A Casual Meeting Between Coworkers

Miré settled himself into the booth of the cafe, his large black and white wings taking up the seat entirely and blocking the window from his view. He breathed a deep sigh and ran his hands through his curly white and black hair. He picked up the newspaper on the table and unfolded it, shielding himself from the glares of the human customers. He shouldn’t receive the attention he did- he wore the uniform of the rangers, a symbol that he turned his back on his own kind. Unfortunately for him, it didn’t work like that. If betraying your species was all it took to get the humans’ respect, there would be more than two avians on the force.

When he heard footsteps by his table, Miré slowly lowered the newspaper to give his order to the server. But it wasn’t the server. The server doesn’t insert himself into your booth seat and get comfortable with a coffee that he already bought. No, this was Hanson McCay- Mire’s partnered ranger, unfortunately. He put his hands behind his head and looked at the glaring Mire directly in the eyes.

“Fancy meeting you here, Romirov,” Hanson smirked, pushing his dark brown hair from his face. Miré glanced around the restaurant and grumbled- Hanson’s appearance garnered more attention than he would have liked. And rightfully so. Hanson was an avian- the only other avian ranger- but he had no wings. Instead, down his back ran two long scars, the bottoms of which were in plain view because of Hanson’s cropped shirt.

Miré looked Hanson up and down and sighed with disinterest. “I wish you’d wear a proper uniform,” he said. “You know it’s winter, right?”

Hanson ignored the comment. “So I hear you got called on a mission without me.”

“I’m just catching a guy.”

“Oh please, i’m sure you have more information than that! Are you really going to ignore your assigned partner?”

Miré glared at Hanson. “They only made us partners because we’re both avians,” he said, flipping to the next page of the newspaper. “Anyway, an avian escaped from jail earlier and flew off into the north forest. They need me because I can fly to catch him… which you can’t-.”

“Let’s see here…” Hanson started, disregarding whatever Miré was saying. Miré’s eyes shot over to his partner who was loudly unfolding a familiar piece of paper.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Miré growled, reaching over to snatch the paper. “That’s the report for the job!”

Hanson simply dodged the hand aimed at him. “Sorry,” he smiled, feigning innocence, “I've got sticky fingers.” He carefully flattened out the sheet and started reading it. “Let’s see here… 20 year old escaped from jail, Markus Hammond, crow avian with down overgrowth. Was seen with an accomplice when first captured although his red-haired friend is yet to be found.”

“All he did was fly without a permit and punch a police officer in the face,” Miré sighed. “I don’t think you’ll be missing all that much anyway, Hanson.”

“Yeah, but it takes guts to escape from jail. Maybe he’ll punch you, too. Either way, you can tell me all about this thrilling adventure when you get back.” And with that, Hanson picked up his drink and strutted out of the coffee shop, leaving Miré alone to finally order.