Private The Docks Two Kits in a Trench Coat

[Cricket]

[Notes: Thread is set pre-Urk arc. Thread will also be opening later for more characters to join in!]

“Will you gerroffoutivit!?”

For the most part Damo liked to think he was a reasonable beast: he let those in his dockside tavern imbibe far more than they could hold; navigated a countless number of brawls in his establishment and generally kept the peace with a solid right hook and watered-down spirits. He was, as far as proprietors go, pretty relaxed.

Patience, however, can only be tested for so long. The little…whatever it was had been nothing short of a relentless nuisance for the past two hours, and he was less than experienced with the younger crowd as it was. Her final attempt to get behind the bar, already with pockets crammed with pilfered items and junk she’d tried peddling, had been met with a decisive grab. Frogmarching the protesting gecko to the doors as she spat and cursed at him, he found himself hard-pressed to keep a grip on the wriggling thing. Strange furless beasts.

“Stupid-great-…crinkleclawed-bully!—I wasn’ doing anything! This is harassment!”

“Oh aye? Harassment’s right – to me and those last three weasels you were trying to scam. Now garn, go harass somebeast else!”

With a solid kick he got the front door open long enough to bowl Cricket out snout over tail and disappeared back inside. The young gecko, for her part, was still protesting even as she was bundled out, limbs askew as she collided with something soft. A soft landing in this city was a bonus at least. It took another two seconds of dazed silence to realise it was actually another creature, roughly her size.

Pawing at fur and fabric as she struggled to extract herself, Cricket pointed to the doorway as she complained to her unfortunate victim. “You see that? That any way to treat a young’un in this city?! How dare he, right?! Could’ve landed me right in the water, and then what?!”

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Glimpses of summer were upon Bully Harbor -- you could smell it in the air. The cold nip in the morning had all but gone, replaced with a warm breeze. The earliest rays of sunlight struck a particular haybale, warming it pleasantly, and rousing Finn from inside it.

As the foxkit poked his head out from his commandeered sleeping arrangements, Finn decided it was going to be a good day. No, it was going to be a great day. He'd had quite the success yesterday running odd errands for various elderly beasts, and had a whole gilder to his name. The foxkit checked his pocket to make sure the coin was still there, and a surge of joy flooded his chest.

He was going to get breakfast.

Stealthily creeping from the hay, Finn scrambled up a post in the stable to fetch his toothbrush from the spot he'd stashed his belongings in the rafters. Even in his predicament, there was time to take care of hygene.

Moments later, the foxkit burst from the stable, and quickly blended into the crowd of beasts as they went about their morning tasks. Finn weaved his way playfully towards a street vendor he had in mind. Skrunkly as he was, Emmet Embernose made the best breakfast sandwiches. The foxkit patiently waited his turn in line, before drawing up to the edge of the cart, and pushing his coin across to the patchy fox.

"The bacon, egg, and cheese please!" he chirped. Though Finn was barely tall enough to see over the edge of the cart, his nose told him everything. The bacon was crisping up, the eggs were hot, the buttered bun was toasting, and that golden slice of cheese had just been laid down like a blanket over the lot. Finn swallowed to keep himself drom drooling, and eagerly accepted the warm bundle of newspaper wrapped goodness into his paws before trotting off towards the docks to enjoy his breakfast.

As Finn scouted out various buisness opportunities, he carefully tore open the newspaper protecting his sandwich. A delicious waft of steam rose up, and Finn stopped to savor the moment... but Finn never got to take his bite.

The foxkit squawked as a gangly gecko was uncerimoniously tossed on him, and collapsed into a heap on the dock planking. Helplessly, he watched his sandwich sail gracefully through the air in all it's golden, cheesy, gooy glory -- before bouncing off the boardwalk and into the harbor with a heartrending "ploop".

Well. This was going to be a good day.

The dejected foxkit propped himself up on a paw and shoved away the gecko that had crashed into his morning. "...and then I'd still be eating my sandwich!" he scowled. It took a moment for Finn to realize who -- or rather, what -- had collided with him. It was about his age, and... a girl? Finn gawked in shock.

 

[Cricket]

Apologies were hardly within Cricket's remit, but she could make exceptions...of a sort "Well I'm sorry he did that to ya, mate," she commiserated, "there really ain't justice, is there? That great roughpawed bully only don't like me 'cause I don't have fur but can I help that? no!"

She scooted herself into a seated position for a moment, nostrils twitching as she took in the lingering scent of egg and cheese. Tracing the imagined trajectory towards the quayside, she pouted to think of it being picked at by whatever fish were unfortunate to swim the Harbour's waters. Wasted food was always a tragedy one way or another. That this other, tidier, urchin had managed to procure one did ignite a flicker of jealousy in her empty stomach, but it was short-lived. "Ah well, we c'n be hungry together. Come on."

Cricket hopped back to her feet and began dusting herself down, morning sunlight catching the plumes of dust and grime beaten from her blouse as she chattered incessantly. "'Least it's not a bad morning for it, right? Nice weather means more work an' more work means more for lunch. I like lunch better anyways myself. You could probably demand that tavern owner repay you: seen the Ministry o' Justice do that sort of thing. Anyways you're quiet, you got the wind knocked out of ya?"

Extending a paw to help the other kit to his feet, Cricket tilted her head in bemusement, large unblinking eyes staring back. "...What?"

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

As frustrated as Finn was about his breakfast, the foxkit was raised to not hold grudges. Unfortunately, for Finn's sake, that teaching took a little too well. As Cricket rather... creatively... reinterpreted the sequence of events; Finn fell for it hook, line, and sinker. At her apology, the kit looked flustered for words. "O-oh, it's alright! You're a right proper... beast! ...e-err, creature!" he stammered, accepting her apology.

And yet, he still couldn't help staring at her. He knew it wasn't polite, but he'd never seen anybeast like her before. Finn decided that... no, her fur hadn't fallen out -- it seemed like she never had any fur to begin with. He found this somewhat unsettling, but even moreso was her large, unblinking eyes. How did... how was that not uncomfortable?

As she extended her paaaaaw ...hand ...appendage? ...paw to help him out, Finn took it uncertainly, and let her help him up. The feeling was startling, but Finn's conscience finally guilted him into not staring anymore. Poor girl... I hate it when people stare at me. She probably gets this a lot. The foxkit opened his mouth to make an apology, but that would only draw further attention to the fact that she looked different -- and so he sat there with his mouth agape for a brief moment.

"U-uh, no! 's a really nice morning, actually!" he finally agreed. "S-sorry, uh, just... well, it's..."

Noooo no no, don't bring it up!

"...dooo y'know anyplace y'can get work?" he asked. Deciding that it wasn't the best decision to lurk infront of the tavern, he took a step down the boardwalk, and made an open gesture for Cricket to follow. "There's usually a few elderbeasts that let me carry their parcels for'm, sometimes they send me out to fetch'm some groceries! ...but I've never really worked with someone else a'fore. Usually just by myself."

"...oh, Finn! By the way!"

 

[Cricket]

By now she was well used to the reactions other beasts had to her. It had been challenging enough at first garnering acceptance for her appearance, but the lidless eyes, varied diet and shedding skin had caused all manner of comments over her short life. This being so, she hardly seemed to notice – or if she did she did not let it show that she cared.

She couldn’t let anybeast know she cared.

Cricket held the young todd’s gaze in silent challenge as he stammered his answer, satisfied by his attempt to distract. If he wasn’t willing to be rude, she could make use of that later: he’d be a good one to keep around. For now, the concept of working together made her wrinkle her snout in thought as she trotted after him.

“I’m Cricket,” the crested gecko replied by way of introduction, “good to meet ya, Finn. I think we’re going to get along just fine, eh? We’ll make some money by lunch an’ if we put it all together bet we could get something really nice.”

Still, that left the matter of the work itself still hanging. “Well, for work that depends,” she mused. “I don’ normally work with others either, but the docks always seem to have some sort of work goin’. They don’t let me help with any of the heavy work like the loadin’ and unloadin’ on those big fancy ships but there’s always things needing painting or nets put away. Some’ve the street vendors let me sell their things on the street before further out from the carts, but…they can be really suspicious of ya running off with the profits.”

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

(Finn's ears had flushed as Cricket stared him down with those unblinking eyes. Boy, if looks could kill! Fortunately, he didn't jam his footpaw into his mouth this time, and had managed to smooth things over.)

Generally, Finn avoided the docks when looking for work. Though he was growing bigger every day, the beasts at the docks still seemed like giants to him. They were a rough and tumble crowd, and little kits like him easily got stepped on. Tucking his paws into his pockets, he apprehensively watched the beasts hefting the cargo off the ships, fearful that Cricket would suggest finding work there. (Of course, he couldn't say that out loud, though. Cricket might challenge him, and then he'd have to prove to himself her that he could do the job.)

Still, the potential to land a bigger paying job was enticing. The greater the risk, the greater the reward, right? Finn looked hopefully over at her as his stomach gurgled. "Naw, my dad always said the docks were no place for a kit... but I bet we could find some work in the town square. The beasts there always need something! We just... ...gotta figure out what it is!" he said optimistically.

But then again, Finn had known beasts to suddenly back out of a deal, or try to change the terms. He eyed Cricket carefully -- and... well. There was a reason beasts thought she might run off with the profit, wasn't there?

"How's this... you'n I go find work together... ...and at lunch we split it 50/50." Hmm. No, that deal needed sweetening. "Even if I get paid, and you don't, we'll still split it even. Deal?" he asked, sticking out his paw.

 

[Cricket]

“Deal!” At once she seized his paw before the expectation to return the sentiment could settle. With her confidence Cricket didn’t think it would come to such an issue: she’d make money one way or another, but a little insurance never hurt. “You’re a canny lil’ dealmaker, aren’t you? Can’t say no to that.”

In truth the town square wasn’t the gecko’s favourite place – she had made quite the reputation for herself there over the months, hence her migration to the less-occupied dockside – but with such a decent offer on the table she was more than happy to acquiesce to Finn’s preferences. Besides, she was in the company of a cute little todd: that would put her in far better standing for some sympathy.

Cricket followed him on their meandering path, chatting all the while. “You’re right, though, all beasts need something. Middle’a town there’s usually some work with sweeping or stocking or painting, that sort’ve work. Cleaning, too. Sometimes the seamstresses and tailors want a paw with foldin’ up fabrics but they only take on apprentices with a bit more money. Aside from delivering packages, what are you good at?”

And then, because she couldn’t resist. “And your dad told you about the docks, yeah? Knew your pa, then? What happened to get you stuck here like me?”

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

It was just starting to cross his mind that perhaps he sould have worded his offer a little more carefully... when Cricket suddenly seized his paw and shook it vigorously. The foxkit's arm was rather limp in the pawshake. Cricket could probably see the gears turning in his mind as realization crept upon him.

“You’re a canny lil’ dealmaker, aren’t you?" The disarming compliment completely derailed his little thought process -- and the only thing that Finn could think of was one of the basic principles instilled in his early years as a dibbun: "A fox never goes back on his word!" Squeezing his paw marginally tighter, Finn gave one final shake in response, and attempted a halfhearted smile. "O-oh, well, y'know..." he said bashfully, flicking his ears back.

The gecko was quite the chatty thing, and Finn was happy to listen for once. He'd quickly learned on the streets that divulging too much information wasn't always a safe strategy -- and social little thing that he was, the isolation was difficult to endure. In any case, it helped him forget about the lopsided deal. "Oh... lotsa stuff. Usually it's just errands or chores though... I never thought of helping paint! ...kinda thought it'd be too messy for a kit, but... maybe they'd let us help!"

Spotting a bakery that he was familiar with, Finn found a convenient opportunity to dodge the question about his parents. He stuck his head in and called out to the shopkeep. "Any work this mornin', Mr. Larsen?"

"Oy, Finny! Was wonderin' when you'd stick your face in 'ere!" came the response from behind the counter. A short little fox all dusted in flour fetched a little brown package from a shelf, and set it down. "C'me in, c'min. You know Old Widdow Babinshaw across town? Buns for her. There's a scone in it for you iff'n you take it to her!"

Finn cheerfully trotted into the bakery to fetch the package. Now this was a good start! "Yeh, we used to visit her all th'time!" he said -- hiding his disdain for the crotchety old woman. Work was work! The foxkit fetched the package in his arms, and holding the warm parcel close to his chest, opened his muzzle for a scone. Finn held it lightly in his teeth as the shopkeep caught a glance of Cricket.

"Working together are we?" he said hesitantly, his eyes narrowing. Finn's ears folded lightly at the change in tone. Something was wrong. "Ohh, yeh, diff ifh Crih-eht!"

 

[Cricket]

On spotting the bakery, Cricket’s enthusiasm and chatter began to wane: as before she rather hoped that Finnian’s enthusiasm – and hopefully his good reputation – would carry the day. Still, he had artfully sidestepped her question and she made a little note of it. Perhaps, like so many youth, it was too delicate a matter.

Her tail curled slightly in apprehension as she lingered behind the fox at the doorway, listening to the conversation and making mental notes on Finn’s approach. She might well be in the process of aging out of “adorable enthusiasm” but it seemed to work well enough for him, so why not she? Deliveries weren’t exactly her favoured work, and she rather feared there would be no pay for two to run a single package.

Any concerns (or indignation when Finn was being fed!) paused when her large silvery eyes met those of the baker. Pasting on a bright smile, the gecko bobbed an approximation of a polite curtsey, ever mindful to keep Finn between herself and the elder. “Mornin’ to you, sir! Just – uhm – just helpin’ my friend here today. Many paws make light work, don’t they?”

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Mr. Larsen's frown lightened a little bit at Cricket's curtsey. Perhaps he was judging the situation too harshly. They were just kits, and... dash it all, it was just a bag of buns. If he had to, he'd rebake them. (Though, he might not let Finny be his delivery boy again.) Studying the young girl carefully, he reached into a basket and fetched a jam tart. He'd always paid Finn in food. The kit seemed to be happy for his payment, it kept the boy alive, and most importantly: it stopped him from nibbling on the delivery. "Ah s'pose you'll be needing payment too..." he said to Cricket, resting the slice of tart along Finn's forehead.

Leaning in, the shop keep lowered his voice. "Just be mindful she doesn't pinch your buns..." he cautioned.

Finn nearly choked on his scone.

"GATES FINNY, I was talking about the BREAD! Out with ye, y'blighters!" cried the bakerfox, exasperatedly shooing the kits out of his bakery. Finn was absolutely mortified, and needed no urging. The foxkit quickly scurried towards the door with the tart precariousy perched on his forehead, scone held in his muzzle, and parcel clutched tightly in his arms.

Once outside, Finn slowed his pace just enough to ensure the tart transfer transpired without tragedy. "Eeey loohki'. I gahh yoo ah kahrt!" he said, trying not to drool.

 

[Cricket]

That the baker relented came as a surprise to Cricket and she couldn’t help an initial thrill of suspicion colouring her relief. Elders weren’t by and large kind to her without considerable manipulation. Still, he seemed earnest enough in his interactions with Finn and her stomach growled at the further promise of food: she could hardly pass up the opportunity.

Whatever he’d whispered to the young todd – about bread apparently? -seemed to hasten his exit. Bemused, the gecko made one final attempt at a curtsey and another bright chirp of “Thankye mister!” before scrambling out after Finn and the food.

No sooner had he slowed, Cricket’s prehensile tail made short work of grabbing the tart from between his ears and transferring it to her own hands. “Thanks! See, said you were a shrewd negotiator!” Cramming a mouthful of tart in before her empty stomach could lodge further complaint, she continued to chatter around the pastry. “Mmph, ‘s so good. Not ‘ad sweets in ages! How’d you do that, get work that fast? Must be your face.”

Hardly giving opportunity for him to answer, she nodded to the package in his paws. “Y’alright carrying that by the by? I figures if you know where we’re going you can lead but I don’t mind lending a paw so’s you can eat.”

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn had started to drool around his scone. It was torture not being able to eat it right away -- and every moment his stomach growled louder and louder. The second Cricket took the tart off his forehead, he shifted the package into one arm, tipped his head back, and bit down voraciously into the scone. Catching the remaining half in his paw, the fox let out a soft whimper of relief as he chewed on the morsel. "Hmmnf~!" he cried out.

The scone was still pleasantly warm, and had a big piece of date right in the first bite. It was thick as your fist with a golden crust, and the insides were perfectly crumbly. Cricket's tart was smaller in comparison, but had a crisp and sweet base, a thick raspberry jam filling with whole berries mixed in, and a light dusting of powdered sugar on top. What it lacked for in volume, it certainly made up for in calories.

"Huh? My face?" he asked, pawing at his muzzle. "...oh! Oh, no... we used to come here all the time. Me'n my da--" The word awkwardly caught in his throat at a rather inopportune time. Finn swallowed the rest of the scone in his mouth. He hadn't intended to tell his story, but there it was.

"We use't to come 'ere all the time. My mom'd get the same pie every year for our namedays. Custard filling, and every fruit y'could imagine on top!" he said cheerfully, looking over to the gecko as they walked. "There were these thick sugar crystals on the crust, it was... it was good!" he said, enthusiasm fading a bit at the past tense.

"'e was lost at sea. My dad, that is. Then mom got sick, and... well!" Not wanting to tell anymore of his story, the foxkit stuffed the remainder of the scone into his muzzle, and chewed on it thoughtfully.

"Biddy Bradshaw's over on th'edge of town, she lives over by Town Hall. It's not too far away. We can cut through the Slups and walk through the Trenches," he said as he lead the gecko down a main street.

"...how 'bout you?" he asked, after a moment, fielding the question (and the parcel of buns) back to Cricket.

 

[Cricket]

As she digested Finnian's story and the tart she was rapidly devouring, Cricket padded along in a rare display of quiet. Swapping stories with any honesty was rare in her circles: often the youths resorted to fantastical tales designed to impress or simply refused to speak on the matter whatsoever. It was somewhat refreshing, though she couldn't identify that feeling as anything more than surprising.

So he'd lost his parents to sea and sickness: a true orphan of the Imperium. Were it not such a common tale her sympathy would have been increased: as it was it was a sad reality for the most of them, and she did not want the fox to feel singled out nor felt sorry for by being too upset on the subject. 'Gates only knew, after all, how much she hated such a feeling.

She nodded enthusiastically at the idea of a shortcut, disguising any concerns about navigating the Slups in doing so. They were youngsters, yes, but fast: they'd only need to be there for a few minutes and chances were this early in the morning most of the drunks would still be sleeping off the previous night's revelry. He was confident, had managed to secure a little job, and seemed to know beasts: perhaps there really was more to Finn than her joking had suggested.

"Me?" Absently she took the parcel, snout wrinkling in what she hoped was a dismissive scowl as she shrugged. Though wary of the older element, Finn's honesty deserved some in turn. "Not very excitin'. I hatched on a ship, but they didn't know who my parents were so I dunno how I ended up there. They handed me into an orphanage here and that's about it." Her long tongue flicked out, catching remnants of the pastry. After a pause she spoke again, a little quieter. "Nice that you and your ma an' dad got along with you. Hear that don't happen all too often, even wi' the rich ones."

 

[Ruffano Quickwhistle]

Ruffano stood at the edge of the alley beside the Velveteen Curtain, squinting up at its patched awning like it owed him money. The sagging cloth flapped gently in the breeze, casting uncertain shadows across the boarded windows. It was a theater only in the loosest sense of the word, more often used for gambling, scandal, or wildly unsanctioned burlesque acts involving feather boas and the occasional molasses bucket.

He adjusted his wool-lined vest with unnecessary flair, then stepped back to survey the crumbling bricks of the stagehouse’s side wall.

"One paw-ring," he muttered, tapping a claw against his teeth. "Bespoke. Silver and jet. Dropped by a bumbling prince, or so the whispers say. Probably lost it during the second act of 'Firetail: The Martyr of Riftgard'." A “historical tragedy,” if you asked the deluded little troupe behind it. Ruffano had seen part of it, against his better judgment, and had walked out halfway through the second act, just after the fox playing the lead lost his "tail" early.

The story had come to him over wine and dice, as most good disasters did. A crewbeast from the theater claimed the ring slipped through the floorboards mid-performance. They’d tried to fetch it after curtain, but the crawlspace beneath the stage was a tangle of support beams, plumbing, and dust older than the Empress herself. Too narrow for any grown beast to fit without risking becoming part of the place.

But Ruffano had seen the ring before. A signature piece. He’d even worn it once, purely for a scene, of course. It wasn’t just trinket value that made it worth retrieving. This was sentimental leverage. Perhaps monetary too, if certain beasts got desperate enough to reclaim it quietly.

He leaned against a stack of empty fruit crates, casually flipping a coin. All he needed was a paw small enough to wriggle under the stage.

"Now where," he murmured, scanning the crowd of milling dockside beasts, "would I find an enterprising little waif with no sense of self-preservation and just enough desperation to squeeze under a stage for a promise of future profit?"

His eyes narrowed. The docks were thick with beasts of all sizes, with no shortage of urchins, and scam-happy streetlings this time of morning.

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn let out a surprised laugh, and turned to look at the gecko in disbelief. "Wait, you hatched from an egg? Like a bird?" he asked incredulously. The idea of beasts crawling out of an egg was an amusing mental image, and the foxkit couldn't help but laugh harder.

With a well enough attuned ear, one could tell the difference between mean spirited laughter, and laughter at a good joke, or a comedic mishap. This was certainly the latter! Finn pressed his paws to his eyes, and braced himself against a nearby building as his knees weakened.

"C'mon, I'm not a little kit! Everyone knows that kits get delivered by misertross gulls in a blanket, not an egg!" he said, quite confidently.

Biology was not Finn's strong suit.

 

[Cricket]

With the same apparent spread as a blush might colour her cheeks, Cricket's scales began to deepen in colour. Here she was, trying to offer honesty and some semblence of empathy for the parents he'd lost and he...didn't believe her?! He wasn't even insulting her, it seemed, but his laughter provoked her ire nonetheless.

Flabbergasted, the gecko stood open-mouthed for a moment as unblinking eyes bored into the young fox. "You really that daft?!" Incredulity coloured her tone: she had received so much commentary on her existence standing out that it felt bizarre to be arguing her differences. "You never met a reptile before or somethin'? All us geckos come from eggs same as monitors - y'know, like that serious old Fogey who patrols the Market. Anyways, kits don't even..."

Dragging paws down her face Cricket interrupted herself and heaved a dramatic sigh."I'm going to have to do a lot of explaining, aren't I?" Dropping her arms she gave the fox a nudge, hassling him into moving again. "Come on, let's get these delivered then maybe I can try an' explain where everybeast comes from."

Because, of course, she was such an expert herself.

 

[Ruffano Quickwhistle]

The streets of the Trenches were beginning to thrum with the usual hum of activity. Shouting beasts on their way to work, the clack of carts, gulls wheeling overhead in search of the nearest unguarded sandwich. Ruffano Quickwhistle moved through it all, directing himself toward the docks, sniffing out opportunity. And today, he needed a very specific sort.

He needed small. Quick. Slight of paw. Something, or rather, someone who could wriggle beneath the warped underbelly of a stage without detection. Someone small that he could easily slip into the theater if disguised well enough.

And then, just ahead, he saw her. A scrawny gecko kit, passionately arguing to someone about something, practically bouncing with restless energy. He slowed his pace, ears perking to catch the drift of her conversation.

But she wasn’t alone. There beside her stood a fox kit. Scrawny but clean-ish, the kind of urchin that was striving for the do gooder gentlebeast life. How naive. He was young, eager, and best of all looked like the sort to be talked into things.

Ruffano’s ears twitched.

Two kits! Perfect. One would raise suspicion if caught. Kits never did such daring acts alone! Together, they could wriggle into spaces and just be seen as two kits sneaking into something they shouldn't be if things went sideways. Who in their right mind would suspect two charming little kits of being involved in a heist? It truly was plausible deniability at its finest.

He squared his shoulders, pulled a bit of imaginary dust off his lapel, and strode forward with an air of delighted discovery.

"Really now!" he called out, beaming as if they were long-lost cousins in a reunion scene. "What are the kits talking about these days, hmm? The birds and the bees? Surely not!"

He stopped just close enough to loom like an eccentric uncle, his grin unwavering.

"Why, these aren't kits at all, are they? No, no! these are entrepreneurs! I can see it in your eyes. Business-minded young beasts, clever and nimble, simply looking to earn an honest coin in this desert of opportunity!"

He clapped his paws together, eyes twinkling.

"Well now! What do you say? Want to lend an ear to an honest fox with a business proposal for two scrappy young up-and-comers!? "

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn's heart skipped a beat. It was a weighty thing they were discussing, and laughter was not appropriate. Cricket was giving him the most serious glare, and... ...it wasn't helping. The fox's ears flicked back against his head in embarrassment as he tried to stop laughing -- which of course, only made him laugh harder. Finn squeezed his muzzle shut with both paws and did his best to contain his mirth -- right until he tried to imagine that grave old monitor arriving at someone's doorstep in a massive egg. "Y-y'think..." he gasped out between snickers. "...y'think he when he arrived, he stuckhislegsoutthebottomand--" Whatever Finn had imagined, it was simply too funny for him to put into words. The foxkit made a horrible noise (something between a sneeze and a splutter) as his legs gave out from under him. He collapsed against the side of the building and uncontrollable laughter spilled out.

The foxkit flinched a little as Cricket went to nudge him, his shoulders rising up to protect his face as he tried to regain his senses. He clearly had expected her to hit a little bit harder, but didn't seem to mind in the slightest at the prospect of rough play. Rolling off to the side, he collapsed onto all fours and stumbled forwards a few paces before standing upright again. "...'is little feet just... Doo doo doo doo!" he said, twiddling two fingers to mime a tiny little thing scurrying about. Wiping the tears from his eyes, Finn shook his head at Cricket. Only now had it occurred to him that... perhaps storks didn't deliver kits... ...but that was his story, and he was sticking to it.

Ruffano's arrival came as a surprise to him, causing the little fox to startle. "Wh-wha!? No bees here sir!" he blurted out, ears swiveling to listen for any buzzing noises. Finn hated bees. The intruding fox definitely seemed more animated than your usual beast, and the intensity (and verbosity) of his greeting was overwhelming.

Though he'd only been on the streets for a single winter, Finn had quickly learned to be wary of much hand waving. Such beasts had a way of making valuable things wander out of your pockets when you were near them. And yet... Ruffano didn't seem threatening. Finn leaned forward uncertainly, and looked over to Cricket. She was older, and would certainly know what to do!

 

[Cricket]

Finnian's laughter began to transmute Cricket's bemusement into growing frustration. Her scales brightened further, indignation stamped on her face: how could he know so little about reptiles that he thought her the ridiculous one?! She was the beast in question!

Still, beneath it all she'd taken a liking to Finn and felt determined not to lose her temper. It occurred to her that she really was going to have to do some explaining: fortunately intervention swooped in before such a horrendous attempt could take place and set back knowledge of biological processes by a decade.

At once Cricket regarded the older, effusive todd with suspicion. He seemed nice enough, being so well-spoken and all, but nice didn't always mean trustworthy. She'd learned that early enough. Still, money was money and if there was another job they could do was that not the whole entire point of what they needed? It was almost too good to be true, but beggars can't be choosers.

That didn't mean jumping in headfirst. Cricket looked back at Finn and, after her confusion about...bees?, saw the implicit invitation for her to take the lead. She drew herself up to her full (diminutive) height and stared back at the older beast with what she believed to be a professional air. She looked more or less like she was holding her breath. "We might," she replied, hoping she came across as mysterious, "what're you proposin' exactly and how much would we make?"

 

[Ruffano Quickwhistle]

"Why, who truly knows the value of an honest job these days?"

With a flourish that seemed almost to defy reality, Ruffano produced a gleaming, golden hundred-gilder coin, spinning it casually across the backs of his knuckles before letting it dance into view between two claws.

"Perform well," he said, the coin held aloft between them like a sacred relic, "and compensation may make you the richest kits in all of Bully!"

The coin disappeared just as quickly, seemingly melting back into the folds of his vest with a deft flick. Ruffano took a slow knee, leveling his gaze with theirs. He tilted his head, favoring the gecko kit, her large, unblinking eyes betrayed nothing, but her posture screamed ‘leader.’ The fox todd was sweet enough, clearly raised to be polite, but it was the lizard who’d make the call.

"You see, I’ve recently suffered a terrible loss," he began, clasping his paws with dramatic sincerity. "My dear, departed mother's priceless, irreplaceable ring was dropped in a most unfortunate location. An accident, surely, but the space is far too narrow for any sane adult beast to reach."

He cast his eyes downward in performative woe, then looked back up with a sudden twinkle.

"But you two! Ah, you two have the exact sort of lithe, capable frames this task requires! All I need is for you to wriggle down and fetch it for me. In return..." He let the final words hang in the air like the scent of syrup on a spring breeze, "...I shall see you very well compensated indeed."

He raised his brows, smiling wide enough to flash teeth.

"What say you, my enterprising young friends? Adventure? Intrigue? Perhaps a warm meal or five?"