All characters described are physically mature, young adults/18+.
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Pairs of Pumpkins- Patches #1: An Estrangement Intervention at the Mason Memorial Inn
("Patches" are standalone, supplemental stories in the "Pairs of Pumpkins" Universe that exist outside of the chapters of the main storyline. They are intended to explore and detail ideas and characters in the world with some secondary or tertiary connection to the cast and events of the main story line, even if they are never bound to intersect with it.)
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The heavy wooden door to the Mason Memorial Inn swung open for only the second time that afternoon and it did so with such violence to startle the young, canine barman. He jumped and nearly dropped the brandy sifter he'd been nursing in boredom before tucking the still-sloshing drink behind the counter. There were two new visitors standing in the doorway, their postures hunched down with exhaustion and annoyance and the barman straightened himself out to receive their guests. "Magdalena," he called out over his shoulder, through swinging, saloon doors behind him, into the kitchen. "We have visitors. They might be hungry."
"Don't let them order either of the specials. Or the salad," a sing-songy young woman's melodic voice called back out from the darkness of the doorway. "We're out of everything but the potato soup and the beef stew until tomorrow's delivery."
"Got it." He glanced up to the five items on the chalkboard menu and he pursed his mouth with thought. Dark brown eyes fell to the rag he used to clean it but a two item menu would not be fitting for an establishment of quality such as theirs. So he left it and turned his attention to the two new patrons approaching the bar, not the usual sort of travelers for adventure or commerce who would frequent this remote location.
He saw the female first, a striking but aging, white-furred, mink woman with sharp, triangle ears and a short, pointy snout. She was tall and her figure long and lean, befit of her species and she carried herself with poise below her low-slung head and a restrained sneer of irritation. Her headfur was white and short, cut into sculpted, fashionable bob with an asymmetry that reached below her chin on the longer side but whatever trauma they'd both been through had her hair frayed and neglected.
She, like the male walking in front of her, was postured as if they had come in from the pouring rain except they, like the world outside the windows, were perfectly dry. Drawing closer, it became clear they could both benefit from a bath and a wash as they dressed in a finery not fitting of travel, at least not outside of cushy caravans or stagecoaches. Both her long dress and his trousers, shirt and jacket bore signs of accelerated distress below the dirt and the mud.
The male of the pair was a rabbit of similar years, with an uncommon broadness for his species, suggesting some athleticism in his younger days, since grown soft and south with neglect and gravity. While his adornment spoke of an equivalent wealth to his female companion, his scowl seemed less out-of-character for his poise than hers did. His coat, where it was visible outside of his faded, bluish suit and half-buttoned, white blouse was a light brownish, freckled by spots of aged grey where the silver of his seemingly, once black headfur was further accelerated. The top of his head was barely shorter than hers and he could have cheated his way to a height advantage with his lapine nature but for now his long ears slumped, weighted down by their obvious troubles. As the pair shambled through the dining room, they both became aware of the peculiar finery surrounding them.
"What is this place?" the mink woman was the first of the two to speak, stopping to examine the white table cloth of one of the tables, round with chairs like a fine dining restaurant and not long and rectangular with hard benches for seats, that would be more expected from a roadside inn. The walls were white with paintings and tapestries hanging from them, gas lamps filling in the rare, would-be shadows where the ample windows in three of the four walls failed to bath the place with afternoon sun.
It was a few hours too early for a typical dinner time and late of lunch and the surprisingly opulent dining room was empty but for the canine barman and other patron: an older bull sat in a corner, focused on the steaming bowl in front of him that he ate from. In contrast to the finery of the dining room, he dressed like a farmer, which was the expected sort of local in this part of the land.
The bartender extended his arms out and open, his voice soft and silvery but confident. "Welcome to The Mason Memorial Inn, the finest luxury accommodations for the common traveler. We specialize in offering rooms and meals at Pauper prices at a quality that are fit for a King! My..."
"Not quite a King but it's nice," the rabbit spoke with a nasal voice and shrugged as he interrupted. His head craned casually, this way and that, evaluating the space around him. The mink was more polite and the young bartender caught her attention from across the room.
He was a good-looking, canine young man of an age dubious to be running this place at all. But there he was playing every bit the part and seeming completely comfortable in it, dressed in a white, silken, blouse draped over his tall and lanky figure while his waist was hidden mostly by the bar but it could be seen to be wrapped in a high, purple cumberbun. His coat was a sandy, blotchy beige which complemented his figure to suggest he was more coyote than anything else but his face, neck and inner ears bore ivory fur in a two-tone contrast uncharacteristic of the species. His bare hands at the ends of pressed sleeves offered a third shade of fur: black. The rabbit looked back and saw the mink's attention to him, however innocent and his scowl clenched further.
Looking between the two of them and the tension connecting them, the barman cleared his throat, otherwise undeterred and continued. "My name is Cormac. I will be your host and bartender for the evening."
"We need dinner for two, Cormac," the rabbit began. "Baths..."
"Separate," the mink interjected with a hiss and the rabbit continued without a hitch. "...A clean room, breakfast in the morning and enough rations for the road to make it home to Mudcrest".
"And drinks," the mink demanded. "Several. Stiff ones."
"For both of us," the rabbit flatly added.
"Of course. One bed for two?" Cormac turned his head in an anticipatory wince, his tone raising sharply.
"Two beds for one," the rabbit said with a glare at his mink companion, who scowled with equivalent disdain.
