EDUCATING ALFIE

Murina Beaubonique adjusted her tie for the umpteenth time, looking herself over in the mirror of her office. This was a big moment, possibly a pivotal one in her career. In one hour and seventeen minutes she would be meeting Alphonse Norwich IV at the airport near her Boston office, riding in a limousine she was paying for out of her own pocket. It was a tradition she had begun in her early years as an agent, taking prospective clients to lunch and showing them around town. Although expensive, it gave her the opportunity to examine them up close, and over the years had proved well worth it.

A voice on her Bluetooth earpiece spoke up. "I just want to go on record saying this is a bad idea."

"I'm well aware, Harris."

"I'm sure you are, but I feel it bears repeating. You're setting... that... loose in one of the biggest melting pots in the country."

"It's just lunch and a quick tour of the city. If he turns out to be unworkable, off he goes. You know my process."

"I do. Just keep this one on a tight leash."

"Of course."

"That wasn't a joke. You should probably stop at a pet store on the way over."

"Ha ha. See you in thirty."

Generally Murina would make the trip on her own, but as Harris had been her confidant and second-opinion while planning this meeting, she felt it best to bring him along, at least until she got a handle on what she would be dealing with for the remainder of the day. Having the ocelot at her side would give her a quick introduction to how he dealt with non-rats in an official sense, and if by chance he was at least polite (she had no hopes of him being friendly) then that would be something to rub in the feline's face later.

The ride over was quiet. Harris drove himself, that way he'd be free from commitment in case his presence was no longer needed, and so Murina sat in the rear alone, quietly sifting through her paperwork. She'd read it all so many times Harris had joked that she probably knew Alphonse's history better than the rat himself did. It was important for her to know it like the back of her paw, though. With as dicey a proposition as the Alley Rat was, she couldn't afford to say the wrong thing.

When she arrived, Harris was already standing in the terminal, arms casually behind his back, expression flat. Murina stepped up beside him and took a small breath to announce her presence.

"Was wondering when you'd show up."

"I got held up."

"Traffic?"

"Had to empty out the mini-bar."

Minutes ticked by before the announcement came over the PA system that Alphonse's flight was landing. Murina took a deep breath, readjusting her tie once more and standing up a little straighter. This was it. She was here, he was coming, and the rest of today, as well as her career, were about to be decided.

Harris chuckled dryly. "I hope you know what you're doing."

She sniffed. "You worry too much. It'll work out, you'll see."

As the first few passengers began to file in from the terminal, the pair of agents noticed the sour expressions on all of their faces. That's when they discovered the source of their distaste. In the fur Alphonse was far more imposing than the Rozich article had made him out to be. At a bit north of six and a half feet tall, he was neither the tallest nor the heaviest that either of them had dealt with, but his mohawk made him seem even taller, and the way he stomped out in his combat boots gave him an air of menace that few others did. Usually clients would walk out quietly, keeping an eye out for their ride, and maybe take a moment to breathe in the Boston air. Alfie... not so much.

Within ten seconds of his appearance, Alphonse Norwich IV shoved two furs out of his way, spat on the floor, and loudly complained that the "piss tiny plane barely had any bollock space". He tossed a handful of mini whiskey bottles he'd ordered on the flight into a trash can (only one of them actually went in), and started looking around for his host. Murina and Harris stood there in a surprised silence for a few moments, before the ocelot finally broke it.

"...I'm sure it will."

The small rat closed her eyes a moment and took a deep breath through her nose, not dignifying his jab with a response. She told herself that Alfie was just tired from the flight and cranky, everything WOULD be fine once introductions were made and he had a nice meal in his belly. Waving her arm, Murina caught the other rat's attention. He toes curled in her heels briefly, feeling more tense than she liked, as Alphonse approached.

"Alphonse, it's a pleasure to meet you," she offered amiably, holding a delicate hand out.

"Oi, luv! Bring i' in! Rats don't shake!" Before she had a chance to say no, the rat's big arms were wrapped around her and her face was pressed into his leather vest. As she struggled for a breath, she realized why all those other passengers had been pulling face. Up close, Alfie smelled awful.

Once released, Murina coughed and attempted to recompose herself. Things were certainly off to a rollicking start. "Yes. Well. This is my associate, Harrison Wheeler."

The ocelot held his hand out in a similar offer. Alphonse turned his head, looked down at the outstretched arm, and snorted. "Wha'? You lookin' for a 'andout?"

Harris's jaw visibly tightened, but held firm. The rat wasn't swayed. "Migh' wanna put dat away, mate, less you want me t' put it away for ya."

Murina attempted to quell the tense moment by interjecting with a laugh. "Charming, isn't he? Well, I think I can handle things from here, Harris, thanks for the company!" She'd gotten her answer, and immediately knew that having Harris along for the day would do more harm than good, both for her chances at convincing Alphonse to be her client and for her friend's sanity.

Reluctantly, Harris let his paw drop to his side and eyed Murina. "I see. I'll take my leave, then." He put on an overly broad smile, the feline not wanting to give Alphonse the satisfaction of thinking his snub had any effect. "Murina, keep the line open, mm?" She nodded. It was a quick way of telling her that if something went terribly wrong to send him a text and he'd come bail her out. Thus far it had never come to that, but for the first time she had a suspicion that it might.

Shaking her head, Murina turned her attention fully to the rat. He grinned ear to ear, "Well luv, looks like it's just you'n me finally. Shall we then?" He spoke as if he were the one leading her, putting on his best attempt at a chivalrous tone. She took a breath and nodded. "Of course. I'LL lead the way." Alphonse's grin widened, impressed by the smaller rodent's assertiveness. "Right be'ind ya, babe!"

As the pair walked out of the airport, Murina couldn't help but notice how many unpleasant stares Alphonse was attracting. The rat himself was doing little to prevent such attention, either, making his opinion of everyone and everything quite audible. She had hoped to keep the entire deal hush-hush, to avoid any negative press or backlash before Alphonse had put his name on the contract, but from the looks of things he was going to make that as difficult as possible. Finally, mercifully, she got him into the waiting limousine, although not before he managed to take a swipe at the driver as he attempted to help the rat with his bags.

"Touch my bag an' ya eat it, Sally," he snorted at the old turtle, prompting Murina to practically cram the rat in the open door. He laughed.

"'At one drivin' us? Fuckin' 'ell, hope we ain't goin' far, be lucky t' get there 'fore tomorrow!" the rat joked, apparently finding himself hilarious.

Murina eyed him sharply. "Yes, he is. Woodrow," she emphasized his name, "will be driving us to lunch."

"Is 'at where we're 'eaded?" Alphonse responded, most of his attention on going through the cabinets in the back area of the limousine. "Well ain't 'at just cream rice. Could use a bite, plane 'ad nothin' worth puttin' my gulp 'round, an' they only let ya 'ave so many o' those li'l bottles."

Murina sat back a moment, just letting Alphonse rustle around. She could tell he'd never been in a limo before. He wasn't looking for anything specific, and it's entirely likely he had no idea that there would normally be alcohol available, but instead was exploring each drawer and container not knowing what he might find inside it, like a child. He opened the refrigerator and reached in, looking at the small bottles of soda and cut up fruit, then put it all back and did the same in the freezer. He even tried reaching under the seats before he decided he'd seen everything the back cabin had to offer, leaning back with a grunt.

"We gonna be there soon?" he complained, a hand on his lean stomach. "Feel like I could carry dis thing faster."

It was impossible for the urban rat to hold back a small smirk. Alfie was outside of his comfort zone, which meant she was right in hers. It's a truism amongst not just athletes, but the population as a whole, that the best way to get to know someone is put them somewhere they're unused to. That's when all the masks fall off and true nature rears its often ugly head. Murina was starting to get a glimpse of Alphonse, beneath the hide. She didn't get much chance to prod further, though, as the car stopped at their destination just then. He didn't wait for the door to open, letting himself out.

"So! Which o' dese pubs we divin' into, eh?"

Murina, accepting Woodrow's assistance in stepping out of the vehicle, snickered at him. "We're not going to a pub, Alphonse. If you're going to eat in Boston, you're eating in style."

He spat on the sidewalk, "Don't think I brought enough sausage t' be eatin' at one o' your top dollar resties."

She gave him a pat on the back. Gently, though, as she'd just used a palmful of sanitizer on her paws. "Alfie, this is my treat. You're my guest, so yo-"

Murina was interrupted by Alphonse's suddenly barking at an oriole couple who had been walking the other way. It seemed the male had brushed against the rat's shoulder, prompting an outburst from the rodent. It took Murina all she had to keep him from following the two avians, shoving him toward the front door of the restaurant. If he'd put his full strength into charging at them, Alphonse could have certainly shoved right past her, but he allowed himself to be "held back", taunting the pair as they made their way.

"Oi, thas right! You KEEP walkin', ya fuckin' beakas! Flap back to ya nest!!"

"ALPHONSE!!" Murina squeaked, which caught her charge's attention. He rolled his shoulders and "straightened" his vest before stepping unceremoniously into the restaurant. The kerfuffle earlier hadn't been lost on the patrons inside, the majority of whom were well-dressed, and nearly all of whom had their eyes locked on the dirty, unkempt rat who'd just burst in.

Their stares just seemed to make him angrier. "Th' fuck you lot starin' at? Neva seen a rat b'fore? Eat ya bradies, mind ya pints!" he spat at the whole crowd, prompting the maitre d' to swiftly walk up toward the front and see just what all the commotion was about. He was a small, but energetic squirrel, jittery almost but not exactly the nervous type. He looked angry for the first few steps of his journey from the back room into the main dining area, but as soon as he saw just what the problem was, his gait trickled down to a mosey. The sight of Murina gave him some comfort, as once he approached the pair he put all his attention on her.

"Um, Miss Beaubonique," he began. "You know we're always happy to have you here, and it's an honor to know that you've decided to use our establishment to give clients a taste of Boston, but... I'm not sure your..." his eyes flicked briefly up toward Alphonse, "...friend, here, is quite suited for our dining hall."

That did little to settle Alphonse. "Th' fuck izzat supposed t' mean? Cause I ain't got some fuckin' pennyskin you cunts won't let me eat 'ere? You listen 'ere, nutta, I 'ave ev'ry right t-"

Murina stepped forward, in between the rat and squirrel, successfully stopping Alphonse mid-tirade. "I assure you, ALPHONSE will be of no trouble," she said sharply, turning her head to eye the rat behind her. To her surprise, it seemed to work, as he quieted down and attempted to gather himself up straight and tall. Reluctantly, the host led them back to Murina's usual table, a small two-seat affair near the rear of the restaurant, forcing her to fight to convince Alphonse that they weren't being tucked away to hide them from the rest of the customers.

After ordering, she a salad and he a steak (as well as a beer, despite her protests), Murina took the opportunity to chat with Alphonse for the first time.

"So, Alphonse, I think we need to discuss your potential career."

He leaned his chair back on two legs, one big arm lazily slung over the back of it. "Wha' is there to discuss, luv? They sign me, I rip the court a new gully, take all 'ose nonnies down a peg 'r three, ev'rything's jake for Alfie an' the Alley from now on."

Murina coughed, quietly, just once. "Yes, well, there are a few things you should be aware of. Things that may get in that way of that... particular plan."

"Yeh? An' just what things'd those be?" he asked, annoyed.

"Well, as good as you are, teams aren't exactly eager to sign a player with such... outspoken views as yours," Murina responded, pausing only to come up with the most diplomatic phrasing possible. She had a feeling calling him a specist to his face might not go well.

"See, 'at there's the problem, Muri," Alphonse snorted, taking down his beer in one gulp as soon as it arrived, then telling the server to bring another. "They's afraid of anyone willin' t' lay th' cards down flat. Just 'cause nobody's sayin' somethin' don't make it false."

Murina could tell she needed to lasso the conversation back quickly before it flew off the reservation. "Be that as it may, if you don't want to be passed over come draft time, you're going to need proper representation, and that's where I come in." She began her sales pitch, a well-rehearsed speech she'd delivered countless times over her career. "I have many years experience with professional athletes, securing the highest possible contracts and lucrative endorsement deals. Working with me means that your career with the FBA will be long and fruitful, this I can guarantee. My rates are fair, and I always keep your interests first, not mine. I will squeeze every dollar out of the league for you that I can."

Alphonse had a look on his face like he only understood about half of what he'd just heard. Rolling her eyes, Murina tried to simplify things. "If you want a contract, you need someone who can talk with the owners. That's what I do. Work with me, and all you'll have to worry about is playing the game and not getting hurt. I'll take care of the rest."

The large rat chewed on his claws, digging beneath them with his teeth. "Yeh? An' just why d'ya wanna help ol' Alfie? What 're you gettin' outta it?"

Murina shrugged demurely. "I just want to see that a rat with your potential doesn't fall through the cracks again," she answered, appealing to the other rat's ego. "The FBA is taking a second glance at you, Alfie, if you blow this chance, you may not get another."

Looking thoughtful, Alphonse let his chair fall back on its front legs. Before he could respond, their meals arrived. Looking at his filet mignon, Alphonse's brow furrowed. Murina could sense something was about to go terribly awry, and sure enough, Alphonse snapped his fingers to get the waitress's attention.

"Oi! What th' fuck izzis?" he barked at the doe who'd served him.

"That's... that's your meal, sir. You did order the filet, right?" she responded, not wanting to get too close.

"I ordered a STEAK, bambi! Did I order off the pup's menu an' not realize? Didjoo think I was a wee baby in a grown rat costume?"

"N... no, sir, that's just the size o-"

"Get 'at sodding squirrel back here!!" Alphonse hollered. Murina buried her face in her hands.

When the host arrived, he looked midway between aggravated and nervous, unhappy to have to deal with the rat again but not wanting to antagonize him further. "Something the matter, sir?"

"Yeh somethin's the matta! Where's the rest o' me Charlie?"

"...sir?"

"I order a steak an' you lot gimme a thumb! Dis lovely lass is payin' you her 'ard-earned money," his abrupt compliment caught Murina's attention immediately, "An' you give us half a servin'? You fucking 'oarders are all th' same! Ask f'r a pound and give back a penny!"

Murina interjected, again trying to defuse the situation. "Ben, do you think we could give Mr Norwich a, er, full size portion?" she asked, eyes positively pleading with him, as well as apologizing profusely. She knew she was straining the good will she'd built up over the years there, and also that she'd be paying handsomely for the increased meal size.

Huffing, his tail fully bushed up and bristled, the squirrel nodded. "I believe we can." Then, turning to Alphonse, he bowed slightly. "I'm sorry, Mister Norwich," the squirrel over-enunciated the name, dripping with sarcastic respect, "We will have your meal ready shortly."

When the server and host departed, Alphonse looked pleased with himself. "See 'at, lass? Squeaky wheel, eh?"

Murina leaned in, her voice hushed but forceful. "Alfie, you canNOT conduct yourself this way if you want to get a contract!"

"What y'mean?" he asked, looking genuinely unsure, as though he thought he'd just done a good thing. In his mind, he'd stopped the greedy owner of the restaurant from ripping Murina off, and she knew that's how he'd interpreted the situation. She rubbed at the bridge of her muzzle, sitting back again.

"You have to behave yourself," the small rat continued. "The FBA isn't owned and run by rats. You KNOW this. If you want that contract, they have to know you aren't going to be calling them... those names, or disrespecting their species. Do you think any team owners and managers are going to want to work with a rat who's badmouthing every species under the sun?"

Alphonse narrowed his eyes at Murina. "You're startin' to sound like a nonnie-lova, Muri." Of all the words he'd spoken that afternoon, that one came with the most venom. He seemed to take insulting other species as a simple fact of life, that it was a given that they'd be beneath him or conspiring against him for one reason or another. His accusation laid against Murina, by contrast, sounded as though he were genuinely angered by the idea. It left her in a delicate position.

"Alfie, can we speak rat to rat?" she asked. He nodded, and she took a moment to gather up her phrasing, wanting to avoid riling him further or giving him the impression she in any way agreed with his beliefs. "Listen. The FBA isn't the Alley. It's made up of all kinds. Rats, wolves, geckos, snakes, finches, and fish. You may not like them, but if you want to land a contract, you have to be willing to cohabitate with them. They'll be your teammates and trainers, coaches and managers."

There was a pause, then Alphonse's overconfidence appeared again. "I ain't bunkin' up wit' no mudsuckas an' rattlebacks. They give me my space an' we'll all be biscuits and gravy."

Murina sighed, as the doe server brought Alphonse his super-sized meal. He looked satisfied and, after subtly accusing the squirrel of spitting on it, began to eat. It was a disgusting sight. Rather than cutting the meat, the rat simply speared it on the fork and gnawed at it, like an ice cream cone made of beef. He even tried to keep up the conversation with his mouth packed full, which made it impossible for Murina to make eye contact with him. She was grateful they were seated at the rear, since it meant only a few of the restaurant's patrons would see her guest's "table manners".

The conversation continued, although most of it was Alphonse talking through a muzzleful and Murina trying to hide her revulsion at his conduct. The topics stayed around the same few they'd been discussing, with Alfie boasting what he'd be doing in the league once he got drafted, conspiracy theories concerning the lack of rats, questioning Ray Rodin's integrity, and leveling a number of outrageous accusations toward some of the league's more high profile players. At this point in the meal, Murina simply wanted it to be over and get him back to her office so they could talk behind closed doors.

Finally, mercifully, Alphonse finished eating and said he was ready to go, after he'd thrown back his fifth beer. Murina paid, leaving quite the sizeable tip, which Alfie clearly didn't approve of, and they went back to the limo. There was a moment of silence in there, not counting a loud belch on Alphonse's part, before Murina turned to him.

"May ask I you something?"

"I'm an open book, luv," he said, grinning broadly.

"When was the last time you left the Alley? I mean, before today."

If there were any questions he'd expected, that certainly wasn't one of them. He shrugged, posture changing to a slouch. "Dunno. Four, five years maybe?"

Murina nodded. Things were beginning to make sense. It certainly didn't excuse any of Alphonse's behavior, but it certainly explained a great deal of it. "Well, you realize you can't play in the FBA from the Alley. You'll be living in the United States. Are you ready for that?"

He laughed. "You say 'at like there ain't rats in the States! You yanks ain't my favorites, but I'd take livin' with a whole boat of yankee rats to bein' stuck in a room with one fuckin' buggie. 'Sides, mebbe I'll get lucky and get a place 'ere in town, eh?" He winked broadly at Murina. "Said yer rates are good. Mine are betta, luv." He gripped his crotch lewdly, causing her to wrinkle her nose in distaste. She turned away, simply halting the conversation there.

Once they arrived at her small office building, and following yet another rude comment toward their driver, Murina led Alphonse inside and told him to take a seat on the couch in the main area. He did, propping his boots up on her coffee table, and leaned back, hands behind his head.

"So, we ready to make 'istory togetha, babe?"

Murina sighed, pressing between her eyes in an attempt relieve the tension headache. "Alphonse! Do you have a CLUE how difficult it's going to be to get a team to draft you? You've been in town less than a day and you've already defiled an airport, nearly gotten kicked out of a restaurant, insulted a limo driver and came within inches of assaulting a couple who'd just been walking past! You come here with your dirty clothes and patches from bands I'm SURE aren't known for their friendliness toward other species, spit on everyone around you, and you expect me to take you and... what? Tell the owners of the FBA teams 'here, you'll like this guy, when he's not playing basketball he's terrorizing any non-rats in his path'?"

She expected Alphonse to be angry or insulted at her outburst. He wasn't. In fact, he just laughed, although it wasn't entirely in good humor. He slowly put his feet on the floor and stood up. "I think you been spendin' too much time around these nonnies, forgot just what it means t'be a rat, luv." The tall rodent stepped up extra close to Murina, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. "What d'ya say I help you rememba, eh?"

Murina's entire body tensed up. She quickly spun on her heels and stomped over toward her private office. When she returned, she had a rather thick folder in her paws and threw it down on the table in front of Alphonse. He looked down at it, confused.

"What's all this?"

"Those," she explained, "are the files of some of the draft submissions this year. Go ahead, take a good look through them. There are over fifty in that folder alone, I've got more in my desk. You're not the only one who threw his name in the hat, Alfie. If you don't want to do what it takes to get that contract, there's dozens who'll leap at the opportunity. You think my phone isn't ringing off the hook every day? You think you're the only one I've taken out to lunch? I'm willing to take a chance with you, Alphonse, but if you're not willing to meet me halfway, I can't work with you."

He furrowed his brow, slowly picking the folder up and leafing through it. "...ain't a lotta rats in here," he noted, almost sulking.

"You're right. There aren't. I wish there were, but there aren't. And you know what? The ones who ARE in there aren't threatening random passersby and hurling slurs at restaurant employees. Here," she threw a small envelope on the table. "There's a return ticket for tonight. I was hoping to call up the airline and get my money back for it, but it looks like you aren't interested in taking this seriously. I'm sorry, Alphonse. I hope you enjoyed your meal. Woodrow will drive you to the airport, provided he hasn't left after your last insult."

Murina went into her office and sat at her desk, panting. Her heart was racing. She'd just thrown down the biggest bluff of her career. It was true, she couldn't work with Alphonse unless he showed at least a willingness to clean up his act for the sake of landing a contract, but she also desperately needed him to. Signing him, turning him into the success she just knew he could be, would turn her career around. She'd be the miracle worker, the one who proved that stars can come from anywhere. But if he left, she had no backup. There were others she had her eye on, but none that offered what he did. Worse still, her stock in Harris's eyes would fall dramatically.

Seconds passed like hours, when she heard quiet clomps of boots on the hardwood floor. Alphonse was standing in the doorway. "Er, 'ey Muri? I was thinkin'... maybe we could talk a li'l more about all 'is. Maybe we can... y'know... work summin' out."

Murina swallowed hard, doing her best to seem calm and collected while her stomach was doing backflips. "Yes, Alphonse. I believe we can."