Mocha held onto Sensha's hips as they left the forest, careful not to tickle the tauress as she moved. The big girl had insisted that Mocha not dismount her when they had finished their little chat in the forest. While the smaller woman didn't necessarily want to overindulge the centaur, she certainly didn't need her to go charging further into danger in another distressed fit. So instead she rode the woman beneath and in front of her.

"I was really interested to hear that you had taken up weapon smithing and mercenary work," Sensha said, glancing back and down at her with some difficulty. Her smile was wide and cute on her in a dopey kind of way, even if she was a towering behemoth of a creature.

Mocha nodded up at her, "Yeah. A lot happened after we got separated. I can tell you more once we're safe." She found herself making promises to the woman she used to know, not that she was particularly comfortable. She just knew that to keep this person working with her, she had to keep the tauress happy.

So it was that when Detective Mulner walked over to them, his expression finally something other than general disinterest, Mocha simply waved to him instead of dismounting. It wasn't like she was uncomfortable, and Sensha seemed very pleased to have her there.

"I see you both made it. We heard some roars and gunfire, even found the bear corpse. We were worried that one or both of you had been injured," he said, looking them both over. "Glad to see that you're both here in one piece."

"Yeah," Mocha said, nodding to the man, as she leaned to the side so he could look at them both. "The big girl and I just needed to talk some things out. We're all good otherwise," she explained, patting the much larger woman on the waist, since reaching her shoulder from the current position would be awkward at best. Standing at a startling ten feet, the centauress was a little over twice Mocha's height. Sitting on her barrel didn't really help her see eye to eye with the woman as much as one would think.

The detective nodded, looking ready to bring them back to the road and over to the new police vehicles on the scene when Sensha reached out and gently stopped him, holding his shoulder. The man turned back to her, raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Sensha paused a moment and Mocha was unsure exactly what the big girl wanted before she dipped low and… and apologized. "I'm sorry I pushed you earlier, and for running off. I don't know what I was thinking I just…" she began, her remorse evident in her tone.

The detective held up a hand before she could continue, shaking his head. "It's no problem. I’ve seen way worse in my day, and I understand. Tension is high and it's been years since the pair of you last met. It's a big moment," he said, lowering his hand and pushing it into his pocket once he had finished talking.

Mocha watched them both with a calm smile on her face as Sensha raised her hand and rubbed the back of her neck, sheepishly thanking the detective for understanding. Mocha doubted there'd be any hard feelings between the pair of them, and that made her smile all the wider.

Even as the group made their way toward the new vehicles, she had a good feeling. She just hoped the finer details of the move in process and the briefing wouldn't ruin the good mood.

It did.

—

Mocha and the centaur both sighed with the exhaustion brought on by a long day. Mocha, being the first one into the small mansion that would serve as their home for the time being, held the door for the much larger centaur, waiting until her haunches had fully cleared the doormat before she shut it. The place itself was humongous, a show of opulence and power in equal measure.

For one thing, the house was a house, with a ground level foundation in a neighborhood of houses. In the modern day, having such a luxury alone would have cost her entire yearly revenue to upkeep. Along with the ridiculously high amounts of security actually protecting the neighborhood, the only thing that would have screamed "I have money" louder would be a private cabin house in the wilds.

Then there was the make of the house. A simple, small 2 bed 1 bath house would have cost literal millions of creds. What they stood in was a 4 story, 8 bedroom mansion with 3 offices, 4 balconies, a pool, a sub-basement private theater and bar, and 9 full bathrooms. Not to mention the culinary standard kitchen and walk-in freezer. The home was a place of raw fantasy, and whatever information Sensha knew that was important enough to get her such accommodations had the smaller woman scared stiff.

Beyond all of that, the place had come furnished and fully equipped. Whoever had planned their move had taken the time to stock the place with not only couches, tvs, sound systems and portraits. There were also vases filled with fresh flowers, custom lighting set ups and, worst of all, fucking room vacuums.

The PD and whatever other part of the Neo Denver Government that wanted this to happen was really laying the accommodations on thick. As Mocha shut the giant door into their new dwelling, she sighed and took a moment to shut her eyes and lean on the heavy wood for support.

When she opened her eyes she nearly toppled over when she found Sensha leaning in to observe her. "Eep!" She squeaked in protest, pulling away.

Sensha smiled at her like what she had done was cute and then put up her hands. "Sorry, sorry. I wasn't trying to scare you. I just wanted to see if you were okay," she explained, keeping her torso low so she could maintain a good look at Mocha.

"Fine. I'm fine. Just a long day, and I'm still a little miffed with our cover story," Mocha explained, hiking up her knees and undoing her laces before slipping out of her heavy combat boots. In all honesty that was another part of this entire set up that had bothered her. She felt pissed that she hadn't been allowed to read a contract or get details on this plan before she signed up. Currently, her cover was that she and Sensha were an eloping couple from the York Prefecture who had gotten together and fled from disapproving parents.

Sadly with how wealthy the people who lived in the York Prefecture were and the fact that Mocha was human, the story was pretty believable. Pure humans were rare, down to the lower ten thousands in population, and the majority of their family lines traced back to before the ignition. So wealth wasn't uncommon in those families. It also wasn't uncommon for Yorkies to purchase property at the drop of a dime and move in, only to leave the property when they got bored and not even sell it.

"Come on. Pretending to be in a relationship with me isn't going to be that terrible, is it?" Sensha asked, her tone playful. Mocha knew that question was a trap, though, and shook her head, stepping away from the door and tossing her pack and jacket onto the nearest couch.

"I'm not looking to be in a relationship with anyone, big girl. You included," she said, sighing and looking to the kitchen, her expression conflicted. She was tired and she didn't want to cook, but she needed food before she passed out or she'd wake up cranky and ravenous. Stuffing her weariness down and ignoring the pout that Sensha was giving her, she started toward the kitchen.

Before she'd made it halfway there, she heard the click of hooves on the stone floors and then felt large hands wrap around her hips. She gasped, grabbing the hands on her body and beginning to protest before Sensha shushed her.

Mocha glared and scowled when she was lifted and turned around with relative ease to face the other woman, neon pink eyes meeting with her baby blues again. The smirk on that face almost had Mocha ready to give the tauress a piece of her mind. Yet when she opened her mouth, Sensha spoke. "Shhh. It's no funny business, I promise. I just want to cook my hero dinner. Okay?"

"I don't know about that. I don't eat around people," Mocha pouted, averting her eyes, "Might be better if I cooked food for myself and found a room for the night."

Sensha frowned at that, looking down at her with consternation on her face. "No way. You ate around people just fine when you were 8," she said, looking at the smaller woman in frank disbelief.

"Believe it or not, a lot can change in 10 years, big girl," Mocha sighed, looking down at her own dangling legs and the distance she was from the floor as Sensha held her aloft. "Though I guess some things do stay the same."

"So you'll eat with me tonight?" The tauress asked hopefully, bouncing with a giddy, almost childish energy.

"Absolutely not," Mocha replied, returning her gaze to Sensha's features. She was not going to budge on that little detail. There was absolutely no way she was going to get caught eating by anyone else.

"Come on. You can make one exception. This is important," Sensha insisted, pulling Mocha closer to her, her eyes watering. "Please?! I've been wanting to cook for you for forever! I've literally been working on my skills for a decade just so I could do this!"

In spite of the puppy eyes the larger woman was giving her, Mocha didn't budge on her personal rule. "No exceptions, big girl."

Sensha's face was a mural of distress. It was obvious to Mocha that she really had looked forward to cooking for her.

"I'm not saying I won't eat your cooking," Mocha said with a gentle sigh. "I just can't eat around people. It's not something I do just to be difficult or mean to you," she explained.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"So… you will eat it?" Sensha asked, perking up, if only a little.

"Yes. I'll eat it," Mocha confirmed.

"And you'll tell me if you liked it or not?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"I guess I can settle with that for now…" Sensha said, still disappointed, but willing to take her wins where she could get them.

"Great. Now put me down please. I'm not a doll," Mocha requested, growing uncomfortable with the elevation.

Sensha chuckled at that, depositing her on one of the stools at one of the two separate islands in the kitchen. "You could have fooled me. Unnaturally pretty, doesn't eat, doesn't drink. Fashionable outfits, I could pass a few hours just playing dress-up with you."

Mocha huffed and swatted her flank as she passed reproachfully. She didn't necessarily appreciate being set on a chair either. Yet, while the gesture was a little demeaning, Mocha couldn't help but notice just how far off the ground her feet were. It might have been more embarrassing to be seen climbing up onto the thing.

Sighing, the petite woman took her custom action shades off, folding them and slipping them into their cover as she exchanged them for her standard lenses. The big, round glasses felt much more at home on her face, and she sighed, sweeping her locks away from her eye as she took in the kitchen itself.

It was a beautiful pace, lit with a reflective chandelier with custom bulbs on the lamp fixtures. The ceiling was arched to accommodate the fixture and further the light saturation in the area. The refrigerator was huge, probably meant to be stocked by giants and the counters were set at 5 feet. Cooking in the area would literally require Mocha to get a hov tool if she wanted to cook for herself. The onyx stone countertops were beautiful and well polished. It was easy for Mocha to assume that every fixture and piece in the house was equally expensive and new.

Before she could confirm that Assumption, though, Sensha distracted her, her voice slightly muffled from the inside of the spice cabinet. "Speaking of things that changed over the last ten years, what happened to you, Mocha? I've been trying for years to find you. I was shocked to find out my little bird was a merc and a weapons dealer on top of that," the tauress led in, obviously trying to start up a conversation.

Mocha hummed to herself, propping her cheek on a hand as she leaned herself against the counter. "Well… I mean, when we got separated, that crazy super was trashing the entire block. I had to run," she said, trying not to truly throw herself back to the day her life changed for the worst. “I was lucky to be picked up by one of the minotaur groups on their way out of the town."

"Minotaurs, eh? Not common for them to be nice to little lost girls, but the city was being torn apart in chunks, so I guess even they make exceptions under extreme circumstances," she said as she fished out a pan, then another, and another, setting them on the stove and turning on the heat before moving back to the refrigerator. "What after that?"

"Well, they left me with that sorority of cows and nuns that used to live at that big temple down the street from your parent's house," Mocha continued when prompted, thinking about her time with the sisters and what they'd taught her as the group moved. "They were where I learned I was kind of into women. That and they taught me a bit about clothing myself and my cycle," she said, not missing how Sen paused when she mentioned her interest in the same sex. It was almost enough for the tauress to drop the bell sprouts and tomatoes she had pulled from the fridge.

"They all migrated down to the south, then along the border of the heartland until we made it here," she continued, not wanting to linger on topics that might set the woman off to act more strangely. "I was kicked out about a year after we got here when they found out about Mom's old book and what I was reading at night."

Mocha was none too happy to go over that particular part of her life, but she was very pleased to hear the crackle of butter on a heated pan. "Must have been shitty. I know that book meant a lot to you, even when we were little you studied that thing like it was a religious tome," she heard Sensha chuckle as she poured olive oil into another pan in an even, thin stream.

Mocha found it odd that the chuckle, that knowing expression, was the first real thing about Sensha that made her feel like she actually knew the woman. The fact that Sensha knew about her book, how important it was to her… It brought her back to before the collapse. Back in a park where she'd sat, nestled in the lap of a tree with a book almost the size of her torso. Then a shadow had darkened its pages, and she'd looked up to see a smiling face. That chuckle, and the memory of that smile gave her a sense of warm familiarity she'd only felt small sparks of until that moment.

"What happened after that?" Sen asked, slapping and rubbing seasonings into two slabs of red meat. Her voice and the wet slap of a palm on bloody meat pulled Mocha from the memory and back to the present. Looking up at the centaur, she caught a glimpse of that smile, that same smile. Sensha's eyes were a different color than she remembered her having as a child. The tauress in her memory had chocolatey brown eyes. But the interest and curious affection behind that gaze was exactly the same as what she remembered.

"Uh… I spent a few days on the street before the Man took me in," Mocha said, though her tone was mildly distracted. Half of her mind was preoccupied with the familiar beauty of Sensha's face, the other half thinking about her old mentor. When had Sensha gained that scar down her cheek?

"The man?" Sensha asked, a bemused quality tinting her tone as she continued to rub pepper into the meat. Her hands were rugged too, large and callused. Her nails were clipped short and little slashes and flares of scar tissue covered them. It made Mocha wonder if the centaur had cut herself many times while learning to make meals.

"Christopher G. Chapman. He took me into his shop," Mocha explained, shaking her head to extricate herself from the thoughts and memories. She could smell the sprouts and the sweet ripeness of the tomatoes as Sensha idly turned the water on and ran them under it quickly.

"That's one hell of a name," Sensha commented in the lul of conversation, putting down the freshly rinsed sides as she picked up one of the two slabs of meat and turned to the hottest pan. The hiss as the meat came to metal for the sear was loud enough to fill the kitchen for a moment. It was almost loud enough to drown out Mocha's little giggle.

"I know, right? He hated it though. Said it was too pompous sounding. Made me call him "the Man" instead. Like that was any better," she continued, giggling and rolling her eyes at the obnoxious nickname. "I can't complain, though. He took me in as a live-in apprentice. He fed me, mentored me, schooled me. Taught me everything I know. He even helped me figure out I could do mass enchanting and mana flavoring. I have a lot to be grateful to him for."

Sensha nodded with a deep chuckle of acknowledgement, still looking in the opposite direction as she tended to the dinner, flipping the meat to sear the other side. Already, the scent of cooking meat was filling the kitchen with a distinct, mouthwatering aroma. Mocha could feel her tummy growl, her sensitive nose and empty stomach conspiring to make her hunger evident.

"So I take it from there the two of you got along until you moved out?" Sen asked, trying to keep the conversation going and to mask the fact that she'd heard that cute little tummy grumble. She turned and with a knife produced from the block next to the fridge, eyeing it before nodding and having at the tomatoes with quick, measured slices.

"No… I uh… I didn't really move out… The Man was uh… We were out on a gig for some supply money and he ended up not making it. About 3 years back. I was his only known 'family', so I handled the future and inherited the shop. Changed the name and I've been doing business since," Mocha confessed. It was a hard thing to talk about. But she found it easier now. Years had passed and she had come to terms with how Chris had died, and how she could honor his memory.

"Oh… I'm sorry for your loss," Sen said, her voice soft as she finished seasoning the tomatoes and turned back to the oven, where she lowered the heat on the front burner and added the butter, rosemary, and thyme to the dish. With the involved portion done, she turned her attention to the other pans, letting the meat baste and cook properly.

"N-no. It's fine," Mocha said, shaking her head and smiling. "It's been a bit. But um… we talked a lot about me. How about you!? It's been so long," she insisted, changing the subject before she had to go into the time she'd spent with Taburnus.

"My story is nowhere near as interesting as yours, I'd say," Sensha replied, her eyes focussed on Mocha's dinner as she halved the Bellsprouts and set them into the back pan with a salted bottom to cook. Her fingers swirled, making the halves sizzle and crackle on the greased steel.

She continued on like she was on autopilot as she eased the sliced tomatoes into the olive oil pan, breathing deeply as they hissed. "After we got thrown apart I got picked up by the mob. Got traded around a few times until I proved myself good for work rather than just body parts. Once that happened I got taken on as an enforcer. Did a few hits and joined the mob," she sighed, shrugging as she finished.

Mocha's jaw dropped as she listened to her childhood friend casually rattle off what should have been traumatic events like they were a grocery list. She genuinely seemed more interested in the cooking than she did telling her story. "Wha- that is certainly a lot!" she protested, realizing a moment too late that she'd been drooling. The shock had almost been enough for her to forget how good the food smelled. Her body had not forgotten. She swallowed audibly and wiped her pouty lower lip with the back of her hand as she tried to control herself.

"Nah. Not really," Sen replied with that same little chuckle as she casually flipped the sprouts and the steak at the same time. The meat looked succulent, a tantalizing, glistening brown that hinted at just how juicy the insides were. The smells in the kitchen were sweet torture. "Just a lot of shooting people or breaking some bones to make a point. Maybe intimidating someone every now and then. It's all boring stuff," she insisted before stepping away from the stove and fishing out a fresh plate and a glass.

"Honestly, I'm more interested to hear how you like the food, than to drone on about all of that," she said as she delivered a perfect, hissing hot, rare steak, herby, savory red tomato slices, and a bouquet of sprout halves onto the plate. Smiling, she garnished the dish with a sprig of rosemary. The dinner was simple, but elegant. She slid the plate over the counter with a practiced hand, delivering the food to the smaller woman before handing her silverware.

Mocha stared at the meal before her, barely containing her own excitement as her salivating escalated. The meal in front of her was better home cooking than she'd ever seen. Much less smelled, she was wiggling in her seat in anticipation and almost forgot herself.

"Now. This is a simple recipe," Sensha said, dragging her attention, kicking and screaming away from the food and reminding her she was in company. The centaur leaned in close, placing a glass of water next to the plate. "the PD didn't give us anything drink wise that pairs well with it, but the water won't ruin it. I'm expecting you to give me a review when I get back from my shower," the woman said, gently poking Mocha in her cute little button nose before she stood to her full height and headed for the front door.

The food and the gesture in combination were enough to give Mocha pause. She didn't recover until the centaur was halfway to the door. "W-wait. What about your food?!" She called, confused.

"I'll fix it when I'm done. That way I get clean, you get to eat, and we can both spend some time together before bed," she said, her tone matter of fact. She left no room for doubt or arguments. With that, she picked up her duffel and was gone, deeper into the mansion to find a bath she liked.

Mocha found herself left alone to enjoy her dinner in silence, and after looking at it, letting the aroma fill her nostrils for a long moment, she dug in, moaning and squirming with delight as what the centaur had called a 'simple' meal massacred her taste buds in the best of ways. Had the centaur been there to witness her antics, she might have run out of the house in embarrassment. Instead she was able to enjoy the fruits of Sensha's labor.