Private The Docks Two Kits in a Trench Coat

[Ruffano Quickwhistle]

Ruffano watched the back-and-forth with a cool detachment, arms crossed loosely over his vest. As Finn sputtered and Griblo griped, he gave a long-suffering sigh and shook his head with exaggerated pity.

"Gadzooks, Griblo...such mean words to call such an enterprising fox."

He turned slightly, offering a conspiratorial wink in Cricket’s direction. "The gecko girl will not suffice alone. Why, she needs her business partner!"

His voice dropped, the velvet tone gone cold. From some hidden fold of his vest, Ruffano produced a tidy sum of twenty gilders, and pressed it into the ferret’s paw.

"Now stick to the plan and be at yer post."

A spark passed between their eyes. A flash of shared understanding. Whatever this plan was, it ran deeper than threadbare costumes and alley banter.

Griblo flinched just a touch, tucking the coin away with practiced sleight.
"Aye, I’ll be dere… but fer now, how ye intendin’ on stuffin’ two kits in a trenchcoat?"

The fox snapped back to his full height and extended his arms like a maestro commanding a stage.

"Now now, it’s nothing to be fearful of, dear kits." He gestured to Finn and Cricket with all the pomp of a casting director addressing new talent. "You are brave, ambitious go-getters! We simply need… some innocent deception to get you in."

"But why not jes’ take ‘em in de back?" Griblo jerked a paw toward the still-cracked stage door.

Ruffano gave him a glare that could curdle milk.

"Because, addlebrain, the only way under this blasted stage is the hatch at front center. This is no opera house..."

His voice softened suddenly, a wistful sigh escaping as he gazed beyond the alley walls.

"...not anymore."

Snapping himself back into motion, he clapped his paws briskly and spun toward the kits.

"Simply put, they must enter through the front. Now, beasts aren’t yet familiar with those of Crocus’s nature," he gestured to Cricket with gentle precision. "So I’m thinking: a tod on the bottom, a gecko on top, and a trench coat sausage in between ought to get past the fool at the front desk."

He beamed, as if the most logical plan in the world had just been unveiled.

 

[Cricket]

If it was at all possible for Cricket's scales to fire any brighter, the indignity of being labelled a salamander would have done it. She bristled at once, pawing at the old knife tucked into her makeshift belt as though it would be any great threat. The blade was hanging on by a thread to its handle; the damned thing barely cut fruit let alone would be much good against a beast. Still, she was clearly agitated.

Having decided she did not much like Griblo, his derisory treatment of Finnian (even if his comment would have earned her a chuckle under normal circumstances) was met with a glower. She patted Finn's shoulder roughly with her other paw in solidarity as Ruffano admonished the ferret himself. The change of tone between them did not go unnoticed, but the machinations of the adults was of little interest to her: she had no intentions of returning the ring should she find it first. As far as she was concerned, Ruffano's generous offer was a deep undercut of the value. She was going to make a fortune, and Finn could partake in the spoils.

That being said, her increasingly sulky mood was somewhat tempered by the preposterous suggestion. Cricket was at heart a playful beast and any suggestion in opposition to Griblo was acceptable by her. She stared for another moment at the old trenchcoat and snorted. "You're insane," she snorted. "But I like it. 'Ey, Finn, what do you think? Could be fun."

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn utterly bristled at Griblo's remark. The slight at his age was one thing, but sending Cricket into this... den of debauchery by herself!? The foxkit stepped a half pace forward and opened his mouth to say something, but Ruffano beat him to the punch.

The more Finn thought about the situation, the more uncertain he was about it. At first glance, Ruffano had seemed quite cheerful and happy-go-lucky. Finn had taken a liking to him -- especially given the hefty sum he promised them. But there was a sudden coldness and sorrow he heard in the older todd's voice. The pair clearly had complex motives in all this, and Finn couldn't grasp at them. As the cheerful flamboyance returned, Finn studied Ruffano closely. Was that another disguise, too?

Regrettably, the foxkit would have needed fifteen minutes of pondering in silence to piece together all these thoughts. With just a little more effort, he might have began to suspect Ruffano didn't have the five hundred gilders. But before he could properly string all the pieces together, Cricket was patting his shoulder. The foxkit frowned at Ruffano and flicked his tail, before meeting Cricket's gaze. "The beasts in there are... ...lye-sent-shous! Indecent! It isn't safe*..." he muttered quietly, his judgemental tone making him sound a good deal older than he was.

But nothing ever was safe -- and Cricket seemed to be a clever beast. Two heads were better than one. Finn caught Cricket resting her fingers on a knife handle, and his muzzle curled into the slightest smile. There was more to her than met the eye, too. "Aiite. Hop on up Cricket!" he said with an upbeat, resolute air. Stepping forward, Finn flexed his shoulders, and squatted down to let Cricket up on his back.

Finn definitely seemed like a sturdy little kit. He wasn't scrawny at all. No sir.

* And this was Finn's father.

 

[Ruffano Quickwhistle]

Ruffano clapped his paws together with delight as the kits came around.

"That’s the spirit!" he chirped, hustling over with flourish. He extended one paw gallantly to Cricket, the other clutching the garish trench coat like it was royal regalia.

"Here we go, miss. Arms through, steady now…" He guided her into position atop Finnian’s shoulders, helping her settle before draping the oversized coat down around them like a stage curtain on opening night.

From the side, Griblo leaned against the crate, watching with an incredulous stare.
"Oi, Ruff. Dese kits keep glarin’ daggers at me, mate. Ya sure they ain’t jes’ gonna cut an’ run if’n they git de ring?"

Ruffano gave a dismissive snort, still fussing with the coat’s collar.
"You’re scaring them, is all, Grib. Get your mange outta here and they’ll brighten right up."

"Yeah well," the ferret muttered, stomping toward the backstage door, "get 'em over it fast. Dis place is a ‘ealth 'azzard. Ye keep me waitin’ again an’ I’ll have yer hide."

The door slammed behind him with a shuddering bang!

Ruffano turned back to the kits, brushing his paws off as though dusting away Griblo’s bad attitude. A glint of mischief danced in his eyes.

"Oh, don’t worry about grumpy ol’ Griblo. He got dropped on his head as a kit." He leaned in close, adjusting the coat’s hem with unnecessary care.

"Now then…" He turned his attention to the fox below, his tone full of pomp. "How’s the tough, strong fox doing downstairs?"

 

[Cricket]

Everybeast (well everybeast important: Griblo’s opinion ceased to matter to the gecko the moment he called her salamander) seemed in agreement. Finn’s ready involvement got her moving and Cricket scrambled up onto his shoulders at once.

Griblo’s comment made her bristle, internally panicking that the ferret had sussed out her plan at once. Fortunately Ruffano was disinterested and she stuck her long tongue out at the unfortunate mustelid. “Yeah g’way!”

As a natural climber it was no difficulty for her to perch on the todd’s slim shoulders, tail coiling securely about his waist as an additional anchor whilst she was put into the trenchcoat. Again she pulled a face at the mothballed state of the garment, grateful that she at least would have her head free compared to her newest friend.

“Only dropped on ‘is head once?” Cricket snorted. “’Is face says otherwise.” Careful not to shift her weight too much, she also peered down at Finnian. Though only a slender creature, she was probably still a considerable weight for a younger beast. “Yeah, y’alright there, Finn?”

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Geckos had such weird paws. ...hand things? Feet? The scales were strange and slippery, but those sticky fingers! The foxkit looked somewhat uncomfortable as Cricket scaled him -- but he said nothing about it. The mission put a lot of weight on Finn (both literally and figuratively), and the foxkit was determined to not let anyone down, or even complain! He stood up to full height with the gecko on his shoulders, and hugged his arms around her shins to keep her steady.

"How’s the tough, strong fox doing downstairs?"

Finn didn't get compliments like this often, and his tail peeked out through the coat to wag briskly. (Now there was a sight to behold... a gecko with a brush.) "Yeh, I'm okay-hay-hay AUGHHH! CRI-HI-HICKET" he cried, bursting into laughter as Cricket's tail wrapped around his side. Normally, Finn would have collapsed like a rag doll, but the little fox wasn't about to let that happen. Clenching his teeth, one paw darted down to bat away the gecko's tail -- at least until it could find a less ticklish place to sit.

With the matter resolved, Finn took a careful half step forwards. His gait was definitely hampered, and he had a pronounced stagger. However, once the trench coat was wrapped around them... perhaps they could pass off as a drunken sailor? In any case, Finn wouldn't be able to carry her forever...

"Howsit look?" he asked, voice muffled behind the trench coat.

 

[Ruffano Quickwhistle]

Ruffano beamed, tail swishing side to side as Finn burst into helpless laughter.
"Ah, giggles and laughter! That’s the spirit!" he crowed, stepping back a few paces to admire the living tower he had assembled.

With paws on hips, the fox scrutinized the pair with the serious air of a casting director watching a terribly unconvincing audition.

Finn’s muffled question brought a slow blink.

"Like two kits in a stuffy old coat…" Ruffano deadpanned.

Then, with a sudden finger snap, "Ah! That’s it!"

He practically dove into the pile of discarded costuming, rifling through old tights, threadbare robes, and floppy hats before surfacing triumphantly with a limp puff of tulle and a bowler cap clutched in either paw. Humming to himself, he returned to the teetering duo.

"A little adjustment for proportion," he announced with glee, stuffing the sheer petticoat into the trench coat’s midsection like stuffing into a holiday goose, heedless of poor Finnian below. Then, with a flourish, he plopped the bowler onto Cricket’s head and took a step back.

"Ahh yes, much better! Round in the middle, sharp up top. Very fashionable. Could pass for a bureaucrat at 20 paces or so!"

He paused for a moment before placing a paw gently on Cricket’s shoulder, his smile softening just a notch as he looked her dead in the eye. No show this time.

"Right. All you’ve gotta do is get past the beast at the entrance. Let me do all the talking. You ready?"

 

[Cricket]

With it so integral to her balance, Cricket was loathe to move her tail too much and pouted down at Finn when he seemed to find the grip ticklish. Okay, she’d need to hold harder. Momentarily distracted from the matter at hand her tail found a more secure grip and with a mischievous glint in her eyes squeezed just a little too hard for a moment.

She would have happily continued teasing the unfortunate young todd and turned the moment into play had Ruffano not stepped in. A quiet ‘oof-?’ escaped the gecko as the coat was stuffed, arms momentarily flailing to ensure proper balance until she pulled the bowler hat up enough to peek out from beneath. With a little angling it would fit: somehow she felt as though she was suited in armour rather than dressed ridiculously. Confidence began to simmer once more. They could pull this off: all they needed was to get in and the kits could manage their own escape.

Grinning back at Ruffano with what she imagined was roguish flair rather than childish enthusiasm, Cricket nodded, adjusted the hat again and waved a paw. “Ready if Finn is! Lead on!”

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn squawked as the assault on his ribs continued, and he defensively curled to one side. "Ey! Eyyy! Not fair! STAA-HA-HP!" he hissed through stifled laughs. Whether by accident or in playful retribution, Finn lost his balance, and the two kits careened towards the side of the nearest building. The lanky tenchcoat wearing chimera impacted sideways, and grotesquely bent in half at the middle. Poor Cricket was smooshed against the wall, and Finn was left trying not to collapse.

And that's when it happened. Whatever childhood wards, incantations, rituals, and oaths he'd sworn in attempt to innoculate himself against cooties promptly expired. The onset of the illness was rapid. Instantly, a hot flush washed over his face and set his ears on fire. Thank kitsune the trench coat gave him some cover! In denial, Finn tried to reason that it was just the coat stifling him -- but the differential diagnosis didn't hold water. His tail was wagging helplessly behind him. He was infected.

Still, his immune system wouldn't give up the fight. Sepsis hadn't set in yet! "Rrrgh! Two can play at this game!" he retorted. The fox rolled inward in retaliation, smooshing Cricket further into the building -- and Finn reasoned quietly to himself that he'd certainly learned her a lesson.

A furry paw grew out of the chimera's midriff, and planted itself against the wall. With some effort, Finn righted himself, just in time for Ruffano to start stuffing tulle about his face. Ugh, and it reeked of lavender and cigar smoke! The heat became nigh unbearable, and a foxish muzzle burst forth from behind the coat to gasp for air. "Ey, ey! I'm dyin' in here!" he pleaded, straining his neck off to one side as he tried to let cooler air in -- but to no avail. His thick scruff acted like a gasket, sealing Finn into his sweltering fate.

At any rate, the trio seemed ready to infiltrate the building -- and between the load Finn was bearing and the intolerable heat, it was best they do it as quickly as possible. Finn took a few deep breaths of fresh air, and pulled his muzzle back inside the coat. The buttons puckered, giving him a tiny window to see where he was going, and he trotted carefully after Ruffano.

 

[Ruffano Quickwhistle]

The alley behind them faded into the din of the city as Ruffano led the disguised duo toward the venue. He cast a glance back now and then, once to make sure they were upright, and again to admire his own handiwork. But on the third look, his eyes narrowed. Finnian’s stagger had worsened, clearly hot and stifled beneath the seams of the trench coat. Then there's was a gasp squeaked from beneath the fabric. One of protest or suppressed laughter. Ruffano softened for a moment, slowing his stride.
“Ah, my valiant baseboard! Never has a fox borne such burden with such poise! This isn’t forever, dear Finnbar. Just a short strut across the boards and back.”

“And such work ethic already! You’ve the makings of a fine and respected porter” His voice was lower now and more conspiratorial.

The front of the Velveteen Curtain loomed ahead. Dim lamps flickered behind soot-clouded glass, and painted posters curled like autumn leaves on the doorframe, each advertising some seedy second-rate performance.

As Ruffano reached the entrance, he gave a polite tug on the tarnished brass handle and swung open the outer door, beckoning the duo inside. Heat and pipe smoke swept outward from the vestibule, followed by the low notes of a piano meandering off-tune.

Waiting inside was a tall, imposing bluish grey stoat with a tight bob, dressed in a clearly second-paw waistcoat and cravat. Her sharp eyes narrowing at once.

She didn’t say anything at first, just looked... or more precisely, stared. Not at Ruffano, but directly at the upper half of the ensemble deep into Crickets eyes..

Her nose twitched. Her eyes squinted. Her posture stiffened with just the faintest recoil.

“...Beggin’ your pardon, but... is this one alright?” she asked, looking over at Ruffano, voice pinched. “Looks like she’s about t’fall over. And what’s with the eyes?”

Ruffano slipped in, sidestepping between Merla and the kids, arms spread as if smoothing invisible wrinkles in the air.

“Now, now, Merla,” he tutted gently. “You’re lookin’ at a guest of distinction. Kindly afford her the dignity she deserves.” He offered a reverent little bow toward the gecko atop the tottering kit tower. “Dame Coquette de Frondoux, of the Tookumberry Keys. I’d thank you not to be so speciest in such polite company.”

Merla didn’t budge. Her eyes flicked again between the gecko and the coat.

Ruffano’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes no longer smiled with it.

“It’s been a long journey, you understand,” he added in a lower tone. “The Dame is rather... unaccustomed to our climate.”

He stepped sideways again, guiding the trenchcoated “lady” forward with a flourish of one paw. And yet Merla remained planted. Unyielding.

Ruffano’s ears twitched, then he cleared his throat. “What's the hold up, then?”

 

[Cricket]

Blissfully ignorant of the effect she was having on Finnian whilst he was obscured by the coat, Cricket found herself hard-pressed not to persist. She’d shrieked and giggled like a kit, barely keeping herself supported by the wall when their disguise all but folded in half, determined to get him back for being smushed against the surface later. For now she tried to ensure her tail was secure but not ticklish, took a deep breath and allowed Ruffano to lead.

Right, yeah. This was serious: there was money to be made here, and no paltry sum. All they had to do was get that ring and scarper before Ruffano could realise they’d gone. It surprised the gecko to realise that she’d been so distracted from the prospect of coin. Funny, that. Finn was a good sort.

At once Cricket knew this was going to be more uncomfortable than expected. With no eyelids to speak of, the smoky atmosphere of the Velveteen Curtain announced itself with a sting. Her tongue flicked out, soothing herself, though her gaze flitted at once to every poster and detail of the place. Huh. Beasts paid for this?

Gaze settling on the stoat as they engaged in conversation with Ruffano, Cricket did her level best to play along, staring down her snout disdainfully (no difficult task considering her disappointment that the place was not to her imagination’s standards, whatever those had happened to be). It almost seemed that the todd’s quick thinking was going to save them and make an easy entrance until the stoat refused to move. Cricket scowled: she was going to ruin everything, and at the last hurdle!

Never before had she heard a Tookumberry accent, and neither would she have been able to point to it on a map. Whatever came out of her mouth was an attempt to merely sound anything other than her Slups dialect, simple and firm. “I am tired.”

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

The coat was wretchedly hot in the early spring afternoon -- that, and Finn couldn't stop his blush. Cricket's tail rested a little higher on his ribs, and... ...and Finn couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun. Smelly coat and all. Heck, even Ruffano wasn't that bad a companion. He'd almost forgotten that there were beasts like this in the world.

Oh! Ruffano was moving! Finn floated along after him, humming cheerfully to himself. Cricket wasn't all that heavy, anyways! He could do this all day! (At least, it felt like that.) But as they drew up to the door of the venue, Finn realized he needed to sober up, and went quiet. His paws snugged a little more tightly around Cricket's shins, and he took a nervous breath.

That was the bell.

Inside, the scent of tobacco smoke filled his nose. Finn wasn't terribly accustomed to it, but it didn't bother him nearly as much as the heat did. He only had a small vent hole in the jacket to see out of, and the air inside the coat was getting stale. He walked along as boldly as possible -- though every few paces, he'd shuffle forward as if he were making sure he wasn't about to trip on something. And now, they were stopped by what Finn presumed was the bouncer.

As the conversation played out, Finn grew tense -- would they be discovered before they even made it past the entrance? The foxkit stood firmly in his place, straining to keep from swaying or stumbling. C'moonnn, Cricket! You got this! Inside the coat, he gave one of her knees a reassuring pat.

 

[Ruffano Quickwhistle]

Merla's eyes snapped to Ruffano.

SLAP!!!

The sound rang across the vestibule. Ruffano staggered half a step back, a paw to his stinging cheek.

“Don’t think I didn’t ferget! Shame on you... you... Ruffian!”

He gasped, eyes wide with faux innocence. “Youch! M...My dear lovely lady! I didn’t know she had a twin! And certainly not one who was recently widowed!”

“Scoundrel! If’n I 'ad any sense left in me 'ead, I'd throw ye out on yer tail!”

She turned with a huff to the coat-clad duo. “Ye'll be excusin' me language, lass.”

Ruffano, recovering from the sting, softened just slightly.

“Merla, my dove… have you forgotten that night at the Opera?”

“You in that sapphire gown. Me in the borrowed tailcoat, tripping over the hem. They thought you a duchess, and I didn’t dare correct them. The way you bowed to that conductor… the whole house clapped for you.”

“You trusted me to make that evening magic. I only ask the same tonight.”

Merla stared long and hard at him. Then, finally, she snorted.

“Bah. Go on then. But if this is another one o' yer little games...”

“Never!” Ruffano cried, beaming. “You’re a gem among gravel, Merla. A beacon of grace!”

She rolled her eyes.

He turned back toward the kits and gestured for them to follow, striding forward with renewed energy.

“Oi, wait.”

The words hit like a dropped curtain.

“Whazzit with this then!? Ye skin a fox or sommat!?”

Her paw pointed directly at the one thing they hadn’t accounted for:

The fluffy, snow-dipped tail peeking out from the bottom of the trench coat...

 

[Cricket]

Bolstered by Finn’s reassuring pat, Cricket held the stranger’s gaze for as long as she dared, silently challenging. Fortunately Ruffano was swift to intervene but there was no time to admire his skilful way around women nor the effortless means with which he seemed to merely talk his way through life (a skill, she decided, she desperately wanted): he was being sappy. Immediately uncomfortable, the gecko rolled her eyes, gaze averting as her scales took on a slightly different hue. ‘Gates, adults were so obsessed with making their gooey little conversations public all the time. Did they have no shame?!

Cricket was hard-pressed not to appear too relieved when beckoned forward, and had to reassert her grip on the young todd in order to prevent the whole ensemble wobbling ridiculously about the ‘midriff’. She was about to give the stoat a polite, if frosty, nod in passing and pray for Finnian’s paws to sweep her to safety when the beast enquired about ‘this’. She twisted, almost to an impossible angle, to stare wide-eyed at the bushy tailtip. Oh. The gecko appeared blank for a moment, mind racing.

Come on. Anything.

“Is my costume.” She sniffed. “Why else would I wear this ridiculous coat over it?”

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn's heart froze in his chest for a moment as he heard the sound of a vicious slap. He could only see so little from within the trench coat -- and he wasn't sure what just happened.

"Cricket!" he hissed quietly, tipping his head upwards. "Did you just... did you just get slapped?" He did whisper this very quietly... but on second thought, the risk of getting caught was too high, and he said no more. (And at any rate, Ruffano was the one who cried out.)

Finn's legs spread a little to bear the load more effectively -- and in case he needed to sprint. But of course, this made Ms. Hedgewiggle (as he'd decided to name the lizard-fox chimera they represented) look like she had to go to the bathroom. Finn panted softly with effort, and gave the slightest hop to shift Cricket higher up on his shoulders.

“Oi, wait.”

Finn's stomach churned. He'd forgotten about his tail. Gates, and they'd just been ribbing about Ruffano forgetting his brush. The foxkit resisted the urge to tuck his tail inside the coat. It was already seen, the best thing he could do is... ...did beasts even have prosthetic tails? Was that a thing?

Finn strained with effort, and his tail became very rigid and lifeless. It curled gently at a rather pleasant angle, but otherwise had no swish to it anymore, as all good foxes had. (It actually looked quite unsettling if you stared at it long enough.)

 

[Ruffano Quickwhistle]

Ruffano gasped as if Merla had just insulted royalty. His paw flew to his chest.
“A costume, yes! Imported from the finest ateliers of the Tookumberry Keys!” His voice swelled like he was announcing an opera debut. “Why, the Dame herself is here to perform a most daring improvisational retelling of the hero Plugg Firetail. A tale so moving, so raw, I simply had to get it added to tonight’s lineup!”

He spun, gesturing broadly to the “garment.” “Look at the craftsmanship! The detail! Behold...the tail itself!”

Bending with exaggerated care, Ruffano reached down and gave the brush a fondle between his claws, wiggling it slightly for effect. He grinned up at Merla, eyes glittering with theatrical triumph.
“See how it sits? Too limp and listless. A real tail would swish. But this, my darling, is artifice!”

Merla squinted, jaw tightening. Her eyes flicked between Ruffano’s smug grin and the suspiciously lifelike fluff. A long pause stretched, broken only by the din of raucous merriment and music from within.

Finally, she snorted. “I’m onto you, Quickwhistle. Don’t think you can outfox me with yer pretty face every time.” She stepped aside with a curt gesture. She then turned to Cricket. “Good luck getting a spot. It's a busy lineup tonight...”

“My eternal gratitude, Merla.” Ruffano purred with a wink, sweeping the “Dame” past her before she could change her mind.

The vestibule gave way to a haze of pipe smoke and lamplight. A mezzanine lined with a crooked bar overlooked a sunken dance floor four feet below, scattered with round tables around a triangular stage. A ragtag band of searats blasted an oompa-oompa tune with serpent, clarinet, and sackbut, their rhythm clattering mugs on every table.

The walls were sooty brick, papered over with curling posters, handbills, and graffiti. The air shimmered with laughter, jeers, and shouted orders for ale. Foxes, rats, stoats, and ferrets, all mostly rougher sorts, crowded the floor, with the occasional hare or squirrel tucked among them.

Ruffano drew the trench-coated figure closer, raising his voice just enough to be heard above the din.

“Careful now, Miss Frondoux. Stairs ahead.” He extended his paw with gallant precision, as if escorting royalty.
“One step at a time, and we’ll make a perfect entrance.”

The awkward visage of a half fox, half gecko in a crusty trench coat teetered over the abyss left by six stairs directly at its paws. Ruffano gallantly offered his paw to Cricket, face a look of urgency as he glanced around for anybeast staring.

 

[Cricket]

It was an anxious few moments, the young gecko transmuting the simmering heat of panic into icy disdain as she continued to glare down her snout at the stoat. Even as Ruffano, quick as ever, made pains to display the craftsmanship of this faux tail she continued to glower (regally, she would claim; the sight was far more vacant of such delicate expression).

Fortunately, she seemed to either acquiesce or simply not care (or care enough about Ruffano? Handsome?! Oh, ew) and Cricket was all too content to be swept through. She had the easy task of simply taking it all in: poor Finnian had to take the bulk of the, quite literal, legwork of the two. She determined to give him a decent cut of the profits they made off of the ring – he’d more than earned it for the last five minutes alone.

The sights and scents of the space were nigh overwhelming; the gecko’s lidless eyes could hardly stop roving. She was barely listening to Ruffano now, having never seen such a place as this before: it was so exciting! Theatre had never captured her interest before, being the realm of those she deemed rich; it hadn’t occurred to her that the beasts who worked there didn’t have to be.

It wasn’t until their precarious position at the stairs became apparent that she snapped back to reality. Were their costume not part of the illusion she would have cackled and thrown herself into a tumble, unfazed by heights as she was. With Finnian relying on her and Ruffano trying to assist, it would have been a terrible choice. She gripped the older todd’s arm, flashing him a quick grin (how could she not? This was the fun part) and leaned back a little. Without thinking her tail worked as it was designed to, finding Finnian’s belt a helpful anchor. Come on, Finn, you can do this.

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn did NOT like his tail being inspected. Good heavens, what a humiliation it was having attention drawn to it. Now Finn had a measure of pride in his tail, as any good fox would. He kept it clean and tidy, well brushed, and generally managed to avoid it getting caught in doors and the like. But having attention drawn to it? You might as well have run him up a flagpole by his belt and left his brush flapping in the wind! Especially in the company of Cricket.

The lie was so bald faced, Finn was sure they'd be caught right then and there. No beast would be stupid enough to believe in a prosthetic tail. How would you even make such a thing, chop one off a dead fox? How grotesque! As Ruffano grabbed it to fluff it about, Finn went absolutely rigid. His blunt claws dug lightly Cricket's shins, and he wobbled once from the sheer indignity of it all!

Against all odds, Merla bought the lie -- or perhaps, wearily decided it wasn't worth looking into anymore. Finn felt Ruffano's arm loop around his shoulders, and he cautiously tottered forward, eager to get into the venue. Only once they were inside did he let out the breath he'd been holding, and relax his grip. "Keetsh*! I thought we were done for!" he gasped from inside the trench coat. "Tell me we don't gotta do any more of that!" he begged, tucking his tail inside the trenchcoat. It would raise fewer questions.

Finn pushed on the buttons from the inside of the trench coat, fish lipping open the hem of the coat so he could see where he was walking. Gates. Finn felt a wave of uncertainty wash over him as he walked along the hall. He knew his mother would have tanned his hide for being in here... ...he knew this was no place for kits. It didn't really hit him until now, though. And then... ...they reached the stairs.

"Oh... you gotta be kidding me..."

Finn grumbled slightly, and set his paw on the stairs. Fatigue was starting to set in... but giving up now wasn't an option. Straining, Finn began to climb the stairs, one at a time.

* Mildly taking the name of the Kitsune in vain!