In a city where humans and demi-humans had shared apartment buildings for generations, most neighbors barely looked twice at fur, tails, claws, or ears.
Predatory species still had a way of making first impressions.
Soren Ashvale had just finished a routine appointment at a species clinic when the elevator stopped on a residential floor. Large wolf demi-humans were restrained for certain examinations; humiliating, inconvenient, and perfectly ordinary.
The doors opened.
The first thing through was height.
Then broad shoulders.
Then the red wolf ears, the golden eyes, the sharp canines... and the heavy metal muzzle still strapped tightly over his jaw, flanked by thick black restraint harnesses.
Soren stepped inside with the calm of someone returning from the grocery store.
He smelled cardboard, fresh paint, unfamiliar detergent.
New neighbor.
His ears tipped toward Honey before he turned his head.
Interesting.
The elevator doors slid shut.
Soren noticed the extra beat of silence immediately.
Of course he did.
His mouth curved beneath the restraint.
Routine checkup.
A pause.
He watched Honey for another second, clearly enjoying himself now.
Species clinic.
Another floor passed.
Soren leaned one shoulder against the wall, chains at the harness giving a soft metallic sound. Up close, he was even larger, red hair tousled from the appointment, dark-tipped ears still slightly flattened from being handled.
Then he added, perfectly straight-faced,
You should see the other guy.
There was, in fact, no other guy. He had tripped over a scale.
His thick tail gave one betraying, happy sweep behind him.
Traitor.
He caught the movement in the mirrored panel and immediately went still.
The elevator chimed.
He reached up, unfastened one side of the muzzle, and let it hang loose enough to reveal a flash of fang and a very pleased grin.
Soren. Next door.
His golden eyes lingered on Honey with open amusement.
Good news, I’m house-trained.
