“Oh, now it's a contest!” He stands and flexes his muscles. “Name your challenge.” Izzy's eyes are drawn to the crotch of his pants. The outline of a cock as long as her forearm is clearly visible.

  “First, what are you wagering?” she says while trying to draw her eyes away…

  “I wager my honor!” he says proudly.

  “That's nice and all, but what am I to do with an enormous useless honor? She says, looking him in the eyes.

  He grunts loudly, “Fine, how about my obedience?”

  She imagines Grup being her personal servant for a month. Except she no longer has a sink filled with dishes or has to run a vacuum or any other chore really “no deal.”

  He thinks about it and then says, “humiliation.”

  She ponders this and responds, “You mean like you will do something humiliating?”

  “Yes, I will endure humiliation if you can beat me in a challenge.” He looks at her, his face deadly serious.

  “Like you will sing I Am a Little Teapot in front of the bar tomorrow night?” she says with a hidden ugh.

  The cat ughs loudly. “Now this is good. I hope you can win this, Izzy.”

  “Keep out of it,” the orc turns and grunts to the bartender, then looks back at Izzy, “and if I win, you consider ritual mating with me.” He ughs louder to drown out the cat.

  “Your very confident. I haven't even picked a contest yet,” she desperately tries to think of a competition she can beat him at.

  ‘Shit, what am I good at? Blowjobs? No, not really. But it would be funny to see or fun… uhhhhhh. Am I really not good at anything? There must be lots of things I am good at. Oh yeah, painting! But I don't have any supplies.’ She looks around the bar and sees all the napkins lying around. ‘Origami, yeah, I can make a few impressive things like a paper crane, plus look at his fingers; no way he is dexterous enough to beat me.’

  “Origami!” she says, pointing at the cat.

  “What? I didn't do anything,” the cat says in surprise, his tail standing straight up and his hair going with it.

  “I challenge Grup to an origami contest, and you will be the judge,” she says with total confidence.

  “I ACCEPT!” The orc says, cpping his big hands together, “Cat, please bring me paper. I can feel the ritual mating already.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

  The cat rushes into the kitchen again. He nods at the chef, “Need paper what we got?”.

  The chef makes animated hand gestures.

  “YEAH, I know you're a chef.” The cat looks around, not finding anything of use. He pulls out a cellphone and dials a number. “Yeah, it's me. I need paper for origami. Don't ask questions; just get it done. I said, Don't ask questions; the fate of the pnet might hang in the bance." He tries to hang his phone up with attitude, but it's a cell phone, so he clicks it off.

  “I miss the actual telephone. It was so satisfying to hang up.” Cat says to the chef, who gestures incomprehensibly in response. He turns and puts on his smile and walks back to the bar. “Ok, your paper is on its way—10 minutes tops.”

  Izzy casts occasional gres at the orc, who is also occasionally gring at Izzy. She finishes her breakfast.

  One of the Hawaiian shirted man's men runs into the bar with a handful of paper. “HERE YOU GO,” he yells, dropping the papers on the bar.

  “Oh, thanks. You can go now,” the cat says nonchantly, tidying up the stack of paper. His tail waves at the man dismissively.

  The bodyguard for the Hawaiian shirted man leaves an exhausted mess and flops down on the carpet outside the bar.

  “What was that about?” Izzy asks, confused and slightly mortified. Seeing the man crawl out of view of the door.

  “I like to keep them on their toes. I may have told him it was of extreme importance; he grins his grin.

  “That's messed up,” Izzy says, looking at the orc for confirmation.

  “I am prepared for the challenge,” he says, responding and ignoring everything else going on around him.

  Cat splits the stack of white printer paper into two even stacks and sets one in front of each challenger.

  “You have a half hour,” he says, dropping a bar rag. When the rag hits the bartop, he yells, “GO!”

  She begins folding a paper crane; she takes her time getting every detail perfect.

  Meanwhile, “Cat, get me beer,” the orc says, wadding up a piece of paper. Then another.

  ‘What is he doing? That's not origami.' She ughs softly. ‘Soon it will be I'm a little teapot time.’

  The beer arrives; he grunts and drinks it. Then begins on a pot made of 4 pieces of paper

  She looks over, having finished her crane. ‘Shit, he is good; that looks like a real terracotta pnter.’ She quickly panics and begins making a jumping frog. Looking over, she notices he is making a flower of some sort.

  ‘Shit fuck shit.’ She panics and digs through her memory for what else to make and remembers how to make a dodecahedron; she begins folding many modules to fit together into the shape.

  The orc finishes assembling his alien flower in a flowerpot. ‘In an actual flower pot, the wadding up paper was to simute dirt,’ she screams in her head.

  He drinks another beer, watching her work with interest. She delicately makes many models. She focuses on the task; the orc watches the pattern she is doing and begins making them as well.

  “5 minutes,” the cat excims.

  “how many more,” the orc asks as he keeps folding

  “8 more,” she says, folding as quickly and precisely as she can.

  “Start assembling; I will finish these,” she watches his shockingly dexterous fingers fold with precision. Then snaps to attention and begins assembling the pointy sphere.

  “4 minutes,” the cat says with deep disappointment.

  She struggles to get the st pieces inserted into the form, the shape wobbling without the strength of the completed object. The orc holds it still, and together they manage to finish the assembly.

  They sit holding the shape together for a small but noticeable time.

  “Thanks for the help," she says, moving her hair behind her ear. ‘Gah, did I just do that? Am I interested in him?’ She looks him over. ‘For a crude orc, he has depth.’ ‘Actually, he isn't crude at all; he wears fitted button-ups and dress pants.’ She thinks, her eyes drift down to his cock. “Did it get bigger? she mutters.

  “I do not think the polyhedral grew,” he says obliviously.

  “Time's up,” the cat says with his head in his hands. “Present your works.”

  She moves her complex geometric shape to present it; the orc presents his alien flower.

  “Well, they are fairly evenly matched,” the cat says, his tail swishing from side to side. Even his tail is indecisive.

  The orc takes a straw and fills it with water and puts a few drops on the closed flower bud. With a rustle of paper, the flower opens up, doubling in complexity and tripling in beauty.

  The cat stares at the flower, admiring its beauty, then at her crane, jumping frog, and polyhedron.

  “I think I lost,” she says, oddly not feeling defeated.

  The cat nods his head at her, “As much as I want to see the orc sing, he has won.”

  “I am victorious,” he cheers and hands her the flower. “A gift for being such a good foe, the best challenge I have had here,” he ughs. “Cat, another beer and one for the high priestess.”

  “Where did you learn origami?” she asks, looking over the ornate flower.

  “I have many unexpected skills,” he says, looking for the cat. “Not the least of which is an unquenchable thirst for human beer.”

  The cat returns, setting the pitcher down. “Good, it's time to bring myself happiness with alcohol.” The Orc picks up the pitcher and drinks half in one go.

  “Why do you need to drink for happiness?” she asks, sipping her beer.

  “This pce is dull and unfulfilling. I wish to be back with my own kind," he looks so wistful. “But maybe with you here now I will be less bored,” he finishes his beer. “That is. If you would like to go ritualistically mate?”