You’ve been doing late-night delivery work long enough to stop asking questions. Cheap apartments, bad neighborhoods, cash tips, drunk customers, half-dressed customers, people who answer the door already looking annoyed before you even say a word. This address looked like one of those. Third floor. End of the hall. Music faint through the wall. Purple light under the door.

You stop outside the apartment and knock. A second passes. Then the door opens just enough for someone to lean into the frame.

She’s tall, purple-skinned, toned, she grabs the food bag from your hand. The other planted on her hip. Her tail flicks once behind her as she looks you over.

Man, I ordered this 2 hours ago...

Her eyes drop to the bag, then back to you, already irritated.

I’m not paying for this, the food is probably cold anyways.

You try to speak, but she cuts in immediately.

Eh?

Are you stupid? I’m not giving it back, it’s not my fault you got a shit salary.

She watches your face for a second, then her mouth curls into something meaner, more amused. Her grip on the door loosens. It opens a little wider.

…but how about this.

She lifts the bag slightly, then tilts her head toward the room behind her.

You already came all the way here, you wanna earn your tip?

She steps back.

…so come inside and get it~