Nice To Meet You
#25 of Hockey Hunk Season 6
Hello, and welcome to The Hockey Hunk! I'm glad to see you all here, and I hope you'll enjoy reading today's chapter! I'm always happy to read your feedback, and I look forward to it with each and every chapter. *smiles* Keep it up! Do remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!
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*
The mall was busy when I entered, walking as steadily as I could and hoping that the strange painful sensation was not going to come back while I navigated through the throngs of shopping furs, noises and scents. The bus trip had not been particularly traumatic, thanks to my long pants that hid all the evidence of my own hideous injuries. I'd even left my crutch at home, and instead I only had a folded cane in my backpack which I could break out in an emergency - something the nice weasel at the prosthetic workshop had given to me, telling me that it was good to have some backup, but not get too reliant on them, either.
I felt alright. I was steady and I was good for now. I was here to do my work, the kind the Army had paid me to train for so that I could keep being useful for the society now that my days of unsuccessfully dodging Taliban bombs were past me. Now it was down to dodging a Hare Krishna and a charity collector in the big shopping hallway, air-conditioned, fake palm tree-decorated and loud under my footsteps while I carried on my task.
Funny that the place where I was going to wasn't completely strange to me, I couldn't help but think. It'd been a few weeks since Marker got his glasses, and wasn't this the same place? Ashley Eye Care Center...I'd been surprised enough. But maybe it wasn't such a strange thing. It wasn't the biggest town, after all. Everyone probably knew everyone to some level. It wasn't like Cleveland.
The smell of food coming from a restaurant-café type place made my empty stomach churn on my last stretch through the hallway, to the glass front of the store.
It wasn't very crowded, only a few furs sitting on the waiting chairs, someone browsing, nobody harassing the badger girl behind the counter. I walked over.
"Good day," I said.
"Hello!" the badger replied immediately. "How can I help you today?"
This was it. My beginning as a professional fox.
"Hello, I'm Tate Michaels from Data Assistance and Design, I'm here to meet the partners of this business," I explained.
"Oh, I think they're having their lunch hour just now, but let me check, Mister Michaels, if you just wait one moment, please," she replied before picking up the receiver of a phone from the desk.
"Sure," I said.
She hit a few keys and dialed, and I heard a single beep before a voice answered something I couldn't make out.
"Hal? The computer guy is here, asking to see you" she spoke to the phone.
Computer guy...
"Uh huh? Yeah..."
Hmm.
"Yeah...yeah, alright, thanks!"
She put the phone down and smiled.
"You can go in. You see that hallway there, past the waiting chairs, you go to the end of the corridor, that's the staff room, and you just knock and they'll let you in."
"Thank you," I replied.
I walked slowly into the indicated direction, past a little wolf kicking his footpaws boredly while a bored-looking father supervised. Things seemed slow today, I thought, my eyes already on the "STAFF ONLY" sign ahead of me as I continued with steady steps, my laptop bag in paw and acting as an useful balance on my way.
I knocked, and heard some shuffling noises before the door was opened and the pointed muzzle of a raccoon wearing those funny "over-the-muzzle" glasses peered at me.
"Yes?"
"Tate Michaels, from Data Assistance and Design," I offered my paw.
"Ah, right, right, yes, yes!" the raccoon fussed before reaching with a paw for mine, only to suddenly abort. "Oh...eh..."
He turned around suddenly, walking with somewhat waddling steps over into the room, to offer me a glimpse inside as he went over to what appeared to be a sink on a counter on the back wall.
"Good day!"
There was someone else in there too, sitting on a small table with a mug of coffee in hips paws, a tiger that was, watching curiously at the proceedings while the chubby raccoon tore a piece of kitchen roll and wiped his paws.
"Hello," I spoke to the tiger, "Tate Michaels..."
"Excuse me," the raccoon sounded busy as he approached again, paw extended, "I was just eating, I..."
I noticed a half-eaten plateful of something greasy on the table and decided that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing he had cleaned up before putting his big, warm paw into mine.
"Hello," repeated mechanically while we shook paws.
"Halford Ashley," he said, "here's my partner and colleague, Patrick Crane."
The tiger stood up from the chair and offered his paw once I'd gotten rid of the raccoon's.
"Hello," he said pleasantly, "haven't we met before, though?"
Of course.
"Almost didn't recognize you without the crocodiles," I replied.
"Hah, yes!" the tiger sounded cheerful. "You were in with a friend a weeks ago, right?"
I probably wasn't that memorable, but I knew that Marker was, so maybe that was it. It made sense.
"That's it," I said, "it was interesting to notice I'd been assigned to work with you."
"Oh?" the raccoon sounded curious. "Are you a customer here as well?"
"My friend is," I said, "well, roommate...he needed some glasses because of - "
"Hyperopia," the tiger said, "I prescribed simple plus ones, I think."
The two guys exchanged a knowing look, probably transmitting some secret eye doctor information between one another, and agreeing as such.
"Whatever you're saying," I said, "but I'm here now with the company, I understand you are interested in doing an overhaul of your website."
"Yes, yes!" the raccoon bellowed. "We've been talking about it for months, we think it's about time we went through with it now, before the Christmas season."
"These kind of things take their time," the tiger replied, having returned to his position on the table with his coffee.
"We're busy, the normal paperwork alone takes ages," the raccoon said.
"Not to mention we have to work to actually make some money to pay all the bills," the tiger replied.
"Would you like some coffee?" the raccoon asked.
"I'm trying to cut down," I replied, not wanting to risk an implosion while I was here.
"Shame they don't make a patch for it like for smokers," the raccoon chuckled while heading for the coffeemaker, tail swaying about.
Looks like he'd need a patch for weight loss too, I thought.
"Do sit down, we're just finishing up," the tiger pulled a chair and smiled, "we can chat a little before we get to the business end of things."
"Okay, sure," I said.
"I found a Diet Coke!" the raccoon suddenly called out. "Would you like some, Mister Michaels?"
"If it's not too much trouble," I replied, not wanting to be impolite.
"Oh, no, no," the raccoon rumbled as he returned, coffee in one paw, a can of soda in the other, which he placed in front of me on the small table before he landed onto a chair with a creak and a huff, "help yourself!"
"Thank you," I mumbled.
"This goddamn weather," the raccoon complained suddenly once he was sitting again, using his paw to fan himself. He didn't look like he was exactly dressed for it, considering he had a bow tie on, and a white shirt that had been buttoned up all the way. At least the tiger's white shirt only had short sleeves, unlike the long full sleeves on the raccoon. The raccoon even had a pocket protector with pens in it, and what looked like one of the little flashlights the tiger had used on Marker during his check-up.
"I don't mind so much," the tiger replied, "it's been worse before, it's not so bad anymore."
The raccoon chuckled while he picked up a fork and dug into the congealed mess of some sauce on his plate.
"Didn't your people spend some time in the desert?" he mused. "No wonder you're alright with the heat, then."
The tiger chuckled.
"We might have, but I don't think they enjoyed it particularly much," the tiger replied. "Though I think it was still considered preferable to building pyramids."
I had no idea what they were talking about, but both of them were laughing, so it must've been some sort of an in-joke.
"So where're you from, Michaels?" the raccoon asked me loudly. "Can I call you Tate? You can call me Hal."
"And I'm Patrick, of course," the tiger added.
"Sure," I said, "Tate it is."
"So where're you from, Tate?"
"Cleveland, actually," I said.
"My condolences," the raccoon said.
I frowned a little, but he just laughed roughly.
"By all means, hah, it's perfectly fine, heh!" he snickered.
This was going to be interesting.
*
Thank you for reading my story! I hope you enjoyed yourself, and I look forward to seeing you again soon! Do remember to comment, and as always, all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!
See you on Monday with the next chapter!