The lights of the Wolf Den glimmered dimly, casting the inside of the club in moody blues and reds that never quite seemed to penetrate into the corners of the building. A lounge singer crooned into a microphone on the stage, offering rather more effort than could be properly appreciated by the handful of drunks nursing their last rounds in the early hours before the sun started to rise. Above the lounge was a large glass-faced VIP box, occupied by Ivetta Stark, the proprietor of the building, who seemed to be the only one still alert enough to enjoy the singer’s talents. 

She was a spectacularly tall and slender woman in her fifties, with dark skin and faintly gray dreads that hung like a curtain over nearly the whole of her body. Her long coat, lined with soft white fur, hung loosely from her shoulders as she reclined cross-legged in a velvet chair some couple of feet back from the window, sharp eyes flecked with gold watching the performance. Resting lazily in one hand was an antique japanese kiseru, the bowl of which was carved to resemble a silver wolf’s head. It was also empty, and clean enough to suggest it had always been, though the mouthpiece was covered in faint bite marks. A heavyset pitbull lay at her feet, snout resting on his paws. 

“And the shipment?” she asked. Her lips barely moved when she spoke, but her voice carried well enough through the box that you wouldn’t know it. 

“Untouched,” Erik replied. “Grim only paid attention to the others. Near as I can tell, he didn’t know it was there.” He and Mateo sat in a pair of chairs flanking Ivetta’s. Erik held a glass of some amber liquor in one hand - whiskey, maybe - while Mateo kept his hands folded in his lap.

“Don’t move it then,” Ivetta instructed. A woman in a rabbit mask slipped through the door at the back of the room, slumping into a chair behind Ivetta without hesitation. Ivetta gave no indication she had noticed the arrival. “No need to draw attention to it. We can pick it up once the police have moved on to not do their job somewhere else.”

“Understood.” The dog got to his feet, walking around Ivetta’s chair to try and climb into Bouncer’s. Bouncer craned her head back, trying to keep the big dog from licking at her face through the eye holes in her mask.

“And the apartment? How went things on that end?”

“Empty,” Mateo replied, wincing as the lounge singer tried a note just slightly too high for her range. “The miss took out the whole crew inside, but we couldn’t find anything useful. We’re still waiting for the first few to wake up again, but it looks like they were just another pack of gophers.” 

“And the trio you pulled out?”

“Unhelpful,” Erik scoffed, taking a sip of his drink.

“They didn’t know anything either,” Mateo elaborated. “One of the urban campers mentioned overhearing something about plans to move them somewhere else, but didn’t know anything beyond that.”

“And where are they now?” Bouncer’s chair creaked as she leaned back in it, desperate to escape the affections of Ivetta’s dog.

“I dropped them off at a safehouse for now,” Mateo replied. “They shouldn’t have to worry about anyone else picking them up until this issue is settled.” 

“Good.” Bouncer’s chair clattered loudly as it hit the ground, Bouncer herself letting out a yelp of surprise followed by groans of disgust as the dog got what he wanted, licking freely at her face now that the mask had been knocked loose from her head. “You know I don’t like you wearing that thing in here,” Ivetta remarked, finally turning her head to acknowledge the girl.

“Call off your monster,” Bouncer grumbled, pulling the mask fully off her head. 

“He likes you.”

“I noticed.” She shoved the dog away, picking herself up off the ground before righting the chair. Ivetta waved her hand, and Erik and Mateo stood to leave. 

“Miss,” Mateo offered in a quiet farewell as he passed Bouncer.

“You smell like iron,” Ivetta remarked once the men were gone. Bouncer took up Mateo’s former seat to Ivetta’s right. “More than you should. I don’t mind you pursuing your own interests, but it needs to be done in your own time. You were acting in my name tonight, and should have conducted yourself as such.”

“I was following a lead.” 

“No, you weren’t. You were picking fights like a wild dog.” Ivetta leveled a steady gaze at the girl out of the corner of her eye. “I can ignore that if something good comes of it, but as far as I can tell tonight, I could’ve given a bunch of two-bit gangbangers a case of metal bats and gotten the same result.”

Bouncer scowled, sinking low in her chair and walking her feet up the glass of the window. “They’re just goons,” she muttered impetuously. 

“Goons don’t exist, Rabbit,” Ivetta scolded. “Those are [i]people,[/i] taken advantage of because they needed money. They are not your free fucking punching bags.”

“Says the mob bo-” Rabbit cut herself off at the last second, shrinking under Ivetta’s icy glare. “...Yes, ma’am,” she finished, barely audible. 
“I want you to be better than this.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You deserve to be better than this.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Ivetta looked at Rabbit for a long, long moment, taking in every inch of her, then let out a soft sigh and turned her head back toward the stage where the lounge singer was stepping down from the mic. “...and get your shoes off the glass.”

They sat in silence for a while, neither one moving an inch. Ivetta watching an empty stage, kiseru clutched in her grip. Rabbit slumped low in her chair, arms wrapped around a heavy pitbull curled up on her with his head on her shoulder. Finally the tension between the two of them seemed to grow too much, and Ivetta spoke again. 

“So?”

“Hm?”

“This so-called lead of yours. Did you find anything?”

Rabbit sat in silence for a moment, trying to remember what had gone down in the last few hours. “Oh,” she answered, trying to shift under the dog. “Yeah, in my pocket.” Ivetta leaned over, flexing her fingers into Rabbit’s pants before gripping them around the slip of paper and pulling it free.

“What’s this?” she asked, looking it over.

“I ‘unno.”

“Helpful.” Ivetta squinted at the address, gears turning in her mind. “You’re sure it’s useful?”

“I ‘unno. Maybe?” The look on Ivetta’s face told her that wasn’t good enough. “This group of masks I ran into prob’ly thought so. The place I found it got all torn over, occupant ran out in a hurry and I think he forgot that.”

Ivetta pursed her lips into a thin line. “Hmm. I’ll have one of the boys look into this, then.” She stood, her coat slipping off her shoulders to rest in the crooks of her elbows. “Come on, then. I’m sure you’ll be needing food and sleep before you go out again.”