It took him a few tries, but the little creature was finally able to duck through the doors of Master Yoghurt’s Bar and Grill as someone opened them to gain entrance. Darting inside, his tail flicked up just before the door closed behind him, and he stood up on his back legs in a futile attempt to get a better look at the interior. Ears twitching, he listened to the sounds of voices intermingling with one another, and his head turned every which way before settling on a pair of black military issued boots that stared him in the face.

Craning his neck, he found himself gazing at a door guard who in turn was staring down at him. A second passed, than in a blur of motion the small creature leapt up onto the counter by the guard’s side. “Name’s Jhyx.”

The guard only stared down at the little weasel thing.

“I don’t have guns, couldn’t carry the things if I wanted to, so I don’t need to check anything, ok? Besides,” he went on, striking a comical pose, “who needs guns when you got muscles like these, huh?”

The guard only stared.

Sidling up to the guard, Jhyx nudged him. “Listen pal, I’ll come back to ya later, ok? I’m gonna go get a drink.” With another leap, the little creature flew through the air and landed lightly on a nearby table, startling the people sitting at it. “You should get something for that stare problem you got goin’ on there,” he called over his shoulder to the guard while jumping to the next table.

Jhyx bounded from table to table making his way across the room to the bar. From a distance, the image was actually quite comical; up down, up down, the cycle repeated itself as he table-hopped expertly missing plates and cups as if it were effortless. He’d done this many times before, and never passed up a good game of “dodge the dishware.”

With a final leap, he landed on an open barstool. The combined elements of his momentum and the fact that the stool had been built to swivel caused him to clamp his gloved paws onto the edges and watch as the bar and everyone in it went around in circles. Finally it stopped, and he remained motionless. His ear twitched a few times as he carefully released his deathgrip on the stool to turn and face the bar. He sat; flopped down rather, and let his tail hang down to make tiny swishes in the air.

With slight annoyance, Jhyx found that when he sat, his eyes were level to the rim of the bartop, and hopping up, planted himself on the bartop; his tail draped over the edge and hovering over the barstool he’d previously occupied. His small, gloved paw slapped the top. “Can I get a water over here?”