<li>Skunk - Kira - ascerbic personality, violent and punky?</li>
<li>
<p>Dog - Riley - overly kind, maybe some problems with codependency?</p>
</li>
<li>
<p>Meet at boardgame night</p>
</li>
<li>Riley digs on Kira, ropes them into a date</li>
<li>???</li>
<li>Profit</li>
<li>Except not actually profit</li>
<li>They kinda get close but Kira does something kinda stupid and scares of Riley</li>
<li>Musing on aposematism as self-defeatism</li>
</ul>
<p>Per Kord</p>
<blockquote>
<p>She gets drunk, angry and blames him for soemthing another dog did to her years ago, and sprays him in a drunken fit ? Like say she was young and one picked on her and stuff in school, its why she is how she is currently. And because of this, it creates her personality complex, due to the hateful way she was treated by a dog, and Riley might have a superficial similiarty, like same speices.</p>
<p>Kira scowled down at their hand, their pile of tokens in ones and fives, and listened to the bids go around the table. Once more, when the bid reached them, they were out of their price range. They had the cash, but not if they still wanted to purchase the ornithopter card down the line.</p>
<p>“Bidding phase ends,” the <em>de facto</em> leader of the game called, and then once more ran through an explanation of the movement phase of the game.</p>
<p>While this sort of territory control game was one of Kira’s top choices, it also featured this bidding component, something which brought out a fiercely competitive streak in them. They didn’t like who they were when they were bidding, when they were always thinking about how to build some ideal hand with which they’d deal a crushing blow.</p>
<p>It stole reason from them. It turned tactics on their heads and left them more frustrated than any game without might otherwise.</p>
<p>The skunk jolted upright in their seat and scrambled to get their cards in order, the dog to their left giving an apologetic sort of grin for having startled them out of their reverie.</p>
<p>“Yeah, sorry. Uh…I’d like to beam two down to Bled and then move one space to the south.”<em>If I’d had the ornithopter, I could have moved three,</em> they continued silently.</p>
<p>“Alright that’ll be six,” Avery, head of the transit guild, murmured, the mountain lion’s brow furrowed as he read through his notes. “Though I’ll let you do it for five if you turn east after that.”</p>
<p>Kira peered down at the board from above, taking stock of where all of the pieces were. A small concentration of their forces lay to the southwest, but so did a few of the transit guild’s scattered forces.</p>
<p>“And I’ll pay for half your transit costs if you don’t turn east,” the dog countered.</p>
<p>“And what, not attack you?”</p>
<p>That canine grin once more. “Yep.”</p>
<p>Kira nodded thoughtfully, then reached over with a ring bedecked paw, the drape of their sleeve scattering neatly-stacked money chips, and offered to shake on it. “Deal.”</p>
<p>The mountain lion scowled, but accepted three chips each from Kira and the dog — some breed with long, golden-colored fur — before placing the skunk’s chips on the square marked <em>The Bled</em> and scooting them one space to the south.</p>
<p>The game continued apace. With each turn Kira and the dog’s alliance grew stronger and Avery’s frustration more apparent. By the fifth round, when it was possible to form concrete allegiances in the game, it was only natural that Kira and Riley would form one.</p>
<p>The game was long enough, however, that by the time they had to start putting it away, the task of putting all those tiny money chips and figurines back into the slots of the box felt arduous and impossible. The cardboard felt simultaneously slippery and sticky between their fingers, and the refusal of inanimate objects to obey even the simplest of commands left them frustrated.</p>
<p><em>Tired,</em> Kira thought. <em>Too tired to deal with this.</em></p>
<p>“Kira? Hey. You okay?”</p>
<p>“Mm?”</p>
<p>Riley was smiling. Not a grin, the skunk noted, but a kinder, gentler expression. “You doing alright? Looking kind of tired, there.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, pretty tired,” they allowed. The lid of the box had finally been slid back into place, the flatulent noise of the box being shut setting their teeth on edge. “These games always run so long.”</p>
<p>“Tell me about it,” Avery said. “Good one, though. You two kicked ass.”</p>
<p>“Mm,” they allowed. “Thanks for running tonight.”</p>
<p>The mountain lion grinned and nodded. “Hate to game and run, but I got class in the morning, so I’ll catch you all later. Same time next Wednesday?”</p>
<p>The group nodded. Avery waved, hiked their pack up, and ducked out into the night. The shop owner shooed the rest of them out after so that he could start cleaning up.</p>
<p>Kira thumbed at their phone, pulling up GetThere to hail a ride for the night. Nearest driver was a good ten minutes away, but at least it was a warm night. Besides, it’d give them a chance to smoke. They stepped away from the rest of the crew toward walkway that led to the plaza, lit their cigarette, and stared up at the washed out stars.</p>
<p>If tonight was a night for reveries, this would be a good spot for it. The chatter of voices, the taste of smoke hot on their tongue, and a ride on the way.</p>
<p>There was no pinning down their mood. They were pleased, they supposed, that they had won the game along with Riley. They were pleased that they got their ornithopter. They were pleased that they had even made it out tonight, had worked up the executive function required to get out of the house and head to the store for games.</p>
<p>And yet all those thoughts, all those things to be pleased about were like water. They kept bubbling out of reach. Any time they would try to hold onto one of them, it would trickle through their paws. It may leave them damp with a residue of positivity, but it would not stick, it would not stay.</p>
<p>“Going to make it home okay?”</p>
<p>Kira levered themself out of the reverie by force of will, stubbing out the sweet-spicy cigarette on the bottom of their shoe and tucking the butt into the empty pack they kept around for just such a purpose. Riley had walked away from the rest of the group — now half the size it had been before — and was standing beside them at what felt like a respectful distance.</p>
<p>The skunk wasn’t sure why it was that they felt compelled to describe the distance as respectful. Riley was friendly enough. There was nothing about his attitude that suggested he was afraid of Kira. And yet here they were. Was it the smoke?</p>
<p>“Yeah, I should.” They pulled out their phone to check on the ride. “Five minutes away, looks like.”</p>
<p>The dog nodded. “Long drive?”</p>
<p>“Nah, not too long, but I’d prefer not to get beaned by a car on the way home.”</p>
<p>Riley laughed. “I would hope so.”</p>
<p>Kira smiled faintly at him. It was a lame attempt at humor, but the laugh seemed earnest.</p>
<p>“Look, uh.” He scuffed a shoe at the pavement. “I don’t know if it’s too late to cancel the ride or anything, but if you’d like, I could get you home?”</p>
<p>The skunk tilted their head, the weight of piercings dragging ears down. “Yeah? Let me check. You’re not going to abduct me or anything?”</p>
<p>Another laugh. The dog laughed so easily. “No, promise I won’t abduct you or anything. Just figured a friendly face doing the driving might be more fun.”</p>
<p>Apparently, so long as the driver was more than a minute away, it was free to cancel the ride. Kira let their thumb hover over the button, frowned, shrugged, and tapped. The app confirmed the cancellation, and they pocketed the phone before holding out their fist, pinky extended. “Alright. Pinky swear.”</p>
<p>Riley looked taken aback, then grinned and looped his pinky around Kira’s just past the rings. Squeezed. “Pinky swear. C’mon, let’s say goodbye. I’m only a block away.”</p>
<p>Goodbyes were short and jovial, if tired. Kira and Riley got a few more handshakes and ‘good game’s. And then they were off, the dog walking quietly in tattered sneakers and Riley clomping along in boots.</p>
