The animatronic skeleton marches through the Tunnel of Terror's dark corridors, following the ride operator's flamboyant bell-jingling steps. 
Lovemore struggles against the grip of the automaton. Lerato’s ears wiggle and eyes light up as she glances over the whole automaton.
“It’s a work of art, this one. Looks just like a skeleton, and it’s all mechanical!”
“Nngh, I’m sure, dear,” Lovemore responds, “that there are magical workings to make up for the shortcomings in mundane locomotion,” he says. “But we have other things to worry about, surely.”
“Who’s worried?”
The ride operator stops, motioning to the door behind them, which reads “Ride Supervisor Hunter.” “Oh, you should be worried, escaping from us like you have to play hanky panky in the park.”
“Escape?”
The masked worker knocks on the door and proclaims. “Boss, the delinquents are here. Shall I bring ‘em in?”
A low, rumbling growl rises up from the other side. “It’s too damn early to be botherin’ me with this shit.”
“They’ve gone off the program, boss.”
“Guuh, fine, send them in! But don’t let that skeleton track water on my floor again. Fuck’s sake.”
The two dik-diks look at each other with smirks, tapping their hooves to a beat only the two know. They know the escape plan; they’ve practiced it many times.
Of course, they don’t expect the skeleton to just yeet them into the open doorway that is immediately shut behind them.
The two lovers tumble and roll and crash into the wall of the office, dazed and dizzy.
Sitting at a makeshift desk at the temporary office is a feline figure, a caracal with fuzzy paws rubbing eyebrows, and a steaming cup of coffee piping on the desk. “Okay, now what the hell do we have here? Why are you two trespassing?
Lovemore hops up to his hooves, standing between the taller feline and his dearly beloved, a determined glance up at the figure before him. “You’ll not lay a hand upon my Lerato, you thug.”
“Huh?” The cat says, picking up his coffee and sipping it. He winces and puts it back down. “Fuckin’ cheapskates. It’s the burnt shit. Look, you two look like you’re not just some random customers. You got some,” he waves his paw, his whiskers twitching. “Oomph to ya. So, let’s get to the point here—what are you really doing here?”
Lerato stands up, adjusting her skirt for the first time since their little tryst. “What are we doing? The question is, what are you doing?”
“Dear!” Lovemore snaps.
“No, wait just a minute here. We weren’t harming anyone, and we weren’t planning on doing anything to your ride. I just needed to have my brains fucked out by my hubby. Is that a crime?” She says this, standing behind Lovemore and rubbing his shoulders.
The supervisor leans back, tapping his claws on the table. “Look, lady, I just do what the park tells me, yeah? I ensure the workers are at their posts and that no one’s causin’ trouble for anyone. I don’t know and don’t care why they do them scryin’ shit on people leaving the tunnel. Tryin’ to sell information on what spooks people the most in the tunnel, I don’t give a fuck.”
The two deer look to each other, quirking brows before turning back toward the caracal.
Lovemore relaxes but still stands between his wife and the cat, his eyes never leaving the taller male’s. “Well, perhaps I can propose a solution for all three of us? If you let me and Lerato go, then we shall leave your ride, and you can be on your way, taking whatever telemetry you desire.” He says this, placing a hoof upon his chest.
“Nothin’ doin’,” the manager says, standing up, his tie is loose, and there are a few stains on his shirt from a previous, if better brewed, drink. “It’s my job on the line, I hope you understand, so I’m going to have to insist that you compensate for the ride properly.”
“By letting a ride scan me with magic? No chance!” Lovemore snaps. “I did not consent to such a thing!”
“Now, now,” Lerato says, stepping up beside Lovemore, a glove on his chest. “Let’s not get too hasty here: I think there are alternatives. After all, we are in Anteronia, aren’t we?”
Lovemore’s eyes widen, and he shrinks slightly. “You-you can’t be serious.”
The caracal blinks, and his eyes widen, looking from one short deer to the other. “W… wait, you two horny bastards want to—naw, can’t be.” He says, his eyes latching onto Lovemore’s. “This is a trick, obviously.”
Lerato taps his hoof with hers, and Lovemore bites his lip, looking downward. “Dearest… with a stranger, really?”
“Lerato chuckles, tilting her head toward the manager. “Why not, unless you want me to do all the work.”
“Absolutely not!” he snaps. “I am not going to sell my dignity nor my body. No matter how handsome our current obstacle is.”
“Hey, hey,” the manager says, stepping up from around the table. “Listen, you two. I don’t want no tricks, alright? You can’t trust me, and I can’t trust you, but…” he runs a hand up over his head, letting his ears spring back up to place. “Fuck, if I haven’t had a good fuck here in this fuckin’ city, you get me?”
“Oh, well, sir….” Lerato says, pulling Lovemore in so their cheeks are up together. She nudges him with a horn.
Lovemore takes a deep breath and smiles up at him. “You’ll find we’re quite eager to please when the right motivation is applied.”