"Don't make fun of the furries dude," Circe's words cut into the night, waiting for a cab to arrive as a thin man beside her taunts some folks across the street who are dressed, well, they're probably furries. Out in the open at 2 AM, a couple blocks from the club scene, and dressed like that?


Most likely they were such or some fraternity/sorority hazing.


The man scoffs at her, possibly he is drunk, the Summer doesn't care. "Why? You into that too or something? What's the point of all that if you can't see the booty? Yaaar!"


Okay, he was drunk. And thought himself a pirate.


"No, no idea, but I know it is dumb to taunt them. Quite logical if ya think on it," her phone tells her the cab is 5 minutes away.


"How is lotic, lobic, logistical?"


That was perfect, "Oh ho ho ho! Logical because it is logistical! Think money." She smirks at him as her logic proves that she is a thinking Summer more than a berserker, "If they can drop two grand on a fluffy sex suit, they can afford a $100 pipe bomb ta shove inta yer mailbox."


And there was her cab! Time to go, and the drunk guy might be curious as to why he had a new burner phone is his pocket. Probably not unless it was traced after all.