Janey and Mike were clearing tables as Tip and Steve reached Tiptree’s Treats. “Tip!” she called out. “Are you all sorted, now?”
“I, um…tell you later,” Tip garbled out. “We’re, um…”
“Busy,” Steve put in firmly, dragging him across the room by one hand. “Extremely busy. Important matters to, ah, attend to.”
Janey c****d an eyebrow, her hands on her hips. “Well, I suppose you’d better go and attend to them, then. Try not to disturb the customers.”
“Hope your little problem doesn’t crop up!” Mike called, and just as they got to the stairs, Tip distinctly heard him whistle a couple of bars of “b********y’s Best, Boys” in the jaunty tones of a man who’d never been c**k-blocked by an unscheduled species shift.
Smug git.
They stumbled into Tip’s bedroom with barely the presence of mind to
