Smells like Teen Spirit

Yoka was not usually late to work, especially not when she literally slept in the apartment above the building. Well, okay, the truth was that Yoka was not just sleeping in the apartment above the building, she was also sleeping on top of Murphy. Which meant that in the mornings when she woke up, there was only one thing on her mind. Okay, well, it wasn't usually on her mind, it was usually--

Nope, Yoka wouldn't think about that, because she was already late thanks to doing exactly what it was she was thinking about. Yoka didn't even bother to get dressed in the apartment, instead just whipping up fox fire over her body, illusioning a pair of lacy black underthings over the parts she needed to be covered to sneak out down the interior of the bar and then back downstairs into the dressing rooms.

Luckily, it didn't matter that Yoka was late to work, because everyone else was already up and working. The place ran smoothly, and was Yoka really late if she was the owner of the place?

It was just her and Jelly in the fitting room.

"Good evening, Jelly," Yoka said, opening up her locker and rummaging through it. Did she really even feel like putting clothes on? Maybe she shouldn't' waste her magic pretending to have clothes on...but it was nice.




@King

Yoka was rummaging through her locker when Jelly asked her the question that confirmed every single one of Yoka's worst fears. She reached into her locker but--

--fuck her desert eagle was still up in the apartment with Murphy

which was bad for its own reasons but Yoka would just have to trust that the extra hot way they'd boned this morning meant that whatever luck she had rubbed off enough to make sure it didn't fall from someplace dramatically.

More importantly, Yoka was unarmed and basically naked which meant her only chance of subduing jelly was--

Yoka grabbed the other woman into the closest approximation of a headlock that Yoka knew. It was sloppy and all it did was successfully ram Jelly's face in between Yoka's very ample cleavage. Unfortunately, she was also distracted and fucking terrified, which meant the small illusion she'd used to summon the underclothes to begin with was gone.

"How do you know?" Yoka hissed, her voice a low whisper.

Yoka was trying to figure out exactly how she could kill Jelly.

She was loathe to because Jelly was a good dancer and didn't need that much training, which was nice. But also because Yoka was not great at killing people with her bare hands and Jelly seemed strong enough to put up a fight, which might cause attention, and Yoka hadn't had a disaster at the cross fox since 1882 and also because hiding a body was particularly a huuugee pain in the ass.

So Yoka was both relieved and embarrassed when Jelly pointed out that she came down covered in Murphy's scent.

Yoka hadn't showered. She didn't always shower after fucking him.

Which was....probably a mistake on an island with supernatural creatures.

Fuck, she was stupid.

Yoka groaned and released Jelly.

"How long have you known?" she asked. "Have you told anyone?"