"Shot that guy down in a hurry." remarked Mike the bartender.
"He was never going to take me to meet his mom." Barbara replied. She delicately lapped at her martini, then resumed. "I've had it with these closet furries. Sure the foxgirl is good enough to date, good enough to screw, but god forbid you introduce her to your friends. The hell with it."
"Uhp, bogie at two o'clock" Mike interjected as another guy came to try his luck.
Barbara felt the fur on her neck rise. Whoever this guy was, he had something. She turned to face him, and felt a blast of power like she had never known.
"Hey there, foxlady." he smiled, and somehow the cheesiness of the approach didn't matter.
"You're a supernatural?" Barbara asked.
"That what the kids are calling it these days? Not the kind of thing they called me in your grandmother's day. Your grandmother, Sonseeahray."
"My grandmother didn't give her Apache name out to very many people." Barbara noticed hair coming out the sleeves of the man's suit. Was he an anthro of some sort?
Yes.
"Old man Coyote." she breathed, and as she said it she knew without doubt it was true.
He flashed his teeth, and as Barbara looked in his eyes she saw an affinity for chaos that was to kitsune madness what the Pacific ocean is to a backyard swimming pool.
"What do you say we take off, Fox Woman?"
Barbara knew that Coyote would never be embarrassed being seen with her, as Coyote had about as much to do with embarrassment as the law of gravity did.
She knew one other thing. In all the Coyote stories her grandmother told her, and all the others she had encountered later, Coyote very seldom outwitted a woman. Like many males, and more supernaturals, he wasn't quite as clever as he thought he was.
"Why not?" she grabbed her purse, threw a twenty on the bar and waved goodbye to Mike.
As the two exited, Mike grinned. He had always known that someday all that shaman training on the rez would come in handy.