After hours of adrenaline-fueled pacing, Trish and Ruiz finally settled back in his room. It was almost daytime, and Ruiz was for sure not going back to sleep. Rubbing his eyes with both hands, he murmured, “I don’t think either of us are going to the shops today.”

“Yeah.” Trish waited for him to lie down again. When she sat, a spike of pain rushed up his spine. “What hurts?” she asked after he unsuccessfully suppressed a groan.

“Tail. I just fell on it, like a fucking idiot.” Trish stood, leaving the room. After a few minutes, she returned with a jar of what looked like green paste. When she popped the lid, a terrible, sour scent filled his nostrils. His tongue twisted and curled in his mouth in disgust. He groaned again, but she ignored him and started massaging the shit into his scales. It tingled, oscillating between hot and cold and hot again. As the paste drew out the soreness, Ruiz relaxed into the bed. “It stinks.”

“But it feels better, doesn’t it.”

“Mm.” Ruiz folded his arms beneath his chin again, closing his eyes tiredly. He knew, no matter how tired he was, he wasn’t going back to sleep. “Tell me why we moved here again?”

“Because we got evicted, and the only thing more expensive than living in the city is being homeless in the city.”

Ruiz’s stomach twisted. “Right.” That landlord had been an asshole to begin with. He’d only gotten worse when he’d learned Trish was soon to room with him. Lewd behavior, he’d said when the two were seen standing next to each other. Inappropriate, he’d said when they’d joked and bickered with each other. Unacceptable, when he’d seen them take up for each other. Predators and prey weren’t meant to mix, least of all a mammalian and a reptilian.

Trish finished rubbing down his tail, capping the jar once again. “I’m sorry,” Trish uttered.

“Shut up.” He wasn’t having this argument again. “Our world was full of assholes. One crazy bitch here ain’t no comparison.”

“No, I’m sorry I made you confront her.”

Ruiz opened his eyes, twisting to look over his shoulder at her. “You didn’t make me do shit.” Trish looked at him with eyes as sad as her smile. Her hair was down, framing her soft, triangular face. “Besides, you’re gonna deal with her from now on. I should apologize to you.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Trish stood up. “I’m gonna check the door again.”

“It’s locked. For sure.”

“I know.” Still, she headed out of his room. He heard her footsteps fading as she checked the door for the millionth time. They’d both been sure they’d locked up the shop, so they weren’t sure how Saoirse was able to get in. He guessed it didn’t matter. What’s done is done.

He closed his eyes again, settling back into the mattress. Trish and Ruiz could use the day off anyway.