e621.net · 6211204

[i]"As the weather gets colder, Remmy adapts to his new nightly routine."[/i]

[section=Story]A sharply bending chord from The Ramboy Dukes jolts me from sleep. I twist weirdly in bed to slap my phone and shut it off, but a sharp pain in my shoulder makes me immediately regret it. Grumbling, I roll to a sitting position, squint against the blinding glare of my phone, and try to shake off the cobwebs of a strange dream about showering with my shirt on.

One unread message.

I'm on my feet in a minute. Two. Clock says 8:02. My crumpled headwool sways with each step and my hooves finally stumble to the window of my darkened room.

The downtown lights stretch on to the horizon. Silhouettes of skyscrapers stitch a ghostly skyline, fanning out glowing streaks of red bumper lights along every major artery, pumping from Peak Street all the way down to Pack and beyond. Most of the city is winding down and getting ready to sleep.

But the neighborhood around me is loud, alive.

Mammals up late, nocturnal by nature or otherwise, lope and shamble across the cracked sidewalks. A bat-eared fox in a puffy throwback vest catcalls a pair of passing dingos who carry long-handled nets and plastic boxes. A small group of painted dogs yip and chatter around the stoop of the building across from me, each one with the gleaming orange embers of a lit cigarette. A floor below, on the steps of my building, the Crowns, a mongoose basks quietly, watching the sky.

I smirk to myself, crack the window, and lean out.

"Hey, Keith! How you been, man?"

The mongoose looks around slowly, sleepily, before turning up to spot me. He nods at me with a broad smile and mouths something, but if he's saying anything, I can't hear him.

Then he goes back to watching the sky.

I've come to like the night. As a ram, I'm diurnal by nature, so adapting to an almost completely reversed timetable wasn't super easy, but I got the hang of it quick enough. And one thing I've learned is Pack Street is always quietest in the midday. Plenty of nocturnal mammals around here, like I said, but even more that are [i]crepuscular[/i]. I learned that word a while ago. It means they're most active in the times between day and night. Morning, evening, times like around now. Catch the crepuscular mammals, plus the best overlap for diurnals who aren't ready for bed yet and nocturnals up early, or who stayed up all... day? "Stayed up all day" sounds dumb, but what else are you gonna call it?

Anyway. That's when this street is the busiest.

That's when all the [i]parties[/i] happen.

I check my phone. 8:15. Gotta get this show on the road. I toddle off to the bathroom, to wash my face in the mirror.

A splash of cold water. I'd say it helps wake me up but I'm plenty awake by now. Feeling fine, actually. I yawn, stretch, scratch my snout. Trace the line where I know the scar was, even though I can't see it.

Do you know how much it sucks that the scar didn't even [i]last?[/i] I could've had a super cool fucking [i]face scar.[/i] The prettyboy kind, too, the kind that doesn't leave you even a little disfigured or anything, just gets all the girls thinking you're cool and dangerous. Could've at least left me a white line or something distinct I could talk about at parties. But the damn thing was totally gone in just a couple months. Sucks. It's like I basically got jumped for nothing.

I start for the shower, but catch myself. Might as well start my laundry now, have it going while I wait. I click on the main lights in my apartment, finally. Then, throwing in a few last-minute articles, I heft my old plastic hamper full of dirty clothes and haul myself to the door.

Down the broad stairs. I figure this apartment's rated for mammals a few sizes bigger than me, and paws aren't as compact as hooves to begin with, so they need the extra space. When I first moved in, I hated how long each step was. Now I'm glad to have it, especially when I can barely see over my laundry to the next step.

Chatter in the lobby. This time of night, it's not unusual. Charlie sits hunched forward in an old wood chair, talking rather more animatedly than I'm used to seeing her. Her big fluffy fox tail swishes and she even gestures, drawing little diagrams in the air and making precise motions. Ozzy's lounging on the even older sofa, wearing the sort of toothy grin I've come to expect out of most hyenas, and returning her enthusiasm with plenty of his own. I give them a wave, but only Charlie sees me, and she manages just a faint nod before returning to her conversation.

I swing down the hall out of the lobby, past Ozzy's apartment door, and finally down the cold concrete stairs. Everything down here's concrete. There's not so much as a dangling bare lightbulb in the narrow basement hall. But the room up ahead, off to the side, always has a dim yellow glow spilling out. A cozy little hot-denim-scented beacon in the dark. A growing hum and loud conversation I can't quite discern lets me know it's occupied.

I hustle into the room (because the laundry's heavy, not because I'm scared of the dark) and heave my basket onto the flaking laminate countertop.

"Look who's here."

"Hey, Anneke."

I shove my laundry aside to greet the lithe, half-dressed aardwolf lounging on one of the dryers that line the far wall. She's got a loose tank top and a pair of gray leggings on. I'm not sure I've ever seen her in leggings. They make her lower half look super skinny, pulling all the puffy fur around her legs tight to the skin and outlining the slender curves underneath.

It's a good look. Like, a really good look. It also makes all the fur around her hips bunch up and fluff way out, like she's wearing someone else's lower half. I guess if she shaved, she'd look like this all over. You know, mammals say shaving is weird, but nobody thinks twice when I shear. I dunno. I think she'd look pretty cute all sheared down. It's like... another layer of naked.

She leans forward, elbows on her knees, idly kicking her feet over the edge of the rattling machine. And only now do I notice a dark-furred jackal standing motionless against the wall to my left. I meet her gaze, but I can't help but notice she's even [i]less[/i] dressed, wearing only a surprisingly plain white bra and panties. I'd never have imagined Avo even owned such unadorned undies. And that creamy mocha-colored underbelly of hers running from her neck to her--

I looked. She saw me look.

"Damn," I sigh, running a hoof through my headwool and openly glancing between the two of them. "I must still be dreaming."

"Shut the fuck up," Avo rolls her eyes.

Anna giggles. "Nice jammies."

I take the opportunity to look her up and down a second time. "You too, girl," I smile as smoothly as I can, which probably isn't very.

She responds with a sort of low purr or growl, batting her paw at me in the air, and Avo shakes her head. I slide my laundry basket to one of the empty machines and start loading it.

"Hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

The dryer Anna's sitting on suddenly kicks onto high cycle and her speech becomes juddery. "HeY, iT's bEeN cOlD, rIgHt?"

"I heard we're gonna get a really sharp winter this year," I agree, loading clothes and grabbing the detergent from the bottom of my basket. "Gonna be my first winter here, actually. Does it get bad?"

"Well," Avo begins to say something, then pats her hips with both palms, peering down for a second at herself. She shakes her head, then re-crosses her arms.

Anna smirks but I guess I'm missing something.

"Well," she starts again, "We're almost right up against the R-S weather wall. So things can get pretty extreme in peak seasons."

"Y'know, I've never actually gone past the wall here," I remark. "There not a lot of travel, or is it just me?"

She makes a noncommittal shrug. "I take a stroll to Shady every now and then. You could walk to Marsh from here, too, which you'll basically have to if you want to catch any of the other main lines."

I fish some coins out of my pocket and load 'em up. "Yeah, I saw that. I mostly just took it to get to work, when I was working way out in Tundra. I can't believe how few connections the lines have. Just looking at the subway map makes me think I'm losing my mind."

[b]"Yeah,"[/b] she almost barks back. "The actual service is great but the lines are a fucking joke."

Evidently bored by the ongoing discussion, Anna stretches, first with paws down towards the ground, looking like she'll topple forward off the dryer, then all the way up, high in the air. Her long, bare, fuzzy midriff peeks inch by inch from under her top and it takes all my willpower to look away before she notices.

Avo is staring at me with one raised brow and a calm smile.

"...So uh, is there really no connection at all between the Z and the Inner Loop around here?"

"Yeah. It's [i]Marsh[/i]."

I compose myself as best I'm able and pop my coins in, starting the machine. "For real? So I can walk ten minutes to Marshlands or--"

"Yeah, or take the southbound Inner ALL the way around." She's suddenly a lot louder, to be heard over the growing din. "You want to go [i]anywhere[/i] west from here, you walk or you ride the entire loop the other way first."

I leave my detergent bottle in the basket and heft them both onto the now-rattling washing machine. "Is there no connecting bus?"

"Can we shut up about buses and trains? They're for nerds anyway, you're both nerds." Anneke hops off the dryer about when her teeth start chattering.

Avo scoffs playfully, jabbing a claw at her. "Two minutes ago you told me you were up all day playing Erminecraft."

"That's not nerd shit," she retorts, unbothered. "Everyone plays Erminecraft. Anyway, shouldn't being this close to the wall make the weather more mild? At the least we should have hot winters and chill summers. Like, we're standing right next to the AC."

"I don't know," I admit. "When we learned about the walls in school it was in pretty broad strokes."

Avo reaches over and retrieves her phone from the nearby countertop. "Well, they're doing a big thing about 'em this Spring, for the Zootennial. If you really want to learn about 'em."

"Oh yeah, the Zootennial," Anna chuckles. "I didn't get invited but I'm pretty sure Gazelle will be taking me as her plus one."

"My invite's probably in the mail," I nod calmly.

"Oh yeah," she agrees. "For sure."

Avo settles against the counter and starts tapping away on her phone, either browsing in a hurry or playing some game. Anna checks her machine, which reads two minutes, and starts to pace around the room, evidently eager to leave and get on with her day. Speaking of which--

"I'd really love to stay and chat, but I've gotta get ready. Hope you both have a great night."

Anna nods. "Mhm."

"I'll be here a while longer," Avo informs me. "Gimme some quarters and I can throw your laundry into the dryer when it's done. Assuming you trust me to handle your unmentionables, I mean."

I pause for a second, and my snout tingles. Normally, I'd say that's kind of a weird thing to offer, and I really don't know how I feel about one of my neighbors going through my laundry like that. I mean, I don't [i]distrust[/i] Avo, but I dunno, laundry feels weirdly personal to me. Am I just being weird?

Well. Whatever. It'll save me time so I should really accept the generosity. I hand her some coins.

"Just please don't prank me or whatever," I ask plainly.

"What the hell am I going to do? You think I'm gonna dig through your dirty-ass clothes?"

"I don't know!" I shake my head with both hands up, exasperated. "Just don't be weird about it!"

Avo narrows her eyes. "You're the one being weird. I'm just helping you out."

"All right. Fine. Sorry. Just... thank you."

I quickly exit the room and pretend not to hear her and Anneke giggling when I head up the stairs. Charlie and Ozzy are still chatting, so I wave again as I pass (they don't notice me, I think) on my way back towards my room.

Remembered my keys this time.

Anyway. Shower next. Water's nice and hot. This always takes forever, which is why I give myself so much time in the morning before I have to leave. I kinda zone out as I scrub up, and before I know it I'm clean as a daisy. Drying off doesn't take that long -- better than it does a lot of longhair mammals, thanks to the magic of wool -- and soon I'm all fluffy and ready to go.

I step back into my room, peer into the closet, and oh look it's empty there's no clothes in the closet.

Hm! How about that.

The next three minutes are a shuffled series of me re-checking the closet, walking a circle around my room, and examining the floor, couch, and bed, in case I forgot something. Like on the fifth try something will just magically be there. After a dozen or so passes, my brain finally accepts the reality that I did not leave myself any clean clothes.

There's worse places to be stranded naked than my own apartment. Okay. A few ways to deal with this. Let's think rationally. Think positively.

I don't want to throw on the clothes I slept in. Not when I'm all clean.

I also really don't want to just... stroll back down in my towel. I guess it wouldn't be too compromising. I mean, I've been growing my wool out for the winter season, so I even have a bit of built-in modesty. But I'm not convinced everyone else would see it that way.

If Avo and Anna are still there, they'd laugh themselves silly seeing me looking like this in a common space. Maybe they're not. Maybe I can sneak in and get out unnoticed. But what if someone else is there?? Al would think I'm mentally deficient or something. Marty would call me a freak or a pervert. Ozzy would laugh loud enough to wake up the building. Does Betty use this laundry room? I mean she must, right? But I don't think I've ever bumped into her down here. Maybe her place next door has its own unit.

Okay. I have my phone. I could just call someone to pick up my laundry for me. I know Charlie was down there. Maybe she still is. I have a number for her on my contacts that's only a month old. She might still be using it. And she doesn't seem the type to judge.

I wrap my towel around my waist, stand awkwardly by the door, and start tapping out a text. Something straight to the point. This is one mammal who doesn't like to waste time.

I just hope she'll spare a little for me.

A very long ten minutes later and there's a knock on my door. I open up to see a tawny fox holding my laundry and standing patiently in the hall. She's wearing what looks like a hiker's backpack, a little big for her, with plastic cages and a long bug net stuck to the outside with those little metal clasper things.

"Cormo," Charlie nods.

Good timing. I've got to leave soon. "Thanks for this, seriously. I'll owe you--"

Charlie pushes the door open with the basket. "Of course. Have you heard about the Bug Out today?"

I snap flush red and pace after her. "Charlie, I'm not even dressed!"

"Nice," she remarks, her narrow eyes not even looking up at me as she deposits the freshly clean haul on my bed. "It's a seasonal event where you attempt to catch local insects. I'm going to be competing for the first time today."

"That's great, but--"

"I have spent the last four days reading up on theory and past winners," she sits on my bed as she explains it to me, only to get up a moment later and begin pacing the room. "Braxton Calhoun won the Rainforest District Bug Out six years running and he has a dedicated podcast detailing the nuances of his strategy. So first off, one thing a lot of people assume is that stealth is inherently the best strategy for catching scorers. Those are insects announced by the head panel as the target insects for the challenge. Specific clades must be delineated as valid, you see. Because if they just took any bugs at all, mammals could hoard them in advance or even breed them and try to turn them in which would make it an ill-gotten victory, naturally, but you also can't have officials and volunteers tracking every single banded participant -- I should mention they make you wear a wristband to show you're participating, like at a club or a bounce house or similar venue -- so since the honor system wouldn't be satisfactory in an unsurveilled ecosystem like this, it's inevitable that certain at-runtime statutes be declared in order to keep fair score. Obviously."

I just sorta stand there blinking at her, clutching my towel and feeling very exposed. "Uh. Oh. Sure, right, makes sense."

She busies herself around my apartment, hardly looking at me but repeatedly peering out the window, walking in and out of the bathroom, or readjusting the laundry basket on my bed. "Well, as I said, most mammals assume stealth is the winning move. But as Calhoun points out, many insects have a very high F-Tolerance, which is a measurement of their likelihood to flee accounting for proximity, speed, and the relative size of the nearby movement. So despite a preponderance of common expectations, you can get within catching distance of many potential targets with little to no caution given to discretion, so long as you come armed with an adequate understanding of your quarry. It's a very liberating method."

I'm not sure I've... [i]ever[/i] seen her this animated. She's illustrating all these concepts with accompanying gestures, and she seems uncharacteristically pressed to sit still for more than a few seconds.

"Oh," I nod blankly, not really knowing what else to do. "Well, uh, it sounds like you're excited to get started."

"I aim to take the ultimate prize in the local division." She paces into my kitchen and absently opens up my cupboard, literally poking her nose inside. "I've even brought appropriate gear."

Ah, that explains it. "Is it a cash prize then?"

She closes the cupboard, swishing her impressively fluffy tail behind her. "No. Cash prizes were abandoned over 20 years ago as one of multiple ramifications of the CNR scandal. A small but materially unimportant trophy is offered, but the real prize is recognition of mastery and expertise."

Huh. "Well, I'm sure you'll do great."

She nods back. "Thanks. Are you competing? The local sporting goods outlets have been stocking special hoof-grip nets ever since the event took off in 1992. A standard net for a new participant would be satisfactory but if you want a professional grade catch--"

"Charlie--" I step forward, waving a free hoof while keeping my towel up with the other. "Sorry, no, I probably won't--"

"Ah, too bad. When the event begins I have a plan to--"

"Sorry, look, I'd love to stay and chat about the Bug Off but I've got to leave in a few minutes. I've got work, y'know? It's kind of a walk and I don't want to be late."

Charlie clasps her paws behind her back, rocking on her heels. "Oh. That's all right, I'll walk with you. There's a park near the warehouse where I can start my route. I'll tell you more on the way."

"...uh." I look around the room as if I'll spot something to help me out, but finally I just toss my hooves up and say, "Sure. Uh, just -- I need to get dressed."

"Of course," she nods, sitting back on the bed. "Now, given the early cold and the delayed start of this year's event, the most likely candidates for the target species would be something from the genus of--"

I interrupt again. "Uh, I'd like some privacy while I dress."

"Oh." Charlie runs a paw through her slicked-back headfur and flicks her ears as she rises to stand. "Of course. I'll be outside."

I give her a polite, grateful nod and wait for her to step back out into the apartment hall, then start rummaging through my laundry and tossing on the first shirt I find.

"So yes, not a lot of species can handle an early cold like this." I freeze as I hear Charlie's voice come through the door. I think she might actually be standing right up against the jamb. "But the official committee had delays starting the local division's planning because of budgetary cuts that are going into effect this

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12141837/chapters/27547896
http://tgweaver.tumblr.com/tagged/pack+street+stories/chrono