It had been a while since Sparrow visited Tyrian and when she did, she suggested they have fun like they used to and be rather in-alpha like… which really meant drugs and booze and the eventual pass out that ensued. Or maybe she fainted… or maybe she was just hallucinating, she couldn’t be sure of anything except she was not, in fact, conscious in any way in the ‘real world’ and it went something like…

Warm hues flooded into the small shop, temporarily blinding Sparrow. The milk frothier screamed in the background as the woman slowly blinked her eyes back into focus. Ah, right, she was on the register for a double today. ”Welcome to Canaan Cafe!” she greeted almost without realizing it before turning her attention to the illuminated pad of drink options in front of her. The customer ordered, and Sparrow thanked him with a greedy smile as he threw some change into the tip jar, called the order back to her coworker, and turned again to the door to zone out, full resting bitch face until the next customer would grace them with their presence.

Tyrian blinked hard. What did Sparrow say? He'd zoned out for a second there. Snippets of the order floated back to him and he bent over the counter intent on throwing together what he knew to be right and filling the rest in with intuition. He swiped absently at a cup and was surprised when it didn't fold into his grasp with its usual rote ease. His eyes went to the cup and - what? In confusion he lifted his hands - now paws - and stared down at them with wide eyes. Well, there was his problem. He didn't have any thumbs! This was really going to cut into his turnaround if he didn't focus. He grabbed the cup with both paws and half carried, half dragged it to where it needed to be. From there he threw ingredients together quickly and sloppily; the actions more of a clubbing than a finely orchestrated process. But, in the end and without taking an eternity like he'd expected, Tyrian was able to slide a drink carrier with the finished order across the counter to the waiting customer. Whew. This was going to be a long day if his hands didn't get their act together. ""

Sparrow's coworker- as he was- went around clumsily making the drink and Sparrow was none the wiser as her tail swished behind her. Wait, tail? Sparrow peered behind her. It was just the strings of her apron, why would she think she had a tail? The next customer came in as the door happily alerted Sparrow with a sharp 'ding!' and Sparrow threw on her Customer Service ™ face without even realizing it. She welcomed the customer, took their order, but as they went to pay, they leaned in, face scrunched, "Is... Does your coworker have paws?" Sparrow looked back. Yup, he did have paws. She nodded to the customer. The customer was not as accepting. "If he's a barista, why is he a furry?" Sparrow leaned back, "Oh my god, you can't just ask someone why they're a furry!" She gasped with mock surprise, "Anyway, next!"

Tyrian's ears caught the word 'furry' and immediately swiveled back to catch the conversation in full. The exchange was quick and Sparrow promptly swung back to what she was doing, but Tyrian didn't let go quite so easily. The words stuck with him long enough for him to ask himself what exactly it was about him that made him a furry. He didn't have an easy answer, but he supposed it started at the wrists. That's where the fur started, anyway, so it seemed like the most straightforward answer. He swung around with order in paw and slid it without ceremony towards the customer it belonged to. In the blink of an eye he suddenly found himself the size of a spoon and drowning in cold foam. Tyrian flailed wildly up at the clear, domed lid of the drink he'd just pushed to the customer. His claws scrabbled at the inside lip while his back feet - not quite reaching the bottom of the cup - paddled furiously to keep him afloat. "Spar-" Tyrian dipped under and the rest of his coworker's name came out in bubbles. After bouncing off the bottom of the cup he broke the surface and managed to wedge his paws between opposite sides of the cup. "Sparrow, help!" ""

Sparrow tried to focus on orders past the sharp whirring of the milk frother. She wasn't here to debate about her coworker's furriness, and even if she was, it wasn't some customer's business anyway. When things were quieting down, she went to whisper to her coworker and snark about the customer, but she found he wasn't there. Somewhere, she heard a teeny tiny voice and managed to see him inside the cup he had just poured. Quickly she dove a hand to snatch him from sure death, but in the blink of an eye, found that she herself was the one diving. She plopped into the slightly thicker than water beverage, the foam clinging to her fur which she discovered she now had again- or had all along.

She aimed to swim and cling to Tyrian as the cup tipped and she was flung back and into the mouth of the man Osmosis Jones style. She'd never thought about what someone's mouth looked like from the inside, but she decided immediately that she hated it. She clamored against the thrashing tongue and reached for the somewhat crooked teeth that hosted a thin filmy coating of unflossed plaque between them. She envisioned her grabbing one of the porcelain teeth and having her hand or arm crushed between the opposing tooth, ground to a mushy pulp with one movement, and that alone kept her trapped as the man now sputtered with the realization something was inside his mouth.

"Uh, Tyrian???"

Tyrian had just enough time to see Sparrow looming overhead and feel a sense of a relief before it was snatched away from him. He blinked and just as quickly as he'd found himself in the cup, Sparrow was in there too. Well fuck. Now what where they going to do? His coworker's swan dive dislodged him from the cup's walls and dunked him yet again. After hitting the bottom he bobbed to the surface sporting a foam cap like a baby in a soap commercial. This was NOT how rescues were supposed to go! He could feel her now splashing around behind him and while this wasn't a time for levity that was exactly what made it perfect for levity. "Worst rescue ever," he sputtered as though reviewing a coffee. "We're going to have to give this man a refu- AH!" It felt as though the whole world was tilting and then a great big gaping mouth loomed over the side of the cup. He paddled quickly in the opposite direction but was no match for the customer's caffeine deficiency. The man threw back the drink with what felt like the sort of gusto usually saved for a shot and Tyrian found himself a'swirl around an unhappy tongue. There was no way to win; every which way he looked posed a danger of some kind. The throat was out of the question, but the teeth were equally unappealing. Normally Tyrian was opinionless when it came to the debate of spit versus swallow but in this instance he was team spit. "Sparrow! Over here!" ""

Sparrow thrashed about in the man's mouth- a phrase she never thought she'd have to say and hoped she'd never have to say again, even mentally. Why couldn't it have been some pretty woman who swallowed them whole? At least Sparrow could die in peace... which was only a slightly better fate- actually, no, she'd rather not die by being swallowed at all. Tyrian's complaints went unheard until he called her name and she swirled into the foam towards him. She tried to dig her heels in, kick a tooth, anything that might make the man choke.

Unfortunately, she didn't have much choice in the matter when the act of swallowing began, causing the coffee to form into a whirlpool rip current that pulled Sparrow just out of reach of her coworker. She tumbled into the back of his throat, only barely managing to grab onto the uvula. This, at the very least, made the man couch and choke, throwing Sparrow clear into the air. As she flew in what seemed like slow motion, milk droplets suspended in the air around her, the coffee shop looked very small, smaller than it did when she was regular sized.

But with every flight, there's a fall. The wooden counter approached her, or rather she fell towards it, and at the last second, she accepted her fate, scrunching her eyes closed and landing with a soft poof.

Wait... Poof?

Slowly, Sparrow opened her eyes, realizing now she was not at all in the coffee shop as her eyes adjusted to the change in lighting.

As the whirlpool formed Tyrian found himself yoinked under in a swirl of bubbles. In the last instant before going under he instinctively tried to take one last breath and was half successful; getting first air and then coffee. Honestly he didn't know what was worst; being in what was essentially premature backwash or getting it in his mouth. All of two seconds later the slimy, this-is-not-my-saliva texture caught up with him and oh, yeah, suddenly he knew which was worst. Too caught up in what was happening to spit, Tyrian was rolled end over end. He didn't even have time to contemplate his fate before a deep barking cough from somewhere below him sent him flying forward. Suddenly there was light. And the counter. And- oh shit he was falling! And then he wasn't. ...He wasn't? Tyrian looked around and then lifted a paw - and it was definitely a paw - to look at it. And then as his wildly different landscape swam into view, he looked beyond it. Everything was green. Like, really green. Outside foresty green; not that potted plant city bullshit. "Sparrow, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore..." Odder still, the ground underfoot was kind of weird. All freshly packed down, the grass seemingly pulverized by a large foot. Wait... He looked around and noticed that what he had first assumed was an outcropping wasn't naturally occurring at all. No, the sides were smooth and uniform, and up ahead they branched off into three distinct triangles before looping back around to complete the rounded semi circle of a heel. Was that...? An ear splitting jurassic bellow confirmed his fears. ""

"Sparrow, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore..." was the sound she came conscious with as Tyrian observed the obvious. "The fucks a Kansas?" she half muttered before a large screech-bellow-scream-earth-shattering-sound nearly ripped her head into two distinct halves. Her blood ran like painful ice water through her veins and her skin boiled hot with sheer panic. She righted herself, getting all four paws beneath her, though her safari hat threatened to cover her eyes completely. She flicked her head to knock it back around her neck, resting on the collar of her seafoam green PFG Colombia shirt. She looked to her uncle, eyes wide above her Ray-Bans. She skittered close by, her heart hammering so fast she was scared she might pee her Carhartt cargo pants- tail slit included. "Tyr is that a- a- a... SHARPTOOTH???"