The puddles splashed outside the little window where Harrogate’s beady eyes peered through, following the black boots of the half dozen suited men. Striped jackets, fat fedoras, gold belt buckles and steam that came out of their mouths even though it wasn’t cold. The type of big chinned, wide brow’d ape-like creatures you’d find in a museum encased in ice.

One of them stepped up. It splashed water against the window. Harrogate ducked.

“They’re everyone.” He said. “They’ve got the place surrounded.”

“I told you.” Turnus got a bottle underneath his armpit and undid the top with a thump. The cap flew out, hit the wall and bounced a little to the side. Cecile tapped against the floor.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t such a drunk idiot.” Cecile put her finger against Turnus’s chest.

“If you didn’t mess things up back at the church I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have - you know - killed my savior.”

“He can’t be that much of a savior if he died to a big pussy like you.”

“What’d you say?” He flipped his bottle and raised it up. The liquid spilled out and he realized too late, only just about when it hit his pants. Then he shrieked and put his mouth underneath the faucet of a half-full pint of oak smelling liquor. Gold down his gullet.

“He’s pathetic.” Cecile said. She turned to him, hands clasped. “What’re we going to do, Harry? The IRS is coming. The Mafia is coming. This drunk won’t leave.”

“You’re both pathetic. Sweet Jenba.”

“Don’t mention his name.” Turnus burped.

“Let’s deal with this one at a time. Alright?” Harrogate said.

They nodded their heads. Harrogate took the drink from Turnus, who made a face both confused and angry. Harrogate drank. He wiped his mouth and rubbed his chin, putting his foot above a toilet seat. The basins to the side of the room leaked with green fluid that spilled down and smelled medicinal, sanitary. The stall doors bumped against each other. Small light bugs in a transparent fixture buzzed and the steps of men grew louder.

“Turnus. You were out there, what were saying. These people?”

“They said they were looking for a tall girl. Red hair.”

“That it?” He asked.

“Oh please tell me you two aren’t leaving me again.” She said. “I’ll haunt the shit out of the both of you if I die, you know that?”

“I can’t leave either. I kind of let ‘em know I knew her.” He pointed with his thumb at Cecile. “I said, I know that big red bitch. She burned my church down. And then they grabbed me by the collar asking where she was. Managed to give ‘em the slip. But last I saw they were all around town. Bunch of thugs.”

“A big red bitch…” Harrogate paced back and forth.

“I heard you the first time.” Cecile said.

Harrogate stepped out of the bathroom and into the hall, looking both ways at an empty column. On one end; the foot steps. On the other end; the wet humping of an overacting elf. And in between the elf and the orc and him, somewhere in that hall, were the half-open doors.

“They’re looking for a small man by now. And they’re looking for the drunk priest. And they’re looking for the big red bitch.”

“Alright buddy, that’s the third time. You don’t have to keep saying it.” She kept a shaking grip on her ax.

“But what if-!” Harrogate walked up and tapped her with his finger. “What if they didn’t find the three of us?”

Both of them turned their heads and looked. Outside of the door, Harrogate’s face pointed to one particular sign that read ‘Fitting Room’. He smiled.

They walked out of the adult studio, off into the parking lot where the carts were stuck in place and the horses tied by knots to toughs. They walked through the streets, passing the striped mafiosos that roamed the sidewalks with their lumbering hands dragged against the floor like apes on the jungle grounds.

Oh, the mafiosos stared but none of them could quite make them out…and all the discernible eyes could not quite put the name to these three.

“It worked.” Harrogate said.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Turnus asked.

“This thing is itchy.” Cecile said.

Harrogate had a BDSM chained outfit around his torso, the red-ball gag right on his neckline and a leather cap covering his face. Cecile wore the dino-sex suit. A purple reptilian furry suit, where her head jutted out of the exaggerated bobble-head skull of her t-rex mouth. Turnus was dressed as priestess. The shawl went over his face. The big robes covered his chest with a wispy white dress.

The cool draft against his exposed hairy ass-cheeks made him shiver though.

And no one noticed them to be the wanted three, not one soul.

But everyone sure as hell stared.