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Hrvalye lay on his stomach, his elbows dug into the fresh new grass, still quite short with the newly minted season, his head resting on his hands, which were propped under either side of his jaw. He had positioned himself at the very edge of one of Koris's highest sea cliffs, his mouth slightly open so he could taste the salt in the air, placidly watching the waves roll in and out, becoming a little less placid when the bigger ones came every few minutes or so.

From behind him, he heard his mother click her tongue against her teeth with light disapproval, "Why do you insist on laying in the grass with your sleeves rolled up like that? Your elbows will turn green, and you just bathed."

"It's fine, mom. I don't mind."

"Well I do. I won't have you gallivanting about looking like some sort of urchin that doesn't know any better. When we get home you will scrub those elbows clean, is that understood?"

Hrvalye sighed, "Yes, mother."

"Good," she said, kneeling down to join Hrvalye at his level and miming his position. She was almost as white as Hrvalye, but she was smart enough to wear dark pants and long, dark sleeves, though of course those would get put in the wash as soon as they got home. "How are the waves today?"

"Boring. They used to be bigger, didn't they?"

"Mm, sometimes. But I think you're just getting bigger, Hervie. When that happens your perspective changes. Besides, it's early yet. You've barely started to shed your undercoat." She wasn't being entirely truthful. The waves were weaker this year. The local newspapers had just run some stories about changing tidal forces from Kyeta's moons causing new patterns in ocean currents and beach tides. They weren't the first articles, but they were the most alarming ones.

"Mooooom, please! I'm too old for that name!"_his face turned petulant, _"Grvenye heard you call me that yesterday and now everyone is making fun of me."

"'Hervie'? Okay, I won't call you that in front of your friends. Maybe 'Little Hervie'." Hrvalye wasn't able to take the joke. He hated being treated like a kid. His horns were finally coming in, a year or more later than the other boys, and roughly in line with the girls. Anyway, he deserved respect like any person. He quickly pushed himself to his knees, then his feet, and started walking back towards the city. The salt was bothering his eyes. His mother followed him, but was a bit slower. "Now, Hrvalye," she called, "There is no need for that. Please stop."_He didn't heed her. In fact, he started running. _"Fine. If you want to go home, I'll sit and watch the waves by myself."

That mild threat would have worked a couple of years ago, when Hrvalye was less independent and far less rebellious, but now he just kept going. It wouldn't be a short trek on foot, but he knew the way and he'd manage fine. It's no less than he deserved for disrespecting his mother.

She sighed and turned back to the ocean. He wasn't entirely wrong to leave so soon, though. Almost no one else was here either. There just wasn't much to see.

Suddenly Hrvalye felt some smooth, hard, warm thing against his hand. He opened his eyes_--wait, they were closed?--and saw a cup of tea in Piran's mottled brown and white hand. "_Junda. I took the liberty of grabbing a bag from your station. Sorry if I put too much water. I'm not as much of a tea man myself. Been steeping for about three minutes now."

Hrvalye tried to reach for the cup with both hands like an old lady, but stopped as his left shoulder protested. He cleared his throat, which felt like it was filled with cobwebs. "My favorite, thank you. Looks good. Should be ready soon. Could you set it..." he gestured weakly with his right hand. Like an old lady. "I'll pick it up from there. Can't trust myself to do the transfer midair." Throat clear, "How long was I out?"

Piran set the cup down as requested and leaned lightly against his desk. "About an hour."

Hrvalye sprung into a well-wakened sitting posture, "An hour?"

Piran nodded, "Drink up. You're going home after this." He smirked, "You're useless to the world right now."

Still jazzed by the fact that he'd napped in his boss's office for a solid hour, Hrvalye grabbed the cup with more vigor than he'd had all day, splashing a little hot water on his hand in the process. Was it too hot? No, not too hot.

... ... ...

_Agh, it'll be too hot if it's left there._He set the cup back down and shook some of the water off his hand. The remaining liquid would cool quickly enough now. He then retrieved the cup with more care, habitually wiping the bottom of it in a circle on his pant leg to remove any residual water that migrated there following the initial splash. _Uh oh--_it had steeped for long enough that the water had become pink, and his pale gray pants just became a casualty of war. Piran crossed his arms as he passively watched Hrvalye intently execute this 30 second procedure as though he were the only one in the room. Once Hrvalye seemed to be done, staring at his newly stained pants, Piran broke the silence. "Hey," he said softly.

Hrvalye jumped back in surprise, "Sweet Jesus!" sloshing more tea over the walls of the cup and into his lap. His mouth opened slackly with disbelief as he stared, again, at his pants. Piran wordlessly got up and came back a few seconds later with paper towels as Hrvalye unartfully put the teacup down on the desk again. "Useless to the world," he murmured, nodding at Piran as though to agree with his joke, but saying it with a great deal more earnestness. "Maybe I should just go home now. Leave the tea for another time."

Piran flattened his lips against each other in a knowingly patronizing expression, "Good idea." He handed Hrvalye several paper towels while he wiped some tea from his desk. Hrvalye dutifully patted at his legs. Still damp and stained, but at least he won't burn or spread tea around if he moves. Piran started tapping on his computer again. "I'm hiring a truck to take you home. Your public file has a directive that you receive door-to-door transport for two weeks. Very handy. I didn't realize your foot was that bad. Can you stand?"

"Yeah, of course." Hrvalye slowly pushed himself up from his seat and tottered a bit, but he was on his feet. "Of course. I walked here, didn't I?" He made his way clumsily toward the door, the foot brace adding a couple of degree-of-difficulty points for the judges to consider.

"Impressive," Piran smirked, "I'd like for you to work at home if you work at all for the next few days. Get some rest and recover a little before I see you again." Hrvalye was in no position to argue, but he felt himself flushing with embarrassment and frustration; a flush that would be glaringly visible to the world, with his white fur and accompanying light complexion. He felt like an invalid.

He cracked the door open, then stopped. He was about to walk to the locker room; scene of the crime. "Hey, Piran, this is a bit weird, but would you be able to gather my coats and things for me? I don't think I'm ready..."

Piran nodded, "I should have offered," he walked past Hrvalye and slid through the barely-ajar door, a picture of relative grace and elegance.

Hrvalye tried to interject with a meek, "No, you're too kind," but Piran had already passed him by before he could get the words out.

Hrvalye shuffled back to Piran's desk. Not daring to sit back down, he grabbed some more paper towels to dry himself a bit further, with little success. Before he knew it, Piran had returned with his clothes, which he set down in a chair. "I'll give you some privacy to put these on. Anything else I can help you with before you go on your way?" Hrvalye shook his head no. "Great. I'm going to check on the team. If you need me, call or message. I'll let you know when I get an update from the doctor."

"Sounds good. And thanks for everything, boss. I owe you."

"You do," Piran winked as he offered his forearm, which Hrvalye promptly bopped goodbye. Piran turned to leave, but stopped before opening the door, "You did the right thing, owning up, sharing the whole truth. Not everyone would do that. I'll make sure they don't throw the book at you even if things start to get pear-shaped--which they shouldn't." Then he walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Somehow Hrvalye felt more sluggish now than when he woke up at the hospital, but he was able to blunder through the ordeal of preparing himself for the great outdoors. He did manage to almost tumble over when putting on his snow pants, and his left side was a bit uncomfortable now that he had piled on two more layers without being able to use the sleeves--it felt like everything would fall off if he so much as leaned funny. But he was still standing, and now he had socks and a boot on his left foot for symmetry, leaving him feeling normal enough to face the world.

As he walked down the halls toward the main airlock, he passed by a few coworkers who asked him how he was doing, using their English with varying degrees of success. They were very sweet. Hrvalye felt a sentimental tear forming in his eye. Seriously?

He even ran into the world's finest person, Dravori, who stuck to English this time. "Sorry I wasn't there to help, my main man," he spoke like a comedian doing a bad impression of a Slav learning to speak English. And apparently he learned 'main man' from wherever Piran picked it up.

"Don't worry, I would've probably just been embarrassed. Thank you, though." Hrvalye kept walking.

Dravori tagged along. "I heard Cecina drugged you. Hard."

Hrvalye stopped, almost tripping because of the weird traction from the foot brace. He didn't turn to look at Dravori. "Where did you hear that?"

"Um, friends?"

Hrvalye did look at Dravori now, fixing him with a cold glare. He didn't know it, but his blue eyes took on a dark, deadly tone that would have given Cecina a run for her money back in Piran's office. "Don't believe everything you hear. Have a pleasant day, Dravori." He started walking with a little more pep, leaving Dravori speechless in his wake.

Hrvalye's eyes mellowed as he walked, gradually turning worried. That didn't make sense. How would anyone know? Was there someone else in the locker room? Did Cecina let something slip? Were my medical records visible to others, somehow?

This lab wasn't a rumor mill. These people were professionals who for the most part cared about each other, and gossip about coworkers was usually brutally suppressed.

Maybe I'm just being paranoid because of the stress and morphine. I'm clearly not myself today. The clumsiness, the crying, the nervousness, my repeated bewilderment, my--heyyyyy, wait. Flashback to this morning: I had a rough time getting ready and left late for work. Okay, that can happen. But I was so late that I didn't even put on my foot brace; out of character, but I was stressed. Show up at work with my foot all janky, obviously. Get anxious and philosophical with Dravori; typical me. But all of that in sequence, and I never snapped out of it. Sure, I daydream, but I'm not a daydreamer, and I don't flit back and forth between focus and reverie like some kind of poet. That's why Cecina didn't bother to double check that I was ready before she sprayed me; that's why I fell. I was drug free when this all started.

_Okay, back up, sunshine. This is trending towards conspiracy theory territory. You're smarter than that. You're probably high, and you need rest. Stop it, stop it, stop it. _

Hrvalye was at the airlock. He could see a truck waiting outside--probably his. He checked his phone to see that Piran had forwarded details of the ride to him, and this matched. With a sigh, he passed through the locks and got into the truck. The driver checked him out in the rearview mirror, "Southern Forest?" Hrvalye nodded. "That's pretty close by. I haven't seen you before. You on medical order?"

"I'd rather not talk about it, if that's okay." Hrvalye's voice was neutral, his eyes not looking at anything in particular.

Am I crazy? It's true, conspiracy theories are almost all horseshit, but why was I so strange this morning? The stress of our impending foray to Earth wasn't really getting to me any more now than yesterday or last week, was it? I got plenty of sleep last night. What changed? Could someone have drugged me before I even left for work? Could this just all be bad luck?

"Yeah, of course." The driver kicked his truck into gear and they were on their way. It was about three minutes before they were at Hrvalye's apartment. He left without words or ceremony and trudged up to the airlock. The building was sheathed in several layers of protective film, just like the lab and most other occupied buildings these days. It made things livable, if you were willing to spend a quarter of your income paying for heat. Only the airlocks were filmless.

Hrvalye danced the airlock dance and made his way up to his apartment. He lazily shrugged his clothes off into a pile on the floor when he got in. He didn't care about the snow in the folds and crevices that he would otherwise fastidiously have shaken out in the airlock.

He messaged Piran to let him know that he made it safely home and to thank him once again for his help. Then he went to the bathroom and switched on the lights.

With abject horror, he saw tracks and trails around and below his eyes. He had cried so much that his fur was matted and distorted. He was hideous, utterly pitiable. And I looked like this all day. Everyone saw this. The doctor, and Cecina, and Piran, the drivers, and all those people as I walked out. No wonder they were so cautious. Why did anyone let me continue like this? Were they trying to embarrass me? Ruin my reputation?

No, Hrvalye, they were not. You are mildly delusional. Look at your face again.

Oh. His face was fine. A little matting here and there, could probably use a little powder, but he just looked like a guy having a long day. I need to sit down.

He plopped himself down on the sofa, and decided lying down might be nicer. He pulled a conveniently available blanket all the way over his head, leaving only a few inches of his pastel yellow horns peeking out for any that might see him. He picked a pretty non-ideal position for his shoulder, and it yelled at him in protest, but he didn't care. Night night, Little Hervie.