>> Original art by  cbh.

Past the window: the glow of streetlamps against old brick walls and new signs. The bell sounded, clearly but delicate, when the door opened and two men walked into the bistro. One was tall and lean, the other more heavy-set. They made their way to one of the wooden tables illuminated gently from above. The establishment was empty but for a quiet, middle-aged couple in a corner booth and a man stretching his time with a mug of beer as long as he could. A young woman played simple melodies on an upright piano nearby, until she was interrupted by a whistle by the bartender and went to the two men to ask what they would like.

The tall one, who looked quite like a hawk with feathers of grey and rust, asked for the house beer before turning towards his friend. “How about you, Adam?”
“I’ll have the same thing.”
“You sure?”
“Don’t make me do my Squidward face, Brian.”

Brian nodded towards the waitress, who assured them she’ll be back with their drinks. “I just thought, y’know, you have prohibitions.”
“I do, but it’s not like we’re going to get utterly smashed or anything.”
“Wouldn’t want that now, would we?”
“Not at all, no flapping about like gassed chickens in our lovely evening.”
“Actually, I was worried it might get a bit boring or something.”
“Worry not your ruffled down, sweetheart, I’m sure we’ll have tonnes to squawk about.”

While they talked, the waitress returned with their drinks, receiving thanks in return. Brian was wrapping up an intriguing tale of a taciturn lawnmower when a group of three young people came in, attire unchanged from their time in the office. They talked animatedly as they went to their table, and were audible enough for the pair of birds to know they wanted a round of the same house beer, a basket of frenched chips and rhubarb pie.

Adam took a quick glance at them. “Reminds me: I was fairly convinced you’d say yes to spooking the couple handsome lads earlier by offering some beakjobs.”
“Not sure about this person you’re thinking of, who would say yes to things like that.” The owl scratched a cheek that did not itch. “Forgive my feathers, Brian. I’m projecting. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good lay.”
“Uh, well... that’s okay.”

They entered the latest of a number of pauses in conversation. Adam tapped the rim of his glass before he spoke. “I can’t make up for the years in between where I’m not around.”
“I didn’t ask you to, Adam.”
The owl tilted his head to one side, looking thoughtful. He eyed towards his sides, around him, as if hidden ears could be listening. “Lil’ secret, between you and me. Not Adam, not today. Right now, I’m Nik.”
The hawk raised a streamlined eyebrow. “As soon as the feed kicks in, you’ll be Brian. The real one, I mean.”
“I... uh...”
“Put it out of your mind. This? This is bro time.” Brian snorted, partly-incredulous, partly-impressed. The owl looked at the slightly-bubbling, amber-filled glass in his hand in a way similar to how one looked at a picture of a nude, attractive woman in public. “As fluffy out-of-shape bodies go, this temple is unspoiled by any form of liquor.” He lifted the glass. “Fuck it, we’re birds.”
“Raptors, even.”
“Bloody dinosaurs who survived, we are.” Glasses clinked. “With ancestors who took Jesus’ head off.”
“Excuse me, what?”
“Just something a transvestite said on the telly.” Another pause, but a pleasant silence, before they both laughed and carefully tossed back the drink down their gullet.

Adam’s eyes wandered a bit afterwards. “That tender piece of stripey’s been eyeing you since he came in, Bee.”
“The one that came in earlier? Should I look?” Adam discreetly lifted an ashtray, aimed the shiny surface underneath towards the hawk. “The one with the tie?” A nod.
“Nah, I won’t.”
“Brian... with a chest that gorgeous, I imagine he’s a nice piece of tail as well.”
“Come on, Adam. It’s us time. This is bro time, like you said, yaknow?”
“I wouldnae turn down his burly friend there either, if ya catch me drift.”
“Really? Y’think we should...”
“Another drink, then we don’t have to think anymore.”
“Agreed.”

>> Gift commission from  hawkfeather to go along with a pair of adorable plush birds.

Hawkfeather and I go way back, to a very strange time in our lives when we thought we were partly animal in some big-worded deep-seated freaking-big-deal way. The reasons we’re still in touch with each other are hard to place, a mixture of pure chance and some sense of remembering where we came from.

I’m always overwhelmed by any form of kindness shown to me, and getting that package from him (knowing the last attempt was a partial disaster on the part of customs) left me misty-eyed for a few hours. It makes me want to be a much better person.