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The neon nightlife bled through the blinds into the office, painting the dark in cheap colors.
A black hedgehog sat in the puddle of his banker’s lamp, a crack spiderwebbing the hood.
The desk was a behemoth, once grand, now pocked and dented into submission. Neat stacks of paper stood at attention across its scarred face.
He peered through his spectacles at a page from the pile. Quills black as ink, with red streaks cutting through. White shirt, sleeves rolled past the elbows. Thin black suspenders holding up dark trousers.
He returned the itemized ledger to its stack, a frown tightening his mouth. Fanelli’s Bot Mechanics was dodging payments again. He’d have Nails take care of that this week.
He looked up sharply, some internal alarm sounding a heartbeat before the knock hit the door, an indistinct shape drifting behind the frosted glass. His hand slid to his revolver when the visitor let themselves in without waiting.
A white bat entered, wrapped in the velvet of seduction and a purple coat. She moved slow, decadent and rich as caramel. Her mouth was a candied red, her eyelids dusted with smoky shadow.
He blinked, caught off guard.
“Rouge?”
Her full mouth widened, dimpling one cheek. “Hiya, Shadow. You wear glasses now, huh?”
“Chaos,” he muttered, taking them off. “I haven’t seen you in years.” He motioned to the wooden chair across from the desk.
“It’s good to see you too, honey.” She sank into the seat, the thick coat spilling off her shoulders. “You got quite a nice setup, you some kind of lawyer?”
Shadow scoffed at the notion. “Hardly.” He didn’t elaborate.
Rouge’s lips quirked knowingly. Her gaze drifted to the blinds, where violet light seeped through the slats and carved the scuffs in the floor into sharp relief. One finger tapped the wooden armrest betraying her nerves.
Shadow studied her. “What’s eatin’ you?”
Rouge sighed. “Oh, Shadow, honey, I—” She hugged herself, slipping slim white arms out of the coat’s thick sleeves to grip her elbows. She pulled a helpless pout from her pocket.
“I need your help,” she admitted, soft as spun sugar. An absolute picture of a damsel in distress.
Rouge always did like her theatrics. The world was her stage, and she never missed her cue. Shadow played along for the moment.
“With?”
She didn’t answer. She rubbed the fur on her arms. Tapped her fingers. Fiddled with the coat. Finally she sighed again, sinking into herself.
“You got a cig on you?”
Shadow pulled a drawer, produced a cigarette, and flicked his lighter. She took it gratefully and drew deep. The tip glowed red as she leaned back, slow as molasses. Despite himself, Shadows interest piqued.
“I’m looking for someone,” she said, a layer of her earlier dramatics shaved away. “Short fella. Fox. Two tails. Yellow fur. Baby face.”
“An old fling?”
She snorted. “Chaos, no.”
He waited. Rouge studied the ceiling for a long while. It was low, heavy beams holding warped boards, water-stained and tired.
“He has… something I need.” She let the words out carefully.
“Something of yours?”
She rolled the cigarette between her fingers. “Does that matter?”
“Yes.”
She pulled another pout. “Ah, Shadow, honey, don’t be like that.”
“Why would I help you steal something?” he shot back.
“’Cause you got a soft spot for me?”
Shadow sighed. “Rouge, it’s been years. And suddenly you waltz in here asking a favor? I’m a busy man.”
She stood, leaving the heavy coat behind. Her dark silk dress hugged every curve, hem high, neckline low. One sleeve slipped dangerously. She perched on the corner of the battle-worn desk and exhaled a thin ribbon of smoke. Shadow glared.
“I ain’t asking you to do it for free,” she said. “You get a cut of course.”
Shadow rolled up that morning’s paper and nudged her exposed thigh. “First, get off my desk.”
Rouge grinned. “Why? This thing’s so dusty, thought I’d help you out a bit.” She pinched a corner of her dress and made a show of wiping the surface. Shadow rapped her hand with the paper.
She chuckled, but didn’t leave. “I’ll give you twenty percent.”
“Don’t start bartering. I don’t even know who this guy is. I don’t know what you want from him.”
“Well I can’t tell you, that’s sensitive information.”
The dark hedgehog scowled. “How do you expect me to find someone without any leads?”
“I’ll tell you if you agree to help.”
Shadow leaned back in his leather swivel chair, eyes hard, mouth twisted in annoyance. Rouge scooted closer, her shin bumping his knee. She worried her bottom lip like she was wrestling with a decision. Eye’s went colder.
“He’s… an inventor,” she said at last. “Not many people know him outside the tinkering circles. He’s cooking something big, but he’s gone into Three to hide.”
“What do you need my help for?”
“You’ve lived in Three longer than me. You have connections here, right? I was thinking you could ask around.”
“And you can’t?”
Rouge hummed noncommittally.
Shadow felt a tickle on his forearm and glanced down. A slender finger drifted just above his fur, nail painted a sharp red, touching without touching. A whisper of contact.
In a blink he had her wrist, catching and lifting it, drawing out a gasp.
The white bat stared, aquamarine eyes wide and shining, mouth parted in surprise.
“Don’t play me, Rouge,” he warned.
She gathered herself enough to laugh, light and bright. It irked him.
“Play you? Why would I fake this? The inventor is real—”
“I’m not talking about your inventor.”
Her gaze dropped to the dark fingers wrapped around her wrist. Her painted nails gleamed dully in the lamplight.
“Ah.” She tugged once. He let her go without a word. “Force of habit, I suppose. Usually I need to get doe-eyed for these things.”
Her sharp teeth glinted. “I can hold men like putty when I really put my mind to it. Forgot you were a prude.”
“I’m no prude,” the hedgehog gruffed. “But I know what you’re about.”
She lifted a painted eyebrow. “Keeping tabs on me, are you, honey?”
“I keep tabs on all my friends,” he said simply.
Her smile softened, maybe even, Shadow thought, a little sadder. “You always were a sweetheart, deep down.”
She studied the blinds, chin in her palm, avoiding his eyes. “You know who I run under, then.”
“Yeah.”
Silence stretched. Outside, the neon shifted,slowly bleeding red and lighting the smoke that curled from her cigarette.
Suddenly Rouge turned and planted both hands on the desk, leaning, imploring. “That’s why I need your help, Shadow. This is my ticket—!”
But he was already shaking his head. “You know it’s just a carrot. ‘Do this for me and you’re out.’ But they don’t let you out. They never do.”
She threw her arms up. “Well what else can I do?”
“You could hide.”
“You of all people know that won’t work.”
Shadow drew his Model 10 and rolled it once in his palm. He handled it as easily as an extra limb. “I could kill him for you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Chaos, I wish.”
“No, really.”
“Yeah, then his gang comes down and starts a war. And you spend the rest of your short life looking over your shoulder.”
Shadow shrugged. “Then I shoot them all. Problem solved.”
Rouge laughed, full and free this time, a sonorous sound that tipped her head back and kicked her feet forward. With one last chuckle, she stubbed the cigarette in the empty ashtray and slid off the desk.
“Think on it. It’ll be a big payout, and you’ll be helping an old friend.” She plucked a pen from the weathered desk, scribbled on a notepad, and pushed it toward him. Then she gathered her thick coat into her arms. “You can reach me at this number. I’ll wait for your call, honey.”
Shadow’s eyes followed her as she sauntered away, the dress moving like liquid.
When her fingers found the handle, he said, “Can you at least give me his name?”
Rouge’s rosy lips curled. Instead of answering, she lifted a thumb and pinky to her ear in a lackadaisical phone gesture. “Call me when you decide. Nice seeing you again, Shadow.”
The door closed behind her, and the smoke dissipated as it hit the warped beams above.