After a few minutes, Raspberry returned to the door, peeking out like an angry Pokemon. “His Lordship would like to know if Mr. Hansen offers to give or receive?”

“Both. Either. I’m not picky. I just want to spend some time with him. I’ll be happy to rub his feet if he’d like.” 

The portal closed again and Bernard considered if he was being too easy, too soft. Maybe Lars was attracted to the wolf in him and wanted to be overpowered. Bernard was strong enough to break the door down and stride into the other man’s apartment like a conquering hero, if he wanted to. In his mind, he imagined Lars’ expression if he broke down the door. The last thing he wanted was to see Lars scared. 

“Come on,” he said, forehead pressed to the door. “Let me in.”

The door jerked open and the wolf nearly fell forward. He caught himself in time though and found himself staring into Lars’ blue eyes. 

“I don’t want to have sex,” Lars said, deadpan, eyebrows drawing down as he glared. “I don’t have any food. You can come in, but I don’t think there’s anything here for you, wolf.”

Lars stepped back just a bit as Bernard slid sideways into the small apartment. “You’re here. That’s enough for me.” 

Lars snorted dismissively. “Well, come in. Do you like to play cards?” 

“I do like to play cards. What kind ya got?” 

“Just regular cards, of a French style, common in English-speaking areas. Do you like rummy?”

“Teach me to play?”

“Certainly,” Lars said gesturing for Bernard to sit at the end of his day bed. The day bed had replaced the chairs that had been there on Bernard’s last visit. The same little card sat there with tea and small cakes. “I also use them to do fortune telling. It helps me think about what I’m afraid of.” 

Bernard straddled the bed, which was more like a sofa chair, really. A pastel blue velvet, tufted with what might have been onyx-colored bone buttons, it was elegant and princely. “What are you afraid of, raven?”

“Stuff, mostly.” Lars sat down, lotus style, feet tucked under him and shuffled the cards. “So the goal is to make either three of a kind or a straight of at least three cards. Cards are worth their face value in points. The royal court is each worth ten points. Aces are worth 15 and jokers aren’t played. After I shuffle, I’ll deal each of us ten cards. Then you will start by either drawing from the stack of remaining cards or picking the card that is placed face up. After you’ve made your play, if you can, then you will discard one card up next to the stack of remaining cards. First player to one hundred points wins.”

“Seems reasonable enough. First person to 100 points then gets to ask the other a question, which must then be answered honestly.” 

“You feel like baring your soul tonight, do you?”

“Well, if I can’t trust you with some secrets, how am I supposed to trust my dick in your mouth?”

“What if you get some secret you don’t fucking like?”

“Well, better now when I’m just crushing on you than later when I’m utterly in love with you. If you’re a fucking NAZI, just tell me now!”

“It’s funny how that is still a word. I wonder if the Second Century Romans accused people of being Carthaginians.” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Bernard said. “You’re not, right?”

“I am not,” Lars said as he dealt out the cards. “I’m very liberal, freedom-loving, and a socialist on top of it. Now for a you question. Do you run in a pack or are you a lone wolf?”

“You didn’t win this hand of cards yet.”

“You got a question, I get a question.” 

“Fine. I was born in the Paris pack, but my mom didn’t get on well with my dad and ran away to London. I was raised here and I like it, but there’s no forest, even fewer deer, and no London pack to get in with, so I’m just here by myself.”

“Sorry about that,” Lars said. He fanned his cards out like a card shark. “I’m glad you’re here, nonetheless.” 

“Are you?” Bernard asked, grinning like he’d just won the championship.

“Draw a card, canary.” 

“Why did you call me a canary?” After a moment’s hesitation, Bernard drew from the stack, clucked over his cards like a mother hen and her eggs, then discarded the king of spades.

“There’s an old saying, to grin like the cat that got the canary, so it just came to my mind to call you a canary. Obviously, I get to be the cat and get the canary, though I don’t want to eat you in any life-threatening way.” 

“Um,” Bernard said as he watched Lars take his turn. “Do ravens travel in murders?”

“No, that’s crows. Ravens travel in pairs. I’m single, in case that was what you were hinting at. What is your most burning question, Bernard? What would you most like to know?”

“What is it you are most afraid of telling me?” 

“Fuck, cutthroat much, uh?” Lars picked up the discarded king, played three kings, and discarded the queen of hearts. “I’m afab.” 

“What does that mean?”

“It means that when I was born the doctor and my parents thought I was female. They were wrong.” 

“Clearly,” Lars said, though a sadness was clouding around him. “I still have a really tiny dick though.” 

“Not a deal breaker for me,” Bernard said, still grinning. “There’s a store two blocks down with dicks of every size. I’m interested in you,  not just your dick. You can still orgasm, right?”

“Yeah,” Lars said, nodding. “You’re really still interested?”

“Oh yeah,” Bernard said, discarding the five of hearts. “You’re beautiful, educated, charming, and you smell amazing. I never really considered that fated mates might be a thing until I met you.” 

“You think I’m your fated mate?”

“Maybe. Wolves and Ravens are legendary together.” 

“That’s true.”