Impure - Chapter Seventeen

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Chapter Seventeen

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Argos sat alone at a table in the back corner of a cozy little coffee shop. The café was located on one of the shared use decks, though he scarcely remembered which one. It hardly mattered to the coyote. What did matter was that the coffee shop was open all hours, allowing him to get a fresh cup of coffee at even at the god-awful early time he’d crawled out of bed. Since then, one cup had turned into three, and the once-empty space now buzzed with the voices of travelers starting their days. Argos didn’t mind the noise, though. If anything, he wished it was louder. A loud enough cacophony might have helped to drown out all the worry and regret swirling inside his own head.

The goddamned Deputy Minister of Vice. Argos couldn’t stop thinking about it. It explained far too much, even as it left him with so many more questions. Rivi must have been raised in a household of shame, by a father who helped craft laws against people like his own son. Argos could scarcely imagine how horrible, and how terrifying that must have been for Rivi. The scorn he must have felt from the father who should have loved him without limits.

He'd guessed all along that Rivi was connected to the Church, but this was so much worse than he’d imagined. Rivi’s father was, quite literally, one of the most powerful people in the feline nation. And that was even before Argos and Iosa had eliminated the previous Minister, months earlier. Now, it was entirely likely he’d ascended to the Minister’s role, with the power to issue laws, edicts, and punishments related to all things vice and sinful.

Rivi had mentioned several times how he wasn’t supposed to talk about his Father. Argos assumed that was because his father was someone powerful, and to let that slip during his travels could prove dangerous to Rivi. Furthermore, it could be dangerous to the Ministry itself, if Rivi was taken captive, and used to blackmail his father. But now Argos wondered if there was also a simpler, more horrifying reason at play. Maybe Rivi’s father just didn’t want anyone to know Rivi was his son, because he was ashamed of him. Not to mention, it would be a terribly poor look for a Deputy Minister of Vice to have an impure son.

It made Argos sick. No, worse than that. It made him want to take a hammer to the entire goddamn Ministry of Vice. Argos splayed his ears. No, fuck a hammer, he thought. A fucking old-school crank gun, and the biggest belt of ammo he could find. Now, Argos knew even he couldn’t take on the entire Ministry and its entire secret police force single-handedly, and hope to survive. But, the coyote thought with a smile, what a glorious end it would be.

On a more selfish note, Argos now feared what would happen if the Guild ever realized who his cabinmate was. Though he told himself there was no way for them to find out until after the fact, the fears remained. The Guild of Ghosts and Shadows had an often-contentious relationship with the feline nation. This had not been Argos and Iosa’s first mission within the lands of the Church, after all. Though the Guild answered to no individual nation, historically, they were most closely associated with those countries who now saw the Church of the Divine Weavers as an danger in need of being contained.

If Argos’s superiors somehow discovered he was sharing a room with the son of the new Minister of Vice, they would almost certainly order him to do any number of things. While he doubted they would seek to bring any harm to Rivi, his racing mind told him it remained a possibility. More likely, they’d tell him to break off all contact, even if that meant casting Rivi into steerage. Or, Argos thought, they might order him to bring Rivi in, either as a captive…or an asset to turn. The son of the Minister of Vice would be a very potent asset for the Guild, indeed.

In all his long, decorated career, Argos had never once refused an order. Then again, his superiors had never been in the habit of giving him orders he didn’t agree with, believe in, or at least, understand the rationale for. Even if they told him to break off contact with Rivi, or seduce him in order to turn him against his own people, Argos would understand the rationale. From the Guild’s point of view, the reasonings would make perfect sense.

And yet, Argos would be goddamned if he’d obey any such order. Which meant, under no circumstances could anyone else from the guild find out. At least, not until after they’d already parted ways. Then it would be too late. Then he wouldn’t have to refuse their orders, because Rivi would already have left to continue his pilgrimage, and Argos would be off on his next mission.

“Fuck!” Argos slapped his hand against the table. A few people turned and stared at him. “Sorry,” the coyote said, muttering to himself. “I, uh, stubbed my toe on the table leg.”

Argos drained the last of his third cup of coffee. There was one other Guild member he was going to have to tell. He’d promised Iosa to do right by her, and that meant honesty. Argos dreaded to think about the entire ocean of ‘I told you so’s’ she would pour upon him when she found out just how connected to the Church Rivi really was. But after she’d rightly chastised him for not talking to her about inviting Rivi to his cabin, the last thing he wanted to do now was keep her in the dark. At least he knew he could trust her. Part of him feared she might tell him to keep his distance from Rivi, for their own safety, but he’d burn that bridge down when and if he came to it.

The coyote needed more coffee. Argos rose from his table, and went to the counter where several people waited in line. The coyote took his place in the queue, and waited his turn. Now and then he glanced at his table to make sure no one tried to snatch it while he was up. He kept his muzzle shut, not meeting anyone else’s expression. The coyote was not in the mood for small talk. When it was finally his turn, he stepped up the counter.

“Another, please.” Argos passed his empty mug across the counter.

“Really?” The server, a human woman, gave him a pleasant smile. “You’re gonna be buzzing, after this.” She took his mug, and fetched a clean one. “Black with double sugar, right?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Argos offered her a pleasant smile, but lacked the strength or desire to apply any of his usual charm. When she returned with his drink, he passed her a hefty bank note, likely as much as she’d make all day. “Can you bring me another in a half hour, or so?”

The woman stared at the bill in her hand, her eyes widening. “Sir, I…” She glanced up at the coyote, then over at the cash register. “I don’t know if I even have the change to break this.”

“Didn’t ask for change.” Argos picked up his coffee, and turned away. “Just another one in thirty minutes. And thank you.”

Argos padded back towards his table. Just as he neared it, a muscular wolf in a long coat, and a tiger in an expensive but poorly tailored suit stepped in front of him. They went straight to the table where Argos had been seated, and settled themselves around it. Argos growled low in his throat, but then forced himself to quiet down. He didn’t really want to make a scene.

“Look, fellas.” Argos glanced back and forth between them. “I get it, you wanna act tough. You waited till I was coming back before you swooped in and took my table. You think you can do what you want, cause you’re bigger than me. Probably think you’re better than me.” Argos waved them off with his free hand. “That’s fine.” He pulled out one of the table’s other chairs. “I’ll just sit here, and drink my coffee, and keep thinking my fucked up thoughts.”

“Nah.” The tiger in the suit pulled the chair away, pushing it up under the table. “We ain’t asking for company. If you wanted the table, shouldn’t have left it empty.”

“Sorry, Little Coyote.” The wolf smirked at him, all too pleased with himself for usurping someone else’s table. “Finders keepers, huh? But don’t worry. I’m sure something else will open up eventually.”

Something in the wolf’s smirk made his fur bristle. Under other circumstances, he might have let it go. But not anymore. “Okay, then. If that’s how you wanna play it?” Argos set his drink down on the table. “Then get the fuck outta my chair.”

The wolf blinked, then growled at him. “Excuse me?”

“Fuck.” Argos leaned towards him, baring his fangs. He stared, unblinking, into the wolf’s eyes. “Off.”

“Hey, asshole!” The tiger reached across the table to grab at Argos’s arm. “Why don’t you-AH!”

Argos snatched the tiger’s wrist in a blink, digging claw tips into pressure points. At the same time, he twisted the tiger’s arm sharply, and slammed his striped hand against the table. The tiger gave a muffled cry of pain, hunching forward in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure on his arm. Argos wrenched harder still, till he was on the verge of snapping the tiger’s wrist. The feline clutched at his arm with his other hand, trembling and whimpering.

“You can leave here under your own power,” Argos said. “Or you can leave can be carried to the fucking infirmary.” He slowly turned his head to look at the tiger. “Which is it?”

“Shit, coyote, we just fucking with you!” Pain tightened the tiger’s voice. “Let me go! C’mon, let go!”

Argos did no such thing. “You gonna fuck off outta my table?”

“Yeah, yeah, right, sure!” The tiger leaned closer, his ears flat, pain contorting his muzzle, “Fuck, man, you’re gonna break my arm!”

“Just your wrist.” Argos turned his attention back to the wolf. “I think your friend’s ready to go. You gonna leave with him, or is everyone in here gonna have to watch me fuck you up before I drag you out by your fucking ears?”

The wolf slowly rose, like a serpent uncoiling in a slow, menacing demonstration of power. Soon, he towered over Argos. He glared down at the coyote, his ears narrowed, and all his many teeth on snarling display. “You might wanna rethink that question, little pup.”

“Alright.” Argos stared at up him, still unblinking. “How ‘bout this question? Which knee you want me to break first?”

The tiger cried out again against grit teeth. “Fuck it, Rav! He’s crazy, let’s just go!”

Rav kept his eyes on the coyote, not willing to look away. Defiance shone in his gaze. “Release my friend.” 

“Gladly.” Argos released the tiger so suddenly the feline nearly sprang up off the table. He flopped back into his seat, cradling his aching arm against his chest. “Fuck, I think he-”

“I didn’t break, or tear nothin’,” Argos said, his eyes still on the wolf. “Yet.” He tilted his head, a quizzical yet menacing look. “You gonna give me a reason too?”

Finally, some of the fire died out in the wolf’s eyes. “You ain’t worth the trouble.” He picked up his coffee, then brushed past Argos. “Let’s go find a less shitty place to talk.”

Argos kept his guard up, half-expecting the wolf to try and sucker-punch him, or even pick his pocket. It wasn’t a bad trick, for a larger thief, to almost start a fight and then back down, just for a chance to angrily brush past his victim. Argos was ready for anything. Part of him hoped the wolf tried something. Part of him wanted to fuck up this big, arrogant bastard, if only from the distraction from the thoughts that were really bothering him.

But the wolf kept his cool. Either he’d realized he was out of his depth, or he didn’t want to risk getting arrested for fighting. The tiger rose up, picking up his coffee with his uninured arm. It shook a little as he backed away from the table. Argos relocated his own cup across the table, to where he’d been seated before the wolf stole his spot.

The coyote glanced at the tiger. “Ice your wrist. It’ll be fine.” He sat down in the chair, pulling his coffee closer. “Unless you fuck with me again. Then it won’t be.” As the wolf and tiger slunk away, muttering about him, Argos noticed quite a few of the other patrons staring at him. Silence had otherwise settled over the coffee shop. Even the woman making coffees was watching him with wide eyes. Argos sighed, hanging his head. Not because he was ashamed, but because he hadn’t wanted to make a scene. He wanted to be left alone. “Sorry. Drink your damn coffee.”

For a few minutes, Argos just stared into his mug. He could almost see himself reflected in the dark liquid. The image was vague enough for his imagination to fill in the details. His features were sharply set, almost like a caricature of a predator. His golden eyes were cold, and gleamed with a murderous intent. The face of an uncaring murderer, he thought. Argos blinked, then snorted and shook his head. That sounded more like the way they’d describe a villainous assassin in one of those pulpy radio serials Rivi liked. Maybe he was getting a little carried away with the self-pitying exaggerations.

As the other customers gradually resumed their own conversations, a trio of gnoll guards with rifles slung across their shoulders walked into the pub. They glanced around, and their eyes soon came to rest on the coyote. Someone must have reported the fracas that nearly was, Argos thought. He doubted it was the wolf or the tiger. Those two seemed like the sort who’d have too much ego to involve the law just because a ‘little coyote’ scared them away.

Argos waited just until the gnolls reached him before he reached into his pocket and retrieved his Guild Badge. He’d dressed in a hurry that morning, and hadn’t even bothered to pull on a vest, or a waistcoat. Just a simple, black shirt with silver buttons, and dark trousers. He slapped the badge down on the table and pushed it towards the gnolls. They came to a stop, staring down at the Guild’s emblem. Then they glanced at each other. Two of the guards backed up.

The third gnoll awkwardly cleared his throat, his ears back. “You, uh, have a nice day, Sir.”

“Thanks.” Argos sipped his coffee. “You too.”

The three guards retreated, and Argos scooped his badge back up. He tucked it away, and returned to drinking his coffee in silence. Soon, he fell into the same rhythm he’d been in before that little spot of trouble. Take a few sips of coffee, then spent a few minutes lost in uncomfortable thoughts. Take another sip, then wander the desolate wastelands of his own mind a little longer.

Argos hated it when he fell into spirals like this. Most of the time, he was perfect okay with the things he did. With the person he was. Argos had long since accepted that he was never going to live a good life, or be a good person. Accepting those two simple facts made it that much easier to simply live the life he’d built. He told himself that the Guild had purpose. That its operatives had purpose. That for all the terrible acts they committed, they remained in service of a greater good. That eliminating someone like Archbishop Tovarakaras would only help the felines, in the long run. That it would save countless lives, in the end. And it probably would. But that didn’t mean that there weren’t countless ripple effects he’d never truly know about. Like the guard on patrol, at the wrong place, at the wrong time. He was only doing his job, and now, there was probably a family out there, mourning him.

Or poor, goddamn closeted scholar with the father who probably just got a promotion.

To Minister of Vice.

“Here’s your coffee, sir.” A woman’s gentle voice drew Argo’s attention. The human running the shop set another mug in front of him. “Black, with double sugar.”

Argos swallowed, glancing up at her, forcing a smile across his muzzle. “Half an hour already?”

The woman shook her head. “No, but you’ve been absent-minded trying to drink from an empty cup for at least five minutes.”

“Oh…” Argos glanced into the old cup. It was as empty as she claimed. “Thanks, then.” He passed it up to her. “And, I’m…” Argos swallowed. “I’m sorry for causing a scene, earlier.”

She smiled, nodding once. “Thanks. Kinda seemed like they were messing with you anyway, but I’m glad it didn’t get any worse. I’ll bring you another one in a bit, if you’re still here.”

Argos smiled again, though a little more genuinely this time. “Thank you.” Just as the woman turned around, he caught a glimpse of a familiar, rusty red and gray furred vixen pushing her way through the growing crowd, and into the coffee shop. Argos pointed her out. “I’ll pay for whatever she wants, too.”

“Understood.” The woman returned to the small counter to continue taking orders.

It wasn’t long before Iosa approached his table, a large, porcelain mug in her hand. The vixen wore a long-sleeved silver dress, embossed with decorative, swirling floral patterns of black. A large, red-leather handbag was slung over her shoulder. She set the bag and her drink down on the table.

“I thought I’d found you here,” Iosa said, pulling a chair out for herself. “Mostly because I guards radioing around about a coyote starting a fight over a table in here.”

Argos grunted, folding his arms. “There weren’t no fight. It was two big assholes thinking they could help themselves to my table while I was away because they were twice my size.”

“That doesn’t sound very nice of them.” Iosa settled into her chair, and scooted it back up to the table. “Why, that shows nearly as appalling a lack of manners as you, not pulling out a lady’s chair for her.”

“I…” Argos glanced up at her, then looked away, grimacing. “Shit, sorry.”

Iosa laughed, waving him off. “Oh, please, Argos. You know I’m just fucking with you. I don’t give two shits if you get my chair for me or not.” She sipped her drink, then smiled at him. “Especially when you paid for my morning coffee. So thank for that, by the welcome.”

Argos nodded once. “No problem.”

“Are you sure the two people you definitely weren’t fighting with, did it on purpose?” She took another sip, gesturing with her free hand. “How do you know they didn’t think you were leaving after you got up?” 

“Cause they waited till I was walking back to it.” Argos growled, his ears flattening back in frustration. “And they were real smug about it, too.”

 “Ah!” Iosa waggled a finger at him. “That’s what did it, wasn’t it. The smugness.”

Argos folded his arms. “Fuckin’ wolf smirked at me, too. Like he just knew there wasn’t nothing I could do about it. He was just waitin’ to see me slink off with my tail tucked. And I wasn’t in the fuckin’ mood for that bullshit.”

Iosa grimaced, looking him over. “No, I’d imagine not. The woman at the counter said you were already on your fifth coffee?”

Argos sunk deeper into his chair. “Snitch.”

“How long have you been here, Argos?” Iosa softened her voice, leaning closer. “Please tell me you haven’t been here all night.”

Argos looked away. “I haven’t been here all night.”

The vixen gestured for him to look at her again. “Now tell me the truth.”

“I haven’t been!” Argos glanced at her, but only for a moment. “Ask Rivi.”

“Well, I would, were he here.” Iosa made a show of looking at the empty third seat the table. “But since he isn’t, I imagine he’s still asleep. Considering it’s still quite early in the morning. Argos…” Iosa reached across the table to set her hand on Argos’s arm. “How long have you been there?”

“I dunno.” Argos swallowed, working his tongue across his muzzle. “A while. I couldn’t sleep.”

Iosa splayed her ears, concern etching itself across her slender muzzle. “Again?”

“Yes, again!” Argos snapped his jaws, a moment of frustration boiling over inside him. “What do you want me to say, Iosa? I ain’t doing it on fuckin’ purpose.”

Iosa’s ears drooped, her shoulders slumping. “I know, Argos. I didn’t mean it as an accusation.”

Argos withered just as quickly. “Shit, Iosa, I’m sorry.” His heart sank into the cold, twisting pit that was his belly. The last thing he wanted was to be hurtful to Iosa, when she was only trying to help him. “I didn’t mean to yell at you, either. I’m just…” Argos swallowed, tilting his head to stare up at the ceiling. He almost wished they were having this conversation in private, but at least the din of voices around them kept him from feeling as if they were being eavesdropped on. “I’m kinda fucked up right now, alright?”

“So I would imagine.” Iosa patted his arm again, then settled back against her chair. “You ought to consider seeing-”

“I ain’t seein’ no head-shrinker,” Argos said, still staring upwards. He traced the outline of square shaped, dark wooden panels with his eyes. “Can’t tell them half the shit that goes through my head after a mission, anyway.”

Iosa picked up her mug. “I was going to say, a physician. They could give you some pills to help you sleep.”

The coyote sighed, slowly turning his eyes back to the vixen. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. That kinda thing can linger, and really take your edge off.”

“And going days at a time without sleep doesn’t?” Iosa perked a single ear.

“Not days,” Argos said. “I just told you, I got some sleep the other night. Just…” Argos swallowed. “Not last night.”

The vixen took a drink. “But it has been days, before. And more commonly, of late.”

Argos snorted, and snatched his mug so quickly he spilled a little coffee. “Who are you, my fuckin’ supervisor?”

Iosa stared at him. “Yes. I am.”

The coyote scowled, taking a slow drink. “Alright, fair point.”

“More importantly,” Iosa said, returning her own glass to the table. “I’m you’re friend. I’m concerned for you, Argos. I’m always worried for you, long before I’m worried about your capacity to complete the mission.”

Argos swallowed his coffee, and set his mug down. “Yeah, well, thanks, Iosa. I appreciate it. Ain’t like it’s a new problem, though.”

The vixen shrugged. “Is it not? Having trouble sleeping in a general sense is a pretty far cry from getting no sleep at all for days at a time.”

“Again,” Argos said, holding up his hands. “Not days, plural.”

“If you say so.” Iosa sighed, drumming her fingers against the table. “I’ve made my point, for now, so I’ll change the subject if you want.”

Argos rubbed the back of his head, grimacing. “Yeah. We, uh…” He swallowed. “Gotta talk, anyway.”

Iosa perked an ear. “Oh? About what?”

“Rivi.” Argos dropped his hand back down.

Iosa lifted her other ear. “What about him? Don’t tell me you’ve already fallen for him.”

“No!” Argos shook his head, only to scrunch up his muzzle. “Well…not exactly.”

“Oh, gods.” Iosa sighed, slapping the table. “You have, haven’t you. You spend one night alone with him, and you’re head over ass for him already.”

Argos blinked, a smirk creeping across his muzzle. “Don’t you mean, head over tail?”

“Head over tail is for sensible people.” Iosa snarled, a sound more of concerned frustration than anger. “Head over ass is for idiots who don’t listen to their friends! He’s going to break your damn heart, Argos, just like the last stray you picked up did!”

“That was different!” Argos leaned forward, a growl creeping into his voice. “That was very different! And besides, you liked her too!”

“Yes, Argos,” Iosa said, said, her voice somehow measured yet fiery at the same time. “It was very different, I’ll grant you that. And yes, I did like her too. But when she was gone, only one of us spent the next night sobbing into their pillow.”

Argos’s growl sharpened, his ears back. A tine of fiery anger pressed itself into his heart, stirring up raging embers. “Don’t you fucking hit me with that like it’s a goddamn hammer! What was I supposed to do, fucking forget all about her? She was with us for months! I’m sorry I can’t just shut my fucking heart off! Shit would be a lot fucking easier if I could, trust me!” He tapped the side of his head, his voice a snarl. “Might stop the shit that goes on up here at night from keeping me awake!”

Iosa took a deep breath, and held her hands up. “Argos, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wield that like a weapon. I just…” She sighed, a sound that turned into a faint but perceptible whimper. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, just because you have to say goodbye, again.”

Argos’s shoulders sagged. The embers in his heart faded again. “I know, Iosa, I know. You think I want to get my own damn heart broken? I think I wanna break his heart? Of course not! But that…” Argos swallowed, staring down at his coffee mug. “That ain’t the way it works, and we both know it. The heart wants what it wants, and the heart…”

When Argos trailed off, Iosa picked up for him. “Wants to fuck us up.”

The coyote snorted. “You still remember.”

Iosa picked up her coffee cup. It trembled slightly in her grasp. “Of course I do.” She sipped her coffee, managing a smile. “So, fucked up future hearts aside, I’m guessing your night with him went well?”

Argos nodded, his own smile returning, if only for a moment. “It was nice. Very relaxing. We went through some of his photos, we talked about some stuff…” His smile grew. “We cuddled a little bit…”

“Oh?” Iosa took another sip, her grin widening. “Go on.”

The coyote’s smile vanished as quickly as it came. “And then I figured out who his father is.”

Iosa froze. “You did?”

“Yeah.” Argos put his muzzle into his hands, muffling his voice. “I did.”

“And?” Iosa worked her mug between her hands. “How bad is it? Bad enough to earn an ‘I told you so’, later?”

“This is worse than that.” Argos slowly shook his head against his hands. “So much worse.”

Iosa slowly set her mug down. “That bad?” She leaned in. “Alright, who is he?”

The vixen leaned in. “Who is he?”

Argos slowly looked around, scrutinizing everyone else in the place. He saw no heads turned to suspicious angles, no ears swiveled towards them, no signs of anyone eavesdropping. And yet, he dared not speak it aloud, just in case. If there was even the slightest chance that doing so could endanger Rivi, then that was not a chance he was willing to take.

“Gimme something to write on,” Argos said, gesturing at Iosa’s handbag. She always kept that sort of thing at hand.

The vixen dug into her bag, soon producing a pad of paper and a pen. She passed Argos the paper, then shook the pen a few times before handing it to him. “Hopefully that’s still got ink in it.”

Argos scribbled against the paper until a black line followed the pen’s tip. When it did, he wrote down the phrase, Deputy Minister of Vice. Then he passed it back to her.

Iosa sucked in a breath. “No fucking way.”

“I saw a picture of him.” He gestured at his shoulders. “Indigo and silver sashes. Badges everywhere. Rivi skipped past it pretty quick, but I memorized his face. After Spots was asleep, I got the book out.” Argos’s face twisted up. Just the memory alone made him feel as if he was being knifed in the gut. “It’s him. It’s absolutely him.”

Iosa rubbed her head, just between her ears. “Fuck me.”

“Don’t think even that would cheer me up, right now.” Argos glanced up, managing a playful smirk. “But that’s about how I felt, too.”

Iosa chuckled at his jest. “You’re hilarious, Argos.” She glanced at him a moment, her eyes narrowed and ears splayed. “And I’ll grant you, that’s a pretty good excuse for not sleeping.”

“Yeah.” Argos rubbed his arm. “I threw some clothes on after a while, and just came down here. I knew I wasn’t getting back to sleep after that.”

The vixen leaned back, crossing her arms. “I don’t blame you, this time.”

“You know what it means, right?” Argos reached for the pad of paper.

“It can mean a lot of things, Argos,” Iosa said. “You may need to be more specific.”

“It means that Rivi’s father is now….” Argos covered up the word Deputy with his fingers, leaving only the phrase Minister of Vice. “And it’s our fault.”

Iosa scowled, her ears flat. “Not necessarily.”

Argos snorted, pulling his hand back. “Oh, I’m pretty sure we may have had something to do with what happened to the last guy.”

“Not what I meant.” Iosa tore the piece of paper from the pad, crumpling it up. “What I meant was, their systems are complicated. He’s probably been given the Acting title, but he might not be the permanent choice.”

Argos just stared at her. “If that’s what you wanna tell yourself.”

“What I tell myself, Argos,” Iosa said, her voice sharpening. “Was that someone was going to take over, no matter what.” She shoved the crumpled up paper into her handbag. “It just so happens that you’ve ended up sharing a cabin with that someone’s son. Which…” She took a slow breath. “Admittedly, has the potential to complicate things immensely.”

“He’s off limits.” Argos’s ears pinned in a flash, his fangs bared in a sudden flash of fiery, protective anger. “Got it?”

Iosa picked up her paper and pen. A hint of hurt crept into her voice. “Argos, I wasn’t even going to suggest-”

“Off. Fucking.” Argos slapped the table. “Limits.”

Iosa glared at him, the snarl in her voice matching his. “I agree. Which is the point I was going to make to you, if you’d stop jumping to fucking conclusions.”

Argos relented, his ears drooping. “Sorry, Iosa. I just…” He ran his hands back over his ears. “I tried to tell you, my head’s pretty fucked up right now.”

“I know, Argos.” Pain lingered in Iosa’s eyes, as if his inadvertent accusation her bruised her somewhere deep inside. “Which is why I’m trying not to be mad at you. I said I’d help you keep him safe, didn’t I? I’m not going to change my mind just because his father might end up on our list, someday.”

Argos cringed, his tail trying to tuck. With the coyote seated, it twitched against his leg. “That’s not funny.” 

Iosa’s voice softened. “It’s not a joke, Argos. I certainly hope that never comes to pass. And as long as he doesn’t pick up where his predecessor left off, it probably won’t.”

Argos slowly shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s shit like that that kept me up, last night. Along with all the goddamn implications this has for Rivi. And his pilgrimage, and his suspicious lack of support, and every other fucking bad thing I could think of.”

“Argos, take a breath.” Iosa reached across the table to grasp his hand. “In fact, take a few. And then just listen to me.”

The coyote did as she asked. Iosa’s touch was warm, and comforting, her pads silken and oddly intimate against his own. Thinking about it the way Rivi’s people did, he could almost understand why they viewed pad to pad contact the way they did. But Argos focused on the feel of her hand around his, taking a few slow breaths. Gradually, some of the unreasonable anger and some of the uncertain fears faded from his mind. When his swirling thoughts had calmed, however temporarily, he glanced up at Iosa, and gave her a nod.

“First, the other point I was going to make.” Iosa squeezed his hand. “Before you snapped at me.”

“Again, sorry.” Argos swallowed.

“I know. And I accept.” Iosa patted his hand with her other. “The Guild is not in the practice of…” She glanced around, as if to make note of their public location. “Pursing action against family members. Unless they’re provably complicit. Which…” She chuckled to herself. “I think he’s pretty obviously not. Furthermore, the previous actions taken were not against the position itself, but the person. There are certainly those in the Guild, and hell, within the feline’s Church, that hope the next Minister will, at the very least, show a more tolerant heart towards his own people.”

Argos’s ears splayed again. “Rivi don’t exactly make him sound like a beacon of tolerance.”

“Given his position, I’m not surprised.” Iosa squeezed Argos’s hand tighter. “But admittedly, we don’t exactly have the full picture, do we? For all we know, he might be showing as much tolerance as he can get away with. Letting Rivi undertake the Pilgrimage, for example. And hell, if Rivi seems to think his dad don’t treat him right, because he’s impure? That that means his dad must know he’s in the Club, right?”

Argos grimaced. “I ain’t fully clear on that, yet. But I get the feeling his dad tried to have him…” Disgust washed across his face. His belly twisted. “Purified. Somebody’s definitely hit him, Iosa. More than once.”

The vixen’s face wrenched up in the same sort of revulsion that coursed through Argos. “I kinda got that feeling, too. Now, I hesitate to say this, but-”

“Then don’t.” Argos glowered at her. He already knew what she was going to say. And he hated that it might be right.

“Argos, if his father’s really in that position, and Rivi ever got outted?” She took a slow breath, giving Argos time to prepare himself for what she was about to say. “Then it’s probably reasonable to assume his dad’s the one who made sure Rivi didn’t get sent off to one of those fuckin’ purification camps. I know it’s goddamn horrible, but…” She licked her muzzle, wincing. “In its own fucked up away, getting slapped around instead of sent away to be reeducated is a sort of tolerance. At least by Ministry of Vice standards.”

Argos only growled, his whole body tense. “Someday, I’m gonna knock that fucker’s goddamned fangs out.”

“And I wouldn’t blame you for a second.” She rubbed his hand, a wistful smile on her muzzle. “You understand the point I’m trying to make though, right?”

Argos did. He hated it, but he did. “Yeah, he’s a real reformer cause he only beat up his kid instead of letting someone brutalize him. My fucking hero.”

Iosa grit her teeth. “Argos, you know I’m wholly in agreement with you. But I’m trying to set your mind ever so slightly at ease. The important point is, that the guild is highly unlikely to take any kind of action against him, right now. You don’t need to worry about Rivi’s safety, as far as the guild goes. If anything, the greater consequences would fall on us, should the wrong parties discover who you’ve invited to share your cabin.” She gave him a pointed look. “Which, I should like to point out-”

“Yeah, I know,” Argos said, heaving a sigh. “You told me so.”

Iosa smirked. “Yes, I did fucking tell you so. Now, granted, even I didn’t expect him to be that high up in the Church’s hierarchy.”

“Or that part of it.” Argos lifted his hand away from Iosa’s to rub one of his ears. “At least that explains all the goddamn shame. I can’t fathom what it musta been like, growing up, knowing you’re the very thing your fuckin’ father preaches against. Makes laws against.” He took a shaking breath. “You know, Rivi acted like he believed he deserved to be hurt, just cause he’s…” He sneered. “Impure. Who do you think taught him to feel that way, Iosa?”

“I know, Argos, I know. But you have to look at the bigger picture.” She reached for his hand again.

Argos pulled it away. “Yeah, I know. I’m supposed to think that his dad’s still somehow better than the fucker who…” Argos trailed off. He couldn’t exactly finish that sentence the way he wanted too while in public. “Who he’s replacing?”

Iosa leaned back in her chair, her ears drooping a little. “I’m not helping, am I.” She glanced at her hands, then sighed. “Argos, I sincerely hope you realize we’re in agreement, on this. I’m just trying to alleviate-”

“You’re trying ease some of my fears, I know.” Argos set his hands in his lap, sighing. “I’m just…” He swallowed. “I don’t think I’m in the right place to start looking at this thing from different angles, just yet.”

“I understand.” Iosa picked up her coffee, taking a long drink. “Tell you what, Argos. We’re going to need to talk in private about what this means. For us, and for Rivi. But we don’t need to have that talk just yet. Why don’t we circle back to this in a few days, or maybe a week? Let you sort a few things out, first. In the meantime, do you know what I think you should do?”

Argos whimpered, his ears drooping. “You’re going to tell me to keep my distance from him, aren’t you.”

“Fuck, no.” Iosa thumped her mug down. “I was going to tell you to take him on a fucking date! It’s like you don’t even know me, anymore.”

Argos blinked. “Wait, what?”  

“A date, Argos!” Iosa leaned forward. “Take the cat on a fucking date.”

“You want me,” Argos said. He dropped his voice into a whisper so quite he wasn’t entirely sure even Iosa could hear him. “An Orphan-tier Guild operative, to take the son of the Minister of Vice, of the Church of the Divine Weavers...on a date?”

Iosa only smiled at him. “Did I stutter, Argos?”

“No, but you spent ten minutes the other night lecturing me about what a fucking idiot I am just for sharing my room with him!” Argos slapped the back of his hand against his palm. “Not to mention how dangerous it’ll be for all of us, if he, or his people, figure out what we really do. Or if he somehow compromises us! Should I go on? Because you sure fucking did the other night.”

“Yes, I did,” Iosa said, jabbing a finger between Argos’s eyes hard enough to hurt. “Because I was trying to get my points through your thick skull!”

“Ow!” Argos leaned back, rubbing his head. “Then what the hell’s changed?”

“You.” Iosa tried to jab his head again, but Argos swatted her hand away. “All my previous points remain valid, but you’ve already made your choices, and now we’re living with them. I also promised you I’d help keep him safe. And it’s not going to do him any good, if just when he starts getting comfortable around you, you’re suddenly distant all the time. And, more important to me?” Iosa pressed a hand to her chest, her voice softening. “Is you. And Argos, I’m worried about you. The last few years, I swear, every mission we go on has taken something bigger out of you than the last one. And now, this has gotten you…” She leaned across the table again, gently stroking one of his ears. “Well, you said yourself. Your head’s all fucked up right now. And more than anything, I think you need a little time to relax, and enjoy yourself.” She stroked his ear again. “I know you’re not just going to forget all your fears, but maybe this will help you put them aside for a little while. I want you to take some time, and just enjoy yourself. Take the goddamn cat on a date. It’ll be good for both of you.”

Argos swallowed, leaning his head ever so slightly into her touch. In his mind, he saw himself as a frightened pup again. It was his first night in the orphanage. The real orphanage. He’d spent all day acting tough for his little sister, trying to keep her from being scared. He’d put on his bravest face, he made it clear that nothing frightened him, and there was nothing for her to be afraid of, either.

But the truth was, he’d been terrified. Probably even more frightened than his sister. At least, when they’d scraped by on the street, after their parents were gone, Argos felt like he knew how to survive. How to steal food, where to hide, where to sleep. But for some reason, the first night in the orphanage terrified him like nothing else. There were so many other children there. Everything was so new, so different. So enclosed. If the others turned on them, he didn’t think he could protect his sister from all of them. He didn’t know where to run with her. Where to hide her, to keep her safe. It was all just so damn overwhelming. But he didn’t want his sister to see him cry, and so he’d hidden his fear away behind his mask of bravery until his sister fell asleep.

And then, when his little sister finally fell asleep, Argos curled up and cried into his pillow. He used it to muffle his sobs, not wanting to wake her. Then, all at once, there was someone else standing next to his bed. Telling him it was going to be alright. That the place he was in, wasn't so bad. That he didn’t have to be afraid, anymore. That she knew what it was like, to have a younger sibling you wanted to be brave for. And then, through his tears, he looked up.

Hi. My name’s Iosa. What’s yours?

Argos sniffled, blinking back tears. “Why’ve you always been so good to me?”

Iosa only smiled. “Because you’ve always been too busy trying to protect someone else, to be good to yourself.”

Argos reached up and gently squeezed her hand. “Some people need protecting.”

“So do you, sometimes.” Argos rose up and went around the table. She wrapped her arm around Argos’s head, and gently hugged it against her body. “Not just from knives, and bullets. But from what you haunts you…” She stroked his head, smoothing his fur. “In here. And I know, the things we do, take a toll on you. I know what our job makes you think of yourself. You see yourself only in the deeds we do. But I see you in everything else. I see you protecting your sister. I see you saving that girl. I see you sobbing for her, after you say goodbye. I see you helping the refugees, and ‘encouraging’ the captain to take more of them aboard. And I see you sheltering the son of the Minister of Vice from all the slings and arrows you can take. Hell, the only person you ain’t ever trying to protect is yourself. And I think that’s because you only look at the evil you’ve done, in the name of the greater good. But I see a whole goddamn lot more in you than that, Argos.” Iosa stroked his ears a few times, then leaned down to take his muzzle in her hands. “And I think so does Rivi.”

Argos took a trembling breath. “He said the same kind thing, actually.”

“Then case in fucking point, Argos.” Iosa wiped a few tears from his fur, then returned to her seat. She opened her handbag, retrieving her badge just long enough to wave it under Argos’s muzzle. “And this? And all the shit I yelled at you about the other night?” Iosa shoved her badge back into her back. “That don’t mean a goddamn thing compared to what you got going on up there.” She pointed to his head, then to his heart. “And in there. So, forget the guild, for a bit. Forget the rules, and their consequences. We can figure all that out later. Because yes, Argos. I want you to take the goddamn cat on a goddamn date.” She smirked. “Assuming he’s amenable.”

“Pretty sure he will be,” Argos said, swallowing hard. For all his life, no one could ever see through his bluffs like Iosa. “Maybe not an official date, at first, but…” He perked his ears. “I think he’d like to go shootin’ with me. We could start there, see where that leads next.”

“Perfect.” Iosa picked up her coffee, swirling it. “If at any point, either of you would like additional company at any point, I’d be happy to join you. If you’d rather I leave you two alone to make out in the corner, I’d be just as happy to give you your space.”

Argos gave a yapping laugh. “I don’t think there’s gonna be any making out going on.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Then again, he did sorta ask me if I was interested in him, like that.”

Iosa held a hand up. “Just take it slow, with him. This is probably all very new to the poor cat.”

Argos chuckled, dropping his hand back down. “You’ve got no idea.” He took a slow, shaking breath. “I thought you didn’t want me to get my heart broken.”

The vixen sighed. “Argos, I can see it in your eyes. It’s already too late for that. It’s going to crush you to say goodbye to him, in a few months. So…” She reached out, and once more squeezed Argos’s hand. “You may as well make the heartbreak worth it.”