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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"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."

"You're very welcome, sir," Echo answers, ducking his head and flushing right up to his hairline with pleasure at the praise. When he looks back up he gives Fives a dirty look. "Fives didn't tell me he'd run into you. It's, uh, it's good to see you."

"I wanted to make sure he'd actually come by before I said anything!" Fives answers defensively. "I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up for nothing."

"I'm sure I'll catch you by surprise without his abetment soon enough," Jedao promises unrepentantly.

"You'll be coming back?" Echo asks, brightening. "You should come on a Saturday, we get amazing pastries from a local small batch baker on Saturdays!" he adds. "And on Friday nights there's almost always live music."

Fives rolls his eyes, but it's fond and amused, not mean-spirited. He loves his littermate more than anything, and he's just glad Echo's happy with his job. He's about to say something to his brother, but a group of high school students come in and Echo excuses himself to take their orders.

"This place is good for him. The owner doesn't really know squat about supernaturals, but he doesn't care, either. Just that Echo's good at his job and good with the customers."

"If he doesn't join us for dinner, you should tell him I'll be back on saturday," Jedao says, carefully moving his cup to a low table next to a couch. "I think I'll be around for awhile."

"Yeah?" Fives doesn't bother even trying not to beam at that as he pads after him and drops down onto the couch. "That's great. He should be off in time for dinner, but you should come by Saturday anyway. I bet he'll make you something even fancier."

Jedao nibbles his danish and admires his fox some more, even if it is slowly dissolving back into the drink.

"It really is delightful. It reminds me of home," he says softly, even though he hasn't been back to China outside of active duty in a century and a half. "Candy shops do sugar painting - hot syrup drizzled fast on a cold metal plate, and it hardens into a perfect little picture of a fish or a dragon or a cock."

He says this completely straight-faced.

Fives is taking a drink of his own sugary, milky, only marginally coffee concoction while Jedao talks and nearly does a spit take at the last word. He... doesn't actually have enough experience of the real world, especially of things like agriculture, to have any idea that cock could mean something as innocent as a chicken.

"They make those? In public?" he asks, wide-eyed with startled fascination at the idea. "I don't think you'd be able to talk Echo into making a foam dick here, but he could probably do a dragon... and if you mention the sugar painting I bet he'd want to learn how." And he bets he could get him to make a sugar cock in the privacy of the kitchen.

Jedao snickers into his danish, although not meanly.

"Fuck, I shouldn't tease. Cock can also be short for cockerel, which is another word for rooster. Fallen slightly out of favor recently, for reasons just demonstrated."

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