Bar Hopping Chapter 1, a kim possible fanfic

"Bar Hopping"

"I'm telling you, Cambridge ruined you, man…" Ron complained as he and Felix sat at the table, sipping on their respective beers.

"And I'm telling you," Felix rolled his eyes roundly, "It civilized me."

"Whatever…" The blonde man snorted, "Warm beer is an atrocity unto God, man, and the great monkey."

Monique joined them at the table a moment later with her own beer, catching the tail end of the conversation, "I'm with Ron on this one, Wheels… God granted us refrigeration for a reason."

"Speaking of what God granted us… on your eight o'clock Ron-man…" Felix looked pointedly in the appropriate direction.

Rolling chocolate eyes, Monique sighed and rapped her finger on the gold band on Felix's left ring finger, "Ahem?"

"Hey!" he defended himself with affront, "I have a Latin goddess at home… doesn't mean I can't appreciate the art from time to time."

"Men." She huffed derisively. "Doesn't matter if they are fifteen or fifty… all the same."

Ron, meanwhile, was transfixed. The young woman in question had a perfectly heart-shaped bottom, which was born well in her low-riding jeans. Just above the waist, in the exposed bare of her lower back, was some odd sort of rough symbol, reminiscent of Pi but not quite that, bracketed by barbed wire decorations on each side. The rest of the way up was concealed by a white tank-top or tee under a short-style brown leather riding jacket.

"Oh jeeze," Monique's eyes finally went to the woman in question after noticing Ron's hypnotic stare. "Another redhead… Ron, if you had any more of a type, you'd be… what's that word Felix, for when you plug something in and it just starts up?"

"Plug-and-play," He smirked, but nodded in agreement.

Trying not to feel ignorant at the very basic term, Monique just sighed into her amber beer, "Yeah, that. Seriously…"

"I'm going in for a closer look…" Ron took his Kirin lager in hand, pounded it down, and made his way to the bar for an apparent refill.

"Boy never changes," the dark-skinned girl lamented, "Half the time he thinks he's Don Juan de Middleton, and the other half the time he trips on his own tongue."

"So you're saying you want to see which happens?" Felix grinned conspiratorially.

"Duh…"

They both watched with morbid curiosity as the supposed ninja made his way to the bar. It was obvious to anyone even glancing in his direction that his eyes were glued to her lower back and butt.

So much so that he bumped into the bar rail instead of stopping at the appropriate distance.

Monique and Felix both clapped their hands to their faces.

By the time they looked up, Ron was on his way back with his refreshed Japanese beer and an apparent smile.

"Report?" Felix arched a brow at the quick return.

"Natural redhead, five foot four inches tall, one hundred twenty pounds of muscle, age twenty three; just turned last month, an Aries born in the year of the Rooster, so couldn't be more cock-sure if she tried. Mixed accent, southern roots but inter-mountain west upbringing. Small B-cup, no evidence of a brassier, and perky. " He began listing off what he had observed in maybe thirty seconds as though it were wrote on a statistics card. "A few freckles on the cheeks from working in the sun, murder-me red matte lipstick from Club Banana, smokey rose eye shadow just dusted on to hint at color. She has a gold Ankh hanging from three links in her navel, no sign of a ring, sterling silver studs and a sterling silver and turquoise cuff in her ears, no piercings under the clothes or in the mouth, probably has ink on her left arm under the jacket. Wears sunglasses or specs a lot based on the faint notch in her ear lobes. And those eyes…. Man those eyes!"

"Okay baby boy, that's just creepy…" Monique gave Ron a sideways glance at the assessment.

"It's the ninja training," Felix surmised as he nursed his beer, "When he came to Cambridge, he could size up anyone in the room in five seconds flat. Seriously… it turned into a pub game. I came away with almost two hundred Pounds that night!"

Neither Felix nor Monique knew that Ron actually was a ninja, just that he had spent a lot of time in Japan over the past ten years and had come away with odd new skills. So they decreed it must be some sort of secret ninja training.

Sighing, Monique took a swig of her beer, "Alright, Boy, what about those eyes?"

"Moonstone…" he purred a bit, "Not quite blue, not quite green, not turqouise; bright, energetic, observing, almost as if she were hunting something."

The African girl rolled her eyes and palmed Felix a fiver, "Green-eyed redhead, you were right. Baby Boy is totally plug-and-play."

"Hey!" the blonde man frowned at the assessment, "I said moonstone, not green!"

The three friends chuckled together over their glasses.

"So when is our fearless leader supposed to get here?" Felix looked at his watch in consideration.

"She was supposed to be already," Monique supplied, looking around the bar for the twenty-eight year old redhead. "Tenth High School reunions only come around once."

"I know," The man on wheels offered as he nursed his beer, "Zita is so frazzled between the planning committee, and the kids, and her game's release cycle… I had to promise to drink enough for the two of us."

"Suuuure you did," Ron rolled his eyes. "But you know KP… if there's a cat that needs out of a tree, she's there. She probably paused to stop a bank robbery or something."

"Yeah, that her wife robbed," Monique rolled her eyes, soured on that particular fiery relationship long ago.

"Heeeey," Ron cautioned, playing mediator, "Be happy she found someone. I was beginning to think it would never happen for her. Besides, said wife has been behaving herself."

The mocha colored woman huffed and rolled her eyes, "as long as she doesn't bring her."

The blonde man sighed deeply at that, "No, she won't… The Wife doesn't like socializing with us mortals, you know that."

"Good." Monique snorted.

"So, you gonna make your move on Miss Moonstone?" Felix moved to change the topic, shooting his eyes at the shapely jeans.

Ron looked at his beer, which was not empty enough to warrant another trip, knowing he didn't want to get really hammered the night before the reunion; magical powers or no. Then he looked at the deep auburn hair in consideration for a long moment.

"I dunno, she's 23, I'm 28… We probably don't even like the same music…"

"Ron," Monique countered, smirking, "NO ONE likes the same music as you. Why should you let that stand in the way of a date?"

"What would I say?" he complained, suddenly uncertain of himself.

"Oh cheese and rice," She grabbed Ron up by the arm and dragged him to the bar. Then she briskly tapped on the shoulder of the leather jacket, speaking above the din of crowd and music, "My friend here likes your ink. Wants to know what it means."

"Oh?" She turned. Then she grinned broadly on seeing the blond young man, "Do ya now?"

Monique left the two of them to their own devices and returned to the table, "God that boy is so clueless sometimes. Things never change. But he was right about her eyes, they're almost haunting."

"Now, let's watch and see how he does with Miss Moonstone," Felix grinned over the lip of his beer as he glibly eyed the pair.

Giving him another coy and assessing grin, Miss Moonstone turned around to display the odd bifurcated symbol, "It's the cuneiform for Isatum, or fire. The barbed wire is jus' ta make it mine. Ya like?"

She gave her hips a slight sway to accentuate the split symbol while looking over her shoulder at Ron. "And here's a lil trick; touch it."

That seemed a bit forward, even for a bar room flirtation, and the blond man arched an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Ah go on, I promise, it won't bite or nuthin'." She held still now.

Reassured that he had permission at least, Ron reached out an index finger and touched the word for fire. "What the-? It's hot?"

It was clearly several degrees above body temperature, which Ron verified by moving his finger away from the ink slightly, feeling the drop to a standard ninety eight point six. "Okay, that's cool!"

She turned around and inched up the tail of her top slightly, thrusting out her taught abs to him, "Now, try ma Ankh."

Confused, but game for anything that involved touching such a pretty girl; Ron again extended his index finger and touched the golden ornament dangling from Miss Moonstone's navel. A slightly reddish spark leapt from the gold symbol to meet his finger, and he felt a warmth spread through him that was unconnected to his embarrassment. "Whoa!"

"Life energy," She grinned, smoothing her shirt and jacket back into position. "But I wouldn't advise touching Old Crow on mah arm, trickster Gods ken be pesky…"

"Oh, I know all about trickster gods," Ron grinned and tapped on the silver watch on his left wrist.

With a bluish flush, it melted and quickly snaked across to his right hand, forming an ink pen. He clicked the stem the transformation was reversed; the metal ink pen liquefying and flowing back through the air to his left wrist.

"Wowee!" She cooed in surprise at the display, "Let me guess, an ancient mystical weapon handed down through tha centuries?"

Ron's blond eyebrows went up in surprise, "That is… surprisingly accurate. How did you…?"

She tugged the left hip of her jeans down slightly, revealing tan lines in her bronze skin. Just below the daring pale streak of skin was a carefully shaped… scar. A brand which looked a bit like a lopsided boomerang, "Ah got one of those too, but mine dun change shape or size; and I think they might frown on me poofin' a glowing red twelve-inch blade inta' existence in a bar full o' people."

Ron moved his thumb up, touching the skin just below the welted mark. Indeed, through his connection to tai sheng pek kwar, he could feel the presence of something hidden in the mark.

And then his hand was viciously smacked away, and not by Miss Moonstone.

"Ron! What the heck do you think you're doing?! That's my cousin!" Kim Possible had materialized next to the pair at the bar, and she didn't look pleased in the least.

She was in a black tee-shirt top which had an intricate cutout and stone around the throat, and a pair of olive slacks ending in her stylish-yet-functional black boots. Her long carroty red hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, exposing the glare of her green eyes all the more.

She also smelled faintly of smoke, and there was a smudge of soot on the right side of her forehead. Obviously, he'd been right about her stopping off to avert some crisis somewhere.

"C- Cousi- Cousin?" he looked between the lighter and darker redheads in rife confusion. He thought he would remember any relative of Kim's who looked like that .

Miss Moonstone grinned and giggled, extending her hand to him, "Ah figured you all probably didn't recognize me. Seein' as you haven't seen me since Ah was 'bout twelve. Joss Possible."

Ron fumbled backwards to grab a swivel stool, feeling flush from the realization. Joss was smirking a bit coyly. Kim was trying to laser him to death with her eyes. He could almost feel a red heat welt forming on his forehead where she glared, and his brain felt ready to explode.

Back at the table, Monique and Felix exchanged a glance.

"Damn, just when it was getting interesting."

"She looks hot."

"Yeah, why do you think Ron went over there?"

Monique rolled her eyes and snorted, "I mean Kim. She looks POAAH."

"Translation?"

"Pissed Off As All Hell." The dark skinned woman supplied, sipping on her beer and watching the trio over its rim.

"Well, we know she's not Red's girlfriend, so, who is she?"

"My cousin Ron! My Little Cousin!"

"Oooooooooh." Kim's voice was raised enough now for them to hear at their table, and both eavesdroppers winced. "Ouch."

Ron, of course, said exactly the wrong thing to that; and both high school alums ducked their heads in shame back at the table. They had to admit they were impressed with Kim's restraint when she didn't slap him. Sometimes they wondered how Ron had survived Kim in the first place.

Then they recalled Kim's wife to the equation and they wondered if this wasn't a third or fourth generation improved Ron Clone and that the original was long gone.

Stranger things had happened in Middleton after all.

Back at the bar, Kim had managed to lower her voice a bit, but was still scowling. "Ron… Seriously? Fondling Joss?"

"Fondling?!" his voice gave a squeak which it rarely did these days. "Ahem, Fondling? J- Joss was just showing me her tattoos."

"And how many times have I ever had to tell you to look with your eyes, not your hands?" the fuming redhead glared daggers.

"Hey Now!" Joss frowned, "Ah gave him permission to touch me. Told 'im twice even."

"Stay out of this, Joss." She snipped off curtly, her ire still focused on Ron for the moment.

"Ah will not!" Now it was Joss's voice that was rising. "Ah am not some lil kid, Kim!"

To prove it, she slammed back a shot of some dark liquor that had been sitting before her on a monogramed bar napkin. "Ah am a college freakin' graduate, an' Ah won't be told who I let touch me, not even bah you!"

Kim was not prepared for the fiery response. So, in typical Kim-fashion, she ignored things she couldn't process, continuing to focus her ire on her partner, "Seriously Ron… I know it's probably been a while since you had a date, but Joss?!"

"KP, really, I was just-," Ron held up his hands, trying to defend himself. "I mean, come on, she said it herself, she's a big girl now. And I didn't know, really who…"

"Oh?" Suddenly the heroine turned, refocusing her glare on her cousin, "Is that true? Were you messing with him? Joss, you know how simple he is."

"Simple? Come on KP, that's a little har-," his compliant was met with a flattened talk-to-the-hand palm.

"Jocelyn," Kim frowned darkly, "I've heard from people about you and hanging around in bars. Don't tell me this is what you get up to?"

"Or what?" the younger ginger glared right back, her lips curling into a scowl, "You'll tell ma pa on me? Ah ain't no little girl, Kim. Not no more. Ain't it you who's always preachin' about doing anything and embracing your power and identity?"

"KP, maybe we should all just sit down and-,"

"Ever since you got that damned fire tattoo,"

"Isatum"

"WhatEVER." The redhead growled, pointing at her younger cousin, "You have been getting way too big for your britches."

"Too big for my...?" the auburn-haired girl sputtered, "I'll have you know Ah've seen more shit'n you'd believe! Lycans and Vampyrs and Wendigo an' stuff they ain't even got English names for!"

Back at the table, Monique and Felix could see that this was rapidly turning from a spectacle into a disaster. Monique stood up and Felix rolled backwards, and they started to cross the floor to prevent bloodshed.

"Ya know what?" Joss glared, looking around herself and then back at Kim, "Ah finished mah drink. Ah don't have to stand here and take this, and neither does Ron. Come on, Ron."

She spun on the heel of her riding boots and stormed away.

Ron looked between the two gingers. After a moment, he decided that Kim was too hostile to hear reason right now for whatever cause. And she was in the wrong and totally harsh too. Joss was only hostile, and probably the safer one to be around anyway. He didn't want to spend the rest of the evening trying to calm his best friend down or further explain himself, honestly; so he circled around to the table, swallowed the last of his beer and grabbed up his coat, and followed Joss out of the bar.

"Did he just- Did SHE just- Gragh!" Kim clenched her hands at her sides in indignant frustration.

"Whoa whoa, Red," Felix rolled up to one side of her, careful not to touch the seething redhead lest he draw back a bloody stump, "Easy on the Klunkin mating calls…"

"Yeah, Boo," Monique appeared at her other side, "count to ten, go to your happy place, imagine puppies and kittens, deep breaths…"

-BH-

Outside, Joss was building up a good head of steam as well, ranting as she stormed down the sidewalk. "Of all tha nerve! Ah'm getting too big for MY britches?! All Ah've ever done is follow in her footsteps! Try ta be as good as her! Find tha hero inside! An I finally found mah own path, and now it's too much?!"

"Joss, wait up!" Ron hurried after her, "We left my designated driver in there, I think… But, I… don't think Kim will want to drive me back to my hotel now and I can't go home because my old room is now Hana's dojo and-,"

"Y'all can bunk with me," She snorted as she found her ride, waving a key-fob at it and causing the headlight to blink and chirp in response.

Given the boots and the jacket, Ron found himself unsurprised that it was a motorcycle. The only odd thing was that the gas tank was blood red, and shaped vaguely like a horse's head, including two angry red "eyes" glaring over the headlight.

"But Joss, you've been drinking, and-," He hedged, wondering if this wasn't a bigger mistake than staying with a milk-curdling Kim.

"Oh, now don't you start," She turned on him and growled, "It was one shot. Given my body mass an' diet, tha's not enough to impair me, legally or functionally. 'Specially after only five minutes! Taint even in my blood yet!"

Holding up his hands, he sighed, conceding to her on the point, "But… helmet? Colorado is a helmet state you know."

Rolling her eyes, she rapped her knuckles on the seat. It hinged upwards and backwards, revealing two blood-red domes, which ascended from within to meet her hands.

Ron was beginning to detect a theme. Much as Kim now wore purple and black, her cousin was into crimson and chrome. He took the proffered helmet and waited for her to mount up first.

A thought stopped him as he watched her rest her foot on a peg. Her earrings were silver and chrome'ish, but her navel piercing was pure gold, which he indicated with his eyes, "Wait, isn't it like, some kind of fashion sin to mix gold and silver?"

"What are you, the fashion police?" She gave him a cockeyed smirk as she threw a leg over the bike's saddle; some of the heat leaving her voice.

"No, but I've met them," He grinned a bit. "Got half-credit for having a pocket-sized pet."

She rolled her eyes and laughed a bit, "Ah knew I liked you fer a reason. Come on, let's git outta here before Kim really does call mah dad."

Ron hopped on behind Joss and gripped the underpinnings of the seat. Joss reached back and grabbed his wrist, "Don't be a dip, that's not safe. Or aren't ya man enough to hold onto a little girl?"

Wincing at the call back to the argument and the irritation in her voice, Ron did as instructed and wrapped his arms around Joss. He was rather pleasantly surprised by how firm she was. Not wiry or hard, but certainly in excellent shape.

They made it a few blocks and came upon four firetrucks in the street responding to a call. Remembering the sooty streak and the smell on Kim, the blond assumed this was what had held her up. Looking around, though, he realized they had come down a one-way street, and now were basically struck by the laws of traffic.

He tapped on the back of Joss's helmet as he leaned around her a bit, "Now what? Can't turn around."

"Now, we go off road," Joss laid her palm on the equine fuel-tank. A moment later Ron was upset from his seat, because the bike was transforming.

The two large wheels split at one point, and folded up into wedged triangles, before shrinking away into one of their corresponding struts. The struts themselves spread apart and lengthened slightly, gaining new joints along their span. The seat beneath Ron jerked upwards beneath him, and he found himself slid up against Joss's back more intimately. Finally, looking over Joss's shoulder, he watched the gas tank rise up over the front headlight and tighten together into a true skull; revealing that this was, in fact, some new generation of Robot Horse.

"Ooof, sorry 'bout that," the auburn-haired girl looked back over her shoulder at him as his weight nearly pushed her up into the saddle horn which had appeared, "Ah keep forgettin' that the seat on the bike is for two, but tha saddle is fer one."

"I'm not complaining," He gave a goofy grin at their awkward predicament, "But how does this help us? It's still a one-way street with no outlet."

"Fer motor vehicles, yeah," She shook her head slightly, "But horses are a different matter. Watch."

She twisted the throttle on the handlebars, which now emerged from the horse's shoulders above a chest-mounted headlight, and it began forward at a steady gait. They got quite a few looks from those not busy fighting the fire, but nobody tried to stop them.

The mechanical steed navigated the chaos quite easily, stepping over hoses and around people, and soon they were on the other side of the situation. Joss twisted her wrist further and the steel stallion advanced from a trot to a gallop, easily matching the speed of its motorcycle form. Ron looked down, expecting to see sparks from steel hooves on concrete roads, but the ride was surprisingly smooth and quiet.

Following his eyes, the pilot grinned, shaking her head, "Hooves are polymer composites. An' there's urethane bushings in the knees. Good for 'bout fifty thousand miles."

"Your own work?" Ron still had to speak up a bit over the clop-clop of the hooves, plastic or not.

"Pa and I collaborated on her." Joss confirmed as they galloped amongst the traffic on the freeway, easily keeping the highway speeds. "Not still sceered of robot horses are you?"

"It's a little late to ask!" he had to hold on a bit more tightly with the up and down motion of the galloping steed, but for the moment, wasn't averse to it.

Besides, even if he was still scared of mechanical steeds, the idea of being around a nuclear Kim Possible was a lot more frightening.

The ride on the horse turned out to be shorter than expected. Ron was surprised that Joss was staying not at the Possibles', but at a motel on the south end of town. As he got off the bike/horse, he looked around.

Joss apparently interpreted the look, shaking her hair loose as she removed the helmet, "With Kim in town, we all planned a kina family reunion. But tha Possible house is full up, so a few of us made other 'rangements."

After a moment, the blond nodded at that. Kim's family was not big, but the rebuilt family residence was also not that big. He could just imagine trying to sleep Aunt June's rather large frame on the guest couch.

"Man, I hope KP cools off by tomorrow," he lamented as he stood awkwardly on the sidewalk. "I wish I knew what set her off like that. It was like… Whammo and she was off to the races on me."

Joss dismounted her mechanical steed and again touched the flat part of the head/fuel-tank. The mech-quine contracted and folded downwards until it was once again simply a stylized motorcycle. "Ah dunno, but whatever it is, I dun appreciate bein' on the receiving end of it. Ya'll wanna drink?"

Ron followed her to her room on the first floor of the motel, and inside after she unlocked it. The place wasn't exactly high class, but it was clean; with a single bed, a bathroom, and the standard minifridge and coffee maker.

Joss busied herself with a duffle bag at the foot of the bed, and produced a bottle of brown drink with a green and gilded label. Ron admired the view provided as much as was polite or prudent without getting caught.

Feeling a bit concerned about how he'd get back to his own hotel if Joss was about to imbibe, Ron raised a hand in concern. Then he remembered that the robot horse was just that, a robot. Much like Kim's car, it was probably capable of taking him home on its own if called to it.

Still, he didn't want to be getting smashed and hung over the night before the reunion. It would be bad enough by itself… but if Kim was already feeling touchy, his showing up burned by demon rum would not improve the situation. He took one of the plastic disposable cups from atop the minifridge and got some water from the tap instead. He might have super powers, but an iron liver was not one of them, and he'd already had two large beers in a half hour.

"So, scotch huh?" He attempted some small talk. Joss was mostly a stranger to him. A hot one, but still…

She poured herself a shot into what looked like a canteen's drinking cap, and nodded after she slung it back, letting it rest in her mouth and studying him. After swallowing, she smiled, "Yup. Beer gives me headaches, an' I dun like vodka. An' as long as I limit mahself to the expensive stuff, I can't afford to git into trouble with it."

Ron scratched the top of his head at that. Joss was barely out of college. In his experience, personally and as a ninja and world saver, it took longer than that to develop a taste for anything other than that which could be had at a gas station, right?

Curious, he looked at the green and gold bottle on the dresser. "'Bainne Màthair'? Why does that sound… familiar? Like I've heard it before…"

Giggling, Joss picked up the bottle and handed it to him. "Turn it 'round an' read."

The glass of the bottle was thick and heavy, and he realized there was a residue around the lip, the remnants of a real wax seal. Ron turned it round and read the back. The first thing he noticed was a secondary duty tag, indicating that it was imported rather than bottled in the states. He read the golden writing on the bottle, and realized why the name was so familiar. "Distilled on Karne Matal, ancestral home of Laird Angus Killigan… Oh yeah! Duff Killigan opened a brewery on his island!"

"Distillery," Joss corrected with a smirk, "Ya distil whiskey, not brew it. Though there is beer that they brew in whiskey barrels and vice'versa. An yup, Duff's is some o' the best. He drops lil chunks of the basalt his island is on inta' each barrel before he ages 'em. Ah got to tour it when I was in Scotland last year."

Ron didn't see any evidence of rocks in the richly brown liquid, but he could certainly smell the pungency of it around the synthetic cork stopper when he sniffed it. "You were in Scotland?"

"Yah, tha banshee of Dunbrock." She offered, but didn't elaborate.

She took the bottle from Ron and poured herself another shot full in the steel cup, sipping it a bit more slowly this time. "Ah… mother's milk…"

Ron again cast an eye at Joss. He was hardly that worldly himself, but she seemed young to be knowledgeable about fine spirits; even he was only now able to tell the difference between Japanese and German beers.

His eyes drifted from her shot cup, along her arm, to her…

He caught himself before they lingered too long there. Touching Joss was what had got KP so hot at him in the first place. The last thing he needed was to actually be guilty of anything.

In fact, he should probably be going. His father had raised him better than to be alone in a lady's room after hours unless it was for business.

"You all are thinkin' you should get out of here," she chuckled over her half-finished shot. "Dun worry, I told ya you could bunk here."

"How did you…?" he scratched the top of his head again.

"Ronnie," She giggled and shook her head, "Ya'll may be some kinda ninja god, but yer about as easy ta read as a dime novel. Kim's married now, why you so worried bout what she thinks bout what yer doin'? Not like anything's really gonna happen."

"Because she's my best friend and I don't want her angry at me." He answered. "Not that I understand why she's angry at me, but…"

"'xactly." Joss tossed back the last of the shot. "If'n you dunno why she's mad, what can ya do about it? What can I do 'bout it? Nothin. Now, if you dun mind, I'm gonna go and peel this makeup off my face since I ain't goin' anywhere else tonight. I'll make you up a bed roll in a bit, kay?"

Ron watched her saunter into the bathroom and close the door. He supposed she was right. If KP was mad, she was mad. She'd probably cool off by morning anyways. She might not apologize, but he wasn't going to let it get to him. That was just Kim, a proud creature. And they'd known each other for, well… twenty-three years now. He could roll with it as easily as anyone could by this point, including her wife.

Resolving that he would let it roll off his back like so many other things, he sat back to wait for Joss to come out of the bathroom, realizing that two large beers were making their way through his system now and he needed the facilities too.

When she came out a moment later, he politely but urgently squeezed past her into the toilet, closing the door and relieving himself, letting the pressure flow out of him from top to bottom in the process.

"Thanks, Joss, I needed that after the up-and-down on the horsebot."

"Ah know, right?" She laughed where she stood, looking into the room's mirror and tying back her hair, "Hard on the ol' bladder sometimes, ain't it?"

Ron, however, didn't respond. Joss had taken her riding jacket off during the interim; and with her arms up behind her head, he was acutely aware that her jacket had been her concession to modesty and that her attire for the evening had a close white tank top, and had not included a bra.

Suddenly he really wished Rufus was with him, because he felt danger signals.

AN: Chapter 1 of a 6 chapter story from the Raptor! It's nearly finished as of the posting of this chapter (May 31 2019) So I'll be releasing each chapter once a week till all 6 are out! Reviews = love and resharing = caring!