He huffs and rolls his eyes. “The program, Ari! Do you think it’s going to work out? Did you get any of the players involved? Did you meet everyone at the club, and were they nice?”
Oh. So just, like… general stuff. I can answer that. Still… “That was a lot of questions,” I tease with a straight face. “Where do you want me to start?” It’s only because I’ve got amazing reflexes that the pen he throws at me doesn’t put my eye out. I set it—the pen, not my eye—down on his desk and smile. I like Dáithí. He’s genuinely one of my favorite people.
“It was a good start,” I tell him. “I met most of the people in the management office, and they were pleasant. Some more interested in this program than others. Erik and I nailed down a plan and a schedule of events, and we got some of the players to volunteer.” I hesitate. Should I tell Dáithí that his friend was opted in to the program before we even asked for volunteers? Or would that be a breach of ethics?
“That’s great,” he says, maybe a little too enthusiastically. I watch him closely. It’s possible a scheme is afoot, and I’m determined not to get caught up in it. “Did Felix volunteer? He said he was going to.”
Damn, back to that question. “He must have, because his name is on the list,” I prevaricate.
Dáithí nods. “Well, whatever you assign him to do, he’ll give it a hundred percent effort. He’s great with animals, if you do some kind of pet drive or whatever.”
“Is he really?” I’m not sure why that surprises me. I don’t know Ansas well enough to guess whether he is or not.
“Sure. The bunnies and Jared’s cat love him. He’s a felid shifter, you know.”
“That doesn’t automatically make him good with animals.” I learned that a couple of years after the migration, when I watched a hellhound—in biped form—back whimpering away from a squirrel. It wasn’t even looking at him.
“Iknowthat. I’m just saying, how cute would a pet drive be with a giant kitty sitting among the regular ones?”
A vision of everything that could go wrong rises in my mind’s eye, but I don’t explain to Dáithí why it would be terrifying. “Very cute,” I say instead. And, honestly, it would be. “But we don’t have a pet drive on the list.”
“You should add one.”
Did I say Dáithí is one of my favorite people? I wonder what was happening on the day I decided that. “I’ll talk to Erik about it,” I promise, hoping that will buy my freedom.
Dáithí opens his mouth, but the phone rings at that precise moment, and he waves me off. “See you later.”
With a wave and a smile, I flee to the relative sanctuary of the security office.
“Well, look who it is!” Brayan shouts as I walk in. “The hockey consultant.”
That’s so far from what I’m actually doing that it would set off a lie-detection spell. Facts don’t matter to my teammates, though, who’ve started delightfully ribbing me about my new career in public relations for a sport I don’t even understand. Maybe I should have stayed with Dáithí after all.
Thankfully, it’s not long before Eoin comes in and snaps at us to settle down so he can start the meeting. I’m grateful for his bad mood that prevents him from joining the teasing… even if it surprises me. Since he and Dáithí worked things out, he’s been all smiles and sunshine, and if they’d had a fight, surely Dáithí wouldn’t have been so cheerful and chatty? Has something else happened? Something work-related?
It’s not until the meeting’s nearly done that we get a clue.
“Schedule change,” Eoin announces. “Niamh, you’re off Thursday night.”
“I am?” She raises a brow. “Why? Did I?—”
“It’s nothing you did,” he assures her, somehow managing to sound grumpy while he does. “Raðulfr and Jared have made plans and decided that Dáithí and I should join them. Since I’ll be there anyway, you might as well have the night free.”
Wait… Thursday?
Niamh beams. “No complaints here.”
Oh fuck, Eoin’s bad mood is my fault. Well, Ansas’s fault, technically, but I’m going to be the one who bears the brunt of it.
He wraps things up, and we all disperse, half the team heading out to the breakroom to find coffee. I haven’t had a chance to check my email yet, so my first stop is my desk. There’s probably piles of work from yesterday to catch up on.
“Free your schedule for Thursday night,” Eoin orders, stopping beside me. I open my mouth to apologize, then realize what he said. That doesn’t sound like he thinks it’s my fault… or that I even know about it.
“Thursday night?” I parrot. “Why?”
“You’re on duty.” His tone heavily implies that I lack deductive reasoning skills.
“But you said you were going. That’s why Niamh’s off.” Am I pushing it? I feel like I’m pushing it. If he finds out I knew about this the whole time, I’ll be doing shit jobs for the rest of my career.
