Erik
The otter entered the interview room, round ears flicking nervously. He was casually dressed in cargo-shorts of dark green and a plain white t-shirt that stretched tightly over his muscled torso that contrasted nicely against his dark-brown fur. Only a little beige fur showed over the seam of his shirt. The interviewer got up from his armchair in the small living room suite by the window and extended his right paw to great the visitor.
"Hi! I'm Erik, nice to meet you. And thank you for the chance." the otter said, taking the interviewers hand and shaking it in greeting.
He grinned shyly as he said that, looking up at the interviewer with tilted head. The otter stood only 1.74 m high, which affected him in three ways: It made him look even more muscular than he is anyway, he had to look up at most people that he met, and it made his hind-paws look a little too big for his height. He was well aware of the fact and tried to hide it by shuffling his paws nervously when meeting strangers. Just as he did now. The interviewer smiled kindly, pointing with his left paw while holding Erik's right.
"You're welcome, please sit down."
Erik did so, taking the armchair opposite the interviewer, with his back to the window. He brought his hind-paws under the seat of his chair, which was slightly too small for him, folding his paws in his lap.
The interviewer looked at him in a friendly way, maybe trying to ease some of Erik's apparent nervousness. He succeeded a bit and smiled broadly, putting his paws beside him on the arm-rests.
"So, Erik, tell me about yourself."
Erik tilted his head a little, his round tongue quickly flicking over his broad nose. He smiled slighty.
"Well, yea. I'm not really good at stuff like that, but I try."
The interviewer said nothing, just nodded encouragingly, his paws relaxed on the arm-rests. Erik felt rather clumsy in that tight chair, his thick rudder lying over his right thigh because of lack of space, the tip dangling just millimeters away from the floor. He had come here for a reason and despite the uneasiness he felt when speaking about himself, he began.
"Yes, I'm an otter."
Erik looked stupefied at his paws as his mouth shut. Then he darted a quick glance at the interviewer, ears dropping as he realized how stupid that opening was. This guy surely was not blind. But that just smiled warmly.
"I was," he continued, "actually born and raised in the north, by the sea. I moved here only a while ago." The Otter sighed deeply, his eyes looking at the distant glaciers of his homeland.
"So I am what you call one of the wild ones maybe. I am not really yet accustomed to the ways of the city. People still confuse me. I seem to always say the wrong things, that offend people." The otter spoke looking at his clenched paws, his hunky figure crouched forwards, his pectorals bulging between his arms. "But I am nice. I mean to be nice. But it seems, people around here don't think honesty is a nice thing."
Erik lifted his eyes to meet the interviewers gaze. He smiled wrily, baring his left fang under his bushy whiskers.
"Back home, you die if people are not honest with you. You must trust people. It's dangerous there. It is dangerous here, too. But when at home the people protect each other from nature, here nature must protect the people from each other ..."
Erik stopped as he realized that he had drifted from the topic quite far. He breathed the lump in his throat away and tried to straighten up.
"However, I try to be nice. I don't want to hurt anyone. But people tend to make me ... angry sometimes. They say stupid things. And they fight. I don't like that."
The otter paused, his brow furrowed. Then he continued, his face lightening up as he spoke:
"I like sports. Sports helps me to calm down when I'm angry or upset. Or nervous. Or agitated. I, of course, like swimming. But that's not a sport. I like being under water because it makes me feel safe."
The Otter chuckled a bit, his ears flipping at the confession he was about to make. "Walking or even running makes me feel totally clumsy. I always brush stuff off tables when I pass with my rudder. Or I brush against people. I don't like that either. But being under water I am ... cool. Graceful."
The big Otter paused, ears flicking, getting hot. He gave the interviewer a smile. "Uhm, you know. It is easier under water to ... navigate." Erik said.
The interviewer nodded, smiling as always, and he understood. Erik looked at him for a moment longer, knowing that he would never be able to sit somewhere so at ease.
"As I said, I try to be nice. But I also get upset. I am very impatient, with myself and with others. If something doesn't go as I would like it, I scream at people or things."
The otter laughed softly.
"Once, when I broke my arm, I was unable to put on a sock. I mean, usually I don't wear shoes or socks, but sometimes one must. And I just couldn't get it on with just one paw. I then threw it away and screamed at it. Of course I was screaming at the situation, telling the world in general and the sock in particular, how it sucked to have a broken arm. But I'm clumsy, as I said. It happens."
Again he grinned at the interviewer. The little wrinkles around his eyes told, that the otter grinned a lot. Just as to confirm he continued.
"But when I am happy, I am happy just as frankly. I laugh a lot and I am not too shy to show my happiness openly. Some people say I am still like a little pup when I am happy. I like being like that. I always let all feelings out of me. Even though that often makes people insecure. But I don't mind that. They say I am moody and I guess that's true. But there are a lot of fucking emotions inside me that want to be expressed."
The otter put one paw on his muzzle.
"Uhm. Sorry. And I swear a lot. Sometimes." He grinned again at a thought. "But when something is fucking amazing, why not say so. Hehe. Sorry. Again."
Just as to prove his words from earlier, the otter wriggled on his seat happily, the tip of his rudder twitching, just like a little boy who silently in church whispered the word 'shit'.
Composing himself again, he straightened up again, putting one paw on his rudder, clawing through the trimmed fur. His whole fur was trimmed all over. He himself said that it was due to the temperatures, his dense fur perfectly suited to swim in Arctic water that usually was -1°C, but for the city ... much to warm. In some silent, private moments he admitted to himself that it was also because it made his muscles look amazing.
They sat in silence for a little while Erik thought of what else he should say. The seconds became minutes as the otter neither moved nor spoke.
"What have you done so far? And why did you move here?" the interviewer asked.
Erik looked at him, eyes coming back into focus.
"Yea, well. Because I studied here. I mean ... what did I do? I went to school obviously. It was a good school. Up in the north, schools are fit for otters and other aquatics. University here was ... dry. I liked it though, I met some nice people. It made me feel good going to University. There were less stupid people there than at school."
The otter gave a little, bitter laugh.
"I came out pretty early. When I was 14. It was not easy and I lost friends. But I also made friends with people who I hardly considered before. I learned a lot about people back then. University was easier. Things did not ... change there. You know?"
Erik looked at the interviewer again, who nodded, now tilting his head himself, listening.