ninefox | Fine Zinc Teeth

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Fine Zinc Teeth

There was a time Jedao would have said that half a century was barely any time; less than a mortal life, not more than two generations. But the world has changed so much since he first put the Americans' uniform on. Even the uniform has changed - they don't call dance halls dance halls any more, for another thing. But the smell of the place - sweat, desire, alcohol - that much is the same.

He slinks in under a stranger's face, although he doesn't disguise his own scent when he smiles, glittering, at the bouncer: a flashed lure that Fives might not even notice or recognize, let alone pursue. It took a few months to get someone to handle all the things which apparently needed handling for his "retirement", and a few more to track down one particular squad of decommissioned weretroops, out of thousands, mostly paperless, in the busiest city this side of the Pacific. But Jedao did find them.

He dances without keeping track of the time, lets his face slowly slide back to its default arrangement, lets his spine relearn how to hold him up without being army rigid. He has several drinks - people buy them for him, which is nice; one or two of them he even dances with until they can't keep up with him any more. Fives rotates from the receiving line onto the floor as the night wears on and patrons get drunker, and he maneuvers himself into Fives' line of view, always moving, twisting, flashing glances that catch on Fives' eyes as the beat hits. Slowly, as if by the whim of the music, he draws closer.

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"I don't really know the city anymore. You'll have to show me around," Jedao elaborates.

"I can do that," he agrees, quick and eager, and again hears Rex berating him in his mind. Which doesn't do a damn thing to change his mind. "We've been here since we were decommissioned, I know most of the city now." He's very proud of this fact. He'd never known anything but barracks and weapons before, a city full of people, places to explore, things to do still hasn't stopped being exciting.

"Splendid." Jedao murmurs, quite sincerely. But then the music changes, and something about it hooks his attention, and he eels back onto the dance floor without another word. In fairness, it isn't particularly any more abrupt than some of his departures as a general.

And he does turn up at the coffee shop the next day, right on time, in different clothes but still with a bit of glitter in his hair, even though Fives never got around to saying which coffee shop, exactly.

Fives watches the General disappear into the crowd of writhing bodies on the dance floor and pushes down the surge of disappointment as he realizes he'd never given him directions to Echo's coffee shop. Oh well, he'd probably been deluding himself that he was more than a few minutes' diversion, and he can just hear Rex's lecture on the subject if he were to find out how he'd behaved. He gives himself a moment, then starts making his rounds again, and refuses to think about the encounter for the rest of the night, a resolution that's made at least a little easier to keep by the fact he doesn't catch sight of the Fox General again.

He almost doesn't bother showing up at the coffee shop the next day. It's not like he'll be there, after all. But Echo being on shift is as good a reason as any, and he walks to work with his brother then claims one of the overstuffed chairs in the corner to sit with his coffee and a book he'd brought.

As it gets close to three he starts looking up every time the door opens, and every time tells himself he's not waiting for the General to show up, because clearly he isn't. How could he when he never even found out where this place is? And yet, at three o'clock almost exactly the bell on the door chimes and he looks up reflexively... to the sight of the General in the doorway, looking somehow more out of place in this common, everyday environment than he had in the pulsing lights of the club last night.

Fives doesn't even realize he's stood up until he's already across the room in front of the General, grinning like a damn pup, and completely ignoring the shocked look Echo's giving him from behind the bar. "I didn't think you'd come," he admits. "Since I never actually told you where this place is."

"Oh, didn't you?" Jedao asks, with approximately the same caliber of surprise as I don't think I have a phone. "Well, details," he says, perhaps by way of dismissal, since it certainly isn't an explanation and he doesn't offer one, either.

"Will you let me buy you a drink this time? Oh, and there's Echo, he looks so much better than last time, thank goodness."

"No, I didn't." He huffs in amused exasperation; the General's obviously just as quixotic and mysterious now as he had been back in the day, which means there's no point in pursuing the issue. Besides, he has no interest in irritating their little General, he very much wants to keep him around.

"I think I can do that," he allows, then adds, "If you let me buy you a drink when we go out dancing." Because he's made it this far, he might as well try and hold him to that as well.

"I'm a whiskey man," Jedao says, by way of concession and proper briefing rolled into one. "What'll you have for now? Oh good, there are danishes."

"Whiskey it is." Fives is doing what he considers a very good job of not bouncing in excitement at the prospect, though based on the slightly wild-eyed look Echo's giving him probably not good enough.

"Fresh-baked this morning, sir," Echo offers, his voice a little strangled. "And my sugar-addict brother will have as many calories and caffeine as it's possible to pack into one cup," he adds, managing to sound a bit more natural, especially when Fives glares at him for the teasing. "What can I make for you, General?"

"Something with all of those, then. Mmm. Apple, cherry, apple, cherry." He pulls a bright sacajawea dollar and flips it onto the back of his hand. "Cherry danish. And...a...coffee?"

"Just a plain coffee?" Echo asks, and is almost palpably disappointed. How can he show off his amazing foam art skills on a plain, drip coffee?

Fives nudges the General gently. "Echo makes a great latte, you should try one of those."

"Sure, that thing," he says brightly. He has no idea what a latte is, exactly, but he's perfectly relieved to take a recommendation, especially if it means Echo stops making that face.

It does indeed. Echo brightens immediately, and even casts his brother a brief, grateful look. "Yes sir," he answers cheerfully, almost sounding normal. "One latte, one cherry danish, and one sugar shock."

Apparently gratitude doesn't preclude more teasing, and he smirks at his brother before ringing up the total and taking the General's payment, then passing him over his danish (home made as promised). When he turns from the register to make their drinks his halting gait makes it obvious he's walking on prosthetics, but it doesn't seem to bother him, or slow him down.

"I should probably let Rex know you're coming," Fives says, pulling out his phone. "I didn't say anything when I got in last night because, well-" He shrugs and doesn't repeat that he hadn't actually expected the General to show up.

He pays entirely in more sacajawea coins, despite the fact that his pockets hadn't been noticeably jingling before, and drops his change and an additional dollar coin into the tip jar.

"I am unpredictable," Jedao supplies, sounding entirely self-satisfied about it, and perhaps pleased that Fives has noticed.

"Definitely unpredictable," Fives agrees, and can't help but laugh at how ridiculously pleased he seems about it. "Give me just a second to text him, so he has plenty of time to panic and then calm down and then panic again while he figures out dinner and then for Cody to calm him down again." He rolls his eyes, but it's all entirely fond; gods know he's absolutely devoted to his oldest brother.

"It's not an inspection," Jedao says, although there's a thread of sympathy in his amusement. "I'm a guest now. And you've claimed the ability to toss me out of a venue, if need be," he points out.

"Of course it's not. Doesn't mean he won't treat it like one, though," Fives answers, grinning. "You know Rex.

"Don't worry, Cody will talk him down, or Hevy will break something and distract him." He's clearly amused by the thought as he pulls out his phone and types away--Fox gen'l cmng 4 dinnr there by 5. "Also, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to throw guests out, and that Rex would put me on KP duty for a month if I tried."

"Do you always do what you're supposed to do, lieutenant?" Jedao asks, mouth sharp, eyes sparkling.

"Almost never, to hear Rex tell it." He smirks and catches Echo's eye, getting an eyeroll and an exasperated sigh in response. "But really, probably less often than I should and more often than I want. How about you... sir?"

"I think there was something I was supposed to do once, but then I forgot about it," Jedao says blithely. "So now I just make things up."

Fives can't help but laugh. "And how about things you're not supposed to do?" he asks impishly, and steps a little closer... just as Echo calls, "Your order's ready, sir!" and gives him what he clearly means to be a quelling look.

Fives, of course, ignores it as his littermate slides their drinks onto the service bar. His is in a waxed paper takeout cup, but the General's is in a white ceramic mug, with an elaborate little three-dimensional fox sculpted out of the foam on top, right down to his black nose and whiskers.

"That's amazing, Echo!" He grins at his brother. "I don't know how you do it, I'd never have the patience." He looks at the General, hoping he'll be suitably impressed by Echo's effort to please him, knowing that Echo's doing his best to look calm and collected rather than desperately eager.

It reminds him of traditional sugar painting, and he actually bounces on his heels, eyes going wide with delight.

"Tian ah," he murmurs, his first slip into Chinese in at least a decade. "It's so cute!"

Echo positively beams at the reaction, his cheeks coloring faintly with pleasure and pride. "I'm glad you like it, sir. I've never done a fox before."

"He does a lot of cats, though," Fives supplies, obviously almost as proud as Echo himself. "People seem to go nuts for foam cats. I think Echo's almost as artistic as Tup," he adds, and Echo blushes a little deeper.

"Not even close, it's just milk foam," he murmurs.

"Milk foam sounds like a very stable, reliable medium to work with. Easy for precision, and what not," Jedao says, with an airy, half-distracted earnestness more pointed than any audible sarcasm. He winks once, and then lifts his cup very carefully.

"Right?!" Fives points emphatically at the General, then turns back to Echo, smiling triumphantly. "The General thinks you're amazing too, will you listen to his opinion at least?"

"It's very lovely," Jedao says, and means it to be prim but it comes out soft. Nostalgia, he supposes.

"Thank you, Echo."

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