Page 14 of Crocodile Tears
“How did she respond to that?”
“According to Red, she accidentally shifted and destroyed her lab coat or something.”
Dr.Martinez’s expression shifts to something that might be amusement.“So, she also has strong emotional responses that can result in property damage?”
“I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
“It sounds like you both have professional skills that occasionally create social complications.That’s not incompatibility but common ground.”
The session continues with practical strategies for managing my hypervigilance during dinner.Dr.Martinez suggests setting specific parameters for threat assessment—note exits and potential dangers upon arrival and then consciously shift focus to conversation and connection.She also recommends preparing three safe conversation topics that don’t involve tactical considerations, and we settle on books, travel destinations, and favorite foods.
“What about the shedding issue?”I ask as our time winds down.
“Calvin, you’re a Gila monster shifter dating a crocodile shifter.She understands reptilian biology better than most humans understand their own anatomy.”Dr.Martinez closes her notebook.“Besides, if she’s as brilliant as you described, she’ll probably find the physiological aspects fascinating rather than disturbing.”
By the time I leave her office, I feel cautious optimism.Maybe Dr.Lawson won’t see my background as a liability and will appreciate the skills that have kept me alive in dangerous situations.Maybe we can build something based on mutual understanding rather than careful omission of uncomfortable truths.
Back home, I approach dinner preparation with the same methodical attention I once brought to mission planning.I shower with the good soap that smells like cedarwood, shave carefully, taking time to get the edges precise, and choose clothes that suggest competence without screaming “professional violence.”
The button-down shirt requires actual ironing, a skill I learned in basic training but haven’t used since my last official military function.The process is oddly meditative with its careful attention to detail and the transformation of wrinkled fabric into crisp lines.For twenty minutes, I consider adding a necktie before remembering I haven’t worn one since my dress uniform days and have no idea how they work anymore.
The tactical preparations start automatically with checking sight lines to all exits from the restaurant, planning three emergency evacuation routes, and concealing a small knife in my boot just in case.By the time I catch myself, I’ve laid out enough concealed weaponry to handle a small insurrection.
Dr.Martinez’s voice echoes in my head:“Not everyone is a potential threat.”
I force myself to unpack everything except one small pocketknife, which is a compromise between paranoia and preparedness.The process feels wrong, like leaving the house without pants, but I manage to walk out the door armed with nothing more dangerous than good intentions and carefully practiced conversation topics.
The drive to Scales and Tails takes fifteen minutes, which I stretch to forty-five by circling the block and conducting what I tell myself is “reconnaissance” but Dr.Martinez would call “avoidance behavior.”The restaurant occupies a converted warehouse with excellent sight lines and multiple escape routes.It was clearly designed by someone who understands shifter psychology.
I arrive thirty minutes early, which gives me time to scope out the interior and select an optimal table.The hostess, a cheerful woman whose pointed ears suggest some kind of feline shifter, doesn’t seem surprised by my detailed questions about seating arrangements and structural integrity.“First date?”she asks with the knowing smile of someone who’s seen this behavior before.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Honey, you’re the third nervous reptile shifter we’ve had this week.Must be something in the water.”She leads me to a corner table with clear sight lines to all entrances.“This work for you?”
The positioning is perfect—defensible, with multiple escape routes, and positioned so we can both sit with our backs to walls.“This is ideal, thank you.”
“Try to relax.We’ve got excellent security here, and our tables are reinforced to handle accidental shifting.”
The reminder that this is a shifter-friendly establishment helps calm my nerves.If Dr.Lawson accidentally shifts during dinner, we’re in the right place for it.If I have to disarm someone, at least the staff will understand the context.
I order water and try to follow Dr.Martinez’s advice about conscious relaxation.Identify the exits—done.Note potential threats—minimal.Shift focus to positive anticipation—work in progress.
The water arrives in a glass thick enough to serve as an improvised weapon, which I appreciate even as I try not to think about improvised weapons.The waiter, a large man whose build suggests bear or maybe rhino shifter, asks detailed questions about my dining preferences that seem designed to keep nervous customers occupied.
“You waiting for someone special?”He refills my water glass even though I’ve barely touched it.
“A date.We met through a matchmaking service.”
“Ah, Romance Expected?Red’s good people.She’s matched half our regular customers.”The waiter grins.“Just so you know, the acoustics in here are designed to handle some pretty intense conversations.Don’t worry about being overheard.”
The information is both reassuring and slightly alarming.What kind of intense conversations do shifter couples have on first dates?
My mental speculation is interrupted when Dr.Rebecca Lawson walks through the front door, and every tactical consideration disappears from my mind.
She’s stunning in an emerald dress that brings out the green undertones in her dark hair and complements her skin in a way that suggests she understands how colors work with shifter biology.More than her appearance, something about the way she moves so confidently, with purpose, says she’s comfortable occupying space and claiming attention.
I stand to greet her, moving too quickly and knocking over my water glass in the process.The thick glass hits the reinforced table with a sound like a small explosion, sending water cascading across the surface and onto the floor.
