Vengeance wiped the counter idly, his thoughts on the radio and on impossible daydreams involving the feline deejaying the station on the other end.  It seemed like ages since he was last allowed to listen to the jamming playlist from the girl he admired so much from afar and used to monetarily support, and to hear some of the familiar tunes felt like coming home from a long exile.
He resisted letting his mind wander towards that one female in his life that tried to control him, refusing to visualize her name. She that did nothing but seek to control him and wrangle him in as her one and only, in defiance of his untetherable and attachment-free nature. She had sought to make him devoted to her, finding no other way to bring herself closer to her lifelong dreams. She roped him in with promises of excitement, a facade of good health, and prospects. Like a predictable wild animal lured by bait, he fell for her traps, leading to many lavish date nights, late nights, and up-until-eight nights filled with restaurants, night sky watching, snuggling in cars, and passionate intimacy. Little did Venge know that all the while, she was actually hiding in depravity, relying on him being the gentletile to pick up the bills for the food and the medicine that she needed to stay cognitive. That girl became so sick so often, keeping him on a verbal leash to assist her in her hours of need, instead of letting him exercise his own individuality; she refused to let him seek release elsewhere, calling him unfaithful if he so much as looked up any online images to suit his needs. As sick as she would get, she would still not see why he would not jump to satisfy her in bed, why he would donate money to other starving artists instead of pay for her medication, why he would socialize online with friends she doesn't know, why he would gaze at lewd and nude pictures of furry females, why he wouldn't we---
Venge came to himself to find that he had stopped cleaning the counter, but was wringing the cloth in his claws and furrowing his brows. He felt that his cold-blooded skin was bubbling under the surface. 
Serenity's ears perked up, and from behind the cash register, she turned to look at her newest mate as he was standing by the candy counter. She had a sixth sense for knowing when he was thinking about that bunny girl, the one he refused to name out loud. She knew that for a lizard, blowing off steam by leaving it alone and silently sending good thoughts his way was the best she could do, but she couldn't help but slowly approach him from behind and place a paw on the drake's shoulder.
Vengeance winced like he was being prodded with a branding iron. He flinched and turned around, but stopped when he saw Serenity's caring eyes staring into his. The exotic dancer was the first female he had ever met that he sympathized with, not merely attracted to her body. He found in her a kindred spirit, as one oppressed by the expectations of others close to her, and he vowed he'd never let her feel like she was obligated or forced to do anything for him. Both of them, in this relationship, let the other pursue their own interests, sharing as they deemed fit, both living together in that cozy room. Serenity had once expressed her desire to open up a little store on a mountain path, and both she and Venge saved and scrimped to obtain such a property from a retiring, elderly raccoon-and-skunk couple on the road to Fern Forest. The store itself was enlivened by the new management, and provided Vengeance was continuously supplied access to the internet, life was good for these two souls.
Venge dropped his shoulders and sighed, still taken a bit aback by the sudden touch. Serenity knew that it would take awhile to calm his nerves. The she-wolf learned long ago, the hard way, that instead of trying to pleasure him or incite him to wild sex while he was riled up like this, distance and caution was advised. She offered, "Nice to hear from your old friend again, isn't it?" She gestured to the radio speaker mounted on the corner of the ceiling, right over their heads. "She always has a fun selection of jams. I never would've even cared for the stuff until you introduced me to her work."
That seemed to have an effect on the roly-poly dillozard, as he cracked a smile, "Yeah, I miss hanging out with her. Heard she's in need of monetary help again." 
"I swear, you're tough to figure out when it comes to these starving artists. Which ones you choose to support, which ones you turn down. I notice it's primarily the girls you like."
"What can I say? I like being consistent."
"So what is it I hear about you seeing some f--"
*ding-ding* came the chime of the front door, and both of the proprietors perked up, dropping their conversation as they turned toward whomever entered their little store.