Breaking a Leg

Another loss of communication with the mainland. Another break in our research work we could ill-afford.

The thirty minutes I’d taken for lunch in the weather station’s somewhat dated, totally packed-out canteen had extended into a full hour. The same held true for the rest of our group, sitting as we were at our usual tables nearest the full-length rear windows, primely positioned to both see and hear the rain strengthening outside.

“I just can’t see how Maleni radars will work out,” stormed Elias, the raccoon sitting in the seat directly across from and above our tabletop table. “No, a larger radar is best. A Visoka-sized radar.”

His eyes were locked upon Cas, the beaver in the seat beside me, staring him down whether he meant to or not.

Adjacent to Cas at the end of our table sat Rik, an amber-furred fox, frowning thoughtfully as this discussion played out.

“Honestly, though,” Elias complained, the hint of a crease where his snout met his eye mask. “I don’t get why we’re still arguing about this.” His eyes flicked towards me. “Tell him, Nela. He’s down there with you, after all.”

I didn’t respond right away, firstly due to the subject matter, and secondly because of that ‘down there’ quip.

I might have been the supervisor to these three, but I wasn’t about to start acting like their mother, here to fix their issues. Wrong cat in the wrong place at the wrong time.

All that said… For one reason or another, I always sensed it my duty to help the local Meerlanders working under me at the station.

“Cas,” I said, gently attempting to talk his sagging head up from towards the table. “What was it about having Maleni-sized radars installed that you thought would improve our research?”

The beaver chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. More than a moment. Long enough that I started mulling over a change in the topic of conversation.

“Well?” Elias spat.

“Hold on,” I shot back at him with only half a snap, easing again to repeat, “Cas?”

But, in the end, he managed to speak up. “Since you’re looking at clouds in the sky… You don’t need a big radar…”

“Huh?” Elias frowned. “Why’s that exactly?”

“Yes,” I said with far more softness. “Why is that?”

“Because…” Cas took a deep breath, successfully lifting his head to look at me, but not enough to gaze up towards Elias. “The small angle upwards over long distances means so long as you have line of sight on the sky… A Visoka-sized radar isn’t really necessary.”

“Yeah, as long as you’ve got line of sight,” Elias replied, frowning. “Sight that’s much more likely to be obstructed in a smaller scale setup. I mean, look!” Scoffing, he spread his arms and looked side to side. “Look at the situation we’re in right now. The microwave connection with the mainland’s down. Again.”

A grunt shook the table beneath us. One that I noticed forced Cas into clamping a hand onto ours.

Hank, the big wolf sitting next to the far shorter, smaller Elias, clearly hadn’t appreciated the reminder of our current situation.

“Uh…” After a quick, wide-eyed gawk at our broad-chested Infrastructure Engineer, it was Elias’ turn to sound nervous. “No, see, what I’m meaning is… Cas, are you honestly suggesting we should start taking chances with radar line of sight, just like we do with the internet around here?”

Cas leaned forward, opened his mouth… but said nothing.

I had to fight not to sigh out loud.

He turned away and towards Rik at the end of our table. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

The fox reeled back, shrugged. “Why’re you asking me?”

Yet again, something had Cas’ tongue.

“You’re the one with all the ideas on this.” Rik peered up at Elias and shrugged again. “He hasn’t stopped talking about it all morning. All week, actually.”

“Well, him talking to me now’d help,” said the big raccoon, still sitting with a noticeable lean away from the bigger wolf beside him. “Because as it is, I don’t get how Maleni radars would work out better than Visoka ones.”

I wanted to push Cas on. To make him confident enough to share his thoughts with anyone, no matter who they were, or what size they were.

But I knew I couldn’t achieve that. There was only so much I could do before I started fighting his battles for him.

Growing up and living in Bolstrovo, spending my life around people of all sizes, it made it easy to forget not every part of the world was blessed with the same level of integration.

I’d been at this weather station off the Meerlander coast for close to two years, seen a number of local scientists and facility staff come and go on their temporary assignments. Even so, encountering locals as cripplingly timid around Visoka as Cas was still surprised me.

He and Rik had arrived at the station together two months prior for year-long assignments as Junior Meteorologists, and of the pair, the fox was by far the more confident when dealing with our large-scale colleagues.

“Nela?” Elias asked. His frown from before had disappeared into an easier air of pleading. “Do you have any idea what Cas is trying to say?”

I shook my head in spite of my suspicions. Cas hadn’t shared as much detail with me as he clearly had with Rik. In fact, he’d shared about as much with me as he’d already forced out here at the table.

Elias himself was four months into his own placement, and as good as he was as a researcher, I barely needed four days to determine how tricky he could be to deal with.

Most especially when it came to a difference of opinion.

“This is pointless,” Elias grumbled, finding his frown again. “The Visoka-sized radar is the way to go, and no-one can tell me otherwise.”

“Let’s leave this for now,” I said with hands held high. “We can revisit it when we’re better able to think about things. Less irritated about the disruption.”

The light blue wall ahead shifted.

I gazed up past my hands.

Found Hank peering over his glasses at me despite his far higher vantage.

“I know, Hank, I know.” I kept my hands up, reaiming them towards the large wolf. “The connection going down isn’t your fault.”

He grinned. “Good that you know. Because I’m only one wolf.” Then, he sat back in his creaking chair. “One wolf battling against all the rain that’s causing this, and a budget that doesn’t stretch far enough to help prevent it.”

“I feel your pain,” I said with an unprompted sigh. “I wonder how much research we could get through if we were properly funded, too.”

Hank snorted and nodded, soon returning to his silent contemplation of his empty lunch plate.

The both of us had arrived at the station within a week of each other, making us, along with Vin, our colleague still out shopping on the mainland, the longest serving members of the team still on the island.

As a result, we’d grown close, become friends, despite the fact we did different work in different departments.

“Hey,” Elias mumbled, having to peer up at the wolf himself from below shoulder height. “I didn’t… I wasn’t blaming you. For the connection, I mean.”

Hank turned to the raccoon. And watched. Silent.

“...No hard feelings?”

He stayed quiet. Kept those intense golden eyes fixed. Neutral, like the rest of him.

“...Okay, then.” Elias sank even lower in comparison. His turn to start studying his used plate.

In response, Hank snuck a look down at me, then stole a stealthy half-smile.

A smirk aside, I kept my amusement silent and to myself.

Our Hank was easily the biggest of the Visoka we had here, and more often than not was the one to unsettle the newest Meerlanders the most…

…And the occasional Maleni Bolstrovan, too.

Being almost as tall as most of the also very large doorways around the facility helped towards that, I suppose, regardless of the fact he was as approachable and even-tempered as they came.

My attention began to drift away from our quietened tables, attracted to the noise that seemed to be loudening all around us.

The canteen was packed close to bursting as the time neared 2pm. Most of the station must have been there, from the others in Hank’s IT department, to my fellow meteorologists, even through to some of the security boys and the mechanics.

Losing connection to the Meerland mainland had really put a spanner in most people’s works: a thought I decided to keep from our Infrastructure Engineer.

“What are we gonna do for the rest of the day?” asked Rik, idly spinning a spoon on the table, again and again. “We can’t work, and we can’t sit around here all afternoon.”

“We can,” Cas muttered. “But I don’t think I’d want to.”

“We won’t,” I told them. “If we need to wait out the weather, then we’ll work out how to go about that.”

“Please don’t say Mismatch,” Elias grumbled. “I’ve played that game once, hell, twice too many.”

“We’ll decide once Vin gets back. Maybe we will play a board game.”

He huffed, not long before his quick flick of a check of an unmoved Hank.

“Or, maybe we’ll decide on something else.”

The conversation died back down into the surrounding noise, presumably as we each turned within ourselves to think about our empty afternoons ahead.

Those quiet, isolated breaks of ours wouldn’t last for too long. All thanks to Vin’s well-timed, and well-broadcast arrival.

“Don’t say a word,” the squirrel rumbled. “And yes, I did take an umbrella.”

I looked back over my shoulder to find him striding along the wall-mounted walkway set level with the Visoka tabletops. To say he was drenched would have been an understatement.

“So,” Elias called, smirking. “Guessing heading ashore for groceries in a storm wasn’t the best idea after all, hmm?”

“Really?” Vin snapped back. “Clearly, given you just spoke it, you understand Polcian, and yet, you said not a word, but several, even though I said not to.”

“Couldn’t resist.”

“I don’t doubt you couldn’t.” He came to a stop, rolling closer to us, honestly looking like he’d taken a dip in the waterway between the island and the mainland. “But it’s not like the weather was much better yesterday, nor does it seem it’ll be tomorrow.”

“And the day after?”

“I can’t just keep borrowing people’s toothpaste, can I,” Vin said with a growl. “It’s quite alright for you, treetop, having everything you might possibly need shipped from back home.”

“It’s not like I can just head over to Zoutestrand to get stuff myself.” Elias grinned. “Plus, I’m guessing they don’t do toothpaste in Visoka-sized tubes, right?”

“You truly are as funny as ever.” Vin stepped off the rolling part of the walkway, then through the gate in the guardrail that allowed him onto the table. “A real comic genius.”

“I do try.”

“Not very hard, apparently.” Face like thunder, Vin strolled along the centre strip between the walkway and our smaller-sized table. “Thanks for the help over to the table, too, by the way.”

“You managed, didn’t ya?”

I decided to speak up and stop their argument before it arrived. Hank, however, beat me to it.

“I would have offered, Vin,” he said. “But it may have meant barging Elias here over… and we Visoka do certainly have to keep those smaller than us in mind.”

The raccoon stayed quiet, other than to mutter, “You don’t gotta be like that about it.”

Vin meanwhile peered up to the wolf, smiling for the first time.

All had been diffused, and all was mostly right again. The perfect platform from which our soggy squirrel could properly vent.

“I swear, the rain waited to get worse just as I got off the ferry in Zoutestrand.” He stomped around the back of Cas’ chair, then past mine, his damp tail perilously close to the back of my head. “That’s not even to mention how many times I almost lost my umbrella heading across the water. Gods forbid they’d use a boat with a covering.” Then, with what I’m sure was a squelch, he dropped into the chair at the end of our table. “I can’t wait for the bridge to be finished.”

“Hey, umm…” Rik said, across the table from him. “Did you remember to pick up my shampoo?”

Vin glared at the fox, rain-matted face a picture of displeasure. But, with a sharp exhale, he calmly answered, “Yes. I got it.”

“Ah, cool… Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” He sat back in his seat, eyes closed for a few breaths more, until he lost more of his annoyance. A little more of it, anyway. “I overheard some more wonderful comments from the locals about what they think of us here.”

“Oh, don’t,” I pleaded. “Let’s not get back onto this again. Please.”

“One fellow at the supermarket seemed convinced that we’re spies posing as weather people.” Vin blew out a humoured huff. “If we are spies, I’m certainly not being paid like one.”

Rik snickered, then, despite my previous request, said, “That’s pretty tame compared to what that guy at that pub had to say a couple of Fridays back.”

“Oh. Gods.” Vin looked to the ceiling and shook his head. “I forgot about him.”

“How could you forget?”

“I… tried really hard, I suppose.”

“You’re better than me, then.” Rik pinched the bridge of his snout, cracking a smile. “I’m still trying to work out the logistics of those underground tunnels we’re making for the Visoka-sized ‘soldiers’ here.”

“The what?” Elias asked in complete bemusement. “I never heard about this guy.”

“There wasn’t much to say,” Vin said. “The fellow had clearly enjoyed one drink too many.”

“More like many drinks too many,” Rik quipped. Then, he peered up at the raccoon and said, “And I never got the chance to tell you about him, what with how busy you, Hank and the others have been digging those giant tunnels.”

Elias grinned. “Of course. How dumb of me to forget.”

“Tunnels?” Hank mused, rubbing his chin. “I’ve been too busy keeping everything ticking over here for endeavours like that.” He then grinned himself. “It certainly sounds fun, though.”

“We’re not all paranoid nutjobs, us Meerlanders, I promise.” Rik smirked. “Only most of us.”

“Hang on,” Cas snapped, much to my surprise. He might have been sitting beside me, but our usually quiet, docile beaver was easy to miss.

The fox frowned in his own confusion. “What?”

“It’s not most Meerlanders. Actually, a lot of people I know back at home are pretty excited about all of this–”

“Yeah, yeah…” Rik held up his hands. “I’m only joking, man. Chill.”

Poor Cas. Speaking up from his quiet corner killed that round of jesting dead.

I couldn’t say I was too upset. Discussing the more… imaginative locals and their delusions about our Visoka friends and colleagues wasn’t my idea of a fun time.

Fortunately, Vin ensured the table chatter didn’t derail for too long, turning to me to say, “I managed to find those extra props you were wanting for your planned play.”

“Oh, thank you!” My smile quickly spread over to him. “I meant to ask before you left earlier.”

“I imagined you’d be keen on getting them today, what with this outage.”

“Hold up,” Rik called, leaning forward at the table with hand raised. “Sorry. Did you say ‘planned play’?”

“I did,” Vin said matter-of-factly.

Cas then sat forward himself, looking at the squirrel, then at me. “As in… an acting play?”

I decided against confirming or denying, choosing instead to take a leaf out of Hank’s book by quietly grinning at our pair of Meerlander colleagues.

A decision that drew the most amusingly gormless glares out of them.

With that dumbstruck sensation reverberating around our table, Elias took upon himself to lean back in his Visoka-sized chair and keep the discussion alive.

“From the sounds of things, it’s looking like that news story on ZMN the other day didn’t do much to help the locals’ view of us, positive as they tried framing what we’re doing here. And what’s gonna be going on here.”

I think we all took a silent moment to mull that over amid the racket of the canteen.

Though Rik, in typical fashion, didn’t waste the opportunity to lighten the mood. “Not even Hank, our very own TV star, could help with that.”

It wasn’t hard to spot the large wolf shifting, resting his chin in the crook between thumb and finger as he cast an interested eye over the fox.

“I for one am shocked, shocked, that seeing a wolf his size caught on film didn’t help calm the locals down.”

Hank snorted hard, flashing a toothy smirk. “Y’all can’t say I didn’t try.”

I sat up, raised a couple of fingers, and caught his attention as I asked, “Why were you on the beach that side of the island anyway?”

“Because that’s where the receiver antennas are.” Both his smirk and his eyes softened before he continued. “I was checking to see if perhaps a hardware fault was to blame for us losing connection with the mainland like we do. I was thinking, hoping, some wind might have affected the mounting or something else easily correctable, but I couldn't tell. Someone else will have to go look when it isn't raining…”

I nodded as he trailed off. “So, it’s purely bad weather that causes these outages?”

He shrugged, then looked back at Rik with a new, far wider smirk, and said, “Perhaps next time, you or someone your size can go investigate further. Since I’m so, so scary.”

“That might be for the best,” Rik said, matching Hank’s broad smile. “Clearly, you going out there’s had a major impact on the town.”

The wolf’s smile then grew to a full-on grin. “Not as big an impact as if I’d tried to take a look at the hardware on the other end, I suspect.”

Rik snorted ugly into his hand, shaking his head lightly. “Probably best you avoid that too, my man. Seeing your big self wading across the waterway might really set things off in town.”

Hank cocked his head. “You’re telling me that you wouldn’t find that fun to watch?”

“Hey, hey, I didn’t say that now, did I?” The fox put a hand to his chest. “Just being a responsible member of Meerlander society is all.”

“Mhmm.” Hank leaned a little closer down towards him. “Just imagine the waves crashing against the shore if I did venture on over there.”

Rik took a moment to simply shine the stupidest smile up at him, tail audibly swishing over the tabletop beneath us. “You’re big, but not that big.”

“Oh, am I not?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm… Because, from the way you talk, I am quite the sizeable wolf.”

Out of nowhere, a low groan reverberated out from Cas. “Damn, why do you two always joke about this sort of thing?”

Rik turned to the beaver with a fiercely furrowed brow, shrugging as he said, “It’s fun.”

“Guh, why are you like this?”

“Why aren’t more of you like this?” Vin asked, beaming away despite his dampness. “This is great!”

Cas scoffed. “I’m not sure which of you Bolstrovans mess with my head more: Maleni or Visoka.”

“Now, now, don’t go dragging me into this,” Hank called, still bright with delight as I then noticed another familiar Visoka face stood beside him.

That of our Facilities Engineer, Juro.

“Nor me, either,” said the shorter, darker grey wolf. “Some of us are actually quite civilised.”

“Hello there, Juro,” Hank said as he turned to him, almost as tall, even while relaxed in his seat. “Not joining us for lunch today?”

“See, I for one would love to be able to just sit around and relax,” Juro replied with an unserious sneer. “But as you might have noticed, we’ve lost connection with the mainland.”

“I did have my suspicions.”

His tail flicked up into view. “Well, because of that, I’ve barely had the time to grab this.” He flashed us a sandwich carton before quickly adding, “Now, I need to get back to making sure the other systems around here haven’t been affected, because I’m sure none of you want a lack of heating to go along with a lack of network connection.”

“Hmm…” Hank stroked his chin deliberately, then simply replied, “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Oh, thank you ever so kindly.” Juro gave us all a fast little wave before striding away as abruptly as he’d arrived. “See you later. Maybe.”

Back to just the six of us at our tables, the discussion moved away from the connection problem at hand, focusing instead on what could be done with the free afternoon it afforded us.

As much as the idea hadn’t been well-received by all, the previous suggestion of grabbing a board game from the activity centre started as the frontrunner.

From there, the only other question to be answered was which of the already well-played selection of games we should settle on.

Hank hummed in contemplation, tapping the side of his snout before saying, “If not Mismatch, Rack and Ruin, or Spotlight, then the only other game I can think of is Top Secret.”

Vin grunted a firm, “Hmph.”

“Not a fan?”

“It’s not that,” said the squirrel. “It’s that Top Secret is missing by far the most pieces of all. Half the player counters included.”

Hank sat forward. “That’s not any kind of problem now, is it?”

“You don’t think?”

He then grinned. “Not when you can simply become one of those missing player counters.”

“I’m probably too big for that.” Vin folded his arms. “Hard as that might be for you to believe.”

“Oh, we’d make do.” A spark of mischief shone in the big wolf’s eyes. “I could even move you around myself if you like.”

“...Do promise you’d try not to drop me if you do.”

“I’d do my level best not to.” He placed a hand on his broad chest. “You have my word.”

Some light snickering rose from around our tables, quickly growing into laughter as Hank and Vin glared at each other in good humour.

Laughter that died down once we realised how little of it Cas was providing, gazing down as he was at hands wrapped around one another.

“Ah, come on,” Elias complained from above. “Lighten up, won’t ya? It’s not serious.”

To the shock of likely no-one, and certainly not mine, Elias’ brash efforts only served to quieten Cas further.

The perfect moment, I thought, to move on an idea that wasn’t another session of board gaming. “We could put on another play?”

A few nods and noises of consideration passed around the Bolstrovans at the table.

As for our two Meerlanders, they looked at me as if I’d suggested we have a dance on the ceiling.

“A play?” Cas asked. “Really?”

Rik’s shoulders shook with a quiet laugh before he added, “You were being serious with that before?”

“Yes,” I confirmed to them both.

They looked at each other, then back at me, still just as bemused.

“Are neither of you interested?”

Cas’ mouth dropped open, while Rik’s eyes went wide. Neither spoke up.

“Forget I’m your supervisor. It’s fine if you’re not.”

To that, Cas just about managed an, “Uhh…”

As for Rik, he succeeded in saying, “I’m not uninterested, but… I’ve just never known anyone who’s put on a play in their spare time before.”

“It’s probably not the most common hobby, granted,” I said, cracking a smile through a sudden sensation of self-consciousness. “But I’ve always had fun writing and putting on little plays, ever since drama class at school.”

Elias leaned forward anything but subtly to say, “I thought it was real weird, too.” He failed to notice Hank’s glare beside him. For his sake, it was probably best. “At first, anyway.”

“Thanks, I think.”

The big raccoon nodded. The bigger wolf rolled his eyes. The former then said to our Meerlanders, “But as you can tell, we’ve played all the board games here to death and then some.”

Vin cleared his throat. Loud and definitely deliberate. “Plus, the plays have been a lot of fun to perform. We have videos of the last couple we’ve put on, if you’re interested in watching sometime.”

“...Sure,” Rik muttered.

Cas followed that with a muted, “Sounds good.”

“But, wait.” Rik turned to me. “Won’t we need to come up with a play to, uh, play first?”

“I have one primed and ready,” I said. “It has been since I came up with it during that power outage we had not long after you both arrived.”

“Heh, our second week working here,” he replied. “What a welcome that was.”

“At least that didn’t happen today,” Cas mused.

“Okay, a play, all ready.” Rik frowned, thinking visibly hard until he continued, “But you’ll have to write scripts and stuff like that first, right?”

“They’re all done.”

“...Seriously?”

“One for each actor.” I smiled at how gobsmacked I’d left the fox. “We even have some props and costumes leftover from our previous plays that I think will come in useful for this one.”

“And,” Vin broke in to say. “That’s not to forget the extras that I picked up from town today.”

Rik managed to blink and little else, silenced to the point that he needed Cas to tag-in on the Meerlander side of the discussion.

“You’re done?” Cas asked, almost loudening to a speaking voice. “Ready… already?”

“Sure,” I confirmed.

“How long did that take? To write the scripts, I mean.”

“Only an evening or so.”

Vin snickered, his big tail twitching. “Don’t doubt Nela when it comes to her playwriting.”

“Boys.” I waited for Rik and Cas to focus through their scepticism. “These plays aren’t big, grand things. They’re just fun, informal little things. I’ve even got people in mind for each role.”

“You do?” Cas questioned, still looking sideswiped by this all.

“I do.” I pointed up at Elias, then returned my attention to the beaver beside me. “You two included.”

The pair of them looked at each other fast and sharply, and soon turned to gawk back at me. In near unison, they said, “Us?”

“Yes. You.” I pushed myself and my chair away from the table. “If you doubt me, how about we go find somewhere to discuss this properly? Maybe even get this show on the road.”

Neither Rik or Cas looked convinced.

As for the Bolstrovans, they didn’t delay in standing up from our tables.

Great. It looked like we had a play to put on.

We all made the move from the cramped, crowded canteen to the suitably spacious, empty training room. Our first port of call had been to try the activity centre, but with the network issues essentially isolating the entire facility, we found it overrun by others also trying to pass the time.

The rain remained incessant, hammering away at the roof and windows.

Still, as strong as it might have been, it couldn’t dampen our spirits.

I passed out the scripts to the Maleni in our group, leaving Hank and Elias to pick up their Visoka-sized copies from the main tray of the printer.

As for Juro, we set his copy on the side, ready for whenever he could get away from all his checks.

The rest of the cast meanwhile jumped right into it, taking up their own spaces around the room, or atop a table, to read and rehearse their lines.

That included both Rik and Cas, too, a reaffirming sight to see and then some.

Even if one of them needed some extra encouragement and reassurance than the other…

Cas dropped his script to a chair atop the table with a huff. “I don’t know about this, Nela.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked after another failed runthrough of his lines. “Yours is a slightly bigger part than the others, sure, but you’ll see, it’s nothing to be nervous about.”

“It’s not that,” he insisted. “At least, it’s mostly not that.”

“Then what’s up?”
“I… can’t talk to people like you’ve written.”

“Sure you can,” I said, soft, but with my own insistence, too. “It’s just a play.”

“Play or not– Okay, correction.” He reached down for his script and shook it before dropping it all over again. “I can’t talk to Visoka like you’ve written.”

“Look, even if it wasn’t a play, it’s just Hank, Elias and Juro.” I turned and swept an arm over towards the two of them that were in the room: Hank quietly reading over his part in a chair, and Elias pacing around while doing the same. “The same people we work with and see almost everyday.”

“Yeah,” Cas grumbled. “The same Elias.”

“Exactly. Pretend you’re arguing about the radar setup again.”

“Pfft.” He folded his arms, head sinking towards the script abandoned on his chair. “It wasn’t much of an argument. And even then, what arguments I did make, I only managed because… I wasn’t the only Maleni around.”

“I understand that,” I said, trying not to sound too unkind as I added, “But it doesn’t make much sense.”

“Why doesn’t it?” Cas clapped back, almost making it towards the tone of the argument we were debating. “I feel better when I have people who’re normal– I mean, our size around… Safer.”

“I get that, but answer me this.”

“Okay.”

“What would I or anyone of us do if he…” I tried and failed not to scoff. “I don’t even know what you’re afraid of him doing. Shouting at you? Grabbing you up, then shouting at you?”

“I don’t know,” he complained. “But what I do know is it’s not easy to face up to someone… whose face is that far up.”

“You get used to it.” I pulled another chair out from under the table next to us and took a seat. “Trust me. I’ve been doing it my whole working life. Even as far back as university, when I worked retail during the holidays.”

Cas grabbed up his script again, then sank down onto his chair facing me. “So why don’t you play this role then?”

“Too experienced.”

“Tsk. Right.”

“Plus, like I said earlier.” I reached to place a hand on his shoulder and continued, “I wrote this part specially for you.”

“...I’m honoured.”

“You should be,” I said with as much of a smile as I could muster as I pulled my arm away. “As fun and relaxed as they are, I personally do take these plays of mine quite seriously… and I take our ability to work effectively seriously, too.”

He frowned at that. “...I don’t understand.”

The Visoka-sized door to the training room opened, snatching my attention away from Cas and our conversation.

In stepped Juro, peering around in search of something, until he poked his head further past the door to find us down on that hip-height table.

“Hey, Nela,” said the wolf as he entered the room fully. “I heard you wanted me to be in your play. I hope I’m not too late?”

“Not at all.” I craned my neck up as he strode closer, overlooking how Cas stood up to take his own step backwards. “Are you all finished with your checks?”

“For now,” he replied with a groaning undercurrent. “Did you have a script for me?”

“Of course. It’s waiting for you next to the printer.”

“Thanks.”

Juro started to turn. I stopped him halfway with a raised hand and a quick, “Before you go.”

“Hmm?”

“Would you mind helping me over to Rik so I can see how he’s getting on? You’ll be faster than the walkway.”

He nodded, tail swishing. “Sure.”

As Juro bent down to offer out his cupped hands, I glanced back to Cas to say, “Relax. Have fun with this. The show is going to be a good time, you’ll see.”

All in all, we spent a couple of hours together getting lines memorised, ideas around stage directions ironed out, and the starts of said stage assembled.

The whole group had thrown themselves deep into this little project of ours. Even Cas to an extent. At least, he’d grown far more vocal during his rehearsal and our idea sharing, even if what he shared was directed more towards those his size.

It filled me with warmth to think they were all so invested in this play because they enjoyed it in and of itself.

At the same time, I had to acknowledge that doing anything would have offered more engagement than loitering around in an office, unable to work. 

With everyone largely up to speed, and Cas seeming like a far smaller bundle of nerves, I left them all in the training room to finish up the preparations.

We had a play, we had a cast, but we needed ourselves an audience to perform to.

I paid another visit to the still-busy activity centre first, calling out from the walkway at the Maleni-sized entrance to anyone who might listen.

We’d be staging another one of our plays, I said. In the training room, somewhen around 5pm.

More than a few looked up from their books, their games, their phones, with a fair number giving the impression they were at least considering it.

A good start, in my book.

My next port of call was to return to the canteen on the other side of the building, far quieter than before in the lull leading up to dinner time.

Just like in the activity centre, I called out to Maleni and Visoka alike, informing them of our show and winning a few hums and expressions of interest.

From there, without the internet, without emails to help, I put my trust in word of mouth to spread around the station and appeal to anyone else who might come watch.

By the time I made it back to the training room, what I found waiting stunned me to a stop on the moving walkway.

After ten, fifteen minutes at most, the boys were already putting the finishing touches on their setting up.

Our stage was an open area at the back of the room, a few chairs already organised in a shallow arc to cater for any audience we might have. At the centre, a table had been placed against the back wall, complete with an upturned, Visoka-sized cardboard box that would act as the Maleni-sized counter in the store our play took part in.

That was a simple but effective prop, but what really had me smiling as I rolled along the walkway was the white, Maleni-sized box settled atop it, carefully cut and shaped to resemble a cash register.

They hadn’t stopped there with the props, however.

Adjacent to that counter, acting as the background of that tabletop area of the stage, a few smaller-scale pieces of metal and plywood had been used to create two units of shelving.

On each unit’s three shelves, a selection of snacks packets and soda cans had been arranged as if they were for sale.

The same snacks and sodas left over from the on-boarding workshop held the previous week for the station’s latest arrivals.

On top of all that, the boys had even set up a small makeshift curtain adjoining the set. Perfect for allowing the Maleni members of the cast to appear on stage for their respective parts, then disappear again once they’d finished.

We didn’t have a counterpart curtain for our larger part players, but the training room’s side door, a short Visoka-sized walk from the stage area, would allow for a similar effect.

“You’ve really outdone yourselves,” I called halfway from our stage. “I’m impressed.”

One by one they turned my way, Maleni on that table, Visoka next to it, all looking suitably satisfied with themselves.

Elias the most of all. “The little shelves were my idea.”

The group went quiet. As did the room along with them.

Flanking the oblivious raccoon, Hank and Juro both glared at him, but otherwise said and did nothing.

“Yeah…” Vin said from the table. “Having the snacks and drinks on them as if they’re on sale’s a nice touch, too.” He then offered an acknowledging nod to Rik beside him. “A good call.”

Rik grinned with a lash of his brush. Pleased, but not quite to Elias’ self-approving extent.

I opened my mouth to confirm how great it all looked, but a second thought barged its way out instead. “Costumes!”

Hank’s turn to nod: at me, that time. “We’re all good. Cas has his apron ready to slip on.”

That’s when I spotted the green bundle under Cas’ arm. Someone must have grabbed the apron from our department break room while I was gone. “You boys really have been busy.”

The large wolf smirked. “Impressed?”

“Yes.”

He snorted. “We might not be able to resolve the irony of a weather station going offline due to said weather, but when it comes to stagecraft, I’d say we’re second to none.”

“I’m not sure I’d argue with that.” As I drew closer to both Hank and our stage, I lowered my gaze towards the shorter but still towering raccoon alongside him. “Elias, did you get your cos–”

“He didn’t,” Hank interjected. “Not yet.”

Elias frowned. First down at me, then way up at the wolf. “What are you talking about?”

Hank held a hand up in my direction, then clapped the other on the entirety of the raccoon’s shoulder and said, “Come. I’ll show you.”

With Hank less guiding, more dragging Elias along, the pair strolled over to and out of the side door into the hallway.

In my view, that left the rest of us one last thing to do. “We should finish arranging chairs for the audience.”

Hand on hip, Juro peered down at me with weary eyes as I rolled alongside him. “With those two gone, I suppose it’s on me to arrange the Visoka seating myself.”

“I’ll help you, gladly,” I said as I stepped off the moving part of the walkway. “Though I’m not sure how many chairs I’ll manage to set up.”

He huffed hard, cupping and offering his hands down for me. “I suppose it’s the thought that counts.”

I hopped up onto his fingers, two feet on two pads, while his other hand formed a barrier behind me. By the time I’d fully gathered my balance, he’d turned and transported me most of the way to our tabletop stage.

Just in time to see Vin’s broad grin as he called up from atop that table. “Well, Juro, you are in charge of the facilities here.”

“I don’t think chairs fall under my remit, actually.”

“You’re so adept with them, though.” the squirrel beamed still brighter. “Perhaps when you’re done, you can set up the Maleni seats here on the table, too.”

Juro quietly growled as he helped me out onto the table. “Don’t make me throw you.”

“Don’t make me bite each and every one of your fingers first.”

They spat out a merry mess of laughter together, and as fast as their back and forth started, it ended.

Vin, joined by Rik, headed off to grab some chairs from the nearby stacks, while Juro shifted and moved to do the same but on a larger scale.

That just left Cas still idling, gawking up at the Juro in total, slack-jawed silence.

“Hey.” I shuffled over and tapped him on the shoulder. “We should help, too.”

“Uh…” He blinked, then rubbed a finger at his temple. “Sure, sure.”

“Remember. This is all intended as good fun and nothing more… That goes for the play, too.”

He took a deep breath, then found a way to better focus on me.

“Okay?”

Cas nodded, managing a hint of the start of a smile. “Okay.”

It didn’t take us long to get the chairs moved and arranged, even with Juro needing to handle the larger seats alone.

With the room all set, and our 5pm showtime less creeping, more sprinting closer, the first members of our audience began to trickle in.

The time for our final, final preparations was drawing to a close, and soon, it’d be time for us all to take our places for the show.

I took my seat front and centre, watching Rik, then Vin, followed by Cas disappear behind the curtain at the rear corner of the stage.

Hank and Elias, now joined by Juro, were in the corridor outside the training room, ready to enter the side door once their parts called for them to.

Each of them seemed ready to go during our last checks and rundowns, Cas included…

Though the look of lingering doubt he threw at me past the edge of the curtain certainly undermined that.

I did all I could to reassure him, offering wide smiles, keen thumbs up, but I knew that, really, there was little that’d calm the most nervous of beavers down.

And certainly not while the sounds of chatter grew along with the gathering audience.

A good dozen or so Maleni had taken their tabletop seats around me, with roughly the same number again filling the Visoka-sized chairs behind us.

Not a bad turnout, given the short notice. About half the number of people that worked at the station.

We waited for both 5pm and a final couple of Maleni audience members to arrive upon the wall-side walkway. The combined cue for me to stand, step up onto the edge of the set, and turn to face all those that had gathered for our play.

“Thanks everyone for coming along this afternoon,” I said to two rows of Maleni, and the same again of Visoka not far beyond. “We all figured that, given the difficulties everyone’s facing with the network being down, it’d be fun to put on another little play to help pass the time.”

Most of the audience appeared keen for us to get our show on the road.

A few others seemed less enthusiastic. As if they’d been offered a choice between seeing our show and heading outside into the wind and rain.

We’d win them round, I thought. “Hopefully you’ll all enjoy this as much as we did putting it together.”

I turned my thoughts and myself back to Cas. Perhaps I’d sensed him, still sneaking a worried glimpse as he was around the edge of the veil. I hoped he wouldn’t spot those less eager members of the crowd.

Then I remembered I had an introduction to finish. “Uh, introducing our newest play: Store Brought.

We got ourselves a small but polite round of applause as I turned again, diverting to make my way to Cas.

The surprise in his eyes mixed with an unmistakable fear as I approached the curtain, culminating in an awkward muffled squeak once I’d joined him behind it.

“I need to go on stage now… right?” he asked, tugging at the neck strap of the ‘cashier apron’ we’d borrowed from our breakroom. “What’s wrong?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” I replied, unnoticed by Rik or Vin as they continued a quiet conversation nearby. “Nervous?”

“Extremely.”

“Listen,” I said, hurried. “Take a deep breath.”

Cas obliged, sucking down all the air he could get.

“It’s fine. You’re fine. Everyone here’s just colleagues. Friends. Break a leg.”

“I’ll try not to,” he said with a timid chuckle.

Cas breathed again, then took as confident a first step towards the stage he could likely muster.

Showtime.

A second round of light applause started as I made my way around the stage, dying down by the time I got back to my seat.

Cas had made it into position, behind the cardboard cashier counter, primed and ready to begin.

His persisting nervousness aside.

He found me as I sat myself down, holding a glare that soon became a stare once he looked beyond towards our larger audience members.

As much as I wanted another try at reassuring him, I was reluctant to call out and draw attention to his anxiousness.

Thankfully, be it something I’d already said, or something he told himself, it didn’t take him too long to overcome his cold feet and start the show.

From behind his counter, Cas took a scan of the store before him. Empty, aside from everything stocked for sale on the shelves.

“Slow day today,” he said to no-one and everyone, the cadence of his voice flowing natural enough. “A per… uh, a perfect time to treat myself.”

Breathing deep, he bent down, hiding all but the top of his head down behind his counter.

A pause followed… and stuck around for longer than it should have.

Cas grunted, then again, the top of his head shifting in tandem each time.

A light groan came next. Short enough to sound pained, but… long enough to sound pleasured.

Someone from the row behind me snorted. I’m sure I heard someone in the Visoka area do much the same.

All those sounds from stage and audience alike stopped just as the Maleni curtain began to twitch…

With causal strides, Vin emerged through the space between the shelving units at the rear of the store.

Rubbing his chin, deep in thought… maybe a little too deep in thought, he took a long three-sixty-degrees look all around. As if he were searching for something.

Another strained sound, the loudest yet, rose up from behind the counter.

It won another light chuckle from somewhere behind me.

And also attracted the attention of the squirrel in the store.

“Excuse me?” Vin called, beginning a nonchalant walk towards the counter. “I say, excuse me?”

Cas leapt out from hiding like a coiled spring, glancing side to side as if he’d been caught in some kind of act. “Uh… Yes?”

“I’m looking for that new Fusion Soda I’ve heard so very much about.” Vin beamed, clapping his hands into a keen clasp. “Apparently it’s available in lemon flavour?”

With a sigh, Cas shook his head. “Sorry. We haven’t received it yet.”

“Oh no?” The squirrel huffed hard, throwing his hands to his hips even harder. “That is a big disappointment, I must say.”

“You can, uh… try again tomorrow?”

“Well, it’s not ideal, but… it seems I shall have to do just that.” Vin put his middle and index fingers to his brow and offered a two-finger salute. “Thank you anyway.”

“Y’welcome.”

Vin spun away from the counter and walked back towards the shelving to disappear from whence he came. Clearly, he’d had so much fun, and had chewed the scenery to such an extent, I half expected him to take a bite out of those shelves as he passed.

“Now,” Cas muttered, a shade quieter than he ideally should have. “Where were we?”

With the store empty once more, Cas wasted no time in ducking back down behind his counter.

Again, he grunted and groaned. Strained, even. Noises a shade more intense than the ones he was making before.

Whatever Cas was working at out of sight, his unsubtle efforts prompted more soft laughter around the room. Some whispered comments between folk came, too, though too quietly for me to understand.

It all lasted until the next customer entered through the training room’s side door.

Juro.

Arms behind his back, the dark grey wolf strolled with intent, heading for the end of the table that both the stage and we Maleni were sitting atop.

He soon came to a stop as fast as he’d entered the room, looming above, peering right down over the store, and a still grumbling, groaning Cas within.

“Hmm,” Juro rumbled, eyes filled with a piercing inquisitiveness. “What are you doing down there?”

Up went a generous smattering of laughter from around the room. Laughter that rolled on after Cas had jumped back up again, startled and gently panting.

He stood there behind his counter, mouth open, gawking up at the wolf in silence. The trouble was, that silence he should have filled with a stunned ‘wh-what?’.

In fairness, I thought it worked better this way.

“I’m trying to find something,” Juro said, ending that unscripted pause with his own dialogue. “But I couldn’t find anyone in the Visoka part of the store to ask.”

Cas remained quiet, mouth still open, but still not speaking when he should have been.

‘What are you looking for?’, I willed him to say, balling my hands into tighter and tighter fists.

He swallowed hard enough for me to see, drawing in a deep, audible breath before managing to eke out a muffled, “What…”

Juro’s mouth twitched. That was more than I could say for his partner on stage.

I wasn’t sure how to handle Cas freezing up like he had. After all, there wasn’t much I could do from a seat in the audience.

Fortunately, Juro had the answer. One that started with him veering off-script.

“I said…” The wolf half-crouched to reduce the height difference between them. “I couldn’t find anyone in the Visoka part of the store to ask. Can you help?”

Between that and Juro’s calm demeanour, Cas found a way to break free from whatever thought had frozen him. “Uh, sorry, I– What… what are you looking for?”

“My friends have told me all about this new Fusion Soda that’s just come out.” Juro smiled, eyes expectant. “I'd like it in strawberry flavour, if you have it.”

“Sorry,” Cas said, raising a hand. “We haven’t received it yet.”

“No strawberry?”

“No strawberry.”

“How about lemon. No lemon?”

“No… No strawberry, no lemon.”

“Hmpf.” Juro returned to his full, lofty height, smile evaporating, distaste visible. “I suppose I’ll try the store down the road, then.”

Juro marched away from the table with even more purpose than he’d arrived with. In a handful of Visoka-sized steps, the wolf disappeared out of the training room door, and out of sight.

Once again, that left Cas alone within the store.

“Gods, so many interruptions,” he muttered, throwing a hand to his head with a drawn-out sigh. “At least I can get back to treating myself, now.”

The grumbling beaver replayed his disappearing act, hiding himself away behind the counter. A brief pause followed. One that swiftly ended once Cas resumed his groaning, moaning growls. 

Growls that sounded much more like noise than a voice.

And growls that got more than just a few in the audience squeaking out some full-blooded laughter.

Cas’ droning rolled onwards, utterly unmissable, carrying with it the idea that he was trying to break free of something.

“Guh, it’s so tight,” he moaned, earning a chorus of snickered chuckling. Not to mention the full-on belly laugh from one raven along the row. A worker from the canteen, I thought. Her name, I wasn’t sure of.

I couldn’t help laughing inwardly, myself. Cas delivered that line fantastically, more than making up for all his previous hesitations.

Not that he needed to, of course.

Rik was the next customer to appear, entering between the shelving units much like Vin before him.

Unlike Vin, however, with nose raised and a sway in his stride, the amber fox held a thick air of arrogance about him…

Even if his unending grin tried very hard to diminish that.

I couldn’t fault him for letting his true mood slip. He was having a blast up there, and really, that’s all I wanted for anyone and everyone in the room.

Rik started a careless search of the shelves, grabbing up a soda can to consider, before tossing it back down and moving on to the next.

Can after can clattered over plywood and into metal, the last of them landing with a heavy huff from the fox.

Another grunt rose from behind the counter, attracting the attention of Rik’s perking ears.

Not to mention his ire.

“You there!” Rik barked, losing that grin on his storming walk across the store. “I can hear you. Get on up here and help me!”

Cas snuck a peek from behind the counter, eyes barely visible as he meekly asked, “How can I help you?”

“Fusion Soda,” the fox snapped, his brush lashing all about. “Cherry flavour.”

“Ah.” The beaver crept towards standing height. “I’m af–”

“Don’t tell me you don’t have it,” Rik shot back, practically charging the front of the counter before coming to a halt. “Do not. Tell me. That.”

Cas’ jaw fell open, emphasising the pause, the silence, before replying, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Rik recoiled. “What do you mean ‘okay’?”

“I–”

“Do you have any Fusion Soda or not!?”

“Sorry,” Cas said. “We haven’t received it yet.”

“What? None at all?”

“None.”

“No cherry?”

“No cherry.”

“Not even strawberry?”

“Not even strawberry.”

“How about lemon? You’ve got to have lemon.”

“No… No cherry, no strawberry, no lemon.”

“Gah!” Rik slammed a fist onto the counter. “It came out a whole week ago…” He needed to pause. His grin was returning. “...You should have it.”

“Again, I’m sorry, but our first delivery.” Cas started to smirk himself. “…It’s been delayed.”

“That doesn’t help me.”

“Heh–uhm.” he cleared his throat, then blanked his expression. “We… We have Rift Cherry instead?”

“Rift!?” Rik hammered the counter again, unable to stop himself snorting out a chuckle.

A chuckle that infected a handful of audience members around me.

“Eww,” he continued, holding himself together long enough to add, “I didn’t come here for a Rift. That’s disgusting.” With that, and with a fast turn on the spot, the fox marched off towards his exit. He didn’t miss his one last chance to snicker and snipe, “I knew I should have tried the supermarket first…”

With Rik out of picture, Cas filled the quiet left behind with a heavy sigh. “Customers…”

Just like last time, and the time before that, he soon took his chance in that moment of privacy to sink his way back behind the counter.

That led into a second of silence…

Then a second silent second…

A third would be cut short by the loudest grunt yet, followed by a murmured, “How haven’t I made this any looser?”

A rolling wave of low-key laughter drowned out a portion of Cas’ continued complaint. 

There might have been more to follow. More grumbling and griping. More comments and complaining. More opportunities to amuse the audience.

The next customer to arrive, however, seemed determined not to let that happen.

A Visoka-sized figure burst through the training room’s side door, their heavy steps carrying more like stomps.

Their rumbling, guttural growls overtook any and all sounds Cas could’ve possibly made.

Instantly, they attracted the attention of both the beaver behind the counter, and the rest of us Maleni sitting atop the table.

“The cheek of this,” roared the raccoon, slamming a stage-shaking foot down as they stopped a Visoka’s arm’s reach from it. “Not a single normal-sized worker anywhere to be found in this whole place!”

Cas hesitated on his way up from behind the counter, still hiding all but his eyes and snout away.

A fantastic piece of acting…

If it were part of the script I’d written for him.

“I can’t believe I’ve had to walk all the way over here just to get some help.” The raccoon snarled at nothing and no-one in particular.

That didn’t stop Cas from showing an intent to slip back down behind the counter again. Nor did it stop him from missing his line of ‘How can I help you?’.

The raccoon, Elias, donning a big, long, blonde-haired wig, drew a fair few stifled snickers from us in the audience. Even as he tried to look full of ferocity, a nightmare customer incarnate, that oversized, ill-fitting hairpiece did a lot to undermine him.

Sadly, it seemed the cashier hadn’t got that memo.

Cas hovered halfway between squatting and standing, hands finding support from the counter they were planted atop.

The same uncertainty Juro’s presence brought returned with a vengeance, plastering itself all over his face with ten times the intensity.

Elias on the other hand simply stood there, towering as he and other Visoka naturally did. A slip of his big blonde wig over his eyes required a quick correction. One that prompted a few snorts from those of us watching.

But Cas certainly wasn’t laughing, wasn’t smiling, wasn’t doing much of anything.

He’d long since missed his line, leaving his partner on stage struggling to move further along his own script.

Elias flashed a hesitant glance down my way. “I said…” He then returned to Cas, holding the angry crease in his snout as best he could as he continued, “...Just to get some help.”

Our cashier remained petrified, save for his hands crumpling into and rubbing over one another. “...H-How…”

With a visibly firm setting of his jaw, Elias had another look at me, clearly hoping for a suggestion or a solution over how to proceed.

I started to wonder, maybe writing this part for Cas had been a mistake after all…

But that wondering wouldn’t fix anything in the there and then.

Other than calling out Cas’ line myself, at that moment, all I could do to thaw this latest freeze in proceedings was to signal to Elias to move onto his next line regardless.

A signal he needed a couple of tries to understand and nod his acknowledgement of.

Elias gurgled a growl of pure dissatisfaction, narrowing his eyes while his big, ringed tail lashed. “You can help by telling me where to find what I want in this blasted store.” Then with a scoff, a sneer, and a dramatic hurl of a hand to his hip, he added, “In a proper size. Not Maleni…”

Even as Elias de-escalated from irate and alarming to merely rude and demanding, Cas remained steadfast in his hesitance.

His next line was waiting.

As was the raccoon above and the audience around him.

A grunting gasp was all he could muster from behind that makeshift counter. Right before his head dropped and he regressed into a forceful chew of his bottom lip. Much like he did when under pressure from Elias earlier in the canteen.

The hush of the room became unmissable. Our show had ground to a halt.

Everybody, from Elias to the audience, from me to Rik and Vin peeking out from behind the curtain, waited to see what would come next.

Cas was trying his hardest, I knew that for a fact.

But that hardest of trying wasn’t going to be enough to cut it up on stage.

I started to think joining him up there might help.

That, or simply telling him what he should say or do next, much like I’d become accustomed to whenever his nerves around Visoka overtook him like this.

Ultimately, as I pondered and hesitated, Cas would receive something of a helping hand. Albeit not from the source, and definitely not in the fashion that he or I would have expected…

A rumble rolled beneath us all from the heavy slapping of Elias’ hand down on the table.

His groaning travelled even louder, lasting until he’d lowered the tip of his snout all the way down to where Cas was standing.

“Scaredy Meerlanders, man,” Elias grumbled, anything but discreetly, moving quickly on to another ad-libbing. “Are there any other Maleni hiding away down there that can actually answer– uh, help me?”

The raccoon held his big blonde wig in place, nose almost barging Cas aside as he ‘searched’ behind the counter.

The docile beaver dodged back and away…

…Though certainly not as far as he might have.

Standing fully upright, eyes now narrowed, Cas glared at an unseeing Elias for more than just a moment.

Still, he refused to answer the raccoon, turning away instead to share a look with Rik.

The fox stayed silent himself, bafflement plain as day on his snout still poking from behind the curtain.

“Fusion Soda!” Elias snapped, skipping another of his stage partner’s lines. “Orange flavour–”

“I heard you,” Cas fired back– the sudden start of his own ad-lib, whether he realised it or not. “Us Meerlanders, we’re not deaf.”

I’m not sure what amazed the big raccoon more as he moved himself away from the counter: our usually soft-spoken beaver going off-script, or him speaking up, and back, as hard and as loud as he did.

Either way, it blunted the edge in Elias’ voice. “Uh… Do you have it?”

“Sorry,” Cas stormed, sounding anything but. “We haven’t received it yet.”

“...None?”

“None.”

“No orange?”

“No orange.”

“How about cherry?

“No cherry about.”

“Strawberry!?”

“No to strawberry!”

“Not even lemon?”

“Not even. No orange, no cherry, no strawberry, no lemon.”

Elias grabbed his wig for a scripted squeeze with both hands, letting out a half-groan, half-high-pitched squeal.

Despite the daylight between them again, all those movements and moans took Cas far aback.

But still, his head didn’t dip. He didn’t hide away. Even after Elias roared into his next line of dialogue.

“How can you not have stock? This is the fourth store I’ve tried today.”

“There’s been a delay,” Cas retorted, softer than before, but still carrying some bite. “Try back tomorrow.”

“That’s not good enough!”

“There’s not much more I can do.”

“Let me talk to your manager.” Elias crossed his arms, eyes like daggers. “I want to see the manager.”

“There isn’t any ‘manager’,” Cas replied with a sharpness of his own. “Just the owner, and he’s not here today.”

“Call him, then.” The raccoon huffed. “Put me on the phone with them.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? I am a customer. I have money to spend.”

“I–”

“Get them on the phone!”

“If you’ll please just listen–”

“Now!” Elias boomed, climbing back to his fiercest peak. “Or I’ll give this place the worst review you can imagine.”

Cas stuck right there at his counter, standing tall, glaring up at him… with a smirk I couldn’t fail to notice.

Elias had noticed it, too. And judging by the subtle dip of his head and the mild tuck of his big bushy tail, it wasn’t at all what he’d expected.

A thud rolled out from Cas slapping his hand onto the counter, winning back my full attention for a line he delivered only too readily.

“Please leave.”

Elias needed a moment to do something other than blink. Even then, all he could muster was to open his mouth… And eventually, meekly deliver his next line. “...What?”

“We don’t have what you want, and I won’t be spoken to like that.” Cas shone the brightest smile I’d seen from him since… maybe ever. “I’d like you to leave the store. Please.”

Elias composed himself enough to frown, regaining a sliver of acted anger to almost convincingly blare, “How dare you! Do you know who I am?”

“Please. Don’t make me call for security.” Cas folded his arms while Elias’ fell to his sides, head held high while the raccoon’s stayed low. “They’re extremely responsive.”

“Hmpf.” Elias slunk away from the Maleni-scale store, his wavering voice and demeanour all at odds with his dialogue. “This isn’t the last you’ve heard of this.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Cas rumbled, watching him and his big, tucking tail slip towards the training room door. “Do have a nice day, won’t you.”

Without another sound, a stunned Elias escaped out of sight, leaving Cas to stand victorious at his counter.

I must have been at least a little stunned myself, because it wasn’t until the big raccoon had left that I heard the small, short, but very real sprinkling of applause from some quarters of our audience.

Our Maleni-sized audience.

“Bah!” Cas’ hearty grunt broke the silence on stage, leading into his loud, almost proud cry of, “Damn customers…”

He moved to resume his now-established pattern of ducking down after seeing off a customer.

This time round, however, the next customer to visit would arrive before he or anyone in the audience even had time to breathe.

In came Hank, dipping his head beneath the frame of a door that he came close to filling. By far the tallest, most imposing of the store’s visitors yet.

His steps were steady, but each still came with a resounding thump upon the carpet.

With a quick adjustment of his glasses, Hank soon located the crouching beaver behind the counter, overshadowing the table, along with everything and everyone atop it, before he’d even arrived at its end.

Truly, he made the raccoon that Cas stood up to look diminutive in comparison.

All the more reason why it might’ve been quite the surprise to hear him speak up with such politeness. “Excuse me?”

“Oh no!” Cas threw a pointed, accusing finger up at the huge wolf. “Stop right there. We don’t have any.”

“Sor–?”

“No Fusion Soda in orange, none in cherry, definitely no strawberry, and. Not. A. Single. Can. In lemon!”

“But–”

“I’m done.” Sneering, smiling, and standing up tall, Cas sucked in a breath so deep that it was as if he grew along with it. The build-up to his loudest, most forceful line yet. “Get! Out!”

The largest of the wolves, of all the Visoka at our station, jolted back as if he’d received a threat on his life or similar.

All the while, Cas locked onto him with an assertive glare, refusing to look anywhere but way, way upwards, refusing to even blink.

Faced with the biggest of Maleni-sized roadblocks, head hanging, ears flat, Hank simply turned his large, soundless self around to sulk off and away.

As his softer stomps carried him from the table, smarting like he’d received the scolding to end all scoldings, he let out a low, sad grumble and muttered, “I was only looking for directions…”

There were snickers, chuckles, even a few awws of sympathy from the audience as Hank slumped back through the side door, vanishing almost as suddenly as he’d first appeared.

With another customer… served, Cas found himself alone in his store once again.

And with the opportunity to finally get back down behind his counter.

The jaded beaver dipped out of sight, soon resuming the masked grunts and groans we’d all grown accustomed to.

This time, those moans of his culminated in one final, aggressive growl, followed right after by a loud, resounding pop and the deepest sigh of relief. “Finally…”

Cas reemerged from behind the counter, all smiles and sunshine, grasping something in both hands like it was a trophy…

A jar… of pickles.

A jar of pickles… with its lid removed.

He set them on the counter to the sound of snorts from the crowd, and a loud, ironic cheer from someone behind me, wasting little time in then heading to the end of the counter.

From the floor, he lifted one end of a Visoka-sized piece of card, revealing on it a hand-written message…

‘Closed for lunch’.

Cas rested the waist-height sign against the counter to face the audience, winning with it a pocket of bursting laughter.

A pocket that loudened and spread wider once he’d picked up his pickles.

Joined quickly after by cheers of amusement while Cas strolled off towards the backstage curtain.

Then, finally, a wave of applause rippled out as he too disappeared.

The last of all to leave the stage.

It might not have been perfect, there might well have been freeze ups here, lines missed there, but I couldn’t have been happier with how well our show went. Nor with the reception it earned from the audience. One politely repeated once all the players re-emerged from behind the curtain and from out in the corridor.

Once the proverbial curtain had come down and the play formally finished, a number of those who’d watched came forward to pass comment. Many of them told me, us, exactly how much they’d enjoyed it, and that they were looking forward to whenever we decided to put on another.

A fair few also went on to say they hoped the next play wouldn’t coincide with another outage of some kind.

A sentiment I fully agreed with.

Eventually, after those conversations were done and our plaudits received, the audience dispersed. Presumably, most were heading back to the accommodation building across the way, or finding themselves somewhere comfortable to spend their time until the stormy weather finally eased.

Whatever the case, that left us alone in the training room to start the tidy up, and to have our own review of how we thought our show had played out.

Surrounded by stillness, the smaller of our group were busy gathering the decorations from the stage, while the larger of us tidied away the bigger props, and the staging itself.

Juro had thrown himself into putting away the Visoka-sized audience seating, with Vin meanwhile gathering and stacking the Maleni equivalent there atop the table.

As for me, I’d busied myself collecting the soda cans and snack packets from our shelving displays, mulling over what to do with them.

Set them all back where we’d found them in the training room?

Sneak them off to the break area in our department office for us to enjoy later?

I wouldn’t come to a decision before I wound up distracted by Rik and Cas behind the makeshift curtain, and their conversation that quickly caught my curious ear.

“But, seriously,” Rik said as his black-furred hands worked at the curtain rail. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?” Cas replied, his brown fingers gripping one side of the curtain itself.

“Clap back at Elias like that.”

“...It was part of the script?”

“Pfft.” Rik got the first, then a second curtain hook unfastened. “Script or not, normally, you barely even look at him unless you have to.”

“Heh.” The middle of the curtain bunched, assumedly from Cas’ other hand grabbing it. “I dunno… I guess I just got tired of him talking down to us all the time… Like, not ‘down’ as in from above, but because we’re Meerlander–”

“Yeah, yeah, I getcha.” Rik let out a strong snicker, working at the next hook in line. “Good job, man.”

I couldn’t help smiling to myself. For certain, I was in full agreement with Rik on that. Cas really had done a good job during the play. In more ways than one.

Our backstage curtain came down abruptly, revealing them both, and prompting me to rush my attention back to the cans and packets to be collected.

Only for as long as it took me to hear the loudening gait of a Visoka approaching from behind.

Elias.

“That was good fun,” he lauded, coming to a halt with a lean that left his snout hovering directly overhead. It was strange to see him without his oversized wig. “More than I was expecting it to be.”

“Thanks,” I replied, failing to fight back an additional, “I suppose.”

“Even more, even more,” Elias explained at speed, hand raised with a cheeky smile. “And Cas, what the hell?”

“Uh…” Cas frowned, hesitating as he was wont to beneath the attentions of a Visoka. Though not for as long as usual. “What did I do?”

“Shocked me and then some! Barking back at me like you did.”

“...Oh.”

“Genuinely, acting or not, I’ve never had a Meerlander react that way since I’ve been here.”

Cas shared a puzzled glance with Rik.

One that lasted until the fox gave away the smallest of Maleni-sized smirks and the beaver peered back upwards to say, “Yeah… a moment of good acting, I guess.”

“Think I’ll avoid ever getting on your bad side,” Elias said with maximum enthusiasm. “A Maleni with the voice of Visoka, you, that’s for sure!”

“Uhm… Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it.”

“...Okay.”

“Anyway, I need to take off.” He threw the three of us a quick wave, starting to depart even quicker. “Catch you all later!”

I lifted my hand in an attempt to grab his attention.

Too late.

The raccoon had already escaped the table, hurrying away straight towards the side door.

“Well…” I turned back to Cas and Rik. “Seems Elias won’t be helping us tidy away today.”

The two of them snerked, but were otherwise unbothered enough to carry on gathering up the curtain.

For myself, I delayed getting back to the sodas and snacks, deciding instead to check in on our so-called ‘Maleni with the voice of a Visoka’.

“So how did it feel, Cas?”

“...How did what feel?”

“Getting the chance to talk back at Elias and the others like you did?”

Cas cast a view over the bundle of fabric in his arms. Then grinned. “Fun.”

“I thought it might be.” A warm wave of contentment washed through me upon seeing and hearing his own. “And you didn’t even get grabbed up, shouted at, or anything daft like that.”

“...No.” Head still down towards the curtain, he lifted his eyes to find me. “It’s a shame this wasn’t for real, though.”

“Of course it was for real.”

“Not really.” Cas squeezed at the bundle, then raised his head fully. “This was just a play.”

“Play or not, you spoke up to them, you stood up to them.” I pointed to the doorway. “And from the way Elias reacted, he thought it was real enough.”

“...True.”

With his side of the curtain fully gathered, Cas handed it to Rik to take over the rest of the staging already packed up before resuming our chat.

“And it does make me feel more… on his level? On all Visoka’s level.”

“That’s because you are. We all are.”

He nodded. “I still need to get used to it, given not much of a Visoka is actually on our level.”

“Heh, well, you do get used to that, I promise you.”

“But, to be serious…” Cas clasped his now empty hands together, then grew his widest smile yet. “After the show, after how Elias reacted, I do feel like… like things might go better if the whole radar topic comes up again.” He took a couple of confident steps towards my position at the shelves. “Like I can say what I think and be listened to. That I can argue my case.”

“Good!” That, of course, was something Cas could always do, and after two months at the station, I was happy he’d begun to realise it. “Visoka or Maleni, bigger or smaller, everyone’s got something to offer.”

“Woah!”

Elias’ sudden sound of shock grabbed our attention.

We turned together to find him with his back towards us, just inside the door.

With hands up, tail frizzing and flicking, he found himself beneath the imposing figure filling the doorway.

One that forced him into fast, backward steps of retreat as it strode right on through.

“Damn,” Elias shouted through a gasping sigh. “Hank… You almost gave me a heart attack.”

The large wolf snorted, taking one of his sizeable steps around the barely chest-height raccoon. “Sorry about that.”

“Hey, uh, n-no worries… big guy.”

Elias shifted his scurrying feet, aiming to carry on his way out into the corridor.

Only for Hank to throw out one of his strong arms to block him.

“Actually,” the wolf rumbled. “Since you’re heading out and your hands are empty, would you kindly grab another empty packing box from the storage closet?”

“Sure, yeah, sure.” Somehow, Elias’ tail found a way to frizz even further as he staggered through the doorway. “I’ll go get it now.”

“Thank you.”

As Elias raced around the corner and out of sight, Hank simply carried on along his way.

Directly towards us.

Rapidly, he’d stomped his way to the end of the table. The exact same position as during the play.

Unlike that previous arrival, however, he stood stone-faced, foregoing his polite, soft-spoken request for attention.

No, because our Hank, looming over and peering down at us, arms folded, expression blank, had our undivided attention by default.

I flicked a glimpse at Cas beside me, scoping out what he made of our newfound situation.

His wide open mouth and even wider eyes said all I needed to know.

Hank held position like a towering statue, his own golden eyes transfixed on the beaver below.

He remained the centre of neutral, utterly unreadable, leaving our colleague a moment to stew in his substantial presence.

A moment that must’ve felt far, far longer to Cas.

“Oh, Hank,” I called up at him, unable to match his stoicism. “Stop being such a tease.”

To that, the big wolf shone his trademark grin for Cas, reaching past us to carefully gather the sections of shelving I’d already emptied.

Then, with his large hands full, Hank calmly turned to stroll his way back towards the door.

“Urf.” Cas exhaled his relief, gathering himself enough to show me a smirking smile. “I have to say, the thought of dealing with Elias is one thing…” He gestured, carefully, towards the departing wolf. “But I’m not sure how I’d go about debating or arguing with him about radars. Or anything else…”

“Don’t go fretting over our Hank,” I said. “Honestly, he’s a big softie at heart.”

Cas didn’t respond. With glazed eyes, he’d gone from looking right at me to looking straight through me.

“...Cas?”

“...Radars,” he muttered, mouth dropping just like it had before.

“What about them?”

“A mix…” He put a hand to his forehead, the gears of his turning mind practically viewable behind his restless eyes. “Visoka and Maleni radars, set up together to offer a wider and more efficient coverage while minimising the risk of any line of sight issues.” His beaming smile returned in spades. “Both with something to offer.”

His suggestion took me aback, both the nature of it, and the suddenness of him shifting our talk back towards work.

But, in no way, shape, or form was I displeased to finally hear him say what I suspected he wanted to earlier that day. “That’s a really good idea.”

“You think so?”

“I do.” I grinned, trying to match even half of Cas’ delight. “Budget-wise, I can imagine it might take a fair amount of manoeuvring, but the benefits… It might convince the suits to actually loosen the purse strings for a change.”

“Great! I’m glad you–”

“You should go and mention this to Elias and see what he thinks.”

“I–”

“And Hank, too.”

“Uh…” Back came a heaped helping of his jaw-dropping uncertainty. “Really?”

“Yes. Really.” Then came the time for me to help him shovel it away. “They’ll listen to you. Just like they listened when you told them to get out of your store.”

Cas barely needed me to finish before launching himself away from what remained of the stage. “Thanks, Nela!”

In full, enthusiastic flight, he ran across the table, hopped onto the walkway, then continued his sprint, heading for the training room’s raised, Maleni-sized side door.

“What a day,” I mused under my breath, returning myself to the remaining props on the remaining shelving to be cleared.

Our Cas, he’d got there in the end. There being the start of what, I hoped, would be a sense of comfort and welcomeness at our station. The start of a happy, fulfilling, and memorable experience for him.

If the next play we decided to put on ended up just as well-received, both by the audience and our cast, I’d be more than happy myself–

Everything went black. The room. The corridor outside. Everything.

“Oh, godsdamn it!” Juro roared through the darkness. “What next?”

“Well,” Vin called from somewhere on the table. “Perhaps the roof might cave in and finish this place off once and for all.”

The wolf growled almost in tandem with the pervading whirr of something powering up.

Right before the lights flickered back to life.

“At least the backup generator’s working,” he murmured, storming away from the chairs he was stacking to storm off out of the training room. “For now.”

…Sadly, I doubted even our plays had the power to overcome the most challenging conditions to be faced at the station.