Scotch twitched his ears, filling them with Mason's familiar chatter he missed.

"...and so, I told them they'd better watch their mouths because, oh shite, that stings! Shite, 'scuse my language, darlin', oh shite, if they make an enemy out of me, why, my big guns will go get 'em. I threatened them so much, damn, ouch, I kid you not, they were peein' their pants for sure!" Mason was saying amidst grunts and moans. There was a pale-yellow curtain corralling his bed. Mason's silhouette shifted and another silhouette moved toward him.

"You must have been very brave then," a female Human said, "Now let's see your tail."

"Nah, I wasn't brave. I was tremblin' hard, but see, they were gonna hurt my buddy Scotchie if I didn't do somethin'."

Shite, Mason. Scotch felt his nose go hot as tears welled in his eyes but held them there, refusing to cry. I would've done the same. I would've.

"I'm sorry, Mason, but I don't think your tail will be the same again."

There was a pause. "Nah, I think of it as a damn cool battle scar, darlin'."

Sorren cleared his throat. There was some movement behind the curtain and a young nurse flung open the curtain. Mason had bandages on his head, arms, legs, and his tail was up on a rack, limp with the tip crooked. One eye was bruised, but open. His bottom lip still looked beat up.

Scotch stood with every ounce of strength he had left, and half stumbled, half walked to Mason's bed.

"Hey," he said. Mason's eyes glossed over.

"Damn, what happened to ya?" Mason said through tears. Scotch gripped the side of the bed. Ginger came to help him, but he shook his head. With wobbling, weak, jelly legs, he sat on the edge of Mason's bed. He reached over and pinched his cheek. It was hot under his touch.

Mason whined. "Ow, shite, what's this—"

"For taking the blunt. Ya didn't have to. I could've—"

"I would always, ya know." Mason turned his head, ears drooping. The tip of his tail twitched a little. "So ya owe me, Scotchie."

Mason shifted in his bed until they were close enough. He was so much worser off than Scotch.

Shite. Shite. Mason. Scotch tried to find words, but he remained silent. Mason's bottom lip trembled, and his shoulders shook. There was so much to be said but words weren't going to get it across. They both reached for each other at the same time and hugged, sobbing into fur, into bandages, and into warmth. Mason was trembling, and Scotch realized so was he. He picked up sounds of River and Ginger sniffling, moved by the reunion.

"I dreamed that you'd died," Scotch whispered. "I had dreams."

"I was so scared," Mason whispered. "But I couldn't just stand by and let them—"

"You were so brave, Mason, thank you." Scotch hugged his friend as tight as he could without hurting him. Mason's body seemed smaller than he remembered.

"You were, too," Mason whispered.

"And don't object," he continued just when Scotch opened his mouth to do just that.

Scotch felt a smile tug at his lips. Was he brave? Maybe? "By the way, Tyler's dead."

"Thank shite for that." Mason broke apart, giving a lopsided smile. "Aw man," He sniffled and gave a light chuckle as more tears fell. "I haven't cried like this in such a long time."

Scotch chuckled and wiped his own eyes as the tears of relief turned to tears of joy. He remembered there were others in the room. He turned to Sorren.

"I don't know who's in charge of rescuing but tell them thank you."

"Yeah," Mason nodded, wiping his eyes, "from the bottom of our furry hearts."

Scotch patted Mason's hand. "I owe ya, Mason."

"Nah, ya don't. Friends for life?" He held out his hand and Scotch shook it.

"I think I have timelag in my brain now. What time is it?"

"Twelve noon. I'm famished, but not for that bland oatmeal shite, blah. So," Mason looked over Scotch's shoulder, "are ya guys gonna finally tell me what's goin' on?"

Scotch widened his eyes. "They didn't tell ya anythin'?"

Bein' all mysterious are they? Just like the movies.

Sorren crossed his arms. "We were waiting for you to both wake up. Otherwise, we'd have to explain it twice."

"Stupid," River barked, "ya didn't even explain it to us and we were conscious!"

"Shh!" Ginger hissed. "Quiet ward, remember?"

Sorren shrugged. "We can't really explain in full until Sephyr returns."

Mason groaned. "Who in the name of the moons is Sephyr? No one tells me, not even the nurses. Even when I tell them I can pleas—"

"Mason!" Scotch hissed, catching it before it could be said.

"You have to wait until tonight when he gets back." Sorren gestured to the wheelchair. "I need to return you to your room Scotch. Your treatment and Mason's are different. I also need to return to my duties, and it would be lovely if I didn't have to babysit a bunch of animal—"

"We. Are. Not. Animals!" River barked each word. Scotch sighed and turned to Mason.

Mason leaned in to whisper. "I got my Bolt. Ask for yours'. It works here fine, and they have chargers if ya need."

With a smirk, Scotch nodded and obediently sat in the wheelchair. Sorren took him back with River glaring the whole time. Later, Scotch found out from Ginger that the animosity came from an earlier tiff where Sorren called her a 'bitch'. Not as an insult, but as simply meaning 'female dog' which was, in Haundai terms, still an insult.

Low-level insult. Scotch grinned. He's a pale leek.

Once Scotch was alone and got his Bolt back, he did three things. He took screenshots of all the lies Tyler told him and deleted 'Tyler Frost' from his contacts. At last, he texted the screenshots to Mason because it was always good to have evidence in more than one place.

Mason replied. Damn, that raisin, he really flirted you up, huh?

Scotch scowled. Don't wanna talk about that little finger nutting shite.

I hate when the spellcheck changes fignutting. Scotch gave a dry laugh and it hurt. He wondered how long it would take for him to be able to laugh without pain and walk without weak legs.

Same. So, how did he die?

Scotch could vividly remember the arrow in Tyler's chest and how he pitched forward and fell over.

The girl shot an arrow in his chest.

Good as dead. Came Mason's reply.

Scotch gave a wry smile. Even though Tyler was trying to kill him, he felt strange celebrating Tyler's death. It was self-defense, but a life had been taken. Was this the job he had really signed up for? But what was he expecting it to be like? Heroes with accolades? Smart uniforms and guns-as-accessories?

Good aim, too. He sent.

The bar loaded slowly but disappeared indicating Mason was rethinking what to send. Did he tell you anything?

Scotch rapidly texted, letting spellcheck fix all his mistakes. He joined SSTF before it was SSTF when he was a cadet. Also placed the bombs.

Mason's response was quick. Daaaaamn so it wasn't Maya.

Nope. But why would she have been there? Checking it? Second thoughts? Scotch rewatched that video while he waited for Mason to reply. Maya seen putting her hand into a hole and then once she left, the bomb coming into view. Scotch's Bolt buzzed.

One or the other, probably. But if they're so far in, why have second thoughts, right?

Right. Why have second thoughts then only to abuse us later? Scotch was about to text something along those lines when Mason sent another message.

gotta go, the nurse coming back to put my tail in a cast or something, idk. Wish me luck.

Good muck.

Shite, I hate ya spellcheck. He scowled. Especially when ya don't work.

I meant luck.

Mason texted back. hahahaaa!!!

Scotch sent a grimace emoji and put his Bolt away.