>It’s been a couple days since your afternoon delight with your landlord. You’ve spent them trudging through your usual routine, with the small addition of small panic attacks before going to bed at the end of your day. >The texts from your Ariannis do add some variety. Usually you only get text notifications when your library books are almost due, but due to recent events Ariannis’s number is no stranger to your text history. >There must be a lull in her daily schedule, since she always texts you at around the same time. The messages switch between personal and professional freely; sometimes she is asking what your favorite color is and what sizes you wear, and other times she is reminding you that . Who you will be meeting, how you should behave and respond. Generally they are vague and are no help without context that you don’t have. >Things like the organization structure of the Family. Up at the top is Grandpa Ivers, whom you will most likely not run into. Then there are the Aunts and Uncles, who run their own operations. Ariannis is this rank. After them is the Nieces and Nephews, like the goons you’ve seen with Ari, but aren't not limited to just goon status. The lowest are Cousins, who are usually just business contacts who have been brought within the Family but aren’t actively involved with anything. >They really went all in on this naming scheme, didn't they? >Her texting style is distinctly brisk. It’s almost like a telegram; take today’s message for example, “Don’t worry about driving. I’m sending someone. 4pm. Moose. His name is Jacob. Don’t stare. Dress well. ” You take some amusement in the fact that her texts come across almost like a spy’s secret messages. Sparse and to the point. Really, it’s in line with how your first impression of her was. -- >Which only makes her latest impression all the more stand out. Despite a haphazard attempt at meditation, you can’t meld together the dangerous woman who forced you into a relationship by threat of inevitable eviction and the purring feline so desperate for affection yet torn by her duties that she had to pull herself off of you before running off. >That last description forces you to pause, and you take a moment of introspection to hold a mental roll call. Sure enough, Romeo Anon was there, feet kicked up on his desk at the mental council. You’ve had three days to put him down before this and quash any stupid romantic notions regarding Ariannis. Any and all attempts have failed, and his favorite method of payback is replaying select moments of passion between you and your anthro fling. >You suspect you’re having such a hard time getting rid of him because of your relatively sparse love life. If you had gotten any action in the past couple weeks, the naked and debaucherous horde that lives in the primal parts of your mind wouldn’t be rallying behind Romeo Anon. Now they’re jumping onto the first ship with wind in its sails in almost two years. Romeo Anon desires the flame of romance, and the horde cries out for all the booty it can get; it’s no surprise they joined forces. >Shaking this nonsense out of your head, you give yourself one more once over in the bathroom mirror. Dark blue dress shirt, freshly ironed. Black slacks, held up with a brown belt. This about as well dressed as you can get without a wardrobe makeover or a rented suit. Hopefully you won’t be judged too harshly about the fact that your maximum level of fanciness caps out at ‘church clothes.’ >While you stew in anxiety over whether or not to wear a tie, there is a solemn series of knocks at your door. It makes you pause, and you take a deep breath. >Show time. You haven’t felt this nervous since your last job interview. -- >While you make your way to the door, you pull your phone from its charger. No way in Hell were you going to get caught with a dead phone. You pat your pocket twice to check if your wallet is still there, before nodding to yourself in conformation. >There is another, less patient set of knocks that stop when you turn the door knob. >Pulling the door open, you immediately are stunned by the form in front of you. As your neck cranes upwards to look at this person’s face, you realize that they are distinctly not a moose. >Or, if they are, they’re the most canine looking albino moose you’ve ever laid eyes on, who has replaced their massive antlers with the daintiest pointed ears on the planet. Christ, you’re no manlet, but this giant has a good foot on you. >Giantess. While reeling in your surprise, your head returns to level and you find yourself face to face with a rack that most definitely fits the size of the person in front of you. It has to be a wolf, because she has some sort of dangerous, feral air around her. >You open your mouth as you force yourself to look up again, locking eyes with an ice blue gaze. You’re getting serious Ari vibes from this woman, but she still isn’t the moose that was supposed to be picking you up. >Whatever was about to come out of your throat is silenced by the sudden bark from the woman in front of you. “Are you Anon?” It’s good that her tone pinned you in place, because her volume almost made you take a step back. >Part of you wonders if she has an inside voice. Still, being around Ari has allowed you to find your voice in situations that a week ago you would be scared silent by. “Uh, yeah. That’s me. Excuse me if this comes across a bit rude, but you don’t look like a Jacob. Or a moose.” -- >The woman only stares at you, taking a deep breath inward as if she’s restraining her reaction. It gives you time to take the required step back in order to see the entirety of your guest. The first thing that comes to mind is that she is incredibly overdressed for a mid-city apartment complex. >She has black three piece suit on, which contrasts her fur excluding the stark white tie pinned underneath the vest. Which is already ridiculous in this setting, but on top of all that is the jacket. >You can see the quality of the jacket even with your low class, coupon assisted vision. It’s fluffy collar alone is probably worth more than your shitty car. And that’s not even the best value; this woman looks like a goddamn Tekken character. >While you’re debating whether or not she has the Devil Gene, she finishes her stare down and speaks again. “Jacob was called away to a more pressing issue. Ariannis’s insistence that someone come collect one of her tenants for tonight’s gathering had me intrigued. And now, I’m just disgusted.” Finally she exhales, with equal weight of her inhale. >At this point you’re so confused you can’t even manage to change the expression on your face. It’s obvious she has some sort of relation to Ari; she didn’t even need to speak for that to come across. Just when your stupor empowered poker face starts to shift, you feel a single finger dash underneath your chin and then hook into the collar of your shirt. >She jerks you forward, and your forced to stumble in her direction when she hisses through her teeth. “Not even a tie. Just what kind of filth is Ariannis dragging into my presence if her guest can’t even be bothered to dress himself properly?” As she is expressing her distaste, you get a whiff of something that smells something like mint, but with a metallic tinge to it. -- >You swear you’re about to be lifted off the ground when she lets go of your shirt. As you try to catch back up to reality and decipher what the fuck is going on, you hear her tsk in disappointment. “You’ll just have to wear one of my spares. I won’t be able to stand the sight of you otherwise. Come with me, dirt; if I waste anymore time my perfume will be wearing off by dessert.” >With that, she turns around and her seven foot shadow finally leaves your doorway. The distinct sound of heels clicking down the stone steps is what pulls out your stunned state. Shaking your head, your straighten out your shirt collar before stepping out of your apartment. >Ari has been directly involved with your life for less than half a month, and you’re afraid that there is a good chance this fashion forward amazon of a wolf isn’t even the worst person you’re going to meet tonight. >As you close the door behind you, you realize that you hear an already running engine down on the street. Turning around, you feel your gut twist. >Ariannis liked to ride around in a convertible, but she didn’t exactly scream money. As you look down from your second floor balcony, you take a deep breath as you look at the status symbol idling in the parking lot. >Your friends in high school used to joke about riding in limos with beautiful women, but there it was; only four doors but it still had a couple chair row’s worth of length over your own car. >It wasn’t some ridiculous road monster that needed to announce its turns three weeks ahead of time by emailing all major news networks of its intent to take a left on Jefferson Avenue. >Still, the polished black form had no business sitting in the parking lot of a cheap apartment complex. >The expecting look of her chauffeur, still holding open the door for you, forces you to hustle as you make your way down the rest of the stairs. At this point, you’re pretty sure your poor is showing. -- >The man’s professionalism is probably the only thing keeping him from spitting on you, it feels like. As you slide into tinted backseat of the vehicle, several things come to mind. >One, this seat feels better on your ass than your bed does. And it’s just one continuous couch seat that stretches along the side of vehicle. >Two, this thing must be part TARDIS because despite being a car, there is more room in here than you have in your own bathroom. >Three, being stuck in an enclosed space only further emphasizes her size; the roof must be raised though, since there are a few inches between it and the tip of her almost comically disproportionate ears. >And four, she was serious about the tie thing. >Where you imagine there is usually a mini bar in a limo like this, there is instead a mini wardrobe. There are several drawers in the middle that no doubt contain several neatly folded outfits. >She however is busying herself with a pull out drawer, where several ties are hanging off of three hooks. Now that you’re settled into the car, she keeps looking your way, specifically at your shirt, before shuffling through the selection in front of her. >You catch her muttering something about humans not having fur to color match to, but at the moment you’re a bit occupied by the spectacle in front of you. >The sound of her clearing her throat brings you back to attention, and she’s holding a solid black tie. “Trust me when I say we should both be grateful that black goes with anything.” With practiced effort she slides her massive body over to yours. She’s on you within a few seconds and you wonder if every woman in Ari’s ‘Family’ is this intimidating when they invade someone’s personal space. >Seriously, she could shoulder check you in this limo and you’re pretty sure she would shatter your rib cage. -- >”Tell me, dirt. Do you know how to tie your own tie, or is the concept foreign to you?” From the look on her face as she asks the question, she seems to have already made a guess on how you will answer. >Good thing you’ve got her on this one. You fight grinning as you take the tie from her, “It’s been awhile since I had to put one on, but I’ve been to enough weddings and interviews that it’s muscle memory.” >She simply huffs, no doubt about to say some line about the lower class breeding like vermin or something. Instead, she surprises you this time, “So you simply decided that being invited to this dinner didn’t have at least the same importance as a job interview, dirt?” >You give a weak shrug as you start settling the cloth around your neck. “I wasn’t sure if this was something that called for a tie. If I knew it was, I would have gone with one.” Seriously, if you had known it was going to get this woman off of your back, you would have put on a tie for that alone. >Your snarky thought is interrupted by a white finger thrust against your forehead, pushing your head back. “Anon, if you’re going to learn a single lesson tonight, then let it be this one; if you’re leaving your home for any reason, you should be wearing a matching tie.” She doesn’t breath after she says this, staring right at you. Christ, she’s serious about this. >After a beat, she finally leans back into her own seat before adding a caveat, “Just as well, no tie worth wearing goes with a graphic tee. As such, graphic tees are verboten, since they can’t be matched with a tie.” >And just like that, this woman cannot be allowed to inspect your closet; you have enough stupid nerd shit that she would probably decide that the bloodstains on her jacket from beating you to death would be an acceptable price to pay for putting an end to the fashion war crime that is your wardrobe. -- >You finish a standard Windsor Knot before you fall back onto the criminally comfortable limo seat. “So…who is teaching me this lesson? You haven’t introduced yourself. You, uh, don’t carry yourself the same way Ari’s usual, um, help does.” >The towering wolf nods along with what you say, looking at her hand as she rolls her thumb over her finger tips. “At this rate, dirt, you already have more intuition than Ariannis’s usual help.” >Once again she’s staring at you. It makes you shiver, reminding you of a aforementioned cyclopian feline. Except, unlike how Ari usually would be leaning in and giving you a danger stiffy, this canine is staying put and letting her gaze be a true threat. >Well, this is just is a reminder that it wasn’t just your raw sex appeal that made Ari sheath her claws. >”Judging by that stupid question, Ariannis must have wanted to answer your questions as they came rather than the traditional method. You will refer to me as Auntie Eileen.” She palms her own chest, posturing as best she could while sitting in this tall limo. >”I don’t know what your relationship with Ariannis is, but you WILL refer to me as Auntie. And if you want to avoid trouble, you will refer to her as AUNTIE Ariannis while in the presence of others, as well as avoiding that nickname you’ve given her.” Eileen becomes tight lipped as she continues. “It would cause some uncomfortable moments if the newest member of the Family is casually referring to his superior as if they were best of friends.” >Immediately you put your hands up, “Woah, I’m not part of whatever this Family business is. I’m just doing a favor for Ari- Auntie Ariannis. That’s it.” Oh goddammit. You had a feeling you would get wrapped up in whatever mafia and/or mob nonsense Ari had going on, but you were pretty certain you didn’t sign up for full on recruitment. -- >Eileen crosses her leg, surprisingly lady like for someone her size. “Poor, confused Cousin Dirt. That makes you family, whether you like it or not. Since you’re so confused, I’ll make sure to talk to Ariannis as to why you’re being brought in. I’m just as curious as you are, and she owes me a few secrets anyways.” >You start to say something, but you only sigh before letting your head slump in defeat as Eileen rests her hands on her knees. In the corner of your vision, you can see the woman tilt her head in almost classical canine fashion. You’re not entirely sure if you want to know what she is thinking about. It doesn’t seem like she’s one to mix her criminal activities with other, more palatable hobbies. >”Say, Cousin Dirt…” She hums, deep in thought, “There is an important party coming up soon. I can take along a plus one, and, well…” >Oh no. This isn’t going where you think it’s going is it? >”Cross species relationships are just all the rage right now. If I could clean you up, you wouldn’t look half bad next to me. I bet that would really turn some heads.” She strokes her chin as she looks over you coldly, like a butcher sizing up a carcass. “Consider your second job already lined up, whenever you’re done with whatever Ariannis has planned for you.” >You’ve seen horror movies with more forgiving twists than this.