Foxheart

Chapter Twenty-Six

Fox woke with a start and found himself in a bed he didn't recognise. For a moment he didn't remember a lot. His head hurt and everything was scraping against his ears; then he remembered. He was at Billy's for the first time in years and the pair had drunk themselves under the table as they reminisced and caught up. He didn't really remember getting into bed but here he was, splashed by dawn-light, beneath the thin blankets.

He felt movement and rubbed his eyes, turning to see Dupont sleeping beside him. He stiffened. He definitely had to have been incredibly drunk to climb into bed with her. Even as a vixen, he refused to be close to her when she was going to wake up naked. Didn't want to risk her shouting at him

Even so, he didn't move instantly. He found himself watching her instead. The blanket covered her naked body but still revealed the curves, length of her legs and her shape. It made her look fragile and intently reminded him she was female, something he sometimes forgot. Her face was facing him, peaceful and relaxed. She was always so wound up awake; her brow furrowed, her mouth frowning. She always looked better asleep with her lashes rested against her pale skin and her pink mouth slightly parted. That and she didn't remind him of her annoying personality and snootiness.
Fox sighed sharply suddenly. Yes, she was pretty and her foreign features made her slightly exotic looking but he had to remember not to try anything. A potential murderess wasn't someone he could dabble with; his own blackmailer even less.

Feeling a little annoyed that the woman who was dragging him through hell had to be the type he was interested in and he couldn't stop at the local whore-houses, Fox rose from the bed and froze. His face twisted in pain while his head swam and his stomach churned like it was about the chuck up everything he had consumed last night.

'Get on form.' He thought sharply.

He couldn't stay put for long. That Witch-Trapper was coming so he had to get out, assess the town, find Warbler and figure out where to go next, all in the space of a few hours or he was going to die some horrible death by magic. He sighed heavily when he glanced at Dupont sleeping peacefully in the bed. He hated magic so much. It was either frightening or annoyingly troublesome.

Fox made his way out of the room and into the living area. Billy had been up; signs of food and an empty cup was left strewn on the beer bottle cluttered table. His grandmother was asleep, conked out in the chair she never really left. The TV was on, babbling away and ready to occupy her old woman's poor rotten mind.

Fox glanced about, looking for Billy. If he was out, he wouldn't be long. Apparently he never left the apartment for long, forever attached to his grandmother, cleaning, feeding and caring for her until she finally died. It's why, Fox found out, Billy never made any progress in the Fingers. He held himself back to do small jobs so he could take care of her, despite needing the money. A catch twenty-two.

Fox didn't know whether Billy had only just gone out however and he couldn't afford to hang about. Roaming about the messy apartment, he finally found some paper and a pen. He scrawled down one note for Billy and then another for Dupont, explaining to Billy he was visiting Warbler and to Dupont to not leave this apartment on pain of death. He scribbled out the last part after some thought. While his gut told him Dupont wasn't much of a threat, he still hadn't proved he was right.

Feeling happy Dupont wasn't going to vanish when she woke up, Fox left. Outside the collapsing apartment building, the air could've been clean and fresh if it wasn't for the smog that clung to it. The factories that belched out smoke stood not far from here with their chimneys up in arms, puffing away. Fox knew that rest of the town wasn't going to be any better. Really only workers or the poor lived here. Everyone else enjoyed the vaguely cleaner air in the city a few miles away.