'Hnggggg,' Zac's brain short-circuited. 'That lion man really could do crazy things to me.'
"Avatar!" Bune called.
Zac looked over. The butler was standing by what was now Zac's assigned seat, a plate of sad, human waffle food already waiting.
But Zac couldn't be bothered by processed junk food. Nock had spotted them. Their eyes had locked.
Normally, Zac would have gotten nervous and looked away, breaking eye contact with the apex predator. But Ose's fear-epidural had short-circuited that reflex, too. He just stared, his gaze unwavering, drinking in the sight of the lion. 'Holy shit,' he thought. 'He looks like the fucking king of the jungle. All hail the king, baby.'
Nock, caught in the intensity of Zac's gaze, froze. His jaw went slack. The blood-red ice cream blob, deprived of its structural integrity, detached from the cone. It fell.
It landed with a wet splat and immediately collapsed down the front lion's golden robe, right at the crotch.
"Argh! Cold, cold, cold!" Nock yelped, jumping to his feet.
In his panicked flailing, he kicked out. His foot connected squarely with the face of the rodent demon, who had been diligently massaging his pads. The meerkat-like creature went sprawling backward with a pained squeak.
The warthog demon, startled, looked up from his brushing, his eyes widening in surprise as they landed on Zac. The pig-man's jaw dropped. He immediately averted his eyes, bowing his head in terrified reverence.
"P-President Ose! Sir!" the warthog sputtered. "Welcome! You're looking… uh…" He looked flustered, refusing to make eye contact. "I'll… I'll be quiet now."
The dining room was a scene of pure chaos. Nock was frantically trying to fish the melting ice treat out of his crotch, the rodent was rolling on the floor groaning and holding his face, and the warthog was standing stock-still, eyes squeezed shut in terror.
Zac just stood there, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. This uniform was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
"Ose?" Bune's Left Head questioned, looking from the terrified warthog to the leopard-print human. "That is not-"
"Yes!" Zac said loudly, cutting him off. He spread his arms wide, striking what he hoped was a commanding, presidential pose. "It is I! The bad kitty man, Ose! And you, my demon minion, must go and fetch me a soda! A diet pepsi, if you have one. The President is thirsty!"
The warthog peeked one eye open, his expression one of pure, porcine confusion. "What?"
Meanwhile, Nock, who had nearly composed himself and extricated the last of the frozen treat, took a confident step forward. Unfortunately, that step landed directly on the slick, melted blob of ice cream on the floor.
His feet went out from under him. He flailed, arms pinwheeling, and crashed backward directly into the warthog. The pig-man grunted as the lion took him down, the two of them collapsing into a tangled heap of gold silk, leather, and wounded pride.
Zac lowered his arms, a look of profound disappointment on his face. 'Really, Nock?' he thought, shaking his head. 'Aren't felines supposed to be agile and smooth? That was just embarrassing.'
"You are going to stain the floors!" Bune wailed, his voice full of exasperation as he began to walk around the long table toward the slapstick trio. "And where did you even get that blood-pop, Sabnock? Did you steal that from the pantry?" The Left Head sniffed the air. "That was type and grade-A first born blood! That was for the red sauce with the soul-pasta on Wednesday! It was medical grade!"
The Right Head nodded vigorously. "Do you know how hard it is to source ethically-questionable-but-still-technically-non-slave-farmed blood in this economy? It costs a fortune!"
Zac just stood there, watching the chaos unfold, a single, sad waffle still clutched in his hand. Somehow it was half burnt and half frozen, not down the middle, just, bite to bite, which made it weird.
By the time Zac had finished his lunch, Bune had finally finished reprimanding the Hakuna Matata trio. Nock had been glancing over at him the whole time, a strange, contemplative look in his eyes. Zac was a bit conflicted that he was stuffing his face with Eggos during what should have been a seductive moment, but oh well. Nock's entourage, meanwhile, was very obviously trying not to look at him at all, keeping their eyes fixed on the floor.
Marchosias was right, the lesser demons really did think he was Ose at a glance. Zac frowned. 'What the hell did that bastard leopard do to make them so scared of him?' The rodent had been aggressive toward Andras, not fearful, and Andras had killed him dead.
Also… it was convenient that they were back alive already. After being so utterly decapitated when he last saw them, he should have been more shocked to see them pampering Nock again. It made a vague, video-gamey sort of sense that if a demon died, they'd just respawn in Hell. But he should probably get some more concrete information in those regards. Regards. Regar. Gar gar ga ga…
Zac's mind stuttered to a halt. A warm, lace handkerchief was gently wiping his lips. Nock was leaning over him, his golden eyes filled with a soft, romantic light.
Zac wanted to lick the lion's hands so badly. So, so badly. But that wouldn't be very maiden-like. He had to play the part. He held himself back, his fingers curling into. He was so close to the half-robed, blood-dripping, golden eyed, perfect-maned lion Adonis. Oh, I just can't wait to be with the king.
"Little Avatar," Nock prosed, his voice a low, rumbling purr. "You're glowing, ever more beautiful you grow. You must know this exquisite outfit… causes new things to flow in my undertow. A pantera like you would look good below… my purrfect cargo."
Nock looked quite pleased with himself, a smug, poetic grin on his muzzle.
Zac couldn't help it. He giggled, the sound light and airy. "Purrfect cargo? That was terrible. I love it."
"You've got a bit on you, too," Zac whispered, his eyes looking over the lion-man's red muzzle. "I can clean it off for you. But I don't have a handkerchief. Do you mind if I… lick?"
"Oh!" Nock's romantic demeanor shattered. He suddenly realized his look wasn't one hundred percent on point. He straightened up, pulling a small, ornate hand mirror from a pocket in his robe. "A smudge! Unacceptable!" He whirled around to face his minions.
"Timon! Pumbaa! What is the meaning of this?! You were supposed to ensure I was immaculate!"
'Wait,' Zac thought, his brain buffering. 'Their names are actually Timon and Pumbaa? That's… uh. Well, at least I won't have to learn new names.'