comprehension crossed his face.
"Actually," he said, gesturing to a window, "Who would want to waste the splendid weather we've been having on a stuffy restaurant? Claude, the gardens have a picnic area, do they not? Let's take our meal outside." He planted a hand on Charthur's shoulder. "I think we could do with something a little less formal, anyway."
Charthur [[sighed with relief]].Whatever. It wasn't worth fighting about.
...
But then again...
Charthur reframed the choice.
Did she trust Jasmaby, or not?
[[She trusted him|...interrupted]].As soon as they had said their final goodbyes and ushered their guests out the door, Jasmaby turned to Charthur, and asked, "Did you have a good time, love? <<if visited("managed")>>You seemed a little out of it for a minute there. <<else>>You seemed quite out of it by the end." <<endif>>
Charthur nodded fervently. "I swear to you, I did have fun. I enjoyed each minute, every one."
Jasmaby smiled, clearly relieved. "I am so glad to hear that, you know."
Charthur gave her a cheeky grin. "We did well I thought, a successful night. We barely even had reason to fight."
Jasmaby sniffed. "Yes, well, //I// certainly did a good job of keeping things civil, yes."
Letting one corner of her mouth peel back, Charthur shot back, "To spoil the mood you didn't dare; your dumb opinions, you didn't share."
Jasmaby's smile fell off his face. There was a glint in his eyes as he stared down at Charthur. Charthur responded by making a fist and punching into her other palm, leaning forward just slightly.
The tension between them [[tightened]].And then, simultaneously, they said, "Dishes tomorrow," and headed to the bedroom, hand-in-hand.
!THE END
([[epilogue]])The two tigers had retired to their bedroom.
Charthur was always relieved to see that, despite his bizarre love of dressing in fancy, uncomfortable clothes, at the end of the night he still shed them with the same enthusiasm as her.
So now they lounged in bed, enjoying the warm feelings of a successful evening. Charthur lay near the head, idly flipping through messages on her compact, while Jasmaby sat at the foot and applied some fancy cream made with <<insertlink "imported whatnots">> (Charthur occasionally amused herself by reading through the lists of places mentioned on Jasmaby's cosmetics and skin care products while brushing her teeth. She had never failed to find a few names that she needed to punch into her compact to be sure they were real.)<<endinsertlink>> to his limbs.
One message in particular caught Charthur's eye. She started to speak.
"Jasmaby, baby, do you mind if I--"
She was cutoff by [[a sudden memory]]. At the dinner table, Jasmaby had said it was a trap. That very first encounter. He had prepared for her.
She considered this. And then an idea crossed her mind. She bit her lip, terribly uncertain about it. But it quickly became apparent to her that she couldn't ignore the idea; instead, she asked, "Hey, Jas, a quick answer I seek... what are you doing, with this month's last week?"
"Hm?" Jasmaby answered, not pausing his skin care routine. "Nothing much planned. I have a few bookments, but nothing I couldn't delay. Why are you speaking so loudly?"
Charthur coughed, and made a conscious effort to lower her volume. "If you're sure you have time... if off you can zip... then maybe with me... you could take a trip?"
That made Jasmaby stop what he was doing and turn to her. "Oh, absolovely! Yes, I would love to." He held up a hand. "No, no, don't tell me what you have in mind." He turned back to his lotioning. "If you tell me where we're going, I'm just going to want to pack tonight, and I do //not// have the energy for that. You'll tell me tomorrow."
"Cool, cool," Charthur said, still keeping her voice down. It was a little difficult; she was trying to speak over [[the beating of her heart]].She closed her eyes again. There was the image again. Jasmaby, waiting in the plaza. For her.
Just for her.
It's not like she didn't know that she was important to him, but... this proof of it...
She still remembered with absolute clarity how she had felt in that moment. Crossing the distance, flinging herself into the air, being so certain of her victory, only to have it snatched away at the last second by what had seemed to be an impossible counter-punch.
That moment was so powerful. And now...
She opened her eyes.
Jasmaby was sitting at the foot of the bed. Fully absorbed in his grooming.
His guard was down.
Not daring to make a sound, Charthur shifted into a crawling position and [[made her approach]].
She moved slowly but without hesitation, muscles flowing like a river, bringing her closer to her prey. He wouldn't be expecting her this time.
Six feet. Four feet. Two feet.
Pouncing distance.
Charthur [[struck]].Rearing up on her knees, she hurled herself forward, smooshing her face into Jasmaby's back, flinging her arms around his middle. Her prey in her clutches, she squeezed, pulling herself in closer for the hug.
"Wha--" Jasmaby started. Then, trying to sound annoyed and not quite managing, he rebuked her, "Charthur, please, I'm trying to--"
Charthur shook her head, incidentally rubbing her cheek against his back. "Not a little, not a bit. I simply do not give a shit," she declared.
Jasmaby sighed. He placed the glass bottle he was holding on the ground, and brought his arms to cover hers. Again failing to suppress a pleased tone, he told her, "You know, you are the only person on this continent who I would let get away with this."
Charthur didn't have words for how she felt about this, so she instead shifted forward again, bringing her chest against his back and her neck in contact with the back of his. Neatly ensconced, she pressed herself against him, and [[purred]].Jasmaby sighed again, this time slowly and deeply. When he finished, he said, "Fine, fine, I'm coming to bed. You win."
"Say that last part again!" Charthur demanded happily.
"Hm. No. Maybe next year, if you earn it," Jasmaby said smugly but sweetly. Together, the two tigers made their way back to the head of the bed, crawling under the covers.
Next year, thought Charthur. And the year after. And the year after that.
Wrapped in Jasmaby's arms, she closed her eyes, and dreamed of their future.