and things went downhill from there

Part 1 - New Guy

"Whether you're woman or whether you're man

Sometimes you got to take a stand

Just because you think you can."

- Buffy Sainte-Marie (You've Got to Run (Spirit of the Wind))

When the muttering wolf stomped around the partition corner with a steaming mug of tea clutched in both of his hands, neither of his two cubicle mates spared him a glance. The stomping and muttering was as much a part of his routine as the nine-thirty tea, and it typically indicated that he was irritated by something he'd seen on the break-room television. It was usually a contemporary political issue that set him off, and since the canine's politics ran diametrically opposite of both his cubicle mates',   neither of them were eager to ask him what had him bothered.

The wolf was creeping to the far side of middle age, and it showed. He had the look of one who had likely been very fit in his youth, but time and a sedentary job had slowly built him a paunch as well as a sunken, dull, brown-eyed stare of one who was about done with everything. He flopped heavily into his chair and, as had also become a routine of late, opened the top-right drawer of his desk and shook a couple of the acetaminophen he kept there into his left palm. He washed them down with a large enough swallow of tea to burn his tongue and slammed the drawer shut again.

The snow leopard and otter who shared the cubicle with the wolf readily caught the rattle of the pill container, and they recognized it as the preamble to an uninitiated rant. They were caught unprepared when he finally spoke in a very level tone.

"Either these migraines or these pills are going to be the end of me." The wolf took another slug of his fresh tea. "I see they've hired a new guy," he added, thumbing nonchalantly in the direction of the main elevator. The ears of this cubicle mates perked up visibly at the news, but neither removed their headsets, or otherwise responded while they waited for the meat of his rant to begin. The wolf grunted at their lack of reaction and quietly turned back to his workstation.

"That's it?" demanded Giblet. The otter pulled off his headset and spun his chair around to face the wolf. "Come on, spill it. Who and what did they hire?" The wolf picked up his tea, took a languid sip, and then slowly rotated his own seat to face the otter. Giblet's whiskers twitched in annoyance when he saw the other's measured movements and he realized that he had probably just stepped into a trap.

"You want to know what they hired," said the wolf slowly. He made a show of sipping his tea, gave his wet nose an exaggerated lick and continued. "You know we're supposed to be blind to species - or whatever stupid term they use for it these days. I seem to recall you announcing with some relish that you had completed the mandatory online sensitivity course well before the deadline." He relished another quaff of his drink while the otter stewed in anticipation. "Were you hoping for something in particular?"

Giblet was used to being baited by the wolf, and while he generally found it amusing to get into verbal spars with the canine, he found himself losing patience with the other's games of late. The otter considered a verbal retort and then changed his mind, reaching through the bottom of his chair's backrest to flip his middle finger at the canid.

"You know what I meant," he said sourly. "Is he the new DBA?"

"Better be," said Plonq without turning. The snow leopard had a visual schema open on one screen, and an editor with dense SQL code on the other. Although he caught the verbal barbs between his coworkers, the feline's pretense of working caused him to miss the visual elements of it as the wolf returned the otter's sign with both of his hands before following them up with a gesture that one of British descent might have identified as the wanker.

"I dunno." The wolf shrugged and quickly grabbed his tea again as the snow leopard made an aborted move to look his way. "I spotted him with boss-man and what's-her-name from HR." He scratched under his muzzle and reached his other hand back to perch his tea precariously close to the edge of his desk. "He was wearing kind of a douchey shirt, so I'm guessing he's probably going to SAP." He started to turn back to his workstation and made a show of pausing partway around. "And Giblet, even though you're pretending you don’t care, I know you're dying to find out. He's a slotter."

"He's a ... what?" demanded the otter. The snow leopard's ears perked up again at that as well, and he half-turned his head to pay closer attention to the conversation.

"A slotter," said the wolf cryptically. "You know, one of those boutique hybrids you hear about in the news. Half otter and half snow leopard." Giblet exchanged a quick glance with Plonq, but the latter just gave a quick palms-up shrug and shook his head.

"Bullshit," said Giblet. "There are things you can't hybridize, and that's one of them."

The wolf blinked innocently at the other two without speaking for a moment. "I seen what I seen. I expect an apology when you eat your words later." He rubbed his temple and grimaced before rotating his chair back to face his workstation, rescuing his precariously-perched mug as he turned.

Plonq sighed, pulled off his phone headset, grabbed his glasses and rolled back his chair. The dumpy snow leopard rose, stepped around the edge of his desk and peeked over the top of his cubicle. He slid his glasses a bit further down his muzzle and peered in the direction of the elevator. His tail thrashed a couple of times, but other than a noncommittal grunt, he gave no other indication of what he saw.

"Huh," was all he said as he removed his spectacles and lumbered back to his chair. Giblet watched him put his glasses back on the desk and reach for his headset again. When it became clear that the snow leopard was not going to elaborate on this reaction the otter could not contain himself.

"So?" he prompted. He pumped his short legs to wheel his chair over to the other's desk so that he could slap him on the shoulder. "Spill it!"

"He is a slotter," the cat replied. He paused. "Or a snotter, perhaps, depending on how you portmanteau it." Giblet tried to read the feline's body language, but if Plonq was pulling his leg, he was putting on a very good poker muzzle while doing it.

"You both suck," said the otter. "You can't get a hybrid from a snow leopard and an otter."

"Sure you can," said the wolf. He made circle with his index finger and thumb, and stuck the index finger of his other hand through it. "All you need is for a snow leopard and an otter to love each other very much. Then they get married, do the thing and make a baby."

"Makes sense," said the snow leopard, nodding sagely.

"They can do the thing all they want, but no baby will happen," retorted Giblet, casting a quick glare at his friend. "If hybridization worked like that, we'd be up to our necks in little Frankenbabies with all the cross-species marriages these days. The pegs and holes aren't compatible."

"Especially not when you're doing it in the butt," muttered the wolf, loud enough for the other two to hear. The otter ignored his jab.

"I'm no genologist..." continued the otter.

"Geneticist," hissed Plonq, but Giblet pressed on.

"I don't care how much they love each other; they will not produce a 'slotter'. You're both full of crap."

"Then explain the new guy," said the wolf. He donned his headset and pulled his keyboard closer; making it clear to the otter that he was being dismissed.

"Ugh," said Giblet. He doffed his own phone gear and stood abruptly, "fine." The chunky little mustelid crossed over the cubicle and stepped around the snow leopard's desk to the wall of their shared cubicle. He was a little shorter than the feline, so he had to hook his hands on the top and pull himself up onto his toes to see over the top.

In the distance, Giblet could see the new employee speaking to their director and a familiar ocelot from HR. Whatever their director had said, the other two were treating the little red panda to a hearty laugh. As he stared at the newcomer, Giblet could not think of a better word for him than the wolf's description. The new employee was a young-looking otter, but his fur was silver and marked with very distinctive snow leopard rosettes.

The otter lowered himself down again and turned to lean against the partition.

"He's adorable," said Giblet breathlessly.

"I knew you'd like him," said the wolf without looking back, dropping his pretense of disinterest. "'cuz you've got the hots for spots."

"And stripes," said Giblet quickly, "also, those are tattoos, you shit stains!"

"Oh," said Plonq with feigned innocence. "That makes at least as much sense as a hybrid."

"I'm jealous," said Giblet. "They fit him perfectly." The little otter ran a hand over the side of his muzzle and sighed. "I've always wanted to get some tat work done, but the peroxides irritate my skin, and the thought of that many needles gets my jimmies in a knot."

"I thought your type was into pain and stuff," said the wolf. The canine was swirling the tea in his mug while he spoke - it was one of the affectations he adopted when he felt like he was on a roll. The otter glared at him, and his muzzle worked like he was going to come back with an angry retort, but he cast a quick glance at their other cube mate and changed his tactic.

"Not as a rule," Giblet said sweetly. He winked saucily at the canine. "But the right kind of pain, judiciously applied in the right places for the right reasons is always an option to keep open." His reply had the desired effect on the wolf as the latter stopped swishing his tea and tossed back another mouthful without further comment.

"I am going to borrow that line for my next performance review when the boss accuses me of making my goals too unambitious," said Plonq, tossing the otter a quick thumbs-up without taking his eyes from his work. Giblet turned back to the partition, hooked his hands over the top and pulled himself up on his toes again.

"I need another look at those gorgeous tats," he said. Out of the corner of his eye, the snow leopard saw the otter freeze, lift his right hand briefly from the partition to wave, and then he quickly lowered himself down.

"Crap!" he said hoarsely. "Well, that was awkward."

"What's the matter, did he catch you fawning at him over the partition?" asked the wolf.

"All three of them did," said the otter glumly. "The boss pointed at me and they all waved, so it was pretty obvious that I was staring."

"That is certainly not embarrassing at all," said the snow leopard. "In fairness, you were gawking."

"Nothing for it now but to go say 'hi' in person," said the wolf, "may as well drool on him up close rather than ogling from a distance."

The otter bobbed his head in thought - it was a practise he'd picked up from their director and many of the other ex-contractors the company had hired into their department. "I guess I could go ask him where he got the ink done," Giblet said pensively.

"Ask him if he is the new DBA," interjected Plonq quickly. "Tell him that if he can get these tables indexed without needing five requests and three months, he will never have to buy his own coffee again as long as he works here."

"Fine," said the otter. "If we're going to be working together I don't want him to think I'm some kind of creeper peeking over partitions at people."  Giblet brushed down his shirt and tucked in the tails that had come loose when he'd pulled himself up on the partition before he trundled around the corner of the cubicle and out of sight.

As soon as the otter was clear of earshot, Plonq whipped off his headset, slammed it on his desk and whirled to confront the wolf. "Dude," he said in something between a hiss and a growl.

"Dude what?" said the wolf innocently. He turned as well to face the snow leopard

"You know what," growled Plonq. "I know you are only teasing him, but you are really starting to toe the harassment line lately."

"If he can't take a little ribbing from a co-worker then fuck him," said the wolf. He rubbed his temple and winced. "Though from what I hear, you probably have."

"Larry!" the growl carried a bit more menace this time. "Do not even go there. I can only speculate on what you think you have heard, but it is none of your business either way." The snow leopard's tail thudded solidly on the floor as he formulated his words. "I am just saying that you are setting yourself up for some HR pain if you push him on the gay thing."

"Giblet's a big boy," said Larry with a low growl of his own. The wolf tossed back the last of his tea in one swallow. "The otter gets in his own share of shots. If he wants me to stop, he can damned well stop it himself. I'm open to a truce. In the meantime, you worry about your own business and we'll worry about ours." The wolf turned his back to the feline, thumped his empty mug noisily on the desk and grabbed his headset again, clearly communicating that he considered the conversation to be done.

"You are not the one who lives with him and gets to hear him complain about you," the cat muttered darkly as he continued to stare at the lupine's back for a moment longer. He fidgeted with his hands, and his tail trashed as he considered saying more, but instead he quietly returned his attention to his own work. Plonq spent a few minutes trying to figure out why his small query was bringing the database to a standstill, but the snow leopard was too irritated to concentrate on his job for long. He spent a few minutes updating some of the comments in his code to include snarky shots at a future debugger, but that lost its lustre fairly quickly as well.

Eventually he gave up on real work and sought catharsis in browsing the internet and informing strangers that they were wrong. Plonq's irritation with the wolf was slowly being pushed aside by his aggravation at the ignorance of people in online forums when the otter finally returned.

"So, his name is Joshua, and he seems really nice," said Giblet in a rapid, airy tone as he burst his way back into their work area and cut between his workmates to his desk. "He's not the new DBA..." He paused to let the other two groan, and then continued. "He's going to be working with Middleware. He came over here from Furlife Insurance because - get this - he gets better coverage from our plan with them than he was getting when he was working for them. Pretty young; I figure early 20's." The otter locked his workstation and shrugged into his coat.

"What else..." he said, doing up the zipper and snaps as he talked, "the tats are even better up close. They're just upper body - head and shoulders, really.  He popped open his shirt and showed me where they fade into his normal fur colour. I'm super jelly."

"Geez, he's here five minutes and you're already undressing him," said the wolf with an audibly snide tone. Plonq glanced over his shoulder toward the otter, and Giblet met his look with a cheek twitch and an exaggerated eye roll.

"He's not really my type," said the otter as he adjusted his collar and tugged his jacket down around his hips. "Way too young for one thing." He flicked the snow leopard a quick wink. "Besides, why would I need to undress him when I can undress you in my mind any time I want? Not that I think you’re sexy," he added quickly, "but the mental image kills my appetite whenever I feel like cheating on my diet."

The wolf gave a chuff that the other two recognized as the sound he made when he was trying to think of a good, biting retort. Acting quickly to forestall it, the otter strode over to the feline's desk, placed a hand on the feline's right shoulder, giving him a good jostle. "Come on, make quick with the jacket.  It is the time for the coffee, sir!"

"I have got a call in, uh," the snow leopard glanced at the clock in the corner of his nearest monitor, "eight minutes. If you had not spent half the morning talking to the new guy I could have joined you."

"Eh, it was the boss as well. He glommed onto me and started enthusing on about a new project, and all this stuff about real time visualization," said the otter. He gave the snow leopard's ear a flick with his index finger. "Were your ears burning? We were talking about you too." The snow leopard cast an askance look in the otter's direction, but stayed mum. "He wants to put us together on more projects because we work so well as a team. Anyway, you do ... whatever this call of yours is," Giblet said, waving his right hand in a circular flourish to imply that the call involved vague things that held no interest to him. "I suppose I can bring you back a coffee and add it to your tab. I guess you want the usual?"

Plonq nodded.

"The otter is leaving the building," said Giblet to no one in particular. "Smoke me a kipper for my return." Plonq sniggered at the mustelid's mangled reference, but the wolf just muttered darkly under his breath.

"The usual..."

Barely a minute after one otter left their work area, another entered from the other side.

"Knock, knock," said Joshua, poking his spotted muzzle around the corner. "I hope I'm not intruding. I met your workmate and thought I'd come and introduce myself to the rest of his cubicle."

"Oh, hey," said Plonq and Larry in near unison as both stood to address the newcomer. The two of them hesitated when the otter extended his hand for a shake, and after a couple of false starts as each waited for the other to respond, Plonq finally took the initiative and clasped the extended hand.

"Plonq," he said. "I am a data guy - mostly deep dives and analysis." The otter pumped his hand.

"Joshua," said the otter. "I'm sorry that I'm not a database guy," he added with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "I hear I could have had my own shrine." The snow leopard looked pensive, and gave the same head bob that the Giblet had done earlier.

"Shrine might be understating things a bit..." he began.

"You've already got your first worshiper anyway," interrupted Larry.

"Ha," said the otter with a single, barking laugh. He let go of the snow leopard's hand and extended it to the wolf. "I wish I felt worthy of it, but middleware usually doesn't inspire much of a fervent following. You must be Larry."

"The same," said the wolf, taking the proffered hand. "I'm mostly a UI guy. I take the mess that these slobs," he pointed his other thumb over his shoulder and swivelled it to encompass the desks of his coworkers, "try to pass off as usable dashboards. I do the layered charts and heat maps and the like."

"Basically Giblet and I are the cartoonists, and Larry is the colourist," said the snow leopard, "except that all the actors are numbers." This elicited another laugh out of the otter. He extricated his hand from the wolf's firm handshake and leaned up against the corner of the cubicle's partition with his elbow flat on the top.

"I like that analogy," he said. "I have a friend whose dad is a colourist for an indie comic. It's a discipline that deserves a lot more respect than it gets sometimes."

"Exactly!" The wolf winked and motioned a quick finger-gun at the otter. "Totally on point. I think we're going to get along just fine." He held out his right hand and made a vague waving motion toward Giblet's empty desk. "And you've already met your adoring acolyte. He's off flouncing around somewhere at the moment."

The otter blinked, and the snow leopard cast a puzzled glance in Larry's direction.

"My what?"

"Your acolyte - you know - an adoring worshipper for your shrine. Giblet's totally smitten with you." He nodded in Plonq's direction. "You were here - you heard him." The wolf clutched both hands to his chest and breathlessly said, "He's adorable." Joshua withdrew from leaning on the cubicle corner and took a step back, crossing his arms nervously.

"I'm, uh, not quite sure how to take that," he said hesitantly. The snow leopard cast a glare in the direction of the wolf that could have both frozen and cut his workmate if the laws of physics had permitted it.

"He was talking about your tats - he just has his ... mannerisms when speaking. You get used to it," said Plonq quickly. He never took his eyes off the wolf while he spoke, making a quick, open-palmed 'what the hell?' gesture with the hand that was out of the otter's line of sight.  "He has been talking for years about getting some ink done if he can work up the nerve for it." The otter visibly relaxed.

"Oh yes, we spoke of that at some length," said Joshua, and his demeanour perked up immediately. It was obvious to the others that it was a topic close to his heart.  "He was asking me where I got them done, how much it cost, how much it hurt and the like." The otter became more animated as the spoke. "He mentioned that he's got a thing for spots, and he's wanted to get some done in ink. He joked about getting a rosette tramp-stamp so that it's less visible if he chickens out partway through."

"Spots above the tail," said the wolf with a loud guffaw, "that would be a switch. From what I hear, he prefers to take them below the tail."

The spotted otter started to speak, hesitated, and then said, "Are you insinuating something about your co-worker that you think I should know?"

"I'm just saying that if you drop something around Giblet, you may want to wait for somebody without spots to pick it up for you."

"CHRIST, LARRY!" Snow leopards are not one of the roaring cats, but there were few other words to describe the cat's tone at that moment. "What is your damage?"

"I'm sorry," said the wolf loudly, feigning innocence, "it's not right of me to assume that he's the top. Do you guys trade off?"

The otter's body language switched from zero to squicked in an instant. He nervously bumped his fists together in the area of his solar plexus and began to slowly back away from the other two. "It, uh, sounds like you guys have some things to discuss. Maybe I'll go check out my new work area."

The others were too entrenched in their own discussion by now to notice the otter.

"He is not... we do not..." the snow leopard stammered angrily, "actually, THAT IS NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!" If their confrontation had not yet caught the attention of the office, the cat's latest outburst certainly did. Joshua was glancing back and forth between the two combatants with wide eyed alarm as they bared teeth and claws. Heads started popping up from neighbouring cubicles, and a buzz of voices began to drown out the usual clacking and buzz of the office.

"Was Plonq just swearing?"

"I never hear him swear."

"What's going on over there?"

"Well it's my business every time he gets up in my face about it. I just want to be able to come in to work one day without having to hear him brag about his latest gay exploits. If you guys want to talk about homo stuff, go to the break room and knock yourself out." All pretense of civility was gone from the conversation now, and Larry's words floated on a low growl as he spoke. "And why is it any of your business if I warn the new guy that Giblet is gay? It's not like he's shy about it anymore. Who died and made you the defender of furry faggots?"

"I am defending him because he is my best friend," snarled Plonq. His tail was puffed out in a manner that would have been amusing in any other circumstances. "I am not going to stand here while you drag him through the mud - especially in front of a new employee."

"Oh, the poor baby," said the wolf mockingly, "needs his big boy to stand up for him. If you feel so bad for him, maybe you can go give him some comfort sex later."

The snow leopard growled and stepped forward, jabbing the wolf in the chest with a clawed finger. "Larry, you are out of line," he hissed.

"And you're in my space," said the wolf with an angry bark. In a rapid move that caught the snow leopard completely off-guard he planted his hands on the feline's shoulders and shoved him violently back.

n  End of part 1

Part 2