Leaving Sky’s office, Dion returns towards the bar and his pocket-universe home within the kitchen, a copy of the draft report under his arm. The revelation about the Bunnies being somehow targeted by the Council greatly disturbs his thoughts. His uncle had never mentioned anything about Bunnies to him, and everything that he has seen of them would never lead him to suspect that they would be dangerous to anyone.
That thought continues in his mind as he crosses the breezeway to the annex and bar. The combination of voices that reaches his ears quickly forces a reevaluation of their dangerousness.
“Oooh! Just scratch a little higher…Oh, that’s the spot!” the familiar voice says to the now recognizable laughter of Cherry and Merri.
Entering the bar, Dion sees Geryon, still in his smaller, cute, adorable form, the size of a small leopard rather than his normally huge leonine shape, being straddled from behind by Cherry and having the back of his head scratched.
“Does the birdie like scritchies?” dark Cherry asks as if talking to an infant, as she leans forward, brushing the back of his head against her chest, while pale Merri sits before the gryphon, his lion paws resting on her thighs, the Bunny marveling at how large and strong they are.
Geryon, his eyes closed, pushes his head further back into the dark bunny’s bosom. Rolling his head as an excuse to adjust Cherry’s finger massage around the feathered head, but more importantly to better enjoy the feel of her breasts, he moans, “Oh, birdie does indeed like this.” Merri squeaks as he extends his claws slightly and barely pricks her delicate skin.
“I thought you were going to stay in my home,” Dion states flatly.
Both bunny bartenders turn and recognize Dion standing in the doorway for the first time, while Geryon opens one eye to spy his friend. “I got bored, and decided to see what is so interesting in this place to keep you entertained. I ran into some new friends here, and Cherry was demonstrating how wonderfully strong her fingers are.”
Again rolling his head back into the dark bunny’s cleavage, the gryphon closes his eyes and begs. “Please continue and try not to let my stoic friend there interrupt.”
Cherry laughs and resumes her massage, eliciting moans of delight from Geryon. “Dion! Where have you been hidin’ this cutie?” she asks. “He’s sooo soft and pettable.”
“Yes. You may think differently under other circumstances,” Dion notes, thinking of Geryon’s other form.
“Nonsense!” Geryon states to quickly change the subject. “I think birdies and bunnies go very well together, yes girls?” he asks, again getting laughs and a hug from behind from Cherry.
“In the outside world, birdies devour bunnies,” Dion responds.
“Well, we haven’t quite got to that yet, my friend,” Geryon responds in a tranquil voice, and then switches to a seductive tone. “But, some forms of devouring may be quite pleasant. Am I right, girls?”
The girls laugh again, and Merri adds huskily, “Yer friend here is a real charmer, Dion.”
“Yes, he is indeed,” Dion agrees dispassionately. “Did the ladies happen to mention that their creator is Sergeant Alma?”
Geryon’s eyes snap open and pierce Dion. “The Death Clan goddess?!”
“That she is, and extremely protective of her children too,” Dion adds.
Leaning his head away from Cherry’s chest, Geryon’s tone suddenly changes. “Wellll, look at the time! Sorry ladies… Got to run! Come, Dion! Let’s go discuss that...thing we were supposed to discuss!” Geryon says, quickly stepping away from the bar and towards the kitchen.
“Awww!” both bartender bunnies say in unison. “Come back soon and visit!” Cherry shouts as Geryon swiftly exits that room to the back.
Dion smiles, shaking his head. “Sorry, ladies. I suspect Geryon will be returning home soon,” he comments and then follows the gryphon to the kitchen.
Entering the pocket universe, Dion sees Geryon already morphed into his normal, much larger form.
“Whew! That was close!” Geryon says, pacing back and forth nervously. “I’d rather avoid any unpleasantries with Death Clan members.”
“Generally a good rule,” Dion agrees. “Although, I find Sergeant Alma different in that regard. She seems more...well...passionate.”
Geryon snorts a laugh down his beak. “Passionate?! Sure, why not? Fantasize all you want on that, my friend, but I would not get within cuddling distance with any Death Clan member, regardless of her beauty.”
Dion sets the draft report on his desk, shaking his head. “Regardless, I have an appointment with Mr. Lee’s master, and need to depart.”
“Grand Master Pak is out here?!” Geryon asks, incredulous.
“Yes. I met him quite by accident. He assisted me in a minor bar scuffle during my first day here.” Dion quickly sits at the desk and pens a note. Sealing the note in a magically bound envelope, he turns to the gryphon.
“I need to ask of you a favor. This note needs to be delivered to my Uncle. Given my earlier experiences, I do not trust any common service to deliver it and would ask your assistance to take it to him directly.”
“Sure. I am, after all, everybody’s favorite carrier pigeon,” Geryon responds sarcastically. “Fine. Go have your fun with Master Pak. It is probably best that I scoot for awhile too, or I’ll just stay here and wonder why Fate would put two lovely, bird-loving ladies outside the door and tie them to a clan that gave me nightmares as a child.”
Dion chuckles in baritone. “I thank you for the service. If it wasn’t something of high importance, I would not think to ask.”
Geryon takes the note and stuffs it in his satchel. “Yes, right. If I find out that this is an inquiry about the whereabouts of some lady friend, I am going to be pretty irritated though.”
As the two step through the portal, Dion responds. “I can assure you that the note has nothing to do with any romantic involvement. I just need some critical guidance from Uncle Math.” And waving his hand, the god reestablishes the pantry.
“Oh, you know I can’t say ‘No’ to your requests. If I could, I probably wouldn’t be staring down a beak at you right now. If it is that important, I will run your note and get you an answer,” Geryon quips and then the two part company at the door.