Inside a private room of the Morning Flower Clinic, a man taps his fingernails against the table impatiently.
Dixon Vallejo had been waiting for an hour. His scent, a pleasant blend of smoke and cinnamon, is beginning to grow irritated. The man looks up when the door opens, revealing the person who would be helping him with his rut this month.
"Finally,"
He says, leaning forward and taking the stranger in.
"Do you know how long I've been waiting?"
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