On the night of the event, chupacabras dotted The Crimson Goat's patio like cows in a field. They lounged among the nests of pillows, sharing countless plates as they exchanged news about their packs.

Out of all of Saguaro Pack, only Rosa had come.

"Do they always have you tending tables?" she asked as she accepted her third bowl of duck blood soup. With how much of the stuff she and her partner were drinking, they were well on their way to becoming Ralph's favorite customers.

"Not always. We're a little short-staffed tonight," Miguel said.

While the chupacabras loved the revamped outdoor seating, the same could not be said of the waitstaff, most of whom weren't willing to set foot outside. Some of them already struggled with serving chupacabras indoors, the dim lighting failing to hide the fangs sinking into every dish. Outside, there was little they could do to avoid seeing the chupacabras' messier eating habits and even less to avoid the stares of the pedestrians hustling past the restaurant.

"Well whoever they have in the kitchen is doing a great job," Andres said around a mouthful of blood sausage. Now without the mustard that had left the bread soggy, it was well on its way to becoming the most popular dish of the night.

"Are you going to head back in there? It can't be comfortable to walk around in that thing," Rosa said, gesturing to Miguel's apron.

"It's actually really comfy. Best gift I've ever gotten." So much so that taking it off at the end of each night made him feel as naked as shedding his skin. Miguel folded his arms over his chest, hugging the apron closer to himself. "Can I get you anything else this evening?"

"We'll share an order of tarantulas," Rosa said. "Then we'll have whatever that table is having."

The table in question— a group of half a dozen Creosote Pack males— pounced upon their sausage platter as soon as Alejandro set it in front of them. He snuck a glance at Miguel as he refilled their waters, his smile so broad it lit up his entire face, down to the stubble lining his jaw.

Miguel stifled a thrum as he gave Alejandro a little wave. They couldn't afford to get too distracted by each other tonight, not with the customers watching.

"Ah, so that's why you like that fabric so much." Rosa chuckled as Miguel snapped his gaze back to her and Andres. "Don't worry, I won't tell Isabella."

"Is it that obvious?" Heat rushed to Miguel's face as he scribbled down their order.

"As obvious as the sun in July," Andres said. "One of my sisters gets the same look every time she helps out at the farmer's market. This one guy always comes by for more than the produce, if you catch my drift."

"And your pack allows it?" Miguel asked. It had never occurred to him that there might be other chupacabras like him who found humans more pleasant to be around than most.

"He makes her happy, so folks give them their space." Andres brushed a hand down his spines. "I honestly don't think anyone expected them to keep seeking each other out. She might find herself a mate someday or she might not, but for now she's enjoying his company."

"Are you saying you don't think it can work?" Miguel's throat tightened as concern coiled inside it like a snake.

"He's saying it's hard." Rosa's claws popped in and out the cushions beneath her as she fidgeted into a more upright position, leaning against Andres. "It's not easy for us, and we're just in different packs. Humans are... strange. Fragile. And I know you don't want to mate with anyone, but what if he does?"

"I'd better get your orders to the kitchen," Miguel said. The words hissed out of him as his stomach churned. She wasn't wrong: humans were some of the strangest creatures he'd ever met. They took tiny territories with no pack to speak of, traveled in metal shells full of thunder and fumes, and tamed fire to prepare their food. But Alejandro quickened his heart in ways no one else ever had. Surely that counted for something.

Didn't it?

As evening darkened into night, the number of customers dwindled until Mr. Kaminski closed the indoor seating entirely. With nothing else to occupy his thoughts as he trotted back and forth between the kitchen and the patio, Miguel's eyes flicked from one table to the next. Even during rush hour, the crowd had been moderate at best, but what struck him more than the number of customers was how much they were eating.

For each diner, he'd often have to bring out three or more rounds of food. It wasn't as if they were eating all of it themselves either. Plates full of meat sat untouched in takeaway containers as friends chatted about their latest hunts and mates nuzzled each other's necks. He'd never seen so many chupacabras from different packs so comfortable around each other, so relaxed. With so many of them planning to bring leftovers to their packmates, The Crimson Goat was bound to attract more customers.

Even with much of their clientele putting in their dessert orders as they prepared to head home, new customers still trickled in. Miguel's latest table, a lone male with a broad, well-muscled frame and golden eyes, appraised him with more attentiveness than he'd shown the menu in front of him. "Pretty sweet gig you've got going here, isn't it?"

"I'm not used to spending so much time outside the kitchen, but yes."

"Ah, so that's where he's got you doing it?" At Miguel's puzzled expression, the customer flicked his snout toward Alejandro as if he was singling out prey. "Bit more public than I'm used to and he looks too young to pay you well, but he should be gentle, at least. Nothing too intense."

Heat rushed to Miguel's face as he realized what he was implying. "We aren't mates," he spluttered, choking on the lingering fumes of countless brands of cologne. He strained to decipher the customer's pack scent, but all he earned for his trouble was burning nostrils and stiffening spines.

No wonder this customer had come alone. He was packless, cast out like shed skin. And yet, there was no hollowness in his gaze, no crippling loneliness. There was only an easy confidence as if The Crimson Goat was his territory, and Miguel was merely a visitor.

"Of course you aren't!" the customer said. "Nothing wrong with that as long as he treats you right, and he doesn't look like the type to give you any trouble. Think he'd be interested in a little something from me after he's done with you?"

"We're dating." Miguel's voice squeaked out of him as if he was a hatchling. He'd heard his fair share of comments about his unwillingness to mate, but most dropped it quickly enough, at worst telling him he'd grow out of it once he found the right partner. This bluntly vulgar disbelief was something new, something that sent waves of nausea rippling through his stomach.

The other male laughed a great booming laugh that thundered throughout the patio, only to clamp his jaws shut at the look on Miguel's face. "Oh, you're serious." Disbelief turned to pity as he shook his head. "You're going to get yourself hurt."

"Alejandro would never hurt me."

"Has he asked you to do anything yet? Anything a human might ask of a mate?"

"He let me sleep at his apartment once. It was nice."

"So not quite yet." The customer pulled one of the complimentary mice from its cage and crushed it between his teeth. "He will. They always do, even if they pretend to be your friend first to make themselves feel better."

Miguel shuddered, baring his fangs in something that was half snarl and half grimace. "He's not like that."

"No shame in it if he is." The customer squinted at the name scrawled across his apron. "Miguel. There's good money to be had if you find the right ways to satisfy humans. You don't even have to let them touch you if you don't want to. Just let their eyes do the work for you."

"I'll keep that in mind," Miguel said through gritted teeth as he swallowed a mouthful of bile. He'd rather graze in the pasture than do that sort of thing with anyone.

"If you ever decide to give it a try, contact these people." The customer handed him a dark green card with a phone number written in gold text. "Tell them Luis sent you. They'll hook you up with the good stuff."

Miguel slipped the card into his pocket. "Thank you, Luis. Now, may I please take your order?"

"Treat everyone to a round of the special for me." He pulled out a stack of cash with a smirk. "I can afford to splurge, and it's the least I can do for putting you on the spot."

Miguel's claws flicked through the bills. All real, and more than enough to cover the cost of the food and then some. "I'll have that and your change out for you in a minute."

"Keep the change. Think of it as a tip."

Miguel fled to the kitchen, but the flowery scent of Luis's cologne clogged his nostrils long after he escaped that pitying gaze.