few blocks down that’s probably more your style.”
Padme lowered her hood and asked, “Is Phaco cooking today?”
Mouse didn’t miss a beat. “Yep. He’s got a pot of chili on. Hot stuff.”
“I will take the special. No onions. Will you tell him Pad is here?”
“Sure thing.” Mouse lifted her eyebrows at Scott.
“Chili sounds good,” he said. “And a Coke, please.”
Mouse spun on her heel and disappeared behind a swinging door next to the bar.
Less than a minute later, the door swung open again and a black man with a huge belly trotted out. “Padme! I heard you was in jail. Dey let you out?”
Padme put a finger to her lips. When the man reached their table, she said, “I need a place to stay, Phaco.”
Scott studied the big man’s xenoalteration with interest. His lower jaw jutted forward naturally, placing his bottom teeth in front of the top. He’d had his lower canines and probably the tooth next to them replaced with thick, protruding tooth-like objects that pointed up and slightly outward, ending at just beyond his wide nostrils.
“Da back room is all yours. Won’t be quiet, but it’s safe. Who’s your friend?”
“This is Cougar. He helped me escape. In the spirit of full disclosure, we’re wanted.”
“Well, dat makes more sense den da judge givin’ an XBestia bail.” His eyebrows dropped into a frown. “Lupus okay wif you and Cougar…” he jerked his thumb, presumably toward the back room.
“Lupus knows I would never cheat. Avoiding torture and death is a good incentive for faithfulness.”
Phaco laughed. “Dat true.”
He wiped a hand on his filthy apron and held it out to Scott. It was a perfunctory shake, like Phaco was putting him on notice that he was tolerated for Padme’s sake and no other. He was talkative, though, even if his alteration made diction a challenge.
“I was born wif dis underbite. Coulda got it fixed, but it just wouldn’t be me, ya know? Dese here,” he ran a forefinger up and down one of the protrusions, “are the bottom tusks off a warthog, phacochoerus africanus. Dat why dey call me Phaco.”
“Very intimidating,” Scott said sincerely.
“Dat what I was goin’ for,” Phaco replied. Then he winked. “But I’m really a big softie. Ask Padme.”
“It’s true,” Padme confirmed.
“I din’t hear no mention of claws on da news,” Phaco said. “Dey functional?”
Scott didn’t like to, but he felt obligated to demonstrate. He curved his fingers inward and extended his claws. Phaco set his tongue against his upper lip between the tusks and let loose with a low whistle.
“Doc do good work.” He reached out and tweaked one of Padme’s ears. “Now I gonna go make you da best damn burger you ever had, you little cannibal.”
It was the first time Scott ever heard Padme laugh.
Phaco disappeared behind the swinging door and soon after, Mouse reappeared at their table. Without a word, she set a glass of water in front of Padme and gave Scott his chili and Coke. After she left, Scott commented, “Not so friendly anymore.”
Padme quirked one side of her mouth and sipped her water.
Surreptitiously, he watched Mouse. She went behind the bar and generously topped off her customers’ drinks. Scott heard the phrase ‘on the house,’ but couldn’t pick up the rest of what she was saying. She leaned her skinny elbows on the bar and seemed to be earnestly explaining something to the two xenos. One of them turned and stared in Scott and Padme’s direction.
Phaco delivered Padme’s hamburger himself and chatted for a few more minutes before going back into his kitchen. At that point, the two xenos at the bar stood up. Instead of heading for the exit, they sauntered over to the booth.
Before they could say or do anything, Padme spoke. “Do either of you gentlemen happen to know who I am?”
The taller of the two, with shaved head and a spiderweb tattoo on his throat, cracked his knuckles. “We hear you two like to mess with
Padme lowered her hood and asked, “Is Phaco cooking today?”
Mouse didn’t miss a beat. “Yep. He’s got a pot of chili on. Hot stuff.”
“I will take the special. No onions. Will you tell him Pad is here?”
“Sure thing.” Mouse lifted her eyebrows at Scott.
“Chili sounds good,” he said. “And a Coke, please.”
Mouse spun on her heel and disappeared behind a swinging door next to the bar.
Less than a minute later, the door swung open again and a black man with a huge belly trotted out. “Padme! I heard you was in jail. Dey let you out?”
Padme put a finger to her lips. When the man reached their table, she said, “I need a place to stay, Phaco.”
Scott studied the big man’s xenoalteration with interest. His lower jaw jutted forward naturally, placing his bottom teeth in front of the top. He’d had his lower canines and probably the tooth next to them replaced with thick, protruding tooth-like objects that pointed up and slightly outward, ending at just beyond his wide nostrils.
“Da back room is all yours. Won’t be quiet, but it’s safe. Who’s your friend?”
“This is Cougar. He helped me escape. In the spirit of full disclosure, we’re wanted.”
“Well, dat makes more sense den da judge givin’ an XBestia bail.” His eyebrows dropped into a frown. “Lupus okay wif you and Cougar…” he jerked his thumb, presumably toward the back room.
“Lupus knows I would never cheat. Avoiding torture and death is a good incentive for faithfulness.”
Phaco laughed. “Dat true.”
He wiped a hand on his filthy apron and held it out to Scott. It was a perfunctory shake, like Phaco was putting him on notice that he was tolerated for Padme’s sake and no other. He was talkative, though, even if his alteration made diction a challenge.
“I was born wif dis underbite. Coulda got it fixed, but it just wouldn’t be me, ya know? Dese here,” he ran a forefinger up and down one of the protrusions, “are the bottom tusks off a warthog, phacochoerus africanus. Dat why dey call me Phaco.”
“Very intimidating,” Scott said sincerely.
“Dat what I was goin’ for,” Phaco replied. Then he winked. “But I’m really a big softie. Ask Padme.”
“It’s true,” Padme confirmed.
“I din’t hear no mention of claws on da news,” Phaco said. “Dey functional?”
Scott didn’t like to, but he felt obligated to demonstrate. He curved his fingers inward and extended his claws. Phaco set his tongue against his upper lip between the tusks and let loose with a low whistle.
“Doc do good work.” He reached out and tweaked one of Padme’s ears. “Now I gonna go make you da best damn burger you ever had, you little cannibal.”
It was the first time Scott ever heard Padme laugh.
Phaco disappeared behind the swinging door and soon after, Mouse reappeared at their table. Without a word, she set a glass of water in front of Padme and gave Scott his chili and Coke. After she left, Scott commented, “Not so friendly anymore.”
Padme quirked one side of her mouth and sipped her water.
Surreptitiously, he watched Mouse. She went behind the bar and generously topped off her customers’ drinks. Scott heard the phrase ‘on the house,’ but couldn’t pick up the rest of what she was saying. She leaned her skinny elbows on the bar and seemed to be earnestly explaining something to the two xenos. One of them turned and stared in Scott and Padme’s direction.
Phaco delivered Padme’s hamburger himself and chatted for a few more minutes before going back into his kitchen. At that point, the two xenos at the bar stood up. Instead of heading for the exit, they sauntered over to the booth.
Before they could say or do anything, Padme spoke. “Do either of you gentlemen happen to know who I am?”
The taller of the two, with shaved head and a spiderweb tattoo on his throat, cracked his knuckles. “We hear you two like to mess with
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