Day 2 (Part 1) - Coffee and Crime

Kev's eyes snapped open, the first rays of dawn filtering through the curtains stirring him from a deep slumber. His heart skipped a beat as he noticed the lantern still burning brightly on the bedside table. A fleeting worry about a potential fire crossed his mind, but the room remained untouched, bathed in the soft morning light.

He stretched, his muscles protesting the unaccustomed activity of the previous day. A hot shower and a trip to the bathroom helped to shake off the lingering remnants of sleep. As he wandered into the kitchen, the desire for a cup of coffee gnawed at him. He rummaged through the supplies Horns had provided, but the absence of an electric kettle left him stumped. After a few futile attempts at lighting the gas stove proved beyond his ability, he gave up with a sigh, opting for a cigarette instead. The familiar ritual of lighting up and inhaling the smoke calmed his nerves, offering a sense of normalcy in this strange new world.

With a sense of restlessness, Kev decided to explore the club in its daylight guise. He left his apartment, carefully locking the door behind him, and ventured down the grand staircase. The once bustling club was now eerily quiet, the echoes of last night's abandon replaced by the mellow sounds of cleaning and preparation.

He passed by diligent workers sweeping floors, polishing furniture, and hauling away bags of refuse. The air, previously thick with the mingled scents of sweat, perfume, and alcohol, now carried the clean, sharp smell of disinfectant.

As he approached the main bar, he spotted the unmistakable figure of Horns sitting at the counter, nursing a drink. The mooseman looked exhausted, his usually cheerful demeanor replaced by a weary slump. The weight of managing the club's staff, especially after a busy night like the previous one, was clearly evident on his face.

Horns greeted Kev with a weary smile, his voice raspy but welcoming. "Well, hello there, Kev," he said, his large frame slumped against the bar. "Glad to see you haven't run off yet."

Kev chuckled, taking a seat beside the mooseman. "I'm still trying to figure out if this is all a dream," he admitted, glancing around the quiet barroom. The contrast to the previous night's revelry was stark. "You look like you could use a nap yourself," he added, noting the dark circles under Horns' eyes and the exhaustion etched into his features.

Horns let out a long, weary sigh, the sound echoing through the empty space. "My workday just ended," he explained, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "I'll be heading to bed soon enough." He paused, a flicker of longing crossing his face. "Just need to unwind a bit first."

Kev's curiosity was piqued. "Do you live here in the mansion?" he inquired.

Horns shook his head. "No, but I don't live far. I basically just rent a room to sleep in during the day. All my waking hours are spent here." A hint of sadness tinged his voice, a fleeting glimpse into the sacrifices he made for his job. It seemed the club consumed his life, leaving little room for anything else.

Kev, touched by the mooseman's dedication, felt a surge of empathy. He couldn't imagine devoting his entire existence to a single place, no matter how fulfilling the work. "You're welcome to use my bed if you want," he offered sincerely. "I'm sure I can find somewhere else to hang around while you sleep."

Horns considered the offer, then shook his head. "Maybe next time," he said with a chuckle. "Wouldn't want to upset the boss man."

Kev's brow furrowed. "Why would Fang be upset?" he asked, genuinely confused.

Horns took a long sip of his drink, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You made quite an impression on the staff last night, Kev," he revealed.

"How so?" Kev asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Well, for one, Rex is already talking about hooking up with you," Horns said with a sly grin. "Mostly as a power play to annoy Fang, but still..."

Kev coughed, nearly choking on his own saliva. "What?" he sputtered, his face turning a bright shade of red.

Horns continued, unfazed by Kev's reaction. "Kaiote seemed to like you well enough, though she's a bit of an odd bird, so it's hard to tell what she's really thinking." He paused, taking another sip of his drink. "Dale hasn't quite got a grasp on you yet, but he thinks your drink choice is a bit... feminine."

Kev opened his mouth to protest, but Horns held up a hand. "That's not a bad thing, mind you," he clarified. "Dale judges a person very deeply based on their drink of choice. It's his bartender's intuition, or something like that."

He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a quiet whisper as he looked at the door to the kitchen. "And it seems like Reepia liked you."

Kev snorted. "She threatened me with kitchen knives," he pointed out, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

Horns burst into laughter, his booming voice echoing through the empty bar. "That sounds about right," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "She's got a soft spot, deep down, but she's not one to show it easily."

Horns finished his drink in one long gulp and gave Kev a hearty slap on the back. The friendly gesture, though well-intentioned, nearly knocked the wind out of the smaller man. "See you in the evening, Kev," Horns said with a cheerful wave. "Don't over do it today, we've got another busy night ahead."

With that, the mooseman lumbered off, leaving Kev alone in the quiet barroom. Kev watched him go, then turned his attention to the scene around him. A few cleaners were still busy at work, their movements efficient and practiced. Others were replacing candles in the chandeliers and wall sconces, polishing the glass covers back to their transparent glory.

Kev took a deep breath, the lingering scent of stale alcohol and disinfectant filling his nostrils. He wondered how he should spend his time until Horns returned. He could go back to his apartment and try to catch up on some sleep, but the idea of being alone in that large, empty space didn't appeal to him. He could explore the club further, but Fang's warning about overzealous patrons still echoed in his mind.

Kev, wanting to escape the cleaners glances and stares, decided to explore the backyard he'd glimpsed from his apartment window. After a few wrong turns, he finally located a door that led outside.

The backyard of the mansion-turned-nightclub was a sprawling expanse, a stark contrast to the dimly lit, enclosed spaces within. Lush green lawns stretched out, bordered by towering trees that cast dappled shadows on the ground. A stone patio, furnished with wrought-iron tables and chairs, offered a place to relax and enjoy the fresh air. A large, kidney-shaped pool shimmered invitingly in the sunlight, its surface undisturbed save for a few fallen leaves.

Beyond the pool, a winding path disappeared into a dense thicket of trees, hinting at further hidden delights. The air was alive with the sounds of nature – the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves, and the gentle gurgle of a nearby fountain.

Despite the tranquil setting, there were subtle reminders of the club's unique clientele. A few discarded feathers lay scattered on the patio, and the occasional paw print marred the otherwise pristine lawn. It was a curious blend of wildness and refinement, a reflection of the club's duality.

Kev inhaled deeply, the crisp morning air filling his lungs. It was his first venture outside since his arrival in this new world, and he was surprised by how familiar it felt. The sun shone warmly, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead, and the scent of freshly cut grass tickled his nostrils. It could have been a scene from back home, were it not for the towering mansion-turned-nightclub looming in the background and the occasional glimpse of a furry tail disappearing around a corner.

He turned to face the building, taking in its grandeur from a new perspective. The mansion was truly impressive, its weathered stone facade hinting at a long and storied past. It stood in stark contrast to the sleek, modern clubs he was used to, its old-world charm lending an air of mystery and intrigue.

Kev lit a cigarette, the smoke curling upwards in the still air. He strolled along the manicured paths, his footsteps silent on the soft grass. A few groundskeepers, their beastly features hidden beneath wide-brimmed hats, tended to the landscaping. They paused in their work to watch him pass, their curious gazes following his every move. But no one spoke, their silence adding to the surreal atmosphere.

Kev felt a strange sense of isolation, a solitary human amidst beastmen. Not a single person he had met so far seemed to have even the slightest clue about what humans were. Even that crow woman, kaiote, had just mentioned reading something about humans. He wondered if he would ever truly belong here, or if he was destined to remain an outsider, forever observing from the sidelines. The thoughts were too overwhelming, kev shook his head and pushed the feeling down, this was just a coma dream anyways, no need to make himself more anxious.

As Kev continued his exploration of the grounds, he spotted Reepia and a group of cooks huddled near a back door, enjoying a smoke break. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to take a chance.

"Morning," he offered with a tentative smile, approaching the group.

The other cooks, a motley assortment of beastmen, glanced at him with varying degrees of curiosity and suspicion before quickly dispersing back inside. Reepia, however, remained, her cigarette dangling from her lips, her expression as frazzled and tired as Horns' had been earlier.

"What do you want, human?" she grunted, her voice rough and unwelcoming.

Kev felt a pang of disappointment. He'd hoped for a more cordial interaction, but it seemed Reepia wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. Still, he pressed on, his need for caffeine outweighing his apprehension.

"I was just wondering if there's any coffee in the kitchen," he asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Reepia scoffed, smoke curling from her nostrils. "You'll have to prove you can work before you get anything from me," she retorted, her tone sharp and dismissive.

Kev straightened his back, a flicker of determination in his eyes. "I can help," he offered, his voice firm. "I may not be able to make coffee without electricity, but I'm sure I can be of assistance in other ways."

Reepia's gaze narrowed, her skepticism evident. "If you can't even make coffee, then you probably shouldn't be allowed in my kitchen," she retorted, her tone sharp as a knife.

Kev sighed, trying to suppress his frustration. "I can wash dishes," he said, his voice steady. "I'm sure there's plenty of that to be done after a busy night. I'd really like some coffee."

The rat woman eyed him, her scowl deepening. "Fine," she grunted. "But you'll have to tackle that mountain of dishes before I even consider giving you a cup." She gestured towards the kitchen door, behind which Kev could hear the clatter of pots and pans.

Kev nodded, a sense of resolve settling over him. "Deal," he said, squaring his shoulders.

Reepia seemed momentarily surprised by his willingness, a flicker of curiosity replacing her seemingly perpetual disdain. She turned and pushed open the kitchen door, revealing a scene of controlled chaos.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," she said with a smirk, disappearing into the steam and clatter.

Kev had worked in a few kitchens in his younger years, bussing tables and washing dishes to make ends meet. The scene before him wasn't entirely unfamiliar, even with the absence of humming dishwashers and the presence of furry, scaled, or feathered cooks bustling around him. The air hung heavy with the mingled scents of spices, roasted meats, and strong coffee, a symphony of aromas that both tantalized and overwhelmed his senses.

He made his way to the dish sink, a massive stainless steel basin overflowing with dirty plates, pots, and pans. The water, pumped in from outside the grounds, was steaming hot and thick with suds. The sheer volume of dishes was daunting, a testament to the club's popularity the night before.

Kev rolled up his sleeves, a determined glint in his eyes. He'd tackled worse messes in his time. He plunged his hands into the soapy water, the heat a welcome contrast to the cool morning air outside. The rhythm of scrubbing, rinsing, and stacking soon took over, his movements becoming almost meditative.

The empty cart behind him slowly filled with gleaming clean dishes, a tangible testament to his progress. The cooks, initially wary of the human in their midst, began to acknowledge his efforts with grunts of approval and the occasional tossed compliment. Even Reepia, her sharp eyes observing him from across the kitchen, seemed to soften slightly as she witnessed his diligence.

Just as Kev was starting to make a dent in the mountain of dishes, Reepia appeared beside him, a steaming mug in her hand. "Enough," she barked, her voice gruff but not unkind. "Take a break."

Kev, surprised by the unexpected gesture, protested. "I can finish the rest," he insisted, gesturing towards the remaining pile.

Reepia shook her head. "Our dish boy will be back soon," she explained. "He'll be insufferable without anything to keep him busy." A flicker of a smile crossed her lips. "Get out of my kitchen."

She thrust the mug into Kev's hands. "The sugar and cream are behind the bar," she added,pointing to a different set of doors then kev entered. She then turned and disappeared back into the kitchen's organized chaos.

Kev, his hands wrapped around the warm mug, savored the rich aroma of the coffee. It was strong, just the way he liked it, and the caffeine hit his system like a jolt of electricity. He thanked Reepia silently, then stepped out of the kitchen and back into the relative quiet of the barroom.