It was a quiet night at The Rusty Wing. Good thing, I liked it that way. I rubbed down the bar. My regulars were nursing their drinks or nursing hangovers. Fluffing my feathers, I retired to my perch and crossword puzzles. My left ear itched. Company’s coming, as my dear old meemaw used to say. A wingless pixie and a tall drink of water warlock walked into a bar, no punchline.

"Do you think they bought it?” the pretty young thing whispered.

“I don’t know. How dumb are your coworkers?” the witch said.

Slapping his arm, the pretty young thing directed her fellow to a dark booth in the corner. Clearly they were a couple. As an owl shifter, I could see what others couldn’t. Celadon and goldenrod, their magical auras were bleeding into each other around the edges. I wondered if their relationship was on the skids or on the rise. I liked puzzles. Purloine, one of my regulars, tapped his coaster. I spun my head 180 degrees. Even though more and more Magicks were dating across species lines using that app thingy, a few moldy oldies still had their noses out of joint about it. I transformed into man form and slipped on my full bar apron. I reached for a bottle of the Old Jasper.

“In my day, fae folks stuck to their own kind,” Purloine said a little too loudly.

I poured the crotchety pixie two fingers of hooch. Then I crossed my arms and gave the pixie my best glare.

“You got a problem with witches and elves hooking up with pixies, old-timer. Yesterday, I made a profile on Spellbound. So you got a problem with me? Do you want one?”

I poured myself a shot, drank it, slammed the shotglass down on my bartop, and went to the far booth to take their order. Whispering, their heads were close together.

“Next time, remember handsy but don’t frighten the horses, you pervert. Leave something to the imagination. I thought Triffles was going to file a report with HR,” the lady patron snapped.

“Well excuse me Miss Ice Britches, but at the coven’s Midnight Ball we have to pull out all the stops. My family will never buy this uptight act,” the hunk through back.

“Welcome, what can I do you for?”

“How about pants, big man?” the guy said.

I could smell his jealousy and didn’t hide my smile. The lady tugged at her sensible turtleneck. I could see the blush of her desire on her throat.

“Pipe down, pretty boy. We’ll have a couple of hot toddies.”

“As you desire, miss.”

Flashing my bum, I transformed back into an owl. I flew over to the coffee mugs. Love so young it hadn’t said its first words yet. And a romance scheme, too. Hooting with laughter, I turned up the stove.