>Taking a breath to center yourself, you wade through the tables over the rodent man who waved you down before you were interrupted by the twins.
>He seems to be surprised, blinking as you come closer. And then he becomes nervous, wrapping his hands together as his fingers squeeze and wiggle.
>Judging by his general chubbiness, you guess he’s a hamster. Gerbils are a little leaner, you remind yourself.
>All the same he continues to fidget, throwing nervous glances in your direction as you take a seat at his table.
>”Hey.” You say, breaking the ice as casually as you can. “Is this your first dinner too? Or are you always this jumpy?”
>The sound of your voice makes him jump. “Y-yes, I mean no! I mean, this is the first time I’ve been invited for the dinner.” He chitters.
>He probably had waved you over thinking you were in a similar situation to him, but now he seems pretty spooked.
>”Is this really the first time you’ve been invited to on of the Family’s dinner parties? You seemed pretty casual to those two. They’re, uh, Older Nieces, right? They came from the closer tables.” He wrings his hands some more as you settle into your chair.
>You lazily throw up your hands, “Buddy, if I could have gone tonight without attracting any attention, I would have. This last week has been bad for my nerves.”
>True enough. You’re not losing sleep over things just yet, but you can’t escape the niggling feeling that you’re one poorly managed conversation from ruining things not just for you, but for Ariannis as well.
>As friendly as their namesake is, calling themselves the Family and all that, criminal organizations aren’t exactly playgrounds.
>Eileen was worried about you being a plant for the FBI, but you’re more worried as being seen as the easiest way to get at Ari.
--
>Something you’re just now realizing was probably what Eileen was going to say next before their spat got interrupted.
>In your case, you are less worried about Ariannis’s career than you are about the fact that you might be ideal kidnapping material.
>The hamster’s enthusiastic nodding distracts you from the encroaching feeling of dread. “I understand that. Dealing with the higher ups can turn you into a wreck. It took me a three months with the Family before I even met Uncle Bren, and when I did I almost spilled coffee on him from how badly my hands were shaking.” He says, his body language deflating as if he stepped out of a confession booth.
>His story causes you to raise an eyebrow. “If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been working with the Family?” You ask, trying your best to be friendly.
>He leans back, rolling a finger in a circle as he counts through the time. “About…eight months now? I was approached by Cousin Sandy to help fudge some numbers for the Family. You?”
>You consider lying, but Ari told you what to say in this situation. “I’m uh, pretty new. I’m Aunt Ariannis’s, ah, stress relief partner.” You give a weak shrug.
>It takes a few moments of him staring at you before he pieces it together. Thank god, because you were two seconds from fingerbanging your own hand to make it that much clearer.
>When he realizes what you mean, he reels back before inching his chair away from you. Maybe it’s because of all the fur, but you can’t tell if his face is showing disgust or fear.
>You raise your hand to stop him, “Hey, hey, I’m at the cousins’ table, ain’t I? It’s not exactly a glorious job.”
>His face softens, and he shrugs back, “Ah, I suppose. Aunt Ariannis though? Jesus, I’ve seen her once, and she scares me. At least Uncle Bren looks friendly.”
>You have long accepted the fact that Ari looks like a Bond villain, so you don’t really correct him.
--
>Instead you wiggle your hand in an ‘eh’ motion, “She’s not so bad when she’s getting what she wants.” You explain.
>The hamster looks troubled, “Isn’t that how it works with basically every aunt and uncle?”
>You imagine Eileen isn’t too fun to be around even when she is surrounded by all of her favorite things, but you keep the name dropping to a minimum.
>”I’m pretty sure that’s also how it works with women in general, as far as I can tell you.” Your answer is pretty blunt, and you force a friendly, knowing smile. The sooner the topic shifts from ‘work’ the sooner you can think about more pleasant topics.
>Like what is actually for dinner tonight.
>Your glib must have caught him off guard, since he immediately flinches before giving a nervous laugh. “Y-yeah. Women in general, yeah.”
>That’s the second time you’ve gotten that kind of reaction from him. Either he’s incapable of connecting the concepts of ‘relationships’ and ‘The Family’ together, or this guy has all the romantic experience of an unmolested choir boy.
>You can’t fault him for that first possibility. If your job description wasn’t literally ‘give Aunt Ariannis the D when requested’ you would have some difficulty thinking of anybody in the Family in a sexual manner.
>Well, those twins weren’t so bad looking.
>That train of thought is immediately and aggressively derailed by a sense of self preservation. Given how your loyalty to Ariannis was checked by said twins the moment you walked into the dining room, wandering eyes are only going to get you killed.
>You just sit there scratching the side of your face, wondering at what point in your life infidelity carried the death penalty.
>The both of you are stewing in some level of awkwardness now. You congratulate yourself for clumsily killing the conversation with the one remotely normal person you’ve come across this evening.
--
>That must have been a mutual feeling between the both of you, since the hamster immediately speaks up to keep the silence from germinating into something even more socially poisonous. “Look at us, chatting away and we haven’t even learned each other’s names. I’m Terrin. Uh, Cousin Terrin I suppose is the full title.”
>He offers a hand, or paw, you’re never really sure what the difference is or when it’s called for, in hand/paw shake. You reach over and put a ‘I’m reliable and can be trusted’ level of firmness into the shake, and it seems to go over well enough as he smiles. No doubt reassured by the fact that he’s found someone else in over their head here.
>”Cousin Anon.” You answer in kind. Honestly, running into this guy might be the best thing to happen tonight. Though, you leave some room for whatever Ari has planned later, if Family related business doesn’t kill her mood or more pressingly get you killed.
>You admit to yourself that you’re have more than a passing interest in really getting it on with the blonde bombshell that is your land lady. Panic attacks and reasons for said panic attacks aside, that glimpse of an affection hungry mob boss has been stirring in your imagination for the past few days.
>Before you can properly sink into lurid daydreams or Terrin can interrupt them, there is a gentle ringing that sounds out across the dining room. The high pitch assures that it cuts through the droning of countless conversations.
>Looking around, you spot the source of the sound. There are several servants standing near a set of steel double doors, no doubt the kitchen, and two of them are ringing a pair of simple bells.
>You spot the scruffy canine butler standing in that group, but as you start to question the reasoning behind the bells their purpose becomes apparent.
>For the first time since you’ve sat down, the hall around you comes alive as people begin swarming towards the many tables.
--
>A literal dinner bell. You would be more amused if it wasn’t for the veritable horde moving in your direction.
>While you’re grimacing in anticipation, you glance over to Terrin.
>If it wasn’t for the orange fur covering his face, you would be pretty certain he’s gone white with fear. He looks over to you as if asking for instructions, but you can only offer a shrug.
>”Time to eat, I guess.” Your lackadaisical answer does nothing for his confidence, but he takes a deep breath and buckles down for whatever is coming next anyways.
>From your reasoning, you’ll only be sharing a table with other Cousins. Low ranking folk who’s only connection to the Family is whatever service they provide.
>Terrin pushes papers while fudging numbers, you provide orgasms and make out sessions. Between the two of you, you can’t think of anyone having anything more serious of a role while still being just a Cousin. Or anything more ridiculous; you’ve got the spectrum pretty covered.
>Everyone introduces themselves quickly enough, giving both name and ‘occupation,’ as it were.
>True to reason, the folks that join you lean more towards Terrin’s end of things. Barring Samuel, the otter car thief that sat next to you, everyone else is pretty tame.
>Alan, a human warehouse worker who tips off the Family on goods coming in. Sitting between him and Terrin is a cockatoo who introduces himself as Jackson, the personal mechanic of an Uncle who does his gig half for the pay, and half because he gets his hands on some exotic cars.
>There is some sort of ermine or weasel lady who joins you, but she doesn’t immediately volunteer what she does for the Family. She does give her name though. Valorie.
>You admit to yourself that she is good looking, but you like your insides to stay put so you don’t do more than introduce yourself.
>All she offers is that she is a companion for someone in the Family. There are a few sage nods of understanding from around the table, including from you.
--
>Everyone gets what she means immediately and drops the subject.
>Except Terrin.
>”You mean like how Anon is for Aunt Ariannis?”
>Friendship with Terrin is over. Despair is new best friend.
>The people are your table look over at the hamster at first, before back at you for confirmation. That butler did say it’s been years since Ariannis last sponsored someone, and you know from the grapevine that after her husband’s death she hasn’t been one for a public relationship. What that hamster just uttered was rumor mill gold.
>You choose to simply take a breath to center yourself, and avoid eye contact with Terrin. You might accidentally cut him with how sharp the daggers you would stare at him are.
>”It’s something similar, yes.” She answers curtly, clearing her throat. “I can’t say I disagree with her tastes.” The lithe mustelid offers a grin as she looks your way.
>One day you’ll find out why you suddenly developed a super power out of nowhere, and why that super power is turning on anthro chicks, but that will have to wait.
>You keep your best poker face on while she flirts before lowering your voice and finally speaking. “I, uh, appreciate the compliment, but that kind of stuff will get us both in trouble.” You keep your tone hushed, and the message gets across immediately.
>Everyone at the table straightens up as if someone may be watching, and there is a chorus of cleared throats and acknowledgement. Valorie apologizes in an equally hush voice, nodding in understanding.
>From then on the conversation goes on to various other things, with everyone doing their best to avoid any topic of Family related matters.
>Samuel and Jackson have plenty to talk about with their mutual interest in anything with a combustion engine, and that’s the conversation you decide to join. Terrin and Alan both seem to have an interest in playing the stock market, and they end up talking shop.
--
>Valorie opts to simply stay quiet. You do feel sorry for her as well as a bit guilty for going straight for the nuclear option, but tonight’s plan is playing it safe.
>She seems to be taking it with a plenty of grace, and seems to have recognized the rules of the game. What little she does say is mostly directed at the other people at the table.
>It’s just then that you realized just how choreographed this whole part of the occasion is. 
>With everyone in the dining hall seated, the wait staff are free to attend to their duties as they dance between tables. Every table has gets passed by one person with a pitcher of water, filling glasses.
>The second they walk off, they’re replaced by another identically dressed server bearing a pair of equally identical appetizers per table.
>Slices of warm, no doubt freshly baked bread practically stuffed into a basket. A chilled, shallow bowl of vegetables, with each offering cleanly sectioned off from the rest.
>Distraction food, perfect for nibbling.
>Before you can even reach for a handful of that bread, which you swear you can actually see a light spread of butter on each individual slice glistening from your seat, the next server is already there.
>”Good evening. This the menu for tonight’s dinner.” A calm voice interrupts your hungry reaching for the bread, and it catches everyone at the table off guard who was doing the same.
>Before you can turn to see who said it, a flat single page menu is being dealt to everyone seated in a blur that would make a black jack dealer flinch.
>You find yourself just a touch overstimulated by everything happening at once, first staring at the appetizers, then the flying menus, then realizing that everyone is doing the same.
>Finally, in sync with your fellow guests, you turn to face whoever is slinging these things like a magician.
--
>You look just in time to see a human, who couldn’t be more than twenty years old, bowing their head in servitude. “My name is Adrian, and I’ll be your hostess tonight. Please, take your time to decide on what you wish to have tonight. I will be back around shortly to take your order.”
>While technically you did hear what they said, you weren’t paying much attention. You were honestly too busy trying to figure out what Adrian was packing.
>All of the staff are wearing an identical uniform regardless of gender or species, and either this guy had the cutest pixie cut you had ever seen, or this chick was flatter than the otter next to you.
>She bows once more before dismissing herself. The table is silent for a moment, before everyone looks down at their respective menus.
>Suddenly feel a jab on your elbow. Samuel is looking at you, dead serious, “Yo man, you’re a human. Was that a girl or a guy?”
>The anthros at the table are all looking at you with varying level of apprehension, with Terrin’s desperate confusion and Valorie’s mild curiosity acting as the extremes.
>You offer a weak shrug, “I think that was a chick. She said she was our hostess.” You find yourself looking to the only fellow human at the table to confirm your hunch.
>Alan only shrugs in return, “I didn’t see an Adam’s apple. I’ll go with chick.”
>Valorie only clicks her tongue after taking a sip from her glass, “Either way, I need to know who does their hair.”
>”Amen to that,” Jackson chimes in. “I hope they do feathers.”
>There is a honest round of laughs, and with all previous tension evaporated by the encounter with an androgynous human, everyone finally settles in.
>Just in time to; you can see the fleet of drink carrying waiters approaching the tables.
>The menu and your Dr. Pepper can wait for a moment though. You almost lunge at the warm bread basket, unceremoniously taking a massive bite out of the fluffy appetizer.
>It feels like you haven’t eaten in months.