Titus spent the entire first half of the meal wondering if this was just the weirdest date he’d ever been on. To be entirely fair, he didn’t actually believe it was a date. He just couldn’t figure out what it was.

Beau had driven them to the local Indian reservation. According to the signage, the casino there boasted of an all-you-can-eat surf and turf buffet for a comparatively reasonable price. He’d practically dragged Titus by the hand into the restaurant, not even glancing at the gaming tables or slot machines on the way, then proceeded to devour a full plate of seafood from the buffet before his steak had even arrived. Even the minor detour at the hostess stand to grab a copy of The Cryptid Medium from a chance magazine rack had been more like an afterthought than a fundamental part of the plan. All of this had happened with relatively little conversation, which had left Titus wondering where the cheerful Beau from before had gone.

Titus guessed the abrupt cessation of banter could have been the result of Beau’s investigation of the building. Smelling his sibling but not being able to find them may have been more than Beau could deal with. But Titus was definitely disinclined to ask about it. The emotional wound wasn’t even old enough to have scabbed over yet. So he kept his silence and merely affirmed there were two of them when the hostess asked how many in their party, paying the bill up front as was customary for these sorts of places.

It wasn’t until Beau had inhaled his second rare sirloin that he started to come back to something like his usual self. “I expect you’ve got questions.” Titus decided nodding was the best he could manage between bites of lobster tail. “Lemme start by thankin’ you fer not askin’ ‘em all at the same time.” He paused just long enough to request a third steak and a coffee refill when the waiter circled back around. “So here’s the thing: shiftin’ takes energy. And energy means food. When I do a full shift and back like that, I get damn hungry after. You ever been so hungry you get mad as hell?”

“Hangry,” Titus clarified, nodding. 

“Yeah. Well, imagine bein’ so hangry fer a steak that you don’t give a rat’s ass where it’s sourced from.”

Titus felt his eyes go wide. Was Beau implying he’d eat another human?

“You weren’t in danger. Just puttin’ that out there t’clear the air. But that coulda changed if I’d been pissed off. Like by bein’ asked too many questions.” Though he was smirking and gesturing with his fork like it was no big deal, Titus got the impression that Beau was deadly serious. “Now, if we’d come across a not too nasty roadkill carcass, or a rabbit had darted under the tires or somethin’, that woulda been another story. But I was mostly bein’ quiet because I was busy keepin’ my shit together. So I apologize fer bein’ such terrible company on the ride over.”

“Well, it’s…um…over and done with now.” Titus knew his voice sounded far less confident than he wanted it to. At least he was fairly more certain now that this wasn’t the weirdest date in history. 

“So now that I’m not in danger of maulin’ a rabid raccoon fer a half eaten cheeseburger, we should prob’ly get our asses back on track an’ figure out if that damn rag sheet can help us more or not.”

That sounded like a suspiciously specific denial to Titus. But there was no way in hell he was going to tell that to Beau. Instead, he swallowed his bite of mashed potatoes and dragged the copy of the magazine to the middle of the table. “The want ads section was where we found our last lead,” he prefaced, tapping the cover of the periodical, “but that’s not to say there’s not a clue somewhere else in this paper. As basic as the articles look to be, we should still do our due diligence and at least scan the content.”

Beau groaned around a mouthful of King Crab. “Don’t defend this shit with big words, Titus! Those articles are the printed version of click bait. At least scooch over so’s I ain’t readin’ upside down.”

Titus hurried to make room on the bench seat for Beau, who slid out of his side of the table and plunked down with enough force to make the cushion bounce Titus into the air a little. And also had to silence the little voice in the back of his head that asked if he was still 100% certain this wasn't a date, now that they were sitting on the same side of the table and Beau’s knee was knocking into his own. He politely told his inner monologue to shut the hell up and focus. 

Shifting his plate aside a bit to make room, Titus dragged the magazine closer to both of them and opened to the first page. He scanned the brief table of contents while Beau grumbled something about feeling his brain cells die off page by page. It can’t really be that bad, Titus reasoned with himself. There were articles on how to prepare for interviews, how to interact with potential employers, and even an advice column. It seemed like a decently put together weekly edition.

That all went out the window as soon as Titus flipped to the next page. Beneath a banner ad for a law firm advertising “We help you win against systemic injustice!”, an article that was supposed to talk about dating advice instead turned out to be a list of dos and don’ts for just straight up getting laid. With an unhealthy sway towards coercion tactics. 

Two sentences in and Titus was already spluttering. “What the hell? That’s…even I know this is terrible advice! And I suck at dating!”

Beau chuckled. “Told ya.”

“Oh my god,” Titus groaned. “How do they even get away with printing this? And what kind of person actually thinks this is a good idea? ‘If your date seems hesitant, just buy them another drink.’ I’m sorry, what? No. That’s a good way to commit date rape.”

“Titus, the folks who read this are desperate. An’ not in an incel way. They got zero hope for the future. This rag sheet is preyin’ on a community that is already marginalized and looked down on. Folks who read this got the confidence of a mushroom. So if someone is willin’ t’keep them in the dark an’ feed ‘em more bullshit, they see it as opportunity to pick themselves up a sugar daddy. Or whatever their preferred gender in a partner is. Nostu avoid it more than Lycos, as they can fill an employment niche with their preference fer overnight hours. Don’t mean they get paid equal, though; there’s a shit ton a studies on the wage discrimination that goes on fer minorities. An’ Lycos also gotta deal with the fact that deep down, they can’t handle bein’ alone. Our genetics put us firmly in the category of pack animals. So tryin’ t’find a partner when you got nothin’ t’bring t’the equation? That desperation makes you a target. An’ there ain’t no Lyco in existence wants t’admit they’ve become prey.”

“Christ,” Titus breathed. “I didn’t realize it was so bad.”

“Well, that’s just yer privilege showin’. You ain’t been down in the proverbial trenches.” Beau didn’t sound angry. If anything, Titus thought he sounded sad. Or maybe resigned. “It’s why so many Lycos end up runnin’ drugs or becomin’ sex workers. Makes ‘em feel needed. Hell, maybe even wanted. Gives ‘em a purpose and a community, even if it’s on the wrong side of the law. A law that favors humans most times, anyway. So why shouldn’t they break that law if it ain’t gonna hold them as equals? And that don’t even cover all the folk that think of Nostu and Lycos as just things to fetish over.” Titus turned an incredulous look at Beau. “Yep. For all that most furries are fine, decent folk, there’s a whole sect that sees Lycos as little more than a good way to get their rocks off. You think men fetishize lesbians? Go have a gander at a Lyco dating app some time. It's disgusting as hell. An’ the Nostu get the freaks who just wanna rub one out to an ASMR biting video.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask what kind of crap you face as a Garmr.”

Beau gave a noise of disgust. “I’m basically a walking wet dream fer every monster fucker on the planet.”

“What the fuck…” Titus couldn’t decided if he was outraged or embarrassed. He eventually just settled for, “I’m so sorry.”

The shrug Beau gave in response was clearly feigned in its nonchalance. “That’s just life fer us. An’ eventually, there’s only so many times you can get stepped on in a non-kink way afore y’stop tryin’ t’get back up. It’s also why Simp hits a Lyco so hard. When you feel like shit and there’s somethin’ that makes it so’s y’don’t, you want that feelin’ back. It’s a cycle. A junkie’ll pay anythin’ fer it. Hell, I even know a couple a Lycos who’ve literally sold their family members just t’feel fangs in their neck one more time. Which is another way the Nostu got an economic advantage over a Lyco. Gettin’ paid just t’bite someone? That’d be like if a restaurant paid the customer instead a the other way ‘round.”

Titus sighed and pushed the remains of his meal away. He’d lost his appetite hearing about all this. “So basically, the whole system’s broken. And one doe eyed kid trying to change that is like a single drop of water in an entire ocean.”

“Now yer startin’ t’get it.”

That wasn’t something Titus felt he should be proud of in the slightest.