>>11290754It's funny how much you notice everything else in a room when you're trying to ignore something else. The soft scratch of an overly starched shirt. The uneven hum of an old ceiling fan. The measured 'ticks' of a cheap wall clock, like a beating heart that echoed in the room. Although no one was talking, it was hard to call the space that hung thick and heavy in the room silence. As if a timer was up, the possum at the end of the table finally spoke.
"You know, I like you Nick. Sweetie, I really do, you've always done good by me and my kind. Now, I'd like to do the same for you. Golden Rule and all that, huh sweetie?"
Tendons tightened across the back of Nick's paw.
There was a professional poker player Nick used to follow on the television, years ago. Humphrey Flatiron. He wasn't particularly amazing at the game, but Nick always admired how he carried himself. Smooth and charismatic on camera and in conversation, but an utterly void stoneface as soon as he sat at the table. While not aware of it at the time, Nick tried his hardest to mimic Humphrey, a small impression of the card player placed in the center of the stuffy room, seating at the worn mahogany. A tight grin split the older opossum's lips, her jagged teeth visible beneath a long scar across her muzzle.
"Now then, I know we've had, ah, less than legal dealings in the past, and what with you being a man of the law now, you realize that can cause some conflict for us here." A sharp 'fwip' split the muggy room as a knife unfolded from her hairless paws. "As you've accepted my invitation oh so graciously to talk like civilized mammals, I'd like to cut you a bit of leeway that I might not give to some other individuals."
