Vira’s boots fall heavily on the creaking floorboards as they make their way down the hall. Styx trails behind them, wary, as they head toward Ozzy’s studio, where his latest painting sits on an easel waiting to be shown off to her. Ozzy is excited about this one, and has been for a while; he’s certain that Vira will like it. Maybe more than she’s liked any of his other paintings.

When they pass by Ozzy’s bedroom, though, Vira pauses. The door’s open a crack, but not enough to see much inside the room—just the foot of his bed, maybe one of his shelves. 

Suddenly, something changes in Styx. His ears perk up and his fur bristles, and he leaps in front of the door to Ozzy’s bedroom to stand between it and Vira, nearly knocking Vira over in the process. 

“Grrr! Rrruff ruff ruff! Grrr!!”

His rump rises up in the air, and his growls and barks fill the hallway. There’s no stick in his mouth, for once, which should worry Ozzy, but it doesn’t worry him nearly as much as the little guy gnashing his bared teeth at Vira.

“Augh! What the—?! What’s his problem?!” Vira shrieks, whipping her head toward Ozzy.

“I don’t—”

“Whatever it is, control the stupid beast!”

“He’s not stupid!” Ozzy protests. “He’s just—he’s worked up.” 

“About what?!”

“I… I don’t know,” Ozzy finishes lamely. “C-come on, Styx, calm down! It’s okay, boy, everything’s okay…” He looks around, eyes shifting back and forth between Styx and Vira. He has no idea what set Styx off like this, but it’s bad behaviour—and it’s upsetting Vira, too.

“I’m sorry, Vira,” he says. “Just give me a second…”

Vira scoffs. She crosses her arms. “Whatever. Just make sure he doesn’t try to bite me.”

Ozzy sighs and lowers himself to his knees to speak to Styx. “You should stay here,” he tells the Doglefox, and it earns him a heart-wrenching whimper in response. “Don’t follow us right now, okay? You’re upsetting Vira.”

He stands up again and continues to lead Vira to his studio. For a few steps, Styx follows behind him…

Until Vira snarls and rolls her eyes. 

“He’s following us, Painter,” she mutters, clearly displeased, and it makes something in Ozzy twinge. He whirls around, his nose crinkling. 

“I said stay here, Styx!” he snaps, and immediately regrets it. Styx’s tail droops between his legs and he gets his shoulders up, staring at Ozzy with big, hurt eyes. 

“I…” Ozzy frowns. He hadn’t meant for his voice to get so loud. He hadn’t meant to get angry. But Vira… 

He groans and smears a hand down his face, torn. “Look, just… just don’t bother us for a while, okay?” he says, and then hurries himself and Vira into his studio, leaving Styx all alone.

“I didn’t realise it at the time, but…”

“Ugh, finally!” Vira says when they’re alone in Ozzy’s studio, and Ozzy has shut the door tight behind them. She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms again, clearly still perturbed by what had just happened. “That little beast’s had it in for me since day one. What did I ever do to deserve that, huh?”

Ozzy frowns. He wants to defend Styx and point out that Vira hasn’t been nice to him either, but Vira’s already in a bad mood—if he upsets her, she might leave and never come back.

Just like Nyx.

Instead, he tries to change the topic, and goes back to what they were talking about before Styx had started acting up. “So, um… you looked a little lost in thought out there before Styx… uh, barked.”

Vira glowers at him. “So?”

“So… I dunno, I guess I was just wondering what you were thinking about.”

That, at least, gets Vira’s smile back, even if it’s more like a smirk than anything else. “Oh, just wondering when you started getting so nosy,” she says, flicking at Ozzy’s ear playfully. 

Despite himself, Ozzy laughs and shakes it off. The danger of upsetting her seems to have passed, at least for now, so he goes back to his original plan: showing his friend his work. 

“Okay, I get it,” Ozzy says, moving toward the easel set up in the middle of the room. “You don’t have to tell me, I guess. But look at this—I really think you’re going to like what I’ve painted this time.” 

Vira hums. “Is it another flower?” she asks, bored.

“Yes. Er, no. Er… not exactly…” 

A dark, elegant brow rises at that, but Vira doesn’t say anything else. At least not until Ozzy pulls the sheet off the easel to reveal his latest painting: an endless field of grey and black and white flowers, spanning into a wide, open, clear greyscale sky. 

For a moment, Vira’s eyes go wide. Ozzy wonders if she recognises the field—if he’d done a good job at recreating the stories she’d told him. He thinks he might have, if her breathlessness and slow steps toward the canvas are any indication—but before he can ask, she shakes her head and turns away, snapping back to her usual cocky, confident self. 

“Not bad,” she says, a smile evident in her voice even if she doesn’t turn around to show it to Ozzy. “I like the flowers. But it’s still missing something.”

Ozzy smiles, too. “I know. I’m not done yet—but I will be soon. And when I am… I want you to have this. The painting, I mean. I want you to keep it.”

Vira glances at him for a second, her eyes still wide and her mouth slightly agape. But again she turns away, hastily hiding her expression from Ozzy.
“...You’re such a sap,” she says. Ozzy is pretty sure she means Thank you.