Nick stirred from a restless sleep, roused by a strange pressure blooming in his lower half. It wasn’t pain—just a warm, tingling sensation that spread like static through his crushed body. He blinked, disoriented.

  “Serbal? Lights on, but dim please.”

  The room responded with a soft glow, casting pale light across the bed. Nick pulled back the blanket, expecting to see the same mangled wreckage he’d grown used to. But something was different.

  His wrongly bent, grotesque right leg twitched. It was hard to look at, but he forced himself to. In a way, it seemed fake. As disturbing as it looked, the lack of pain made it feel like a horror movie prop—a prop that happened to be the lower half of his body.

  That’s when he noticed his deflated pelvis. Beneath the skin, something moved.

  His lower region began to fill out, slowly rounding back to its original shape. Bones shifted beneath the surface, settling into place. Ruptured muscles and ligaments mended, knitting together with eerie precision.

  Nick stared, breathless, as the sensation intensified. A dam of pressure released inside him—not painful, just strange, unfamiliar pressure. His body was moving on its own. Shattered bones realigned. Fragments slid into place. His battered and bruised tissue followed, rebuilding what had been destroyed.

  He watched in stunned silence as his lower half reshaped itself. The crushed mess he’d woken up with was rebuilding—right before his eyes. As he sat in bed, stunned, watching the repair, a thought crossed his mind as he glanced at the communicator, then the time.

  Well, she did say this was one of the benefits... Never expected it to turn me into a halfway decent-looking version of Wade Wilson though... We both need our rest. No sense bothering her with something like this. I'll just show her in the morning.

  He slid down under the covers—body physically repaired, but completely drained and exhausted.

  "Serbal, lights off please."

  The room darkened at his request, the only light shining in from the dim, starry space outside his window. Tick—a lazy pebble tapped the glass and slowly floated off in the opposite direction. He was too tired to care and drifted off to sleep.

  ****One Millicycle Later / 8.5 Earther Hours Later****

  Nick felt something small, wet, wiggly, and cold on the side of his face. He cracked an eye open—glowing teal met his gaze. Alice was practically nose-to-nose with him.

  “Morning, sexy...”

  Nick’s eyes cracked open. The only thing he could really see was a mixture of red and teal, partially obscured by shimmering white.

  The happy yet quiet, whimsical voice whispered close, causing him to jolt upright in bed—narrowly missing a white forehead.

  “Heh, my, aren’t we jumpy,” she crooned with a mischievous grin, leaning back effortlessly to dodge the near-miss headbutt.

  “Anyone ever tell you it’s rude to do that to people while they’re sleeping?”

  Nick was calm now, recovering from the brief shock of being roused by a cold, wet, wiggling nose.

  “All the time!” she bobbed cheerfully, settling into the bedside chair.

  “That wasn’t a hint to stop?”

  “Nope!” she squeaked. One long white ear flopped to the side before springing straight up again.

  He hadn’t really noticed it before, but she had a short, asymmetrical bob—a hairstyle with two long bangs perfectly framing her colorful eyes. Looking closer, it reminded him of something between a grunge cut from an eighties punk band and an underground rave club look, minus the crazy color. The shimmering pearl tone was oddly elegant.

  Nick buried his face in his hands and groaned.

  “I could’ve knocked you out, you know...”

  “Not at that speed, slowpoke! Come on, get dressed. Everything shows clear and your blood isn’t degrading.”

  He yawned and stretched in bed, blinking sleepily at her.

  “This seems kinda unusual. You’re not going to hit me with a bunch of technical jargon I’d need a lawyer to translate, are you?”

  “Not unless you absolutely want to. I already checked your readouts before you woke up...”

  “Um—actually, you woke me up,” he replied sarcastically, looking up at her.

  “Did you just um-actually me?” Alice asked, placing a fluffy paw to her chest in mock offense, feigning a mix of hurt and indignation. Her ears drooped, twitching once before springing upright again.

  “I did, and I’ll do it again. Also, why the rush? You late for a very important date?” he said with a yawn.

  She wiggled her nose, leaning in invasively.

  “Actually... yes,” she whispered conspiratorially.

  “The mess hall is serving a special broccoli, potato, and carrot soup... in a bread bowl! And I wanna get there before they run out of bread bowls. It’s a chef special.”

  “Wait... I’m not sure which is weirder—that you guys have normal food, or that you run out of bread.”

  She leaned back in her chair and grabbed a blue jumpsuit from behind, tossing it to Nick as she hopped up.

  “Get dressed. We can talk on the way. I want breakfast before they run out—and I’m already late for my shift waiting on the next batch. This is a special meal: the cook makes the bread and soup from scratch. So yes, they do run out.”

  Nick lifted the blanket, realizing he was still naked, and sat up with it wrapped around him. His eyes drifted to Alice, now leaning against the wall by the door, staring at him intently.

  “Do you mind?” he asked, swinging his legs out of bed, still covered.

  “No, not at all! I love watching people get dressed. Of course, undressing is much more entertaining,” she replied with a pervy grin.

  Her legs were crossed, a pink bang of hair curling slightly as it hung over her black button of a nose. She twirled the end of the lock with a nubby claw, grinning like a hungry, depraved soccer mom with the kids away for the weekend.

  He looked down at the floor, paused, then did a double take.

  “Wait... wasn’t your hair white?” he asked, pointing at her now bright pink bob.

  She nodded enthusiastically, winking and blowing him a kiss.

  Next thing he knew, she had disappeared—and reappeared sitting next to him on the bed.

  “Yeah! I’m a Moon Hare. The hair on our heads shifts color with our moods,” she said, leaning in invasively into his personal space—space he apparently wasn’t allowed to have anymore.

  He caught a whiff of her scent as she leaned in. It wasn’t as powerful as Tiffany’s, but still noticeable—hers carried a sweet honeysuckle note, mixed with something uniquely her.

  “So, hot stuff... care to guess what pink means?”

  Her tone dipped into a sultry, mechanical purr as she placed a large white paw on his lap, tracing slow circles over the newly formed pop-tent of his blanketed lap. Her nubby claw slid upward, all the way to his face, where she cupped his reddened cheek sensually—then abruptly pulled her paw away and booped him on the nose.

  “Boop! Wow, you need to work out more. You’re way too slow!”

  Before he could register it, she was already standing by the door, nonchalantly rubbing her claws on her suit like a bored secretary. She blew on them casually, and as she leaned against the wall, her hair shimmered from bright pink back to pearlescent white.

  Nick, tired of playing the modesty game, stood up and started putting the jumpsuit on. He noticed the crotch had some kind of protective cup built in—making his full-arm salute not quite so obvious.

  “My... I can see why you imprinted on her,” Alice commented, leering at Nick as he started to zip up, the jumper forming on him like a well-fitting wetsuit. Her hair flashed to pink for a moment before going back to white.

  “I’m guessing pink is when you go in full horny mode, I take it?”

  She nodded at the response, a smile on her face.

  “Yeah, I’m kinda a morning person... plus easily aroused. Perhaps you can test that firsthand once we get you... acclimated.”

  Nick found a pair of slip-on shoes in his size, putting them on as quickly as he could muster in his still-groggy state. He tapped the toe of each on the floor to fit them on all the way.

  “I don’t think your *BESTIE* would agree to that. She seems pretty... protective...” He stopped, looking up as Alice straightened, still somewhat propped against the wall, impatiently tapping a hind paw on the floor. It started off at what Nick thought was fast, until it gradually sped up into a tapping blur. Apparently, foreplay had been forgotten and replaced by thoughts of being late for fresh-baked bread bowls.

  Geez, I guess these two really aren’t so different... always thinking with their stomachs, he thought with a smile.

  “Ready?” he asked, looking up at what looked to be about a six-and-a-half-foot white rabbit.

  “Bro—I’ve been ready millicycles ago!” she exclaimed, excitedly grabbing his arm with a yank. Quicker than a blink, they both stood in front of the door, her hind paw again thumping in an impatient blur as she waited for it to open.

  “Geez, these doors take ages... Come on already!”

  *Thunk—Whoosh—*

  “Finally!”

  *Boof*

  *Kathunk*

  They disappeared in a flash, poor Nick dangling behind the excited Alice like a flag blown in a hurricane with only her paw tethering him as she sprinted to the mess hall, dodging any other hall-wandering beings, only stopping for auto-doors and the occasional transport tube to make it to their destination. The smell of the kitchen started wafting through the halls as she made her way to the massive mess hall.

  *Errrrk!*

  She stopped abruptly, catching Nick by the chest—stopping him from being catapulted forward by the sudden halt. Her brow furrowed as her gaze settled on the end of the line. With a heavy sigh, she fell in with the other early risers eager to get a bowl of fresh soup.

  She looked down at the dizzy human still clasped to her paw. Gently, she grabbed his tightly clamped hand, pulled it free with her other paw, and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him in close.

  “Aww—buns! Looks like I might’ve not gotten us here fast enough.”

  Nick blinked at her, confused.

  “Not-fast-enough...? *ARE YOU INSANE*?! I thought my face was going to peel off!”

  She elbowed him, knocking him off balance as she shushed him.

  “Hush, you. I wasn’t even running full speed... Captain already said if I did that again on ship for anything less than an emergency, she’d ban my snacks and put me on latrine duty for two decka-cycles. Plus, you don’t want to get ejected from the line,” she whispered.

  He looked at her tiptoeing and tugged her long ear down, making her eep in surprise.

  “Why are we whispering all conspiratorially?”

  She playfully slapped at his hand, releasing her ear and rubbing it.

  “Oh, don’t start that... Tiff already told me you had a thing for ears. Then you’ll have two girls to contend with,” she whispered, shooting him a smug smile. A streak of pink shimmered across her pearlescent white hair and disappeared.

  Nick raised a finger to protest—until she placed a paw over his mouth.

  “Trust me when I say you don’t want to be ejected from the line.” Her ears swiveled toward the front, twitching subtly.

  “And to answer your question... looks like Jaxed is about to be made an example of by the chef.”

  Nick looked to the front of the line, where a creature that looked like a large Siberian tiger mixed with a human male bodybuilder—one who clearly lived in the gym—was getting loud with an odd-looking lizard creature. The lizard reminded Nick of a short, heavy-set kobold from a D&D manual (which he still had a hard copy of back in his old room at home). Its blue scales shimmered as it grew more agitated.

  “Look, I don’t care if the ingredients are new from that mudball *EART* planet—the texture is disgusting and it throws off the soup!” the tiger complained, causing the short blue creature to hiss, flicking a tongue at the offending cat.

  Thud. The chef’s tail slammed heavily on the floor, rattling the stacks of bowls and echoing through the quiet mess hall.

  “Look, you feline ingrate! Read the sign!” The chef waved a long-handled ladle at a glyphed sign on the wall beside him:

  *I reserve the right by Director Zurri to refuse service to anyone*

  “I slave over a hot stove for Decka-cycles, trying to give you ungrateful ingrates a hot—fresh—unreplicated meal... and this is the thanks I get?! You, who only knows how to kill and hurt? Who never did more to cook than push buttons and glyphs on a machine, are going to tell me what ingredients work with my recipes?!”

  The burly tiger wilted like a plucked flower in the sweltering summer heat under the chef’s tongue-lashing, still trying to protest his reasoning. The chef wouldn’t hear any of it.

  “But... all I said was I didn’t like the yellow chunks...”

  “NO SOUP FOR YOU! Next!”

  “But... but...” the tiger floundered.

  “Go back to your prepackaged protein! You’re banned for two and a half decka-cycles!”

  “But...”

  “Go on, get now.”

  Another tiger nudged him aside, handing the chef a large empty bowl.

  “Aaaah, Zelsh... How’s the family back home?” Chef Zex asked, his scaly claw reaching over the basket of still-steaming bread balls. He picked up a thin curved blade, pressing his thumb lightly on the handle. It glowed as he sliced through the top of the bread ball, toasting the fresh crust as it cut. He hollowed it out with the same precision, setting the insides and lid on a small dish, which he handed to the grateful tiger.

  Zelsh bowed respectfully, placing the plate gently on his tray. The chef set the hollowed bread inside and began ladling in the fresh soup. Its rich aroma drifted down the corridor, past the mess hall.

  “They’re great, sir. Thank you for asking, Chef Zex—and thank you for the meal.”

  He bowed again, accepting the bowl with both hands.

  “You’re very welcome, my friend,” Zex replied with a curt nod. “I wish your nincompoop of a partner were as courteous as you... Hey, you! Back alley cat! Didn’t I tell you to scram?!”

  Time seemed to freeze in the mess hall as everyone turned to Jaxed, whose brain was still stuck in a mental loop of audible “buts.”

  Zex paused, waiting for Jaxed to snap out of it. He didn’t—just kept mumbling “but” over and over. With a sigh, Zex glided his claw over a crystal inlay beside him, triggering holo-fliers to pop up across the mess hall. Each one displayed a picture of Jaxed’s befuddled BUT face, complete with a countdown timer.

  Jaxed blinked, still looping, as the posters shimmered around him like a shame parade.

  Zelsh stepped aside to avoid holding up the line, tray in hand, while Zex continued serving with practiced care—switching conversations seamlessly, addressing each crew member with gruff warmth. He picked up the thread with Zelsh as if they were the only two in the room.

  “Sir, I apologize on behalf of my partner... He’s not malicious, just—an idiot with no filter before his mouth.” Zelsh’s eyes slitted as he glared at the partner in question.

  “Is there some way he can work it off? Make recompense for how he acted?”

  Zex frowned, grumbling as he reached up with a claw to curl one of his two tentacles—each hanging from either side of his muzzle, resembling a mustached man in deep thought.

  “You! Alley cat! Get in here and start slicing and hollowing out these bread balls so we can feed these people!”

  Jaxed jolted awake, darted forward, then leapt over the counter with surprising agility—only to crumple mid-air as a small frying pan clanged against his head. Zex re-hooked the pan on the wall and kept serving.

  The cat stood up, rubbing his sore, muscular head with a thick orange-and-black striped paw.

  “Sir, what was that for?” he asked, confused, shuffling over to the large metal basket of bread balls beside the counter.

  “Idiot—use the side entrance next time. Here.” Zex didn’t look up as he tossed him the bread knife.

  Jaxed caught it without issue, flipping the blade in his hand out of habit. Zex held up a pre-cut bread ball, demonstrating how to flick the heater on and properly hollow it out.

  For the first time since the line incident, Jaxed followed the chef’s instructions with surprising precision—until something fell on his head, causing him to flinch and nick his thumb.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Yeeeaaw!” the cat yowled.

  “You’re supposed to have better reflexes than that, cat. Get that cut away from the food before you spoil it. Grab some sealant from the med kit on the wall over there, clean your contamination up, and get back to work. Put that apron on you failed to catch so spectacularly—you’re mine for the next two rush shifts, so look the part.”

  Jaxed’s throat emitted a guttural growl as he held up the dainty pink apron with a cartoonish picture of Chef Zex’s face in all of its grumpy embroidered glory, with glyphs underneath that read: *Honorable Chef Zex’s Little Helper*

  He managed to squeeze his large, boxy, muscular head through the doily-laced neck strap, then quickly tied the back strap around a belt loop on each side of his cargo pants—since it wouldn’t fit around him. Without further protest, he went to work on the bread. In short order, they became a fantastic bread-bowl-making, soup-slinging team, knocking out the ship hands in quick, orderly fashion.

  Jaxed ignored the howls and catcalls from those brave enough not to worry about him finding them later for possible repercussions—or those who simply didn’t care if they got booted from the line, Zex wouldn’t eject them for this anyway, just so his *LITTLE* helper received the full brunt of the punishment.

  Alice nudged Nick forward as the line began to shuffle ahead with unusual but welcome speed. Not far from the front, she slipped ahead of him. Nick found it odd but didn’t pay it much mind—until something heavy and warm settled on his head.

  It felt like two soft, medicine-ball-sized objects of warmth and squish, stuffed into stretchy material, lowered gently but deliberately—smooshing onto his head and blocking his view. He froze as a hot burst of breath blasted down on him.

  “Hmmm, I know those vision-blocking orbs of gelatinous mass…” Nick jokingly muffled out.

  When he turned his head, the mass shifted just enough for him to see Tiffany’s glowing green eyes peering out at him, her long tongue lolling out to lick the sides of her canines.

  “Ahhhh… there you are,” Nick replied with a curt smile.

  “Not even one night and already cheating on me, eh, love?” she grinned. Her tail said the rest for her with heavy thumps.

  Before he could protest, her arms wrapped around his torso, pulling him into the soft, yet firm, warm medicine-ball embrace of full floofyness. He caught the tip of her tail whipping from side to side. Her warmth and scent were comforting, her soft heartbeat thrumming in resonance with that low mechanical purr he’d nicknamed her happy growl.

  “Hey, Tiff. Miss me?” he murmured, smiling as he buried his face into her floof and hugged her back.

  “More than you know, little man... more than you know.”

  Tears rolled down her face, dripping into Nick’s messy hair. The dampness seeped through to his skin. He lifted his face from the patch of floof puffed up from her cleavage, looked up at her, and reached up to wipe her tears with his thumb.

  “Nope—none of that. I missed you too. Come on... let’s go get some breakfast.”

  Her ears flicked up, swiveling toward a few laughing patrons jeering juvenilely ahead in line. She eyed the scoffers, then pinched the air beside her muzzle, tracing from one side of her thin black lips to the other in a zipper motion. Just in case anyone missed the point, she raised her red, furry balled fist and slowly cracked her knuckles—one-handed.

  The chuckles and snickers stopped immediately. Everyone in front turned around to mind their business.

  She sat Nick down, facing him toward the front of the line, making him jump with a playful swat to the butt from her tail. He grinned, looking back at her.

  “Careful, might break me again.”

  She snorted at his jest, trying to keep a straight face.

  “Hardly. If that hurts you now, I want a refund.”

  “Sorry—no reconstitutions, rainchecks, refunds, or mulligans,” he replied quietly, still mindful of where they were.

  “Good, that’s the spirit. You’ve got a lot of make-up training later.”

  Her tail kept thumping happily against the wall as she shuffled forward in line.

  “Hey! You at the back! Stop that thumping!”

  Tiff’s eyes went wide with panic as she spotted Chef Zex glaring from his stoop, leaning over the counter to eye her. He gave a satisfied nod and released a sharp snort of steam from his nostrils as she reached back, caught her fluffy tail, and held it still until she calmed down.

  As the rest of the ship hands filed in, got their meals, and found a table, Alice bobbed up in line to accept her bowl and bread happily. Nick watched, the happy bobbing bun, finally received her bread bowl. What happened next probably shouldn’t have surprised him—but it did.

  Chef Zex looked up at the cheerful bunny and, instead of filling the bread with the tasty-looking soup, set his ladle down and gently grabbed her paws with his blue-scaled, clawed fingers, squeezing and shaking them.

  “Alice! My favorite food connoisseur! How are you? I was beginning to worry when you missed the last fresh food serving. Are you well? Your fur looks radiant, dear.” He paused, eyeing her figure and checking her fur tint to make sure he was right. “You look like you’ve been eating well. Anyway, I think this new recipe will knock your paw pads out from under you—the ingredients came from... I think they called it *Ert*?” He scratched the top of his scaled head under his black, box-shaped hat with gold trim that matched his coat and slacks.

  “Aww—buns, that’s so sweet! No, honorable Chef Zex, I had to work a double, so someone ran me some food from the replicators,” she replied happily, still shaking his clawed hands.

  “That simply won’t do! Com me next time that happens and I’ll send you a delivery droid with a fresh serving.” He grinned, letting her paws return to her tray as he filled her bread bowl and added an extra bowl beside it.

  “Here—a little something for missing last time,” he said. For the first time that evening, he seemed genuinely happy, his dark blue scales shifting from cobalt to a lighter blue.

  Alice bowed her thanks and stepped to the side, eyeing the still-working Jaxed.

  “You know... I love a man who can work in the kitchen... especially someone who's, so— good with bread... and omg, you look so hot in that apron!” Her hair shimmered from its white pearlescent hue to a burning pink.

  Jaxed noticed the shift as he looked up. The bread bowl he was holding dropped to the counter, the knife landing beside it with a clatter.

  *Ulp.* Jaxed was at a loss for words, his paws fumbling to find the bread and knife again.

  “Thanks... Alice,” was all the hulking tiger managed to croak out.

  “Tell you what, hot stuff... after my shift ends, how about you come over to my cabin and... butter my buns?” She turned, giving him a wink and an exaggerated wiggle of her hips as she bounded off to an empty table. She stopped and turned back, looking at him again, her hair still burning pink.

  “Oh—and wear that cute apron too!”

  She walked to the table with a bounce in her step, teasing him with every purposeful sway of her thick hips.

  “Back to work, you... and you better bring that apron back in one piece—and clean, too.” Zex scolded the tiger in a gruff voice, his thick tail slapping heavily on the floor for emphasis.

  “Yes, sir, Chef Zex!” the cat yowled back respectfully.

  The chef grunted his approval before turning to the odd-looking pink creature before him—one not much bigger than himself.

  “Ah—newbie. Where are you from?”

  Nick managed to keep his composure with the chef, who seemed oddly nice to him.

  *Huh. Guess he’s a nice guy as long as you’re respectful*, Nick thought, choosing his words carefully.

  “Yes, sir. Honorable Chef. Just got here from *ERT*, as you put it... probably shipped in with the delicious-looking ingredients you received.”

  That earned a hearty chuckle from the kobold-looking chef.

  “It’s an honor. Welcome aboard the Bismarck. I hope your service is a long and healthy one,” Zex replied, cupping his hat and offering a courteous bow.

  “I hope so too. My partner’s been doing an excellent job keeping me safe and on the straight and narrow.”

  He received his bowl and bread, setting them on his tray as he moved aside and nodded to Tiffany.

  “Hey, Chef Zex,” she said with a small wave.

  “Aaah, Mademoiselle Tiffany. So glad to see you among the living... This dish is special. I know how much you like meat, but I hope you’ll give it a try.”

  He handed her the bowl with outstretched, clawed hands, bowing slightly as he offered it.

  I’m sure whatever your brilliant taste has concocted will be glorious. Thank you, Chef.”

  She gave a curt bow with her tray in front as the couple made their way to sit beside Alice.

  Nick sat across from her, and Alice wasted no time being her flirtatious self. As soon as they sat down, her wiggly digipads slid between Nick’s legs, making him jump slightly. She smiled at him, then rolled her eyes and plopped her paw back on the floor when Tiffany cut her a sharp glare.

  Nick looked between the two.

  “Soooo... what’s Chef Zex’s story?”

  Tiff ignored the question, focusing on the food in front of her. She lapped it up eagerly—then stopped abruptly, her tongue stuck out with a yellow chunk clinging to it. Without a word, she grabbed her large spoon and, as Nick and Alice chatted, began stealthily transferring the yellow chunks into Nick’s bowl. He knew, but pretended not to notice, focusing on Alice.

  “Well... Chef Zex grew up poor on a backwater planet like yours... except his was a port planet. Mainly vagabonds and drifters lived there, besides shippers and parts slingers...” Her hind paw drifted up his leg again, resting softly on his crotch. He didn’t jump this time, but something else did. He just sat nodding at Alice’s story, trying to keep a straight face in spite of his girl next to him and what was going on under the table. He noticed, even with her carrying the conversation with feigned innocence, her pearlescent hair shifted and radiated pink.

  He noticed out of the corner of his eye, Tiff awkwardly paused from her lapping, her nose sticking straight up like an animal in the wild catching a scent on the wind. Her nostrils flared, her hand crept under the table, pinching Alice’s big digi toe, making her eep! The girls traded scowls as Alice relented, rolling her eyes.

  “Will you stop that? We’re in public,” Tiffany said, reprimanding her incorrigible friend.

  Tiff snorted at her friend and went back to lapping her soup. Alice snorted back, mocking her, before continuing her story—her hair shifting back to its calm white.

  “I apologize for my very... wild friend. Sometimes she can’t—well, most times she can’t control herself. Anyway,” she eyed Alice, “if someone can not be a horny schoolgirl for more than two Minacycles...”

  “Fine—I’ll try not to hop your partner till after my shift starts,” Alice replied, squinting at Tiff.

  Tiff went back to her soup before pausing, shooting Alice a look.

  “Hey—” Tiff caught onto Alice’s open-loop agreement, but before she could interject, Nick butted in to steer the conversation.

  “So Alice, tell me more about Zex.”

  Alice continued her story.

  “Well, the short version is he put in for a chore boy at one of the local prisons on SG-132—his home world. He liked working in the kitchen, plus he never had to worry about going hungry. Learned how to cook and doubled as chore boy and assistant cook. One day, there was a prison break on his shift...” Alice briefly stopped, going back to her food as she checked the time on her com, trying to hurry with her meal.

  “Oh my gosh—this is so good!”

  Nick stared at her for a brief moment and went to his own meal, tasting it. It was good—velvety and creamy. The chunks of vegetables were distinctive. He ate a spoonful of yellow chunks that mysteriously continued to replicate themselves in his bowl.

  “Oh wow, this is good! This almost tastes like shrimp and corn bisque—no shrimp, but the creaminess and texture are there.”

  Alice smiled, glad that Nick not only had good taste in friends, but food also.

  “Hey, before you leave, you should tell Zex that. Never hurts to befriend the one who preps your food—especially if it’s sincere,” Alice replied, toeing Nick’s shin with a wink.

  “Yeah, the corn is especially good. I’m surprised Tiff ate all of it. Isn’t that right, Tiff?” Nick deadpanned, looking over at her finishing her soup and using the bread to clean the rest.

  “Oh... I guess Zex forgot to give me any...” She looked back at him, trying to look innocent as she licked her muzzle clean with her large canine tongue.

  “Hm... that simply won’t do. I think the Chef would agree you’d miss the full experience if an ingredient was missing. Hold that thought—I’ll go ask him for a sample bowl.”

  Before he could stand up more than halfway, Tiff grabbed him between the shoulders with a large hand, pressing him back into his seat.

  “Don’t-you-dare,” she replied quietly and gruffly.

  Alice wiggled in close, leaning toward Nick across the table.

  “Did I miss something?” she asked in a whisper.

  Nick leaned in, meeting her the rest of the way like the two of them were conspiring in some shady dealings.

  “You know I can hear you perfectly fine...” Tiffany replied, not looking at the two, her ears twitching and swiveling between Nick and Alice as they conspired.

  “I know... but this is fun. I like him—he actually plays along with me. Can I have joint custody?” Alice asked in a low whisper, eyeing her friend.

  Tiff rolled her eyes this time at Alice, mocking her friend.

  “Gods, you’re incorrigible...” she huffed, folding her arms.

  “Shhh—don’t tell anyone... It’s a secret,” Alice whispered, looking between the two, then winking at Nick, who—still in full character—stoked the fire with her as he whispered back.

  “Apparently—” Nick waved Alice in closer. One ear dropped to him, which he grabbed and spoke softly into. “Tiffany... doesn’t like corn...”

  Alice jumped back in mock shock, both paws clasped over her mouth.

  “Nooooo! Mrs. Garbage Disposal... who’s always hungry? Her, right here?” she asked, looking at Nick and pointing a paw at Tiff.

  Tiff glared, her face dropping in unamusement at Alice.

  Nick closed his eyes, nodding his head with his arms crossed in front of him.

  “Keep that up and I’ll tie you up and stuff you in a supply closet. And you—isn’t your shift about to start?” Tiff growled out.

  “You wouldn’t dare do that to him. You know how much I love foreplay and a captive audience,” Alice replied, waggling her eyebrows at Tiff.

  Tiff closed her eyes as she started to massage her temples, elbows on the table.

  “So what happened at the prison? Short version if you want?” Nick asked.

  Alice’s focus snapped back to Nick in a professional manner.

  “Oh! Well, a chain of events actually. Director Zurri was on a transport ship dropping off a new batch of arrestees, and someone had the bright idea of trying to break out and cut through the kitchen. Let’s just say our Iron Chef held his own... with an iron skillet. The breakout was foiled and he received a promotion for going above and beyond. Zurri stayed for lunch and was so impressed with his actions, character, and cooking she offered him a position on the Bismarck. Even though we already had food replicators, it’s not as good as fresh-cooked food. Zurri put in a request to retrofit the kitchen to accommodate a living staff and keep the replicators for ingredients or quick meals. It definitely boosted morale... unless you insult the cook like Jaxed did.”

  Alice said as she pointed her spoon toward the kitchen, her red and teal eyes meeting Jaxed still working, making him stumble with his hand movements as she winked and blew him a kiss.

  “Well, this morning was a blast. Thanks, Nick!” she exclaimed, finishing the rest of her food and getting up. She slid her tray next to Nick’s and hurried to the other side of the table (normal-humanish-hurry speed) and gave Nick a tight squeeze.

  “I gotta bolt. Com me if she locks you in a utility closet,” she leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “I wanna take full advantage of the mistake if she does.”

  She ruffled his already mussed bedhead and hopped over to Tiff, giving her a hug. Tiff affectionately patted Alice’s arm before slapping at her as Alice’s paw strategically rerouted from a hug to a slide—groping one of Tiff’s melon-sized breasts and thumbing a pert nipple—winning an audible gasp and an almost-playful face slap that just missed Alice as she dodged and reappeared next to Nick to grab her tray. She smiled, waved, blew Tiff a razzberry, then disappeared, reappeared at the tray drop-off, and disappeared again—one final time, most likely to go to her station.