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 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."

"... oh." He winces a little at his misinterpretation, but it's good-humored, and if anything he sounds a little disappointed. "Still, I bet we could get him to make a painted candy dick anyway," he adds impishly.

"Sounds delicious," Jedao says cheerfully.

Fives grins just about wide enough to split his face. "It does, doesn't it?" And he's maybe sitting a bit closer to the General than is strictly necessary as he cradles his paper cup in his hands... and then sighs, puts it down, and pulls his phone back out of his pocket. He's been diligently ignoring the way it's been vibrating away in his pocket since moments after he texted Rex, and now he rolls his eyes as he looks at the string of notifications.

"Told you Rex would have kittens," he tells the General, amused more than anything as he starts reading, and then laughing. "And that Cody would talk him down, at least a little. But they do want to know if you're all right with beef. And potatoes and carrots." He turns to grin at the General. "Rex and Cody have decided that roast beef is some kind of traditional dinner, so they roll it out for every special occasion." And fortunately always have plenty of beef on hand, given the calorie requirements of a small apartment full of way too many very large werewolves.

"I think there's a ballad about it, actually," Jedao muses. "So it must be tradition for somebody. And yes, that's just fine."

He types a quick answer in about the food, and ignores all the other questions other than to assure them that, yes, the General is actually here and is actually coming, no he's not just having them on, and to agree to keep him away for at least another hour so they can clean up as well as possible and make sure dinner preparations are well under way.

"A ballad? About roast beef? Huh." He tips his head a little and then grins. "There're definitely worse things to write songs about than good food." He shoves his phone away, ignoring how it starts vibrating again, and picks up his cup. "So, how do you want to kill an hour or so before we head over?" He's comfortable enough now, or at least making himself be, that he doesn't even have to strain not to tack a sir onto the end of every question or comment.

Jedao whistles a few jaunty bars, then raises an eyebrow.

"Am I boring you already?"

Fives laughs, eyes crinkling almost shut. "That's actually about roast beef?" He's positively charmed by the very idea.

"What? No. I just... I didn't think you'd want to just sit here for an hour." He assumes it'll take much less time than that for him to bore the general if all there is to do is talk to him.

"The young are always restless," Jedao says with a wistful and deeply hypocritical sigh. "We just got here." He makes a futile attempt to wriggle back into the couch cushions a little more.

"What's your favorite thing about the city so far?"

"Well, we didn't get much choice in that, we were designed to be, after all," he points out with a wry smile. A smile that turns into a grin at the question. "Do I have to pick just one thing?" he asks, turning to pull one knee up onto the couch between them so he can face the general more fully.

"There's so much. All the different kinds of food, and all the people. People like us, even." Many of whom don't have any interest in interacting with them because of their artificial origins, but it's still fascinating to him to see them. "And the way it's all lit up at night. And the children. They're everywhere, just... tiny people with no responsibilities but to be and to grow." And to sometimes play with eager 'dogs' who make an appearance at the playground.

Jedao smiles, a far softer expression that Fives has ever seen on him before.

"You can have as many favorites as you like, Fives."

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