"Alright, strip."
Riven's ears flattened. "Excuse me?!"
"You heard her," the golden-haired one smirked, tossing him a damp towel. "Clean up, pretty boy. You can't be out there looking like you just crawled out of the woods."
Which, technically, he had.
Still, he scowled but wiped his face and arms off begrudgingly. He barely had time to react before they started yanking off his outer layers, replacing them with suspenders attached to his pants—but no shirt.
Riven looked down at himself.
Then at the waitresses.
Then back at himself.
"…What is this?"
"You're tonight's special attraction."
His ears shot up. "What kind of tavern is this?!"
"A very successful one," the curly-haired waitress chirped. "Now, go. Don't disappoint."
And just like that, they shoved him onto the center stage.
Riven barely had time to register the cheering crowd before the lights hit him. He stood there, chest bare, suspenders clinging to his toned frame, ears twitching, tail puffed up in alarm.
