Lysa sauntered across her kitchen to the front door. While en route to opening and welcoming in her guests, she, of course, planted a gentle drive-by kiss on her Ruh’ah’s cheek. She also playfully gave his pert rump a squeeze, a gesture he was lightning quick to turn about and return.

  “Now, dear, we have guests,” Lysa winked.

  “Oh, I did not think Lira and Fienel would be insulted by it,” Martinez replied.

  “I’m not,” Perla quipped from the nearby table. She leaned back and downed an entire beer without even taking a moment to breathe.

  Martinez shook his head, shocked by the amount of sauce that Perla had already put away. Before her gravitic figure, Perla had neatly arranged a dozen bottles of beer, each emptied within the last hour. The only reason Martinez found it surprising was that Perla seemed barely buzzed. She showed no signs that she had drunk any alcohol other than her usual jibbing, and jokes grew from one with point and sass to almost random and nonsensical.

  “I figured you would not be,” Martinez replied, sliding the grilled cheese sandwich he had made out of the pan and onto a plate.

  Martinez walked over to the table and joined Perla just as Lysa opened the door and greeted Finiel and Lira. As the sounds of their greeting flowed around the corner, he pushed the sandwich across the table toward Perla.

  That succulent morsel of cheese, bread, garlic, and butter did not even last a second within the reach of the Varintol woman. One second, it was there; the next, it was already traveling down her gullet.

  “If you keep cooking like that, I will have to steal you for myself,” Perla burped before pointing a clawed finger at Martinez and winking. “Oros would love to have someone like you in her court.”

  “I doubt Lysa would appreciate that,” Martinez replied, “She probably would hunt you down.”

  “Meh, I can take her,” Perla shrugged. “When is dinner, by the way? The roast smells amazing,”

  Martinez rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder at the timer on the oven. “It’s got about an hour left.”

  “That's good because I'm ready to eat,” Perla smiled, cracking open another beer she had fished out of the case beside her.

  “You just ate a fourth sandwich and all the jerky out of the pantry,” Martinez reminded.

  “And? I am a lot of woman who needs a lot of food,” Perla chuckled, ravenously running her hand over her plump stomach and broad hips.

  Martinez sighed and took one of the beers, deciding to not argue the point.

  He was already paying to feed Lysa as much food as a small army; now, with Perla here, he had blown an entire month's pay on dinner alone. Go figure, twenty kilograms of Hartox, and all the fixing to make a pot roast fit to feed ten people was not cheap.

  There were only going to be six people coming over to Lysa’s house today, but planning around Perla and Lysa’s appetites was absolutely necessary. Martinez did not know what a buzzed Perla would be like, but he would prefer not to add her hunger to that likely volatile equation.

  There was no particular reason to have everyone over today; Lysa simply wanted her friends to come. So, while Martinez had moved many of his things into her house today, Lysa extended the invitations to most of their mutual friends.

  “Martinez,” Feinel said, walking into the room following Lysa.

  Looking at the lupine man, Martinez raised a brow. He had expected Lira to arrive as well, but he had not seen their state coming.

  Lira, the proud white wolfen alien, was hanging off his arm, giving him goo-goo eyes, while Lysa grinned like a mischievous fox at the duo.

  “What’s up, brother,” Martinez replied, standing up and fist-bumping Fienel.

  “Not too much. Work has been hell lately,” Fienel replied somewhat nonchalantly.

  “Still dealing with the Visage issue?” Martinez asked.

  “Yeah, that and I have to train another rookie,” Fienel explained as Lira slipped out of his arm and walked over to hug Perla.

  “Man, that blows,” Martinez said, handing a beer over to him. “Any funny fuck ups by them?”

  “A few. Come on, I will tell yah,” Fienel said, walking past Martinez and heading toward the bean bag chairs.

  Martinez looked at Lysa, silently asking if she wanted him there with the girls for anything. She smiled, shook her head, and picked up her non-alcoholic cider.

  Lysa knew well that over the last few weeks, Martinez had been outnumbered by women in his life to a degree most men would be driven to the brink of madness.

  He had been their dutiful companion, shopping, planning for the baby's arrival in less than two months, and, of course, attending every checkup with Lysa, which had been administered by an all-female staff.

  Now, Martinez did not hate doing all of those things; he considered them part of the preparations for what was to come. However, that still did not mean he did not need companionship from people who enjoyed what he did and where the soul focus was not on something that had been stressing him out.

  Because Martinez had his falling out with Ivorn, he was off the table, leaving Martinez with only two male friends on the planet: the ever-busy Feinel and the generally equally occupied Ezol.

  Ezol would not be in attendance today; something was going on with his wife and their extended family, so only Fienel would be here today.

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  Martinez joined Fienel on the beanbags in the living room, setting his beer on the coffee table. At the same time, the sounds of the girls laughing only grew in fervor. Glancing back at them, the three seemed to be laughing about something to do with Lira. It did not take a genius to figure out what their topic of mockery was.

  Lysa leaned onto Perla's arm, looking at her tall companion with mocking puppy dog eyes. “Oh, what strong arms you have,” she laughed.

  “You have such lovely white fur,” Perla growled, brushing hair out of Lysa’s face while dropping her voice an octave and mimicking Fienel’s gruff speech patterns.

  Lira buried her head between her palms and let out a long, low whine. Though it was physically impossible for their species, Martinez could have sworn he watched Lira's cheeks turn red as her friends made light of her embarrassment.

  “So, you and Lira?” Martinez raised a brow.

  “Yeah—that finally happened,” Feinel shrugged.

  Martinez knew that the two Jurintik had been dancing around the idea for several years. Their main hang-up had been the typical expectations behind how Jurintik relationships worked.

  Typically, their species had a bit of a female-dominated dating dance, which would involve the woman essentially staking her claim on a man and the relationship taking its course from there.

  However, Martinez knew that Fienel and Lira were atypical for their species. Fienel was generally far more aggressive and acted on what he desired. In contrast, Lira was actually a rather shy soul who detested violence and never tried to act selfishly—her time sparing and practicing martial arts was a notable exception.

  It was good to see that the two of them had finally decided it was time to take their relationship to the next level. In all honesty, Martinez was getting tired of watching them beat around the bush, worried the other would not mesh with their eccentricities.

  Everyone at the dojo knew their hang-ups and saw they were perfect for one another—the only ones unable to see that were the trepidatious potential pair.

  Teacher was more than willing to openly mock both about their yearning glances during practice, an act that likely did nothing to persuade them to take the plunge.

  “Well, good,” Martinez held up his beer in a salute.

  “Took me long enough,” Feinel replied, clanking his glass against his friend’s. “Now then, let me tell you about this new N.U.G.I.T. (New Useless Guy in Training).”

  Feinel went on to explain all the fun he had been having over the last month and a half with his brand-new rookie. The man was apparently of the same race as Sursee, so he was a small, feline-like species that stood at most a meter tall.

  Martinez already wondered about the man's viability as a beat cop because of his size, but the fact that he acted very typical of that bubbly and empathetic species only made him wonder how in all the universe that little man was going to manage in the big bad city of Draun.

  Apparently, that was exactly the issue Fienel was running into with the man. He was too open, forgiving, and willing to look the other way. Now, even Fienel agreed that as long as it was nothing serious, he was more than happy to slap someone with a fine or a warning, but this NUGIT was unreal.

  The other week, they were responding to some domestic situation across town; once on site instead of control the situation, separate the people involved, and work out the details, this man started an impromptu therapy session right there.

  Now, this was not all rainbows and sunshine. It started out heated: screaming, tossing plates, insults, and one even punching the NUGIT in the face. Yet despite all of that, the NUGIT was insistent. He stayed calm and patient and let them air out their emotions. They even hugged him when, through some kind of verbal jujutsu that Fienel was still trying to understand, he got both of them to start crying and pouring their hearts out to the police.

  Apparently, the off-the-wall tactic actually worked out well. While the couple's problems had not entirely ended, it had allowed the police to provide the pair with resources for therapy and even some financial relief. An issue that the rookie had uncovered was one of the primary problems the couple was facing.

  “That's unusual,” Martinez said, still not entirely believing everything about how things had gone down.

  “I swear it was. He is some kind of wizard,” Feinel laughed, “Plus, working with him is much better than tolerating Surail. That ass hole would have just shot the man and traumatized the woman.”

  “What happened to him anyway? I haven't seen him in a few—fuck months,” Martinez questioned, only now realizing he had not seen Officer Surail since before things with Shiksie had gone south.

  Feinel leaned back in his beanbag chair, “No one is sure. He just left, dropped off his gun and gear, and poofed. Sure, there are rumors about him being quietly pushed out of the force for various reasons, but none that command will confirm—likely for some political reason.”

  Martinez could understand Surail being removed for quiet reasons. The man was not right. While Martinez could not confirm anything, the way he treated arrested persons, acted when he was on patrol alone, and his general demeanor did not add up.

  The man seemed crooked, lacking the empathy, professionalism, and general attitude of most of the Draun PD officers.

  At least that meant Martinez would no longer have to deal with Surail coming around the Trauma Center and causing issues for him anymore. The man was a downright menace with how he treated even people who simply were drunk and needed to sleep off the booze.

  “Well, good riddance,” Martinez said, “I hated that guy.”

  “Yeah, I feel that,” Feinel replied, finishing his beer.

  “Another?” Martinez asked.

  “Sure,” Feinel smiled, his tail wagging at the offer.

  As Martinez stood, the alarm he had set on the roast went off, something Perla noticed. She dropped the conversation the girls were having in a picosecond, stood, and started toward the oven.

  Martinez moved to intercept the living food disposal, something he could do quite easily. She may be large, but Perla was not blinding fast, especially while being careful not to spill the drink she was carrying.

  “Hold up there, big girl, I will bring us all dinner,” Martinez said, using his body to shield the oven and his pain-staking work from the already drooling woman.

  “But I wanna eat,” Perla pouted.

  “We will, Perla,” Lysa said, stepping beside her friend and lightly tapping her knuckles against the woman's side. "Help me set the table, then we can all eat.”

  Perla looked at Lysa with a bit of a pout on her lips, which she was exaggerating to look more apathetic. “Lysa Martinez is trying to starve me,” she whined.

  Lysa smiled and brought her hands up to cover her mouth in equally feigned shock before looking at Martinez. “Ruh'ah, I never expected you to be so cruel to Perla.” She shifted to guide Perla to the plates she had staged earlier. “Worry not. We will ensure you get your first choice of cut for dinner, and you can choose the movie once we are done, okay?”

  “Okay,” Perla smiled, happily helping Lysa set the table.

  “Fienel, dinner is ready,” Lira yelled.

  “Yeah, lover boy, get in here,” Martinez echoed.

  “You are one to talk,” Feinel yelled back, lumbering into the dining room. "At least my girlfriend is not pregnant."

  "Yet," Perla added without missing a beat.

  That got a laugh from everyone—even Lysa, something Martinez had not been hearing enough of lately. That she was laughing, and enjoying her time made all the efforts of wrangling the passionate Perla worth it.

  The rest of the evening was honestly surreal for Martinez and Lysa. With everything that had been going on that night, just being with their friends was some much-needed rest.

  They savored every moment, Perla devouring half of the roast, the sound of each jubilant laugh as they watched a comedy special Perla chose. But above it all, they cherished that for that short little time, life felt normal—something that would not last for long.