Mariachi music welcomed Miguel and Alejandro to The Tilted Sombrero just as the sun started setting. Papel picado depicting cacti and armadillos adorned the walls, and tourists munched on extra cheesy quesadillas with their margaritas close at hand after shopping along San Antonio's river walk.

The staff welcomed Alejandro with warm smiles that grew strained as soon as they caught sight of Miguel. It wasn't long before the restaurant's chatter faded to hushed whispers that were easily drowned out by the trumpets blaring overhead.

Miguel didn't need to hear the customers to read their lips. He'd heard all the euphemisms before. Nip and sip. Grab and stab. Fast food. Some people saw chupacabras as nothing but blood-sucking predators.

"This isn't quite what I imagined when you said you'd be bringing a friend." The host's eyes flitted between Alejandro and Miguel before he reached out a trembling hand. "Nice to meet you. You're the new guy over at The Crimson Goat, right?"

Miguel shook his hand as gently as if he was cradling a freshly laid egg. "It's nice to meet you, too. And yeah, I just started there this week."

"Neat." The host shifted from foot to foot, eyeing the customers that were already seated. "We've got a pretty full house tonight, but I can set you guys up on the patio."

"You don't usually open that until May," Alejandro said. His tone was light, but there was a tightness to his jaw that hadn't been there before.

"Yeah, well, even the off season's been busy this year."

Empty booths betrayed that lie, but Miguel knew better than to argue. "That's alright with me."

"They have seats," Alejandro said quietly.

"I don't mind eating outside." Especially if it got him away from the stares tracking every twitch of his claws.

The host smiled gratefully. "I'll have your table ready for you in a jiffy."

It was hard to imagine the patio being ready for anybody. Miguel's muscles ached as the chair's cold metal bit into him, and the host had to stuff a handful of paper napkins under one of the table's legs to keep it from wobbling. "I'm really sorry about this, guys."

"It's alright," Miguel said. "I've eaten in everything from a heat wave to hail, so it'll take more than a little chill to keep me from enjoying this."

Once they were left alone with their menus, Alejandro sighed, slumping forward in his seat as he massaged his forehead. "Sorry about all this. I wasn't expecting them to leave us out in the cold."

"This isn't too bad, actually. Usually, I'm lucky to get a seat."

"That doesn't make it okay."

"No, but can we not talk about that right now?" Miguel had to worry about this sort of thing often enough without anyone else getting bothered by it.

"Okay." Alejandro let out a long sigh before curling his lips into a smile. "So, how've you been liking The Crimson Goat so far?"

"It's been great! Minus the part where that stupid mouse got into the scorpion cage." Despite how much chaos it had caused for the scorpions, Miguel had still been the most exhausted one in the room by the end of that fiasco. His hand still ached from being pierced by a stinger, although scorpion venom was harmless to him.

"If it makes you feel any better, you're not the first to let one escape. I swear they might as well be covered in butter." Alejandro took a long sip of his water. "You know, when I told my family we'd be serving mice, they thought we were nuts! Usually having rodents in the kitchen is a surefire way to get shut down."

"Humans hate them that much?" Miguel wasn't the biggest fan of those squeaky snacks either, but they hardly seemed worth that much fuss.

"The wild ones tend to be dirty and spread diseases," Alejandro explained. "That's why Mr. Kaminski sources ours from the zoo. They breed a whole bunch of them for their carnivores, so they keep them nice and healthy."

"I see." Miguel had never been to a zoo, but he'd heard plenty about the animals humans held captive. It wasn't much of a stretch to imagine his pack being imprisoned like that. Sure they had some degree of freedom, but he'd been lucky to find a job that wasn't pest control.

By some miracle, here he was sitting across the table from someone who saw him not as a mindless set of fangs but as a colleague. And, perhaps, a friend.

Even out in the cold, it was a lovely evening. Strings of fluorescent lights outlined the patio in vibrant reds and greens, and the music from inside the restaurant snuck over for a visit, filling the air with the echoes of the cheer within.

To top it off, a tantalizing aroma rose from the bowls their waiter brought alongside a basket full of chips. Miguel's fangs burned as he struggled to keep his venom from leaking out.

"Help yourself," Alejandro said, nudging one of the bowls toward him.

Miguel didn't need to be told twice. He lifted a bowl to his lips, drinking the red mixture in a series of quick gulps. His mouth burned with pleasure not only from his venom but, much to his delight, the wonderful delicacy the humans called salsa.

Miguel ducked his head sheepishly and hastily wiped away the juice dripping down his chin as the waiter and Alejandro stared at him. "Am I doing something wrong?"

Alejandro waved off his concern. "Not at all! It's just..." He trailed off into a smile that left the corners of his lips twitching.

"You're supposed to dip the chips in it," the waiter said with a chuckle. "Since you like spice, you'll want to check out the stuff marked with chili peppers on the menu. I'll be back with more salsa in a second."

"Sorry for making such a mess," Miguel mumbled. Even with the pictures, he found himself squinting at the dozens of unfamiliar dishes. So many names he'd never heard of, each one just as likely to embarrass him as the last.

Alejandro's laughter was as soft and gentle as the breeze caressing Miguel's scales. "You should see me when mamá makes salsa. There's a reason I never wear white when she visits!"

Miguel leaned forward. "Your mom can make this?"

"Everyone in my family can, actually. We have two recipes: one we make all the time and one that's just for family. Maybe I can teach you sometime?"

"Maybe after I get more experience in the kitchen, but I don't know if I can afford it. My pack doesn't have much money to spare." And Isabella would not react well to someone trying to get the pack to eat more human food.

"Trust me, with how often I make it, I have plenty of ingredients to spare. I just like coming here since I don't always feel like cooking after work." Alejandro pulled out his wallet and set it on the table. "I'll cover tonight, too."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to." Alejandro put up a hand to stop him from protesting. "Think of it as a welcome present."

"Alright, but only if you let me return the favor sometime." Miguel owed him far too much already.

They kept chatting after the waiter brought their orders. Alejandro had started working at The Crimson Goat shortly after graduating culinary school, and had been there for a little over three years. "I'd like to work at a culinary school someday, but at least now I'm getting experience in a real kitchen. I worked at McDonald's in high school and, believe me, you don't want to know how gross the ice cream machines get. There's a reason we always told people they were broken."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind if I ever go there." Miguel drummed his claws against the table, lost in thought. "You know, I always thought I'd be stuck on the farm for the rest of my life. Now that I'm doing something else, I have no idea what things will be like in a month, let alone years from now."

"There'll be plenty of time to figure that out. In the meantime, I'm just glad to have the chance to get to know you." Alejandro raised his glass. "To the Crimson Goat."

"To the Crimson Goat."

They clicked their glasses together before taking long sips of water. Everything about humans was still strange to Miguel, down to the straw he fumbled into a comfortable position with his tongue. Strange, but oftentimes more pleasant than the rest of his pack realized. After he and Andy had drifted apart, Miguel had thought whatever connection he'd had with humans was gone for good, but perhaps they belonged in his future too, not just his past.

Miguel was dragged out of his thoughts by sizzling beef fajitas and chili-drizzled taquitos. Steam billowed off of Alejandro's massive platter, and the meat glistened with juice. The taquitos proved to be just as tantalizing with succulent beef peeking out of the fried tortillas. Each bite was as crisp and spicy as the last, with Miguel's taste buds singing the taquitos' praises with every mouthful.

Alejandro was only halfway through his meal when Miguel devoured the last of his entrée. His tongue probed between his teeth, eagerly seeking even the tiniest wayward speck of sauce or bit of beef.

"You can have some of mine if you want." Alejandro held out the tortilla he'd piled high with shredded beef and bell peppers.

"Don't tempt me, or I'll never be able to eat anywhere else." Miguel patted his stomach with a contented sigh. He hadn't felt so full in months.

"I hope you saved room for dessert. The sopapillas are to die for!"

But instead of bringing them dessert menus, the host came to their table with their check and a refusal to look them in the eye. "Sorry, but you have to leave," he said quietly. "Some of the other customers saw a few friends of yours through the window, and they're not taking it well."

Miguel groaned. "They should know better than to pick a fight here of all places."

"They're not, they're just... there. Boss says it's bad for business."

"You know what else is bad for business?" Alejandro said as the muscles in his jaw twitched. "Forcing people to eat out in the cold and kicking them out over nothing."

"I'm sorry, but my hands are tied."

Alejandro paid for their meal in seething silence before offering Miguel his hand to help him extract himself from his seat. "I wouldn't have taken you here if I'd known they were going to be like this," he said.

"That's alright," Miguel said. "The food was still delicious, and it was nice to chat with you." He hoped the abrupt end to their evening didn't stop Alejandro from inviting him out again. His company had been as welcome as the sun's warm rays after a thunderstorm.

Martha and Esmeralda met them at the restaurant's entrance. "We'll take things from here," Martha said. Her voice held a quiet firmness. Not a threat, but an order for Alejandro to leave them.

Miguel's escorts flanked him the whole way back to the farm, checking over their shoulders in case anything more than glares followed them home.