Now I know it was the prince who was left behind, not Cinderella. No, Cinderella ran of the moment the spell would end, afraid of what might happen. I can hardly compare him to a Cinderella. And in case you were wondering, I haven't seen him since. Marv has been questioning me, whenever he gets the chance, trying to figure out why I am so distant, paying attention to nothing but my immediate task, why my eye keeps drifting towards the door and whenever think I see him I perk up, only to slump half a second later. I do not want to talk about it. I just want to stay home and wait, but I can't, so I go to work and I eat and I sleep and I pretend that I am having just a minor depression instead of one mother of a meltdown. Somewhere deeply hidden inside of me I realize I have still been fostering the hope that, for some reason, he would show up, or leave a message, if only it was for some stupid one-night stand. I'd go, I'd go and I'd do whatever was required of me, only this time I wouldn't let anyone touch him, no-one, unless... unless he would ask it of me, then I would do so without hesitation. 

	I let out a sigh, dropping on the couch back in the employee lounge, which is well... a couch and a television set between the racks of beer and wine and whiskey. Everyone else is busy, working, cleaning up, getting ready for V.I.P.'s and what not. I am getting tired of all the stares I have been getting, those pity filled eyes that follow me as I am doing my job. It sickens me. I'm edgy, snapping at anyone for no good reason. I know I shouldn't do it, of course I know, but the words leave my muzzle before I get a chance to keep them in. I am turning into a grade-A asshole, a bitter grade-A asshole. 

	There was one time, last night, when I thought, when I thought I saw him. It was in a flash a set of blue eyes the colour of ice gazing at me from somewhere close to the dance floor. But when I blinked, trying to focus and see what was beyond the veil of fog and people there was nothing, no-one. It's stupid to think it might have been him. Even if it had been how would I have recognised him? For all I know he has stopped by a hundred times since now and then. Perhaps he was one of those guys flirting with me last night, or his number was on one of the slips of paper I so carelessly deposited in the tipping jar. I grab a beer, popping the cap with my teeth, spitting it in the general direction of the bin. Taking a swig I try to focus on something else, something that isn't as pointless as pining over some mysterious stranger I had sex with twice, but do not even know. I think Twist would say I am ‘projecting', her new favourite word of the month, meaning I make him something he is not, but something I want him to be, just because I cannot cope with the real deal... or something. And how can I know someone who I have just seen behind a mask, and who I used to drown myself in a haze of lust and sex? But I do, call me crazy, but I do, I feel I do. Sometimes in the streets I stand still whiffing the air just because I thought I picked up a trace, no matter how faint, of his smell. I have been eyeing every white or spotted dog that I encounter, much to their discomfort, peering at them trying to see if they might be... They never are. One look in their eyes tell me they aren't. 

	I throw back the remainder before grabbing another bottle and starting all over again. 
"Isn't it too early to be getting drunk?"
I turn. Marv just entered the room, shutting the door behind him, scolding me. I grunt in reply, turning away from him. 
"You need to talk about this." I remain silent I do not want to talk about this. I want to be left alone. There is a metallic click. "And I am here to listen." The fucking rabbit has locked the door. A sudden feeling of entrapment seizes me by the throat. I supress it, no doubt this is what Marv has been aiming for. He hops over the back of the couch, sliding down next to me. The bottle is already half empty. He grabs it from my paws, downing the last bit before placing it next to the others. Determined not to speak I keep staring at the television, which is turned off, but which I pretend has the most interesting show on earth on its screen. For his part Marv pretends to be watching with me, quietly waiting for me to speak. I hate it, I hate the fact he has this patience, I hate the fact he is not just letting me deal with it myself, I hate the fact that he took me to that stupid club in the first place, I hate him for just fucking being who he is. I...
"I hate this shit."
"Hate what shit?"
"I haven't had a descent cup of coffee in weeks."
"So you get drunk?"
"I fucking hate it... I should have never tossed out that stupid coffeemaker. It made shit coffee, but at least it was coffee."
"I do remember you calling it ‘poison' and being strangely excited at the prospect of trying tea."
"I hate tea. I despise it, so weak and flavourless; it's just water that tastes."
"What about the coffee stand near your house?"
"That stuff is even worse. It tastes horrible. Who on earth adds tons and tons of milk to his coffee? What the freak am I, a cow?"
"I believe cows only produce milk, not necessarily drink it."
"Oh shut up."
"You're welcome."
I bare my teeth. He just laughs at me. "You know what I think?" He asks me, "I think you do not hate tea, I think you just haven't found the right kind of tea. You just need to try loads of teas till you find the right one."
"Only to have it leave me behind." The familiar ache returns in my chest, even more strongly than before. I bite my lip, willing myself to push it away, but somehow I can't.
"I take it we aren't talking about tea... are we?"
"There was this guy... at your Glee... Club."
"Ah."
"We hit it off. I went back there for him... the second time was even better."
"Ahhh..." He places a paw on my shoulder, gently rubbing it, giving a small comforting squeeze. "The fourth rule of Glee Club: ‘Do not fall in love'."
"What are the other three rules?"
"'Do not talk about Glee Club'."
The sudden rush of emotions squeeze my throat shut. And I feel a sudden wetness in the corner of my eyes, which I know aren't tears. I take a long shuddering breath. Two soft arms wrap themselves around me and a whole lot of fluffy bunny climbs into my lap, dragging my head against his chest, allowing me to bury it there, enveloping it in a semi darkness of soft fluff and the smell of pinewoods. The paw on my back traces soothing circles as I keep quiet in the safeness that is Marv.

	"Some guys merely go there for the sex. They do not feel, they do not even think about the other person, it's just the getting off that counts. I thought I had made that clear before I left you." It is not exactly what I want to hear, but Marv never does that. He tells the truth, as painful as you may think it. Is he really sure that is why he was there, for sex? He was a member, as far as I could see. How else could he have contacted me, how else could he have found out about the parties, how else... Am I really that stupid? Had I truly lost myself in the haze of pheromones that hangs in that place? Perhaps I let my mind be clouded by lust fooling myself into believing it is love. But therein lays the rub. He had seemed so genuine, so anxious, so full of emotion. And a part of me refuses to believe that he would be that cruel. How could anyone be that cruel?

	"I miss him." It sounds hollow and dull, but I mean it. "Call me an idiot but I do not believe that he would do that. I won't." Marv smiles mournfully, ruffling my headfur. 
"And that is why we are all so crazy about you." I drag him closer, hugging him, squeezing the air from his lungs. "Rusky... air... please." He gasps from above me, before I finally let him go and he takes in a deep breath, looking very much flustered.
"Ok, now that that is settled. We need you to get back to work. Else Wei will lose it again and we all know how that ends up." He takes me by the paw dragging me from the couch. "And stop your moping. If he really is that great as you seem to think he is, he will show up. And if he does not, well then he is the biggest fucking idiot I know." He leads me towards the door, unlocking it. "And tomorrow you and I are going to go tea shopping. I know the most wonderful little store that sells a hundred different herbs." He yammers on pushing me behind the bar, the first few people already trickling in. "If all else fails," he continues, "they also sell some fine coffeemakers." 

	So believing something does not make it so. I could start saying that wars have been fought over someone's belief, or believes, but what would be the point, everyone knows that. But while I am smiling and serving drinks, this time not completely fucking up every order I get, or snarling at the ‘a bit too pushy' girl, or the ‘all too annoying' jock, I wonder if you can really love someone at first sight? I mean there are those stories about people ‘learning' to love someone, though these often imply that they no longer hate each other. I think one of my mom's friends used to say that, she was in an arranged marriage, that she ‘learned' to love him, and then she would get one of those mournful looks and stare off in the distance. Most lover stories I know start with: the moment I saw her/him/it I knew we were made for each other. Then again my dad and my mom used to nearly kill each other as soon as they were in the same room together and they had fallen in love ‘at first sight'. The moment you know little about someone they seem so wonderful, but as soon as you start spending a lot of time with them they become... insufferable, at least that is my experience. So maybe that is the trick, not getting to know the love of your life well. Forget about finishing each other's sentences, or knowing his or her favourite songs, restaurant or food group. Not know them well, forget about the whole dating thing, just get married, at least then you can claim you are learning something new about them every day. 

	"Hey kid have you even been paying attention?" I blink stupidly at the guy in front of me. 
"Sorry sir, what?"
"I have been waiting for my vodka for ten stinking minutes, that's what."
"I'll get it now sir." I reply with a smile, though I would have liked to slam is fat head against the bar a few times, just to get my point across. I slam the shot on the bar in front of him. 
"Here you go sir." 
"Took you long enough. You some kind of retard?"
I raise a brow. Is this guy for real? The reddened nose, his bloodshot runny eyes are hints enough. Drunk as a wine barrel. 
"Hey! I asked you a question kid." I slam the bar two times, drawing the attention from Marv who's busy at the other end, I do not take my eye of the man in front of me. 
"I am sorry, boss prevents me from arguing with drunken patrons." I should not, but I can't hold it in. 
"So you got a big mouth on you, ey, little retard."
"Is there a problem?" Marv butts into the conversion, giving the drunken customer his most charming smile. 
"Another one of you, goddamn. The place is full of them."
"Our customer here has been having some issues with the way I handle things." I say, gritting my teeth to keep my anger in. 
"A problem, I got a problem awright!"
"Well there is an easy way to settle this, a drink, on me!" Marv slams another shot on the table pouring it. He is hoping that the man will either pass out or leave, hopefully the second, probably the first. 
"I do not want your drink you stupid faggot!" He reaches over the bar pushing Marv back and making a grab for the drink. Before I know it, my arm has shot out, seizing the man by the wrist pinning it to the bar. 
"You take that back." I'm calm, eerily calm, staring into his eyes willing him to just say the words and fuck the fuck off. 
"What you some kind of poof lover? I won't have them faggots touching my drinks! The place is full of them, bust be a fucking pfoof bar!" he's roaring by now, drawing the attention from other customers. He tries to drag his paw free, but I won't let go. 
"In fact," I say, grabbing him calmly by the collar, "I am." I smirk at the confused look on his fat, dumb face. "Now say you are sorry and leave."

	He struggles, trying to yank himself free in a flurry of pawing and clawing. He tries to punch me; I avoid it, grabbing him hard by the headfur and doing what I had wanted to do in the first place. His head bounces off the hardwood, sending his whole body arching back on the updraft. I let go of his arm, he stumbles, struggles, but regains his footing. 
"FUCKING HOMO LOVER!" Next thing I know I'm up the bar leaping down on top of him, sinking my nails into his skin with a feral roar. We tumble and fall, struggling to get the upper hand. My fist comes in contact with his eye, his stomach, the side of his face. He gets me, nearly scratching an eye out, punching me hard on the nose, but I am younger, stronger and more importantly not drunk. I manage to flip us over, letting me land on top. Without holding back I start punching him in the face, his head moving from side to side every time I strike a blow. "You. Do not. Get. To talk. Like that. To. My. Marv."

There are hurried footsteps behind me. I keep him pinned, fists raised, breathing heavily until I hear the familiar gruff voice behind me say: "What's going on here?" 
"Bloody crazy mother fucker attacked me!" The polarbear below me gasps, blood running from his mouth and I believe I can see a tooth or two floating around in there. 
"Like hell he was! He was been real polite and such, then this bozo here totally went crazy on his ass. Was what ya call it, self-defence and shit!" The young tabby, who coincidentally has been trying to catch my eye the whole night, immediately jumps to my defence. Other voices quickly get added to that. Wei looks at me.
"He called Marv a not so nice thing." I growl. That is all what the big Panda needs. I step away from the guy who gets grabbed by the scruff of the neck and the rim of his pants as if he weighs nothing at all. Some of the clientele follow to see how he is literally tossed out on the street by the bouncer/manager, without so much as a word. Good luck getting in again. 
"Well, that escalated quickly." The rabbit remarks, popping up next to me.
"You ok?" I ask. He nods, that joyful smile ever on his lips, though I can see that it does not reach his eyes. 
"Though you look like shit." He cringes looking at my face, his paws not yet touching my face as if trying to knit the wounds by magic. I wipe the wetness from my nose, it's blood. 
"Let me get you an icepack." I hadn't seen Sigrund behind me, who leads me out back to get myself cleaned up while Twist, who comes dashing in, quickly takes over the bar with Marv. 

Right before the door shuts behind me I can see Dozer's dark look as he follows my path. Knowing that look I wonder if that guy is going to get a visit tonight. Maybe if he is lucky Dozer won't know his address. The large Pit isn't one who quickly mingles or interacts with, well, anyone. It took him months before he opened up to us, and that was mostly because of Twist's insistent nagging that is bound to wear anyone down. Despite his silence and his apparent neutral demeanour against, well just about anyone, it is well known around town that if you harm anyone he considers a friend, things just happen to you. Things go missing, wiring fails and you are left in a blackout for hours, maybe even days, cars get trashed, and one particularly nasty girl who kept harassing Twist got all the windows of her house thrown in by bricks. No no-one knows it is Dozer, in a legal sense. Personally I never asked him, mostly because I do not want to know. The notion of that fat bastard getting a visit tonight, however, is strangely satisfying.

"Hold still." Sigrund has gotten the disinfectant and is treating my head wound, only after she unceremoniously shoved a tampon up my nose to stop the bleeding. Now, I know it isn't used, but being carried around in her bag all the time... it kinda smells like her... quite strongly, which is disturbing.
"It stings."
"Stop your whining, you big baby. You shouldn't have started a fight if you aren't prepared to deal with the after math."
"He started it."
"Phah... Well don't worry about it." She leaves the notion hanging that I'll get my ass whipped by Wei tomorrow, or even later tonight, he prefers we call him instead of dealing with these things ourselves; gives the whole place a bad rep. "Would have punched the buttcrack myself, if you hadn't beaten me to the punch... no pun intended." That makes me chuckle. 
"What?"
"Nothing... Would have loved seeing his ass kicked by a woman, especially by you." This makes her smile, though she goes to great lengths to try and hide it from me. 
"Well, it would have been hilarious," she admits. "Now sit still."