Brick storefronts lined the streets all around in this business district. It was a raw and blustery night, the early autumn air being a crisp sixty degrees, and a foggy mist was descending from the sky. It was nippy for Lesher physiology, but such was life along the eastern coast of Lazzeriach.

Hissar hailed a cab, preferring to leave his new car in the office garage, rather than put it at risk on the mean streets during a recreational outing of unknown destination.

The brown cab chugged to a halt in front of them, and the two men entered.

"Address?" the aged cabby asked as the two men sat down.

"I'm not really sure," Hissar replied. "Tell me, where does one find single ladies these days?"

"Ah, depends on the type of ladies," the cabby said.

"I'm looking for love," Nester said, "of the emotional kind."

"I see," the cabby replied. "Then I know a few reputable clubs nearby that may suit you, but no guarantees. I am no Gershlicht."

"No, of course we don't expect you to be a matchmaker," Hissar assured. "Please, just take us to a club."

The cabby tipped his cap, shifted the coal-burning vehicle into gear, and slid into the traffic flow, crawling along at a walking pace in the early evening rush.

It took nearly half an hour to travel four miles to a recreational district, and a sophisticated-looking establishment beside the bayside Marina. Nester rushed out of the car to stare at the geodesic shape of the structure, as Hissar forked over the cash for the ride.

"Thirty shins, for less than five miles. Ridiculous," Hissar complained, slamming the cab door.

"I think it'll be worth it," Nester said, mesmerized by the strange construct before him.

"We had best get inside before the wind picks up. It's nasty off the ocean this time of year."

The men walked up to the building's front door, which had a large, neon sign hanging above it, saying "Daemon Veil Lounge, Open." They hurried inside, and found the humid room beyond, where dozens of patrons quietly ate and drank.

Walking over to the bar, Nester asked his friend, "What do you drink these days?"

"A glass of Chocolate Ferment," Hissar replied, calling to the bulky lizard at the taps. "Make it a double."

"And a Fizzy Shivers," Nester replied, throwing a square token on the counter.

The bartender chuckled as he poured Nester's drink.

"I'm surprised they even have Fizzies at an adult club," Hissar mentioned, taking his Ferment from the barkeeper. "I thought you'd grown out of that childish swill."

"I would prefer to entertain my tongue with sweets, rather than rot my mind with ferments," Nester replied with mild contempt.

"I'll never understand how you turned out so weird, Nester," his friend replied. "It's as if you never grew up, in a lot of ways."

Both men sat quietly, sampling their drinks as they perused the sultry club. The round room was well populated, with many patrons talking quietly in booths along the walls. It was obvious that many were singles getting to know each other, caressing their scaly arms and faces in suggestive fashions.

There was an empty dance floor toward the back of the room, and a few instruments sat unattended in an alcove against the wall. It was either too early, or the wrong night for a performance.

"I don't see how this can be considered civilized, finding a mate at random among strangers. Yet, modern philosophers condemn arranged pairings," Hissar commented, downing the rest of his ferments.

Nester turned away from his friend, and found an attractive woman staring at him. The purple dress left her shoulder spurs exposed to draw the attention of males. The vibrant green of her scales and the ripple of her muscles as she twitched on her stool was hard for a single male to miss.

Daring to venture into unexplored territory, Nester walked the few steps over to her place at the bar. Sliding onto the stool next to her, he was at a loss for words.

After a few moments, the young lady said, "Are we just going to stare at each other, or would you like to talk?"

"Oh, hi. I'm Nester," he introduced himself.

"I'm Lasha," she replied. "So, Nester, what's a sleek skinned devil like you doing in this dive?"

"I don't know, how about you?" he said clumsily.

"I come looking for a good time," Lasha said, reaching up a talon to stroke the side of Nester's head.

Nester grabbed her hand nervously, feeling apprehensive.

"What, don't you find me warm?" she asked.

"Perhaps too warm," Nester replied politely. "I'm just not that kind of guy."

Lasha hissed. "Don't act like such a stub-tail."

"I don't have a tail, thank you," Nester replied, angered by her slur.

"Degenerate!" Lasha cursed, then slapped his cheek with an open hand, ripping off a hunk of skin below his left eye with her untrimmed finger talons. She jumped out of her seat and stormed across the room, leaving Nester to nurse his injury with a napkin.

"That has got to hurt," a feminine voice sounded.

The flat crispness of the voice was unlike anything Nester had ever heard before, and he turned around to see a peculiar-looking lady standing near him. Her clothing was very conservative, covering everything except her round head. These days, Leshers generally preferred thinner fashions, with their arms and lower legs exposed. Her leathery garments were more the kind worn by rural farmers, not sophisticated city dwellers.

The odd woman crept up to him and sat down with a stiff movement. Her muscles were obviously well-developed, but didn't move in the same fluid motion that most Leshers walked with. Her body language was definitely off.

"What is that thing you're drinking?" the lady asked, squinting her yellow eyes.

"It's a Fizzy Shivers," Nester admitted, sounding embarrassed.

"Can I see it for a minute?" she asked.

Nester slid the glass toward her, and the strangely clothed lady pulled an eye dropper and a small tablet from her coat pocket. Dipping the eye dropper into the drink, she sucked up a few drops of the fluid and transferred them to the metal tablet.

It was all very strange to Nester.

The lady looked at her mysterious tablet for a moment, then said, "Looks good. I'll try it." Summoning the barkeeper with a gloved hand, she said, "Bring me one of these Fizzy things, would you?"

The barkeeper sneered at her tone as he poured a cup of the carbonated beverage. He made sure to take his time bringing it over, to show his distaste.

Sipping the beverage, her face flinched peculiarly. "Bitter stuff," she said.

"Bitter?" Nester asked. "I've never heard anyone say that about a Fizzy Shivers."

"Yes, I suppose you taste the sweet part more than anything," she commented, tasting a larger sample.

This bizarre female before Nester left him with the strangest sensation, unlike anything he'd ever known. This creature was wholly unlike anyone else, from her odd mannerisms, to her tone of voice, to the very tint of her reddish-brown scales. She was strangely appealing.

"So, your name's Nester," the lady mentioned, having overheard him talking to Lasha. "What does that mean?"

"Excuse me?" Nester asked, bewildered.

"Your name, what's its meaning? For instance, my name's Sophia. It means wisdom."

"Ssss... Shooheea," Nester struggled with the pronunciation. "How do you even say that word?" he asked.

"It takes some training of the tongue," she replied. "So, does your name mean anything?"

"My mother always said it meant 'the unique one' but I don't know where she found that reference."

"Nheestrr," Sophia pronounced with the proper inflection. "Kinda tickles the tongue, doesn't it?"

"As opposed to yours, which tangles it."

"So, we each have funny names," Sophia said, raising her cup of Fizz. "Here's to twisted tongues," she saluted, downing the frothy liquid.

The enigma of this strange woman left Nester with an odd affinity for her. He had never known someone so out of place before. As strange as his behavior and habits were compared to those of his own people, this Sophia was even stranger. It made for a sense of comradeship, or kismet. For the first time in his life, he did not feel so odd in front of another of his kind.

"I'm new around here," Sophia said. "Could we talk a bit? I'd love to hear about your local customs."

"I wasn't aware that customs were much different elsewhere in the world," Nester said. "Aren't we all derived from the same order, share a similar language and behavior?"

"Perhaps, but no doubt there are interesting regional quirks that set you apart. I'm curious to learn exactly how similar we are," Sophia said.

"So am I," Nester replied, feeling bold. "Tell me, would you be adverse to a relationship? I mean a spiritual bond, not a passing fancy."

Sophia eyes widened and her cheeks sloped. "I don't think that's possible," she said.

"Is it because I don't have a tail? Please tell me you're not that superficial."

"No, Nester, it has nothing to do with your tail. If anything, your lack of one means you're genetically superior, having evolved out of that primitive vestige. I'm just not interested in a relationship at the moment."

"I realize I may be rushing things, but I'm afraid I have this medical condition, scale-rot, which as you can imagine makes my case urgent."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were dying," Sophia said.

"I'm not dead yet, and if we could just spend the night together I know we could assure each other a long and healthy life."

Sophia burst out laughing, in that strange, flat tone of hers. The loud sound drew the attention of the other club patrons.

"Oh, man, I have heard some lines, but that's just up at the top," Sophia said, regaining her composure. "Seriously, does that ever work for you?"

Seeing his friend becoming embarrassed, Hissar walked over and interrupted. "Ma'am, scale rot is a most serious ailment. It is not something to laugh at."

"And you are?" Sophia asked.

"Doctor Grior Hissar. Nester is my friend and patient. I brought him here in the hopes that he would find the companionship he requires in order to cure this dreaded affliction."

"So, this scale rot requires sex to cure it?" Sophia asked.

"Heavens, no!" Hissar exclaimed. "It is not a procreation issue, it is a simple matter of hormonal imbalance, which can only be rectified by the sharing of a bed chamber. I understand it's not a common illness, but I assume anyone with a rudimentary education has heard of it."

"Oh, Yeah. I just thought Nester was putting me on, trying to get into my pants with all that death talk."

"Your pants, ma'am?" Hissar asked, wholly unfamiliar with the expression.

"Yes, you know, trying to trick me into having sex with him."

"How could anyone seek to trick another into procreating? Are you wholly ignorant about your own physiology?" Hissar asked.

"How can one confuse sleeping with procreation?" Nester asked, feeling flushed from the humiliation.

"This is a horrible cross-cultural misunderstanding," Sophia said cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood and redirect suspicions.

"Really?" Hissar asked. "Exactly where on this world can you come from and be so totally out of place here?"

"Renshik," she replied. "I'm from the village of Haursh on the island of Renshik."

"I've never met a Renshikan," Hissar said. "Where is Renshik?"

"In the far southern hemisphere, thirty nine degrees north of the pole," Sophia said.

"Fascinating," Nester mentioned, once again feeling drawn to the enigmatic woman. "I had no idea anyone lived that far south. No wonder you clothe yourself so heavily."

"It's actually fairly warm in the village. We have geothermal vents which provide sufficient heat for limited comfort."

"Still, your blood must get pretty thick, living that far south. How is it your people came to live on this island?" Hissar asked, sensing deception.

"I'm not really sure," Sophia said. "We just always have, I guess."

"I would love to visit your home someday," Nester said, feeling his heart racing with anticipation.

"Perhaps," Sophia replied, "but let's not get ahead of ourselves. We only just met."

"I feel like I've known you forever," Nester said, caught up in the moment. "I know you must feel it, too, or you wouldn't be wasting your time with such a peculiar soul like myself. Please, won't you help me? Help yourself! If we just share a sleeping space, we can both be safe from the scourge of scale rot, and we can proceed from there."

Sophia sat motionless for a long time, just staring in bewilderment at Nester. Her discomfort flowed out onto everyone around her, and the whole barroom silenced, waiting to hear her answer.

"I'm sorry, Nester, but I don't have what you need," Sophia said, standing up. She fidgeted and straightened her heavy, leather clothing, then headed for the door.

"But what about talking?" Nester pleaded, shouting across the room as she reached the door.

"I'd only be leading you on, Nester. I can't interfere in your life anymore than I already have. I'm sorry, this was a mistake," she said, sounding tearful.

Sophia rushed out of the establishment, leaving Nester sulking in despair.

"Wait here," Hissar told his friend.