The next few days passed in a blur. With The Crimson Goat closed while Mr. Kaminski got the graffiti cleaned up, Miguel had no choice but to return to his duties with the pack. Isabella barely spoke to him except to assign him his tasks for the day, and most of his packmates gave him a wide berth.

Whether it was because word had spread about him taking a job away from the pack or because his scent had mingled with that of his coworkers, he had become even more of an outcast than before. He'd never been outright disliked, but many were bothered by the favoritism Isabella showed him. The first choice of any part of a kill, a nest in the least drafty part of the barn, all this and more Isabella gave him even though he could never join a hunting party. With her clearly upset with him, barely anyone spoke to him as he spent his days gathering fresh bedding for the hatchlings.

Without his pack's companionship, Miguel felt as if he was walking around with a snake squeezing his heart. Each abruptly hushed conversation and averted gaze made it coil even tighter until his chest physically ached.

Not even his date with Alejandro had taken his mind off his increasing isolation from his pack, at least not for long. With the sun warming his scales, Miguel had enjoyed a picnic with him before they fed the ducks together. Seeing the ducklings approach him without fear and listening to Alejandro laugh as they wiggled their tail feathers had eased the ache in his heart, to say nothing of when Alejandro had held his hand.

Miguel had barely noticed it at first, only glancing down when his hand warmed under Alejandro's touch. His fingers were as gentle as a breeze as they wrapped around Miguel's, only strengthening their hold when Miguel reciprocated.

Their date would have been perfect if it weren't for the dogs. Labradors, pitbulls, Chihuahuas, all running through the park without the faintest idea what could become of them if they strayed too far from their owners. But Miguel knew. That awareness settled as a cold weight in his gut, growing heavier with each moment he hid his pack's desperation from Alejandro.

Even when he finally returned to The Crimson Goat later that week, Miguel still couldn't escape how bad things were getting for chupacabras.

Despite the staff's best efforts to scrub it away, the ghost of the graffiti still lingered. If Miguel squinted, he could make out the words "Go home, goat suckers" beneath a crude drawing of a chupacabra biting a decaying goat carcass.

"Sorry you had to see that," Alejandro said as they got settled in the kitchen. They'd only just started the evening's prep work, yet the heat already had him and the other humans mopping sweat from their foreheads. Even Miguel found himself panting as the air conditioning groaned.

"When I get my hands on the assholes who did that, they'll be eating the rest of their meals through a straw," Ralph said, his expression so dark that Miguel was tempted to take his knife from him.

"I've seen worse," Miguel said. "I'm just glad nobody got hurt."

Whoever did it wouldn't get much more than a slap on the wrist even if the police bothered to find them. Perhaps since other humans were involved there'd be a cursory investigation, some reparation for the damage done to the restaurant. With anti-chupacabra sentiment as high as it was, even that would be a small miracle.

"Thanks for your help with David the other night," Miguel said as Yolanda spooned sanguinaccio dolce into ramekins.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, "although it wouldn't surprise me if you had something to do with the headache I had."

Although she denied it, there was something different about the way she treated Miguel now. Her perpetual scowl felt a little less sharp, and her elbows no longer came dangerously close to jabbing him in the side whenever she passed him.

"Speaking of the other night," Alejandro said, "that apron looks amazing on you."

"And it's super comfortable, too." The fabric hugged Miguel just enough to keep him well protected from grease splatters without chafing against his scales. Judging from the way Alejandro's eyes followed him throughout the kitchen, it really did look as good as it felt.

"That little punk didn't give you any issues on your way home, did he?" Ralph's tiger tattoo twitched as he cracked his knuckles.

"No, he was out in the pasture by the time I got home. Probably hungover judging from how his mom was fussing over him."

"That's right, you spent the night together!" A massive smirk curled Ralph's lips, his anger at David and his cronies forgotten. "I don't suppose things got serious, did they?"

"Well, breakfast was seriously tasty," Miguel said. "You'll have to show me how to make that sometime, okay? I knew folks loved bacon, but I had no idea it was that delicious." He swallowed the venom pooling on his tongue at the mere thought of the perfectly crisp strips of meat.

"The secret's not heating the pan until you add the bacon," Alejandro said.

"I think the secret's who makes it," Ralph said with a chuckle. "He'd drink the grease if he knew it came from your pan!"

Alejandro's voice took on a pitch that reminded Miguel of a hatchling as his face flushed. "He'd never do that."

"Yeah, I don't need to burn my tongue."

"Because you need it for something else?" Ralph laughed so hard at the look on Alejandro's face that he had to put down his knife to avoid mangling the duck. "I'm kidding! But good for you, though. Glad to see you doing something besides eyeballing each other all the time."

"What would I need my tongue for?" Miguel asked.

"Let's just say lips aren't the only things people kiss with. I'll leave it to Alejandro to teach you the rest."

Miguel had never considered what a human like Alejandro might want from a relationship besides enjoying each other's company. He could handle hugging and hopefully cuddling as long as Alejandro didn't find his scales too rough, but kissing? That was beyond him. The closest thing to that chupacabras did was allow their venom to mingle while they ate from the same kill, and even that was indirect compared to what Ralph seemed to be suggesting.

Miguel couldn't do that with Alejandro. Even one drop of his venom could cause damage. With how fragile humans were, it wasn't hard to imagine how horribly that could end.

No matter how much he cared about Alejandro, that form of affection would be forever beyond their reach. Yet another thing that Ralph had almost certainly given him that Miguel could not.

As Miguel pondered what he could possibly do to show Alejandro how much he liked him without hurting him, tickets came in slower than a snail's crawl. Even as their usual peak hour came and went, there were barely any orders to keep them occupied.

"Heck of a slow night," Ralph said. He ladled what was left of the duck blood soup into Tupperware containers. While most homeless shelters were reluctant to take in chupacabras, a few offered aid to those without a pack. Mr. Kaminski made sure any leftovers they had were delivered to them.

"It's that graffiti, I bet," Yolanda said.

"I don't know much about the other packs, but mine doesn't exactly have much money to spare right now," Miguel said.

"And neither do we, unfortunately," Mr. Kaminski said as he came into the kitchen to help them clean up. "Rent's up again, and the AC's on the fritz."

"There has to be something we can do to get folks coming in." Alejandro wiped his forehead, his hair slick with sweat. "Have you thought about trying one of those events you were talking about the other day?"

"Yes, but advertising will be an issue," Mr. Kaminski said. "A lot of our customers don't exactly come into the city often, and most of them hear about us through word of mouth. But if nobody's coming or they're not crazy about the food..."

"We're screwed," Yolanda finished.

"We can decorate the outside more, and push the outdoor seating," Alejandro said. "That way they hopefully won't notice where the graffiti was, and they'll see other chupacabras like the food."

"And I'm sure we can knock their scales off if we tweak the recipes," Ralph said. "Heck, all you have to do to get that one purring his head off is throw some spice in his general direction."

"That leaves how we'll get the first few folks to give us a try." Mr. Kaminski put a hand on Miguel's arm, the look in his eyes equal parts pleading and apologetic. "We need all the help we can get."

Miguel fought to keep his spines flat. Isabella barely tolerated him going out among humans as it was. She'd be outraged if she knew he'd tried to spread their ways among the pack.

But Alejandro was counting on him, and so was the rest of The Crimson Goat's staff. Surely she would understand why he needed to do this, if not for the restaurant itself, then for the chupacabras who ached for a corner of the human world where they could be accepted as they were.