The inside of the car is hot. Someone should crack a window. Instead, Zhenya curls closer to Sid’s side. “Did you hear me?” “Hm?” Zhenya rubs his cheek against Sid’s hair. It’s damp and curling, almost soft. Sid huffs, sending fresh eddies of his scent whirling. “I asked why your heat suppressants stopped working.”

Zhenya is curious. Now that he’s seen Sid at a vulnerable moment, he can’t get the image out of his mind.

Zhenya ran his hand against the grain of Sid’s feathers, ruffling them up so they looked tangled. “You molty, Sid.” His hand was slapped away with a restrained giggle. “So what are you gonna do about it, huh? Wanna pluck them for me? Scratch my itch?”