Window Shopping

It was a regular day, a slight chill in the air signaled the beginning of fall, and the sun beamed through the clouds. Tigren rolled his shoulders, relishing the cool breeze as it filtered through his thick fur. It was days like this that he could almost forget the uninvited tigress squatting in his apartment living room. Almost. It might have been easier if she wasn’t currently standing two feet from him, but there you have it. He wondered how it had come to this, walking random streets, surrounded by tall buildings and mobs of window shoppers, with a female he was not on terms with. Jessica was standing, head cocked, ears and tail-tip twitching; apparently in deep contemplation about something or other in the store display. She reached out a twitched a scarf into a slightly different position on the manikin it adorned, gave a satisfied nod, and turned away.

Tigren yawned in a bored sort of way, and attempted to resist the urge to eviscerate each and every being that brushed against him in the crowd. He tried to block it out, but his Templar training had taken over his senses, and he remained hyper-alert to everything going on around him. So, he couldn’t help but notice the shifty looking cheetah (out for a brisk morning jog, at least, as indicated by his clothes, and lack thereof.) accosting his unwanted house guest.

“Hey, babe, you runnin’ my way?”

Jessica’s ear twitched and turned toward him, but she gave no other sign of interest.

“Listen, sweet-cheeks—” He reached out toward her, perhaps to touch her hand. He never got that far.

Tigren didn’t remember moving, but there he was, with the offender’s wrist in a vice-like grip, face mere inches from the intruder’s, teeth bared and ears flattened. “Back. Off. Spot.” He didn’t know where the words had come from. But they escaped in a low, menacing growl.

The Cheetah put up his free hand in a placating gesture, “Heyy, buddy. Loosen up. Name’s Shane, but everyone calls me Slim. Didn’t realize Sweet-Piece was with you.”

“Well, she is with me, Slim, so get. Lost.” Tigren shoved the runner away, and he fell to the curb.

“Relax pal, I don’t do other dude’s chicks.” He gestured apologetically “Look, I’m sorry man. Hot pocket here, she’s all yours, guy. Bros before—” Suddenly the head of Tigren’s spear was pressing against his vocal tract, making it very difficult, if not impossible, for the hapless Cheetah to finish his sentence.

“I thought I told you to get lost.”

Shane slid away from the razor sharp spear, and stood slowly, his hands held up palms out in the universal, ‘unarmed’ gesture.

“I’m gone bro. Gone. Look, you got one fine girl, but that don’t work out, and you ever need a wingman, I’m your guy. I ain’t hard to find, just ask ‘round for Slim Reeves.” He jogged away after that, and, true to his words, he was gone.

“Aw, why’d you send him away?” Tigren remembered Jessica’s presence when she spoke, and turned to look at her. She was pouting.

“He was irritating me.” He stated matter-of-factly, and turned away, to analyze their surroundings, definitely not to avoid eye contact with Jessica.

“I can handle myself you know. I don’t need you to send my pervs away for me.” Tigren elected to ignore this, even though he knew precisely how well able to ‘handle’ herself she was.

“Not everything is about you, you self-centered trollop. He was irritating me, I got rid of him, end of story.”

“Perhaps, but what am I going to do if you chase all my prospective boyfriends away.”

“He wasn’t boyfriend material.”

“He was cute.” She was pouting again.

“I’m leaving now, enjoy being accosted by hoodlums.”

“Oh, I will . . .” He could hear the sly smile, even without looking, and try as he might he couldn’t leave.