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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.
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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Echo's crouching down already as the door opens, arms spread for DB to run into them, wriggling and whining and licking his face. No one's quite sure if DB knows Echo's his father, but they've all made sure to encourage the unique bond between the two for Echo's sake. The only sign of Dogma at first is a pair of golden eyes looking through the greenery from behind a bed of tomatoes, but when the General slips into his fox form he pokes his head, and then the rest of him, cautiously around the edge, his head down and his tail wagging tentatively.
Tup laughs and follows after DB and the General, waving to his older brother. "Cody made Fives stay downstairs for a talking to," he tells Echo as he pauses to check on plants before passing by. "Dinner will probably be on the table in ten or fifteen minutes."
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Echo and Tup settle themselves on a bench near the door to watch quietly as Dogma creeps out... and DB takes the opportunity of the General finally pausing to lick his uncle's nose to shove his own nose where it is not, politely, meant to go, sniffing industriously at the General's ass and crotch.
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He never really bites down: it's all surprise and no pain for the overeager pup, over in a handful of seconds, but the vulpine gesture of dominance translates neatly. Then Jedao licks his muzzle too, and hops over him to let him up. He circles around in a careless mince, and gets a quick sniff of Dronebait's ass before the bigger canine manages to get back to his feet. Jedao makes a cackling, yipping sound of playful amusement, and whacks Dronebait's back legs with the wedge of his head to nudge him up. He's perfectly friendly, but puppies will know their place, even mostly-grown ones with a hundred pounds on him.
Then Jedao goes back to paying attention to Dogma, nuzzling at his neck, tail wagging steadily again.
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Dogma, for his part, had sunk down to his belly the moment the General approached, all cowed submission and eager apology. The lick surprised him enough that he just watched DB's chastisement, but once it's done with he gives his nephew a quick nip to one ear to reinforce it. He clearly doesn't know what to make of the General's renewed attention, and he sinks down to his belly again, whining quietly and trying to lick submissively at the General's muzzle in response, but his tail actually relaxes a little, and makes a halfhearted start at wagging at the clear affection and reassurance in it.
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After a few minutes, once Dogma is mostly relaxed underneath him, Jedao slides back into manform, legs tucked under him now, still pressed against the bulk of the werewolf's side, petting Dogma gently. The fox's pleased high trills slide into baritone words without so much as a missed breath.
"You're a good boy, that's right. I'm very glad to see you, here and healthy. And you're a good boy too, of course you are," he adds when Dronebait launches half his weight into Jedao's lap, sensing opportunity. Jedao scritches his ears with his other hand, then glances abruptly up to Tup and Echo, watching the scene unfolding with amusement mixed with other emotions. Jedao's smile turns from sweet and silly to something older, steadier, and he holds Echo's eyes, gives him a slow, respectful nod.
"You're a brave one. I know all you boys are. But he's lucky to have you."
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Tup presses their shoulders tightly together and squeezes his thigh, and Echo breaks the General's gaze to smile gratefully at his younger brother.
"It's, uh, it's probably dinner time, General," he adds, and as he pushes back to his feet DB scampers up from his spot on the General's lap and bounds over to him. "Are you going to join us, Dogma?" he asks, and Dogma's tail does a slow sweep of the roof as he licks the General's chin with a grumbling whine.
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"Come eat with us, Dogma," Tup adds quietly. "It's not the same without you."
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"Thank you, General. Tup does a lot of the work." Echo knows Tup won't give himself the credit he deserves, or speak up for himself at all. "He has a real way with growing things."
As they talk, and follow the General to the door, Dogma starts to pad slowly along behind them, and at the General's glance back he dips his head submissively, but his tail is doing a slow sweep and he keeps walking, to Tup's evident delight. And DB's, who leans happily into him with a friendly grumble.
"Looks like you'll get the whole family for dinner, General," Echo announces, holding the door and ushering them all through, then letting DB take his place at his side as he makes his somewhat awkward way down the stairs.
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"And well arranged," he adds, meaning the garden still. "It has very good flow." A professional geomancer would have tweaks, no doubt, but Jedao is hardly that.
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Dogma slowly catches up to the point where he's walking next to Tup, just behind the General. He likes to stay near his littermate when he can.
"You should see it in the late morning or early afternoon sometime, that's when the hummingbirds and butterflies come by," Echo adds as they reach the hallway. "They love Tup's flowers."
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Echo looks back from the apartment door, smiling fondly at his little brother's excitement, then pushes it open into the controlled chaos of dinner time.
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He lets Fives steer him after that, and when everyone is seated, says "Thank you all for welcoming me into your home." It's the most formal thing he's said since he quit, but hospitality is old magic, older than his bones, and despite his trickster's voice it comes out warm and soft and very sincere.
He helps himself to the potatoes before he has to say anything else.
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Dogma, and even DB, have plates at the table, and Tup and Echo take care of filling them for them, almost entirely with meat for DB. The wolfdog is a little awkward in his seat, but well enough behaved in his way, though he leaves the table to go chew on a massive bone of some kind on a blanket in the corner as soon as he's wolfed down is portion and licked the plate clean. Dogma's much more reserved, even about eating, and delicately picks up each item from his plate individually, and though he keeps his eyes mostly cast down he seems to be paying attention to the conversation around him... which is mostly his brothers competing (unusually politely) for the opportunity to tell the General about their lives since their discharge. Jobs and hobbies and friends, the wonder and strangeness of living in a city, and poor Cutup's never-ending quest to get a date with a girl. (Cutup blushes and mutters imprecations under his breath at his brothers' teasing.)
Rex finally managed to glare Hardcase into stopping talking about NASCAR standings and turns his attention back to the General. "How long have you been out, sir?" he asks, because he knows the General had been in long before they'd been created and commissioned and he'd assumed he'd simply remain long after as well.
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"Mm. A fortnight?" he answers, because he's bad at keeping track but moon cycles help. Just two weeks, and most of it spent finding his way to exactly where he is right now.
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"Have you settled in the city, sir?" Rex asks. "Any of us would be honored to be of service to you if you need anything at all."
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"Mostly I think I'm in need of friends. It's been a long time since I had much besides work. I'd love to see more of you all."
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"You should come to movie night," Fives interjects cheerfully into the sudden quiet, and the clatter of knives and forks resumes as if that was a cue, followed by a chorus of agreement. "It's Thursday this week, since that's the night most of us will actually be home.
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"I'd love to come. If I wouldn't be imposing?" But before any of them can fall over themselves offering reassurances he's off a tangent through the intersection of imposition and cinema.
"Did you know, Hollywood is out in California because when the first video cameras were being invented, Thomas Edison was trying to sue every single person using one, whether it was really based on his designs or not. And he was in New Jersey, so the entire industry packed up and set up shop on the other side of the continent just to get away from him."
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"Nerd," Fives accuses fondly, but there's no missing his smile as he slaps his brother lightly on the back of the head, getting a stuck out tongue in response. "He and Tup are both taking college classes, they're doing great." He's ridiculously proud of how smart his brothers are, and how well they're doing.
"I heard California's all beaches covered with hot girls in bikinis!" Cutup interjects, in time with a collective groan from his brothers. "Have you ever been there, sir?"
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