Lexia's car screeches to a halt in a parking spot near the Four Blocks Hotel Complex, putting her perfectly in between two sedans. She leaps out of her car, and races into the hotel, her flamethrower nozzle bouncing against her hip as she runs. The lobby's tiled floor squeaks beneath her hasty footfalls, and she tries skidding to a stop, but ends up slamming her shoulder against the wall. However, there is no pain, and she rapidly slams her palm against the elevator button, growling in frustration as the digital number above crawls from “4” to “3”. She hops from one foot to the next. Hop left hop right hop left hop right. Over and over and over again.

  “3” … “2”…

  Lexia curses and runs to the stairwell, the door closing behind her with a loud metallic clang right as the elevator door opens. Her heavy steps echo in the concrete stairwell like thunder, her free hand keeping a tight hold on the railing while her occupied hand holds her flamethrower nozzle steady. When she bursts through the door of the fourth floor, her breathing is ragged, her heart is rattling, and her eyes dart left to right. Both directions look the same, but she settles on right and resumes running.

  As she runs, she swiftly scans each number of the hotel room, her large ears straining for familiar voices. When she reaches the end, she finally hears the familiar voices of her new friends! So, doing what any polite friend does, she pounds on the door, creating a ruckus that echoes down the hallway.

  "Open up! It's important!" screams Lexia, continuing her rampage on the innocent door.

  The voices abruptly stop, there’s some angry and confused talking, then the lock clicks, and the door swings open to reveal Mortimer, his burnt-scarred face contorted in annoyance, and wearing a blanket like a giant shawl. His dark orange fur and dark hair is messy and sweaty. Behind him, Claribel fumbles beneath the sheets, letting out a sharp yelp as she rolls out of sight on the other side, hitting the floor with a loud thump. Mortimer's amber eyes narrow, and a low growl rumbles in his throat while Claribel claws her way partially up, staring at Lexia, also annoyed, and her hair messy and using the bed to conceal all but her head and hands. Her rattling can be heard all the way to the doorway.

  “Are you mad? What the hell is wrong with you, woman!” scolds Claribel.

  "Lexia, what are you doing here?” asks Mortimer.

  "You need to watch me pole dance!" blurts Lexia.

  Mortimer blinks, his jaw slackening, and Claribel's annoyance worsens to a scowl.

  "I'm sorry, what did you say?” says Mortimer.

  Lexia jabs a finger at her heaving chest. "Pole dance! Me! Tonight! I need you both there!"

  Claribel wraps herself in a sheet, leaving just her head, tail, and feet exposed, and she marches to the door, stopping by Mortimer.

  "And why would we want to watch you swing around a metal pole half-naked?" asks Claribel.

  “Because I'm trying to win an Apple C's gift card, and I get extra money for each person who comes specifically to see me,” says Lexia.

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  "That’s great and all, but we don’t care," says Mortimer

  He starts to close the door, but Lexia's boot wedges into the gap, stopping it cold.

  "I'll pay your entrance fees! That’s fifty bucks each. All you have to do is show up, say you're there for Tempest Blaze (that's my stage name, just FYI) and then you can leave if you want when my first performance is done!" says Lexia.

  "Tempest Blaze?" repeats Claribel, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth despite her best efforts to hold a serious look.

  "It's a cool name!" says Lexia defensively. “And it's certainly a lot better than those other lame names. Like Ginger Pudding or Sparkle Glitter or-or… Nova Blast. Who all suck compared to me. That's another FYI, just as an FYI.”

  “I don't know. Ginger Pudding sounds like she'd be fun,” says Mortimer.

  Claribel whips his leg with her tail, and he winces and slowly turns to her, speaking through his teeth.

  “I was joking,” says Mortimer.

  “So, will you watch me pole dance? Yes? No? Maybe so? Yes? Please say yes,” says Lexia.

  Mortimer and Claribel exchange a look, and Lexia clamps her hands together, her grin widening as desperation radiates from her. Several seconds pass, Lexia's grin trembles and her hands tighten, and Claribel huffs and nods, and Mortimer looks at Lexia.

  "Fine, we'll come watch your performance. But if you don’t pay our cover we’re not going in,” says Mortimer.

  Lexia fist pumps. "Yes! Thank you! Stella's Strip House, tonight at eight. But get there by seven-thirty for good seats."

  “Where is it, anyway?” asks Mortimer.

  "Don't worry about it. I know where it is. It's going to be oh so much fun going in there again,” says Claribel, but the words do not match her dry tone or the apprehensive look on her face.

  “When did you go to Stella's?” asks Lexia.

  “When I tried to figure out where you lived after you kidnapped Mortimer. I threatened to send Thaddeus Yap if Stella and Stewie didn't cooperate. But now that I know you live in some weird pocket dimension I’m just wondering why you chose to live below the post office,” replies Claribel.

  Mortimer looks at Claribel with wide eyes, and Lexia's smile fades.

  “Oh… well…” Lexia forces her smile to return. “I'm sure it'll be fine! But I gotta run now. Lots more people to invite! Remember: Tempest Blaze! Eight! Stella! Kay! Bye!"

  Lexia bolts away, and Mortimer and Claribel watch her bully her way into the stairwell. Her excited whoops and thumping steps rapidly fade, and Mortimer sighs heavily and closes the door, its lock making a heavy click. Then he turns to Claribel, rubbing his temple.

  "And to think, we tried killing her recently," says Mortimer.

  “She never said why she chose to live beneath a post office,” says Claribel.

  “She probably doesn’t even know. But you’re supposed to be moving in with her very soon, right?”

  Claribel nods, and Mortimer’s expression shifts to a teasing, lewd grin, and he steps forward, his gaze appreciating how the sheet hugs her serpentine form.

  “That means we need to finish what we started,” says Mortimer. His voice drops to a husky whisper as he steps closer to Claribel, “Do you remember where we left off?”

  Claribel's eyes narrow, but there's a playful spark in them now, and her tail gives a soft rattle.

  "I seem to recall you were making some rather bold claims about stamina," purrs Claribel, taking a step back towards the bed while keeping her red eyes on Mortimer.

  Mortimer closes the distance between them in two quick strides, his blanket falling forgotten to the floor. He wraps his arms around Claribel's waist and lifts her off her feet. Claribel's surprised laugh cuts off to a jovial scream as Mortimer launches himself in the air, carrying her with him. They land and bounce on the bed and lock lips. Their limbs tangle, their bodies press together, and…

  *****

  … In the neighboring room, a random rabbit named Steve stares ahead, eyes simmering, and hands tight on his chair. He's just staring at the TV, getting mad as the hectic, wall shaking, thumping, grunting and yelling from his neighbors once again ruins his desire to watch a cooking show in peace.