There was something about being a rabbit.
The agility, the flexibility, the alertness, and the way people always seemed to underestimate them.
Well, some people.

He was a known regular at that club. Two-in, One-out. And time after time he kept returning, even after all the large and looming figures leered, or leaned towards him. Some might manage to nibble an ear, to suckle a hand, to nurse on a long, velvety ear..
But that always seemed to be where they stopped.

In the throng of writhing bodies on the heart of the club's dance-floor, he could get lost. Moving among bodies, bumping, brushing, smirking for the struggle and squirm of other hopefuls rapidly filling out the One-out part of the club's name.

And always among the crowd, no one ever managed to pick those moments when One tried to press out of him.
Always a form that had no business being in such a small, tight body.
Always a face, or claw that could surely have caught him up.
Always a hapless predator that had tumbled like so many others, down the rabbit-hole.

Honestly, he should have changed his middle name to Warren by now.

There was just something, about being a rabbit.
And they would find that out soon enough.


A commission I nabbed from the exquisite Aquadragon35 Go and get you something from them! :D

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