The entire team loses their shit.
Becker's rubbing his nose, looking betrayed. "I see. He's a menace."
Hendrix sounds smug about it. "Kiss kiss!"
"He's my new best friend," I announce.
Hendrix waddles over to me next. I crouch down, keeping my face at a safe distance. "Hey, handsome. You gonna peck me too?"
Hendrix tilts his head, considering.
Then he says, in perfect clarity, "Fuck off."
I gasp. "Hendrix! That's rude!"
"I didn't teach him that," Mama Paws says quickly.
Papa Paws coughs. "I may have."
We spend the next ten minutes trying to get Hendrix to say various things. He ignores most requests but randomly drops "Kiss kiss!" and "Fuck off!" at seemingly strategic moments.
Eventually, we make our way outside to assess the roof situation.
And by "assess," I mean stand, shivering from the cold while Papa Paws points at various disasters and everyone looks concerned.
"The whole section needs patching up," Papa Paws says. "We got quotes, but they're all—"
"We fix it ourselves," Petrov interrupts.
Everyone turns to stare at him.
"You know how to fix roofs?" Washington asks skeptically.
Petrov looks offended. "Of course I know. Is easy. Three hours, tops."
"Three hours," Wall repeats. "To fix an entire roof section."
"Yes."
"Petrov, buddy, I don't think—"
"You don't know how to fix roof?" Petrov looks around at the team like they've just admitted they can't tie their shoes. "What they teach you in America?"
"Hockey," Groover deadpans. "They teach us hockey."
"In Russia, we learn everything. How to fix roof, how to hunt bear, how to—"
"How to bullshit?" Becker offers.
Petrov grins. "That too."
But he's serious about the roof thing. He's already taking photos, muttering to himself in Russian, doing calculations on his phone.
"I'm stealing your bird," Becker announces suddenly, scooping up Hendrix before anyone can stop him.
"That's a terrible idea!" several people yell at once.
"I just want to hang out with him for a bit. Bond."
