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Hello, and welcome once again to I'm Still With the Hockey Hunk!

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*CUE TITLE SEQUENCE*

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I gave the cougar waitress a quick smile and dug out my red voucher from my pocket and gave it a quick wave.

"I have one these, actually, and I was wondering whether all your menu items are available on it," I explained.

"Ahh...right...," the girl took my voucher and flipped it around, peering her eyes over the slip of paper briefly before she nodded rapidly. "Ahh, yes, yeah, sure, all normal-priced dishes are included, but no alcoholic beverages, that's the policy."

"That's quite alright," I flicked my ears sympathetically. "I could have the noodle soup for starters and then go with the Wiener Schnitzel, but I'd like it with rice instead of potatoes."

The cougar's paw moved rapidly as she wrote down on her notepad.

"Would you like to have it with veal or pork?"

"Veal, please, and I would like to have mineral water, please," I continued my delicious order as soon as she had managed to scribble down my earlier orders, "...and I think that I could have a coffee afterwards and...anything you'd like to recommend for a dessert?"

"The chocolate chip ice cream is really nice, and we serve it with a self-made chocolate sauce, whipped cream, strawberries and a hint of cinnamon."

My tongue almost touched the tabletop when I nodded.

"Yes, I think I'll have one portion of that, please."

From the corner of my eye, I could see the tiger smirk.

"One chocolate ice cream pleasure bowl...I see," she finished with her scribbling and turned to smile at the tiger now, "anything you would like to have, sir?"

Mist-Colin smiled in return.

"Since my friend here is going to indulge himself fully, I could have one of those chocolate delights myself. Could you please bring me one as well with his portion?"

"Certainly, sir," the cougar replied. "Anything you would like to have for now?"

"I am fine for the moment, thank you."

She made a quick extra scribble and made some markings on the red voucher with her pen before she tore off its corner and hid that in her pocket.

"I will be right here with your drink and your soup," she gave me a quick extra smile, "and...ah...yeah, do you want me to maybe tell a hello from someone to Goggy?"

My brow rose.

"Eh?"

"This is one of Goggy's vouchers, I was wondering if you'd like him to know that you're here, is all, "the cougar spoke.

My ears flicked with surprise.

"Well, actually it was Goggy's girlfriend Marge who gave it to me," I already wondered whether this would actually disqualify me for free meals, and just how could I take revenge on Marge should that happen. "We work together."

"Ahhh, right, Marge...yeah, yeah," by the sound of her voice ,she certainly knew who Marge was, "well, in that case, I'll just be right back."

"Thank you," I smiled, and she disappeared, tail waving behind her rapidly as she went along.

The tiger chuckled and gave me a look. I gave him a look back.

"You sound very hungry, Rory," the tiger mused over the rim of his coffee mug.

I chuffed good-naturedly.

"I guess I am."

Truth be told, my belly might soon start to groan for the lack of nourishment, and I was glad that I'd be getting a full and wholesome meal very soon. Before that, I could concentrate on being envious of the tiger's coffee and chicken sandwich, with several slices of CRISPY chicken between delicious slices of bread. The tiger seemed to be pleased with his snack, as well, because there were little crumbles sticking to his muzzle.

"This sure beats airplane food...and much of hotel food, too, to be told," the tiger continued, "or Ms. Lopez's macrobiotic diet."

I chuckled at the mention of the leopard and smirked. The tiger's eyes twinkled.

"Have you two been on the road together for long?" I wondered.

Mistwillow...yeah...Colin, put his mug down and rubbed his chin so that he dislodged a couple of those breadcrumbs in the process.

"For the past two books, so...on and off for the past three years, she's been tagging along to me, "he detailed along, "since the publication of Stratagem. We did four months of promotion for that and are going to do two more for the latest. We've been at it for nine weeks now almost non-stop."

"You wouldn't think that a writer's life is so much like that of a...eh...rock star," I mused with a chuckle, much to the tiger's apparent amusement.

"At this phase, yes, it's much like being a part of a one-man indie band that's on the road and plays gigs just to pay for the bus ticket to the next town, yeah," the tiger elaborated.

With Ms. Lopez as a roadie, I was surprised that he wasn't already hooked on crack, just like any good indie rocker, I supposed. When it came to groupies, though, a certain lynx I certainly probably wouldn't have minded knocking on my dressing room door.

My sleepy Rory Jr. gave a little perverted throb at the memory of the lynx who preferred his pants with a very good fit, but I tried my best to distract myself by ogling at the prominent tiger instead.

Well, okay...he wasn't...he wasn't a Haakon, nor a Victor, nor would sell underwear on the cover of a magazine, but it's not like I looked for underwear models in the first place. Besides, I was too old for underwear models in the first place, anyway, I was almost 30, after all, and undie models wanted rippling hot flesh and bulging sheaths and a good deal of talcum powder sprinkled on to make muscles stand out better from under sleek furs.

I felt my cheeks blush along at the same pace as my cock hardened, and decided that thinking about Mistwillow, Haakon-butt, Victor-butt and those illicitly ogled underwear models in the same trail of thought was probably a warning sign.

I decided to just smile and nod instead and appear curious. I really, was, but, when you've got a boner hidden under the table, small talk starts to become interesting.

"Quite," I commented.

The tiger just chuckled.

"Yeah, it's not like I'm anywhere near the point when books sell themselves by the virtue of having a certain name on the cover," the Colin-willow noted, "it's much of a word by maw thing at the moment, I must say."

"You've got your own Wikipedia page," I suggested with a smirk.

Guess that's some sort of a modern definition of fame and notability, I decided.

The tiger snuffled.

"Probably written by some 15-year-old after trying to search more info about me and finding none," the tiger suggested.

I chuckled and saw that he was smiling too, and decided that it was okay, we were having a good time joking, it was nothing serious, nothing to fare ill over a potentially precarious ego.

"As long as there are enough of those 15-year-olds, I suppose it's alright."

"Quite true, quite true," the tiger replied, ears flicking in a manner that caused his eye glasses to shift a little over his muzzle, and he pushed them back up over his nose in a gesture that I had always found to be especially cute.

Hell, I used to do it for the fun of it when I used to wear glasses!

"Hehe," I mused and wondered when my hungry belly would get some fulfillment.

The tiger dapped the corners of his muzzle with his napkin and then poised his head in an angle so as to best look at me.

"I do apologize, though, I don't think I should be ranting on about my fan base or my profession in general," the tiger chuffed. "I suppose...uh...I suppose I get used to doing it, when it's the main thing I ever get to talk about for most of the time. Everyone I meet wants to ask about the books or whether there'll be a sequel or whether I can confirm a fan theory or..."

"...whether you'd like to read someone's awesome new story?" I suggested.

"...or that," the tiger nodded and smiled. "Yes, it's a...limited range of subjects."

"It's alright, though," I hurried to assure, "I don't mind what we're talking about."

"Nonetheless," the tiger shrugged. "I would hate to be boring company, and whatever company I'm holding, I'd like to hold it for the sake of company and not...book spoilers."

"There's a constant flow of them at work, hehe," I snuffled, awfully conscious of the fact that I had not read a single page of the tiger's books yet.

"Your wolf friend, yes," the tiger chuckled fondly. "He was very cool about it, though, have to give him that."

"Maybe he was just being star struck and shy," I smiled and winked.

"Or that!" the tiger sounded delighted.

I got an even better delight when a sweet, spicy smell filled my nose, moments before the waitress re-appeared, carrying a tray with her. In quick succession she placed a bowl of soup in front of me, followed by a spoon wrapped in a cloth napkin, a glass and a bottle of mineral water waiting for me, and a small plastic package containing thin crackers that I could have with the hot, murky, delicious-looking soup.

"Here you go, sir, it will be about 20 minutes before the main dish is ready."

"That's fine," I had to swallow before I spoke, my tongue working over-time under the assault of sweet chili on my nose.

"Enjoy your meal," the cougar's tail swayed as she gave me an extra grin, if a quick one.

I smoothed out the spoon from within the napkin and began to stir the treat, emanating even more of that wonderful scent from the little bowl.

"That smells really nice," the tiger commented.

"Can't wait to taste it," I gave him a slightly cheeky smile and felt my hunger triple within the space of a few seconds under this new onslaught of scent.

"Neither could I," the tiger in possession of a delicious sandwich in its own right spoke.

I decided to take the plunge and spooned some of the soup into my muzzle. The purr rose from my chest automatically, and the food brought me a lovely experience of taste all over my tongue. The little bits of noodles tried to stick all over my tongue and gums, but I swiped them away and swallowed the sweet, hot soup, so that only the satisfying, lingering aftertaste of the spices remained. I licked my lips and probably looked almost guilty for my very outspoken burst of gastronomical pleasures, but the tiger didn't seem to mind - he had that sandwich and it was still half-done and I was envious of it!

"I concur that it was nice indeed."

"Yeah," I put my spoon down and decided to pour myself a glass of water now that I had gotten the initial taste of my soup, and my belly was purring on its own, enjoying the warm presence in it now that it had something else down there besides whatever remained of the sandwiches I had for lunch back at the bookshop.

"So, Rory," the tiger leaned on his elbows, watching me intently, "what do you like to do with your free time?"

My brow perked a little at the question, surprising as it was. Surely I wasn't this interesting for someone who mingled with authors and other artsy furs on a regular basis, unlike me, who mingled with...well...

WITH VICTOR'S BROTHER, THAT'S ME, CALL ME COBB THE REAL NAME'S JACOB BUT EVERYONE CALLS ME COBB! WOW, YOU'RE HANGING AROUND WITH A WRITER? COOL, CAN YOU GET HIS AUTOGRAPH FOR ME, I DON'T KNOW WHAT HE'S WRITTEN BUT IT'S STILL COOL! WOW!

My brain seemed to be rebelling again at the memory of my interrupted and mutilated date by providing me with another dose of mental Cobb Holden, speaking with the voice of the reality of what kind of company I had been holding recently. Not to mention the ugly truth that now that the tiger made me think about it...I didn't do anything.

Sure, I went to work, went to run and to some gym visits, went out for groceries, sometimes wandered around the main street looking for something to buy maybe, sometimes I visited Peter, of course, and I'd had that date...maybe on some weekends I even wandered to the university clibrary to get a whiff of old book smell and remind myself of the world I had once belonged to...

So, basically, as far as it seemed, I only got out of my place to work, get food or get laid, and that was it.

Ugh...

I tried to look preoccupied for a moment, even frowned a little for emphasis, as I tried to figure out just how the hell could I turn that boringness to sound like something that wouldn't make me sound too pathetic to the seemingly honestly curious tiger.

"Guess I like doing some reading and movies and stuff," I proposed tentatively, hoping that it sounded okay enough, "trying to keep up with the world...guess it's what they call normal life, I guess."

"Nothing wrong with nice and easy and normal," the tiger mused after a brief, thoughtful pause.

"Yeah, don't think there's much else I'm up for, anyway," I snuffled, stealing another two spoonfuls of soup now that there was a brief lull in the conversation, and more than enough time for another foodgasm.

"How come?" the tiger seemed curious now. "Retail industry not your dream job?"

"I used to work for a newspaper, actually," I explained quickly, "did some copywriting for them for a couple of years, but the credit crunch got them busted and they had no need for me anymore, so I had to find a new job and there I am, happyhappy lion behind the counter."

Pathetic...

"You have a job, and in this state of things, that's what matters," the tiger smiled, "even if it's not quite all you'd want to do, it still keeps you up to the pace. You're an independent man of your own, Rory."

"Yeah," I stirred by soup, "guess not everyone gets to live out their dreams..."

I gave him a look, and the tiger seemed to notice, because he stopped smiling, and actually reached across the table and patted my forearm, above my wrist.

"That's why dreams are best kept in here," his other paw patted the side of his own head briefly, "where they can be best enjoyed. Real life ambitions notwithstanding, of course."

"Of course," I spoke, and noticed that the paw he had laid over my arm was still there, for a little moment, before he sat back again and smiled.

"Copywriting, huh?" the tiger spoke now, eyes sharp and curious, "mind telling me how you got to do that? It sounds like an interesting profession and one I never tried, so I would be curious to hear all you can tell me about it."

"Yeah, sure," I replied.

*

What a day.

It had been a really nice dinner, I must say, with excellent - and free - food that was more than enough to make me purr, not to mention the company at paw. This Colin Mist-Fellow had revealed himself a nice cat, not too big in the head, even apologizing when he spent about fifteen minutes in wide-eyed explanation of how it felt like to put words down on paper and trap time in them, eternally represented there in his prose. He even took the time to patiently listen to me about my study times and ambitions and aspirations and how I had ended up being the copywriter and then being a nothing and how bookshop work was okay but I wouldn't mind doing something a little bit more challenging.

He ended up drinking two more coffees while we chat, and I was feeling my own coffee as a rather pressing presence in my bladder as I sat on the bus seat, looking out to the bustling, well-lit sidewalk as I travelled home. It was already past seven pm, but it wasn't like I had anything much to do at home anyway.

The ice cream was great, to, and the tiger got plenty of chocolate sauce stains all over his muzzle, which gave him an amusing set of new stripes, which I were quick to point out. There was a lot of chucking and smiling an little jokes and yeah, guess we parted on fine terms, when it comes to two strangers who have met twice and probably will never see each other again. Still, for all it was worth, it was a fine afternoon spent, and I felt like I could face the evening and next day with a broad smile on my muzzle.

I had also managed to sneak out a message to Victor telling that I was doing okay and that I missed him, and he sent me a quick note that assured me that he'd try to make some Cobb-free time in the future so that we could talk and maybe meet up, too ,which made me smile broadly, and brought questions from Mistwillow, too, upon my broad smirking while looking at my phone. I told the tiger that it was just a friend asking me how I was doing, truthful as that was, and got a knowing smile from the tiger in return.

Still, as I stepped out of the bus near my block and wandered down the street, I really could have used some Victor-time, too. There was always something small we could talk about on Facebook, about the day, the local news, or the television, maybe, if nothing else was up, and the Dobie was also a big flirt, making little remarks that could be interpreted in just the right way without too much effort. He also had a very cute way of using textspeak contractions in his messages, something that always managed to surprise me, and Victor had even taken it pretty well when I teased him that saying gr8 made him sound like a 13-year-old girl.

Perhaps it was me being as giddy as a 13-year-old over Justin Bieber, but it felt nice, and kept me smiling, and that's what counts, folks!

My belly felt warm and nice as I hobbled up the stairs and then to the lift which I took to my floor, and I was already looking forward to a warm shower and some naked television-watching while drying up all nicely. My apartment greeted me with its familiar scent, a mix of lion musk and washing detergents and food and whatever made a home, I suppose. I got my jacket off and flicked the computer on while I made my way around the room, collecting mail that had been stuffed into my letter box, turning on lights and the television as I made me leisurely welcome home inspection.

A nice, satisfying piss later I was back, sitting in front of my computer with a small thud as I put my well-reputed butt down on the chair and flicked my tail around happily as I checked the broadband and then hit open my favorite pages on their customary tabs. A couple of new checks later I decided that even though Victor probably wasn't around, I could still check whether he'd put something new up on Facebook, and I'd really like to hear from Peter, too, so why not?

I typed in my email address and my password and got my wall open, and immediately noticed something that wasn't there before, something that was more than enough to make my eyes widen and my tail flick curiously.

User Haakon Kjerulf has sent Rory Gliese a friend request.

_ _

Oh my...

*

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