Meanwhile, Izzy sits at the bar drinking and talking with the Cat. "They diapered him," she says in a whisper. "I think the worst part about it is partly my fault." She swirls the orange juice in her cup cup. "But he looked so happy?" she asks the cat who nods along, seemingly not listening, his attention instead on the fiery red-haired Scarlet talking to Grup at the far end of the bar.

  Her hands running up and down his big forearm as he looks down at her. “What do you say, Gruppy? Want to go release some tension?” She practically purrs with desire.

  Cane walks into the bar. He is zily making his way to a booth when he catches the edge of a smell. He raises his head and scans the room. “Izzy,” he mumbles and quickly walks to her. He slows down when he gets within 10 feet. He changes his pace to be more casual and nonchant. ‘Be cool,’ he thinks as he sits down next to her. "How about today, beautiful?" his canine teeth serrations are visible as he smiles at her.

  "I am not really feeling it today." She turns back to her gss. She swirls the orange liquid. “Jacob has been sent to the nursery because we broke a rule.”

  “What rule did you break?” he asks, his interest piqued. He sets his hand tentatively on her back, and his tail wags softly as she doesn't shoo him away.

  “It's a condition of him being here. He can't be inside me, and we had a heated moment in the shower,” she says, looking deeper into the orange fluid, the ice slowly melting.

  “That's just crazy… What is the harm of your boyfriend being inside you?” He asks, his tail tucked down, trying to get between his legs, “They are not going to come after me, are they?”

  Izzy shakes her head. “I don't think so; at least my contract says it's ok.”

  His tail wags again. “Well then, problem solved. You just stick to lycanthropic sex from now on.”

  She ughs, setting the gss down; she sets her hand on his p. “You’re a friend. Thanks for making me ugh.”

  ’Shit, don't put me in the friend zone. Gahhh, what do I do?' He fumbles, “Yeah, yeah, sure, always gd to be of service.”

  Back in the nursery. Jacob and Audrey are pying with blocks. She is teaching him Euclidean geometry. But mostly he is just building pretty patterns. She takes a moment and just watches Jacob pying. She feels good; she would even say she feels happy. It feels so right to take care of someone like Jacob again. Someone who needs her guidance and needs her affection. She has an impulse that tells her the secret to Jacob's optimal happiness is for him to be tickled relentlessly. She never ignores that impulse.

  Back at the bar, the werewolf is still there, his long tail wagging. He gently rubs her back. "I am sure he is having a horrible time and can't wait to see you," his tail goes down. "Why don't we get you a sundae instead of alcohol?" Cane says, looking up at the cat. He nods at the order and heads into the back room to return a minute ter with a rge banana split.

  “For the record, it's orange juice, not alcohol,” she states, “but ice cream sounds good right now.”

  "For you, miss, just don't feed the dog any chocote," the bartender quips, setting the traditional banana split in front of Izzy.

  The dog shows teeth to the cat. His teeth growing sharper at the insult. The cat just smiles and walks away. The dog digs in on the vanil side, “Stupid cat, he grumbles, occasionally gncing up at him.

  Izzy simply eats the strawberry side, smirking occasionally at Cane, “You know he is just trying and succeeding at winding you up.”

  “I don't care,” he shoves another spoonful in his mouth.

  They eat in silence, and she slowly rexes; the strawberry is fantastic; she suspects homemade. As they eat, she watches Cane avoid eating the chocote and hides a ugh behind her hand.

  “What’s so funny?” Cane asks, looking up at her, his fingers delicately pying with the band of her bra, his cock tightening in its sheath.

  “Oh, nothing. Tell me more about your people, the lycanthropes,” she asks, resting her head on one hand.

  Between bites of ice cream, he says, "We have been around forever. We may be a subspecies of humans, but I disagree.”

  “How has no one figured out you exist?” She asks, taking a small nibble of the chocote.

  “We have historically hid who we are by cutting our tails off or wrapping it tightly around our waist." His whole body tenses as he looks at his tail. "Nowadays I can just tell people I am a furry and just let my tail hang limp."

  “And that works? People just handwave your transformations away?” she asks

  “I trained hard to make sure my emotions don't get out of hand in public,” he states, putting on a stony expression.

  “And if you lose control and transform?” She asks, and another small bite of chocote ice cream is eaten.

  “I just pretend it didn't happen and tell them they must need more sleep or come up with some other convenient lie,” he ughs.

  "No way people believe that," she says.

  The cat chimes in and says, "You thought I was just a guy wearing contacts." He motions around the room at the 20-odd people scattered around the bar. "In fact, there are only 4 humans in the bar right now, and you are one of them."

  She looks around the room and sees that there are, in fact, several species of creatures she has never seen before scattered around.

  The dog looks at the melting chocote. "You should eat that before I feel compelled to.” She eats the chocote.