Darel is dreaming. It's a nice dream, with a winged, gold-plated car and a busty blonde who bears a suspicious resemblance to half a dozen vid stars all at the same time. Mm, dreams. She's walking her fingers up his body while the car turns into a bed with truck wheels, and she nuzzles his neck, tickling it with her hair -- or was it a coat of fur? Oh, that's nice, baby. She brushes butterfly kisses over his face, licks his lips. Hehe, tickles a bit. His chest feels warm, a little wet, and he conjures visions of sexy women mouthing his skin through the cloth. Oh yeah.
And then she licks his nostrils, and he wakes up with a grossed-out gasp to a red-eyed, pointy rat face.
He doesn't care what Blue says, he screams in a perfectly manly way.
When Dhaval comes to get his ferret back, Darel gives him a glare and points down at the floor. "Your tube-rat just dumped me to romance my shoe. By the way, you owe me a piss-free shirt."