Mooney stepped into Ratigan’s and inhaled deeply of the heavenly scent s that abounded. A hand battered blooming onion, a think cut chicken fried moose steak smothered in country gravy, and a pint of ice cold microbrew were calling his name. His mate made a fine cup of coffee, his sire made a mean open pit barbeque, and even Miss Ellie made some damn fine meat-free breakfast options, but nobody beat Louie when it came to culinary delights.
When Nick had called him a few hours ago, saying that word on the street said that Louie had gotten in some fresh moose meat, he’d almost charged down to the town’s Irish pub right that instant. Instead, he’d made plans with his brother to meet there for a late dinner, neither of them wanting to listen to their mates bitch at them for skipping a family meal and setting a bad example for the pups. Knowing Nick, he’d be taking a to-go meal back for Ziva anyway. And now that he was thinking about it, Mooney decided to take a blooming onion back for Marissa. She didn’t eat fried food often, but she always managed to make an exception for Louie’s cooking.
"Horse meat sells high in France, ya fleabags!"
Mooney snapped his head around at the war cry that came from the bar. He couldn’t help but chuckle when he saw Louie brandishing a huge meat cleaver in one hand and a horse whip in the other. He judiciously stepped to one side of the door and settled in for the show. From what he could tell, there was a herd of drunken studs being chased out. Must be that time of year for bar runs, he mused. Horses had peculiar ideas of what consisted of fun. Then he remembered some of his and Nick’s antics when back when they were young, dumb, and bullet proof, too, and chuckled.
“Hey, Moon-dawg, remember that time when we chased those unicorns drunk on windfall apples that one year,” Nick said as he sidled up next to Mooney to watch the goings on.
“That one time?” Mooney guffawed. “I recall us doing that pretty much every October from the age of five until you discovered girls.”
“True,” Nick said, nodding his head and grinning as one particularly sloppy drunk stud ran right into a telephone pole just outside the door.
“Moronic chowder-heads,” Louie said as he stomped his way back into the bar. “I told them guys not to add my place to their damned run this year. I run a family place! Don’t I, Nick? This look like a family place to yous?” Louie eyed the alpha wolf critically and Nick nodded his head gamely.
“At least until after the kiddies’ bedtimes,” Mooney added in. “So what’s this rumor I heard that you have moose on the menu tonight?”
“Great save,” Nick murmured to Mooney as they followed the Jersey transplant back to the bar.
“It’s all about priorities, bro. I have to be back by the time Marissa closes up her shop so I can surprise her with a blooming onion. I didn’t have time to chew over the fat with an irate Louie pisses at the world and brainless muscle studs.”