Back in the hotel room, Zack and Terry were dealing with the wait far differently. While Zack was taking a shower, hoping to get some of the stink out of his fur from the previous night's festivities, Terrence was seated on the couch, wringing his hands. The television was on, but he wasn't paying attention.

"I don't get why you're all stressed out, dude," Zack called from the bathroom, straightening up for a moment to give his back a reprieve. "Doesn't yer bro get in trouble all the time back in London?" The seven footer also repeated his promise to buy himself a damn shower built for someone his height.

"Er, Liverpool, an' it ain't th' same, mate," Terry responded in a half-shout to be heard over the rushing water. "Back 'ome the coppas don't come t' the Alley much."

"Whoa, so like... you guys can just kinda do whatever?" Zack asked, curiosity piqued. His little brushes with Johnny Law when he was younger over minor infractions like loitering and grinding his skateboard on a bench had to pale compared to what Alphonse had been up to back in England, and the police just didn't care? No fair, he thought!

Terrence chuckled. "Eh... I guess?" he offered with a shrug. "But th' thing is, mate... Alfie ain't been locked up before. Almost none of us 'ave. Takes a lot f' the cops to come in. Usually when they're lookin' fer a body."

"I didn't catch that last part, bro, what whuzzat?"

"Oh, nothin'!" Terrence coughed. "Just sayin', Zack. I dunno how he's gonna do in 'ere."

Zack snickered. "That dude? C'mon, in't like he's up in San Quentin, man! I've only known the guy a day and I'm pretty damn sure no one's gonna fuck with him."

The tall zorilla turned off the water and carefully stepped out of the shower. It was a nice room, and for a hotel pretty spacious. Unfortunately, it was also not built for someone nearly his size. Zack had to angle himself carefully to avoid banging his limbs into the sink or the towel rack, almost taking his eye out on a hook to hang towels. Speaking of towels, despite his best effort to wrap one around his lean waist, it was difficult for Zack to keep himself decent.

Walking out into the main room, the polecat chuckled. "Man, I save a lot of time not havin' to deal with all that hair. Though I did almost snag my nip ring a couple times!"

He made his way over to his corner of the room, slipping past Terry and doing his best not to bump into the rat, digging through one of his suitcases for some shorts to throw on. "You'll see, dude. They're gonna be back any minute laughin' about this shit." Zack grunted, trying to stay in the corner spot by the bed and get dressed and failing miserably.

"Yo, Terry."

"Eh?"

"Don't tell yer bro I was gettin' naked with ya, I don't want him gettin' the wrong idea!" Zack said with a big, gravelly laugh, letting the towel down and getting dressed as quickly as he could. Back home it wasn't unusual for him or his friends to change clothes with someone else in the room, but he figured he should at least warn the foreign rat before stripping down, so Terry didn't look up and see something he didn't want to.

Shorts on, Zack chuckled to himself again. "Dude, you guys really need to get some oPhones or somethin', y'know? ...dude?"

Zack looked over at the couch and noticed it was empty. The slam of a door caught his ear, and the zorilla spun around to see that Terry had sped off into the bathroom.

"Huh. Didn't think I was in the shower THAT long," he said to himself and dropped on the bed.

Out in the hallway, Muri was repeating, once again, her litany of instructions to Alphonse. Don't tell anyone what happened, if anyone says they heard a rumor insist it's not true, deny deny deny. For the most part, there wasn't much reason to worry about the Brit going out and chatting up anyone about the night before, but at this point Murina knew that there was no such thing as being too careful. If she could, she would have been more than happy to handcuff the big oaf to the doorknob and just come up to get him when it was time to head to the convention center.

Of course, knowing Alfie, she'd come back to a door broken off the hinges and no rat.

The two went their separate ways, after a quick call to the front desk for a meal for Alfie, which seemed to mollify him. As she left him behind, Murina rubbed at her forehead and sighed to herself.

"Twenty four hours... twenty four hours..."

Alphonse knocked on the door, with his usual "open th' fuck up, it's me!" declaration. He had a keycard in his pocket, but years of living without ever being able to unlock a door for himself left the haggard with a routine. He immediately heard the shuffling of feet inside the room and the muffled voices shouting "that's him!!" before the door swung open.

"Alfie!!" Terrence shouted, relieved to see his brother again.

Laughing, Alphonse tugged his sibling in for a hug and a playful, if solid, headbutt. "What, y' thought y' was gonna get me gone that easy, eh?"

Zack even seemed relaxed upon seeing that his friend (even if "friend" was in its loosest form) back in the hotel safe and sound. A quick survey of the Alley rat showed the toll the previous night and morning had taken. His mohawk was down, the knees in his jeans torn out, bloody scabs on his elbows and palms from stumbling through the streets of Las Vegas while three sheets to the wind. All that said, though, he was in far better shape than he might have been. A drunk foreigner with a history of outbursts at non-rats wandering Vegas alone could have ended up in a ditch, if not worse.

"Welcome back, dude," the tall zorilla said, holding his hand out for a quick shake. Uncharacteristically, Alfie shook it.

Since his roommates knew where he'd been, Alfie felt no reason to worry about telling them his version of the previous night.

"I wouldn't o' believed it if I 'adn't been there, lads," he said in between bites of a huge burger and fries. "So afta li'l Zack 'ere decides 'e needs t' go nappy-bye," Alfie said, getting an eyeroll from Zack, "I fig I c'n go 'round and see just what all 'is place 'as t' offer..."

And so Alphonse Norwich IV began to weave his tale. From meandering his way through crowds of nonnies (all of whom obviously made space for him and knew not to mess with him) to cleaning house playing cards in casinos, to nearly getting in fights with bartenders and security after he started up a tab and promised to pay them back after he got his FBA contract, the punker rat had been a busy boy. He'd split with Zack shortly before midnight, and while he had no idea what time it was when the police picked him up, their earlier fact-finding mission had casino and bar workers mentioning that they'd seen him as late as three in the morning, over nearly a quarter mile of street space.

The room was echoing with laughter, "An' mates, swear on me bollocks, th' li'l tart starts yellin' "OH HELL NO YOU AIN'T GETTIN' NO FREE HEAD" an' starts runnin' me down, eh??"

Zack, nearly quivering from the story, managed to choke out. "Aw c'mon, you seriously didn't know she was a hooker?!?"

Alfie did his best to look innocent. "Mate, I thought she jus' wanted t' get with a future superstar!!"

It took some work, but Zack managed to convince Alfie to just hang tight and relax for the rest of the day, just sit in the room and wait for Muri to call so they could all go get dinner together. The zorilla stretched out on one of the beds, even though he didn't fit on it, watching the Bored Alfie show. The television was on, but Zack was far more entertained by Alphonse milling around, trying to keep himself entertained. He snickered to himself as the rat opened up the refrigerator, even though there was nothing in it, then went through all of the cabinets, played with the oven, turned on the diswasher, and even started making a valiant stab at reading the Gideon's Bible in the drawer. It was terribly obvious that it had been a long time since Alfie was in a position of not being able to just come and go as he pleased.

Dinner that night went impressively well. The whole group, including the current players, travelled to a rather sizeable steakhouse, and again the diminutive agent shouldered the cost in order to give her clients a pleasant experience (although Antonio managed to coerce her into letting him take some of the bill). There was far less discussion of numbers and business, instead the FBA hopefuls talked about themselves and how their weekend was going so far.

The only oddity were the relatively silent Norwich brothers. Terrence keeping his lip buttoned was nothing out of the ordinary, but Alphonse was usually one to take charge of the conversation and make it about him. This time around, though, he stayed quiet. He was listening to the others telling stories about their upbringings, and there was something Alphonse hadn't felt in a long time: shame. Hearing the pangolin's idyllic country life or Zack telling stories about skateboarding all across Santa Cruz, all the family vacations, sharing pictures on their fancy cell phones, it all made him sick. He began to stab at his steak harder and harder with his fork, doing his best to think about the meat on his plate, drown out the noise.

"How has your weekend been, Alfie?" Antonio asked, noticing the rat's grim expression and hoping to bring him into the fold. "Have you been enjoying Las Vegas?"

Alphonse shrugged. "Yeh, s'been fine," he offered curtly, not looking up from his dinner.

If it was possible for silence to be passed around, the Beaubonique table had managed it. Eyes jumped around, as if tossing the onus from one to another to try and include the surly rat. As abrasive as he was, it left a bit of a cloud over the meal that he was grinding his teeth in silence.

"They say you're from a... Rat Alley, Alphonse?" Evan piped up, having grown tired of the silence.

Alfie's eyes lifted toward the bird, briefly. "Thas right," he replied, just as short as before.

Undaunted, Evan continued. "So it was just rats there? Like a whole city of rats? That must have been something!"

The rat pulled a breath through his nose. "Whuzzat supposed t' mean, beaka?"

Evan quickly shook his head, lifting his hands up. "I didn't mean it in a bad way! I just mean... you know, going from that to here... it's a heck of a transition, right?" The woodpecker looked at the others, hoping for some sort of backup, knowing he'd just stepped into a minefield and needed help out.

Alphonse's lip curled, pointing at Evan with his fork. "I know right square what y' mean, y' rainbow cunt! Just 'cause I ain't from one o' yer frilly tits cities y'think I d-"

"Alfie!" Murina whisper-shouted at Alfie to quiet him down. It worked, much to even Muri's surprise, although it did end with the rat dropping his fork on his plate and leaving the restaurant, with Terrence immediately following behind and Murina herself a few seconds later.

The others turned their attention to Evan, and the avian made a confused face back at them.

"Was it me?" he asked.

A few moments later, the trio of rats returned, the largest of them looking tense, the smallest with a headache. They approached the table and, after a pause, Alfie looked over at Evan, the bird swiftly trying to sink back into his chair.

"...I'm sorry, mate. Just, y'know, stress o' th' draft an' all 'at."

Evan's browline popped up. "Oh! Uh... it's okay, Alf...ie?" He tensed up slightly, hoping his use of the rat's nickname wasn't going too far. Alphonse sat down without responding, which was as good a reaction as he could have hoped for.

The rest of the meal went fairly well, and Alfie even added to the conversation now and again, offering a couple basic details about his night previously with Zack, although everything he said seemed to be directed solely at Murina, Terrence, or the zorilla himself, as if the others weren't at the table. Antonio even gave a brief fly-by of his dinner with Terrence, which left the younger Norwich brother with his ears all red.

Afterwards, the whole crew went back to the hotel, and said their goodbyes and good lucks to one another. As was the usual, Murina hung back to have a quick word with Alphonse before they all went their separate ways.

"Okay, Alphonse? This is it. Tomorrow is the big day. That means up early, suit on, and... you might want to take a shower."

Alfie nodded once. "Awright. Er, how'm I gonna know when t' rise?"

Muri chuckled. "Zack has his alarm set, and I'll be calling all of your rooms. Relax for now, though. Unwind, get your head on straight." She patted him on the chest once and went to her room down the hall.

Inside again, Alfie dropped down on the edge of the bed and rubbed at his face. He hadn't had a drop of alcohol during dinner (much as he wanted one), but somehow he felt drunk. Or, if not drunk, at least somewhat afloat. All the pressure, the orders, the pomp and circumstance, and he hadn't even gotten to the damn draft night itself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Alphonse was wishing he'd never let himself get talked into sending that letter in.

"Yo... Arfie? Dude!!"

Alphonse snapped out of his little daze and turned to Zack. "Yeh?"

Zack chuckled. "Was just sayin' you can have the bed, dude. Figure you could use a soft spot to sleep after last night."

That actually got a genuine laugh out of Alfie, albeit a small one. "Thanks, mate. Where're you gonna curl up?"

Zack waved a huge hand. "I got a sleeping bag, I'll take the floor. These things aren't big enough for me anyway!" he said with a laugh.

It was a fitful night for Alphonse, but Terrence had an impossible time sleeping. The night before he'd had Zack and a few drinks to distract him, but now he was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, with nothing but his thoughts. Antonio mentioning their date (could he call it that?) highlighted how nice of an evening he'd had with the peculiar fellow. The exotic accent, his generosity. It was one of the most pleasant nights of his life, and it was making him miserable. After tonight, he'd never see Antonio again. He'd go back to England, Tony off to Winnipeg, wherever that was, and all he'd have would be a few memories. He wanted to go to sleep, just in the off chance he could revisit them in his dreams, but his mind refused to let him have even that.

Like the other two, Zack had a hard time sleeping, although unlike the rats, it didn't stop him from going to sleep so much as it woke him up early. The zorilla was up and moving nearly an hour before the alarm he'd set, and 58 minutes before he was expecting Muri's call. He hoisted himself up off the floor and stretched out, fingertips tapping at the ceiling. He looked over at the two rats in their beds, snickering at the fact that each one was all huddled up on the edge of it, leaving about three quarters of the mattress open.

"Shoulda just put 'em in one bed and taken the other one," he said to himself, then went into the bathroom to get started on his day. It wasn't the first time he was running on not much sleep, no worries.

The bright lights and quick movements of Las Vegas from Friday night, and somewhat from Saturday afternoon, had been eye-opening for Alphonse and Terrence, but that was nothing compared to the frenzy of the FBA draft itself. Media, fans, families, locals, future hopefuls, league executives, corporate representatives, and the draftees themselves all milling about the large convention center, nearly shoulder to shoulder. Alphonse felt like he was swimming through a sea of bodies, crammed awkwardly in the suit Murina had bought with him back in Boston. He was no happier to be wearing it now than he was back then.

Murina had given her litany of expectations for him once again, most of which amounted to little more than "shut up and don't start anything with anyone." To that end, Alfie and Terrence were sticking together and meandering the open space, taking some of the food that was offered and doing their best to stay away from anyone with a camera. The Norwiches never liked the media to begin with, but since coming to the States Murina had given him a glimpse of what reporters were saying about him and he didn't want to give any of them the satisfaction of getting him on camera just to make themselves more famous.

Not that Alfie was particularly good at being inconspicuous. He walked through the crowd as if everyone around him was just tall grass to be pushed out of the way, his broad shoulders knocking into anyone who was too close while Terry did his best to dodge around them. Once or twice he was met with a "hey what's the big idea??" that immediately shrunk away once they saw who had bumped them. A six and a half foot tall rat with a scarred up face and a mohawk was not a figure most wanted to tussle with.

"Tell y' what, Terry, I'll just be 'appy when 'is whole thing is up an' dusted."

Terrence whistled once. "Y'don't think it'll be like this all th' time, mate?"

Alfie snorted. "Best not! They try t' get me in another nonnie party like 'is and ye can put it in a basket 'at I'll b-OI!"

The big rat had walked straight into a slender canine, a dalmation/retriever mix, who'd been fiddling with his phone instead of looking where he was going. The impact sent the dog nearly falling over, if Terrence hadn't managed to catch him before he hit the floor. The younger Norwich helped him straight up while Alphonse just glared.

"Y'mind watchin' y' paws, mate??" he seethed, but managed to avoid any vulgarities for once.

The dog nodded. "I'm sorry! I was just checking my... hey, you're Alphonse Norwich!"

The rat eyed him. "Yeh? S'what if I am?"

Swallowing the canine mix tapped the press pass badge on his chest. "Daryl Conte! I'm here on behalf of the Weekly Times, my uh... my editor was hoping I could get a quick word with you, actually! Lucky I, er, ran into you!" he laughed awkwardly.

He'd managed to avoid the press so far, but now he was pinned down. If he shut the reported down and stormed away, that wouldn't be any better. It was one thing for all the reporters to go home saying they hadn't managed to get an interview, but another for one to say he tried and was turned away. Alphonse looked at Terrence, then sighed and dropped his shoulders.

"Yeh, all right. Just make it quick, eh?"

Daryl nodded brightly. "Great! Well, first thing's first," he pulled out his phone and held it up, clearly using it as a recorder. "Mr Norwich, what have the past few weeks been like for you?"

Alphonse took a breath and did his best to stay composed. "S'been wonderful. I love it 'ere. Can't wait t' move over t' America permy like."

Daryl paused, waiting for more. When none came, he coughed once and continued. "What are your plans in the event that you get drafted?"

The two rats looked at each other briefly. "Plans? I plan on gettin' a big 'ouse an' a load o' fancy cars I ain't gonna be steerin' around."

Another pause before the next question, the slight reporter looking a bit uncomfortable asking it. "Will any of the money be going back to the... Rat Resistance?"

That was clearly crossing a line, and Alphonse let him know by stepping up close to Daryl and glaring down at him. "Y'wanna run that by me again?"

Quickly, Daryl looked down at his phone, reading the next question. "Okay, moving on, what kind of illegal..."

Back in the Alley, this would have been the point where Alphonse answered that inquiry with his fist, but in Vegas, waiting for the draft, he managed to keep it together enough just to turn on his boot heel (Murina, for all her efforts, couldn't convince him to put on dress shoes) and excuse himself from the interview. He was willing to answer questions about his hopes for the future or what he thought about Vegas, but he wasn't going to stand for getting railroaded by loaded questions. Not now.

"Mr Norwich! Please!" Daryl called after him, swiftly scooting around in front of the much larger rat. He normally wouldn't want to step in FRONT of an angry character like Alfie, but his job was hanging in the balance. This was his first real assignment, and if he botched it that would mean packing his things up and maybe even blackballed from the industry. But if he could land the interview? Get a few answers on the record from the infamous Toxteth rat? That could move him up the ladder.

"Mr Norwich, I'm sorry about those. I was given those questions on a list. Let me start again, no unfair questions, okay? Give me one question, and if you don't like it, you can go, but if it's okay I'd like to ask a few more."

Alphonse closed his eyes a moment and gritted his teeth. "ONE ask, mate. ONE."

Daryl nodded eagerly, holding his oPhone up once again. "Okay, um... how has your family reacted to all this? I'm sure they're very proud of you."

Braced for disaster, Daryl relaxed when he saw Alfie actually pause and think that over. "Yeh, y' could say 'at. Mum's been a little on th' fence, but we 'ad us a nice throw b'fore we left, didn't we, Terry?" he said, nudging his brother, who chuckled in the affirmative.

Eased somewhat, the interview resumed. "Even with the potential for you to move stateside."

Alfie snorted. "Yeh, maybe at first it'll be tough, but once 'ey start gettin' some o' my paychecks they'll be right as a rail."

That piqued Daryl's curiosity. "Oh? How much will you be sending back."

The rat shrugged. "Much as I can, I fig."

Daryl hummed a moment. "We've heard a lot about, and from, your agent during all this. How important do you think Murina Beaubonique has been for you?"

"Muri? Wouldn't be 'ere without 'er. Now listen mate, y' got y' li'l talkie, y' can go back an' tell y' boss y' did a good job. Now if you'll be so kind. Fuck off." With that, Alfie walked off toward the food again, hoping to find some alcohol.

Daryl stood there a moment, holding his phone, the last comments recorded just like all the ones preceding. He looked over at Terrence, a faintly apologetic smile on his face.

"That uh... didn't go too bad."

Terrence let out a light laugh. "Don' worry about 'im, mate. Just got the jittas about all 'is, eh?"

Daryl tucked the phone into his pocket. "I suppose. You're his... younger brother, am I right?"

Terry nodded. "By almost a year, yeh."

"If you don't mind my saying, you're a lot less, er, abrasive than Alphonse."

That got a small, not exactly humous laugh out of Terrence. "Well, 'e's seen a lot more'n I 'ave. Think y' could do us a handy?"

"I don't see why not. What is it?"

Terrence's expression grew more serious. "Don't tell y' boss about all 'at. Last thing Alfie needs is a story 'bout how he told a reporter t' fuck off, eh?"

Daryl nodded. "Of course! No problem."

Terry smiled. "Thanks, mate," he said simply, and went back to join his brother. Daryl was left to reflect on his interview. Not just that, but the epilogue with Terrence. One Norwich gruff and surly, the other almost... gentle? Was that possible for a rat from the Alley? But the way he spoke, that little smile. So unexpected from what he'd heard about the rats of the Alley. The canine mix ha a lot of words to put down about his brief encounter, and went to write them down before he forgot them.

Some time later, the draft candidates were all ushered into the main hall, with their assigned seating. Murina was with a few of her clients, Alphonse on her right, Zack and Evan to her left. The others were nearby. The introductory procession was an impressive one, with a long animated feature celebrating all of the candidates, the cheers from the crowd getting louder in areas depending on who was on the screen. Once the applause and excitement died down, the draft itself began. The commissioner came out, droning in his usual monotone, thanking the crowd for coming, and immediately launching into the selections.

First up was the Edmonton Totems, who picked Siegfried Romanoren, a white lion from Germany. That was no surprise, he'd gotten the top spot at the FBA top 24 game a few weeks prior, so everyone was expecting him to go first. After that went Wayne Kirkpatrick to the Pittsburgh Keystones, and the cocky Tasmanian Devil looked so pleased with himself to have gone second.

At their table, Murina sat with a glass of wine, sipping on it at a pace that was a bit faster than her usual. She was hardly expecting Alphonse to go in the first round, but that didn't dull the sting every time a name was called that wasn't his or one of her other clients. Much as she didn't want to admit it, deep in the recesses of Murina Beaubonique's mind was a part of her that wanted him to go unsigned. It was awful, and she felt guilty for even thinking it, but if the names were called and Alphonse was left out, it would mean that the ordeal was over. She'd done all she could, it was out of her hands, and that was that.

No, she thought. That's not right. All that work, for nothing? Be satisfied with that? If Alfie didn't get drafted she'd immediately start making phone calls to the teams, get him signed afterwards. Come hell or high water, Alphonse was going to get into the league.

The first surprise of the night came when Evan Marshall went sixth. Evan, sitting near Kinny Demarcus, the rookie bush viper who'd dropped by unexpectedly to cheer on the new draftees. With his perky demeanor, he was a natural fit to make quick friends with the chipper woodpecker, and the two of them seemed to be hitting it off fairly well. Kinny had been one of the surprises from the previous year, a player not even in the top 24 that went in the first round, and seemed to be in the middle of assuring Evan not to worry too much about not getting picked early when the bird's name came up. In his usual fashion, Evan shook absolutely everyone's hand on his way to the stage, taking twice as long as anyone else had and posing for as many pictures as he was allowed to.

From there, Muri's client base remained unmentioned. To her right, Alphonse was tense. She expected him to be angry, impatient, ready to spit some sort of epithet at every player who was selected instead of him. To her surprise, he looked just plain nervous. The big rat had chewed the claw on his little finger down to a stub, and was in the process of scratching his way through the tablecloth. As name after name came echoing out of the loudspeakers, Murina braced herself for the inevitable.

"For the fifteenth pick of the first round," the commissioner announced, "the Hawaii Kahunas select... Alphonse Norwich IV!"

In an instant, all of Alfie's nervousness vanished, replaced with that cocksure grin. Murina was so taken by surprise she dropped her glass. For the past twenty minutes she'd been making lists of phone calls she'd make after the full list of forty eight had come without Alphonse being among them. She told herself that was what she'd do "unless someone later in the second round grabbed him". First round wasn't even on her radar, let alone fifteen. She sat, jaw gaped, looking around to make sure she'd actually heard the name she thought she did and that it wasn't the wine playing tricks on her. That couldn't have been right, could it?

No tricks, no mistakes, Alphonse Norwich IV had been selected to play for the Hawaii Kahunas. The big rat stood up and clomped his way onto the stage, and even managed to shake hands with the GM and coach, although he didn't put the traditional hat on, pointing at his mohawk as the reason why (which actually got a laugh out of the crowd!). Cameras flashed, with applause that had an undercurrent of murmurs all through the crowd asking why Hawaii had taken such a risk on a player like Alphonse. Why him over players who had showings in the combine?

In truth, she didn't have an answer.

That didn't matter, though. What mattered was that after all those months of sleepless nights, the bottles of aspirin, and running herself to the breaking point, she had done it. She had gotten Alphonse drafted. Against all odds, the punk brute from the slum of Liverpool was now a professional athlete. She turned the specist oaf into a hot commodity. She had proved that no one's background could stop them from making it big. If Alfie could get drafted, there was no such thing as an impossible case. Alphonse Norwich was a pro baller.

When Alfie got back to the table, after giving his brother a hug (prompting a wave of camera flashes), he dropped down on his chair and crossed his arms, looking more confident than ever. A moment passed, and he turned to Muri.

"So where th' fuck is Hawaii, eh?"

Murina Beaubonique clenched her eyes and rubbed at her forehead. She had a feeling that the real work was just beginning.