Stagart Studios – Mixing stage
June 30th, 2018, 3:34 PM
In the past two days, Milo has tangoed around the clock in order to make the right kind of prehistoric creature sounds to seal his end of the deal with Stagart. Furrowing through various libraries of animal recordings, both sapient and non-sapient, the buck rabbit assembled his database. The studio recording session helped him with acquiring proper, unique mammalian vocalizations that would help distinguish his own sound design from what was already familiar on the market. The wild animal sounds at his disposal were more formulaic, but nevertheless helpful.
Right up until the afternoon of the second day, there came compression, equalization, pitch-shifting, morphing and all the tidbits of a sound designer's work that were naught but a mystery to a layman. Yet, at the end of it all, the layman was to feel and perceive all that work as a cohesive whole, immersive and otherworldly.
On the afternoon of the second day, everything Milo had done would have been put to the ultimate form of scrutiny – the director's intuition and tastes.
"Hmm…" Ed Horner, the director, a takin, twirled his beard, having listened to this first take wholly. His eyes played about in a show of slight disappointment, "I'm not getting the right vibe from the T. rex and the raptors. They're neither unique nor too scientifically accurate at first bite. I don't know. The T. rex shouldn't be roaring, and I get a lot of that, you know… generic roar from this. I don't want a roar. I want a bellow, grumble or hiss kind of thing, you know what I'm saying?"
Regardless of how little Milo liked the feedback, he reserved his negative sentiment for himself, "I'll see to it."
"And these raptors…" Ed pinched his left hooves together, as if he was searching for an elusive word, "If you could just take something that's less… screechy for those attacking sounds, that'd be great. Everybody knows screaming raptors are so over."
It looked as though this wasn't going to be finished as quickly as Milo had hoped. Alas, it turned out that this was the nature of the beast as it were. The promotion would have to wait.
"The herbivores all sound pretty cool, though! Wouldn't change a thing." This remark brought Milo's attention back up, and slightly his mood. Then the takin said, "Just work on these meat-eaters while you've got time, and you've got plenty, so…"
Stagart interjected to prevent any kind of nagging, "I'm sure it'll turn out fine. At least now we've got a clearer heading."
"Right," Ed concurred, then rose from his seat, "So, I'll see you next time at the end of the deadline. Until then, send me snippets, if it's easier for you to get feedback that way. We can keep in touch."
"Yeah, that'd be great," Milo nodded, in hopes of it actually coming true.
"All right, gents," Ed waved to the duo, smiling courteously, "I gotta get going now. I'll see you next time. Ba-bye!"
As he closed the door, Stagart mulled over the situation. While hiccups were something that he believed to come naturally with a new employee taking up a higher-ranked position, he noticed that Milo didn't seem to take it all that well. He appeared lost in thought as he was slumped in his seat.
"What's the matter?" Stagart asked.
"I've scoured through all my libraries for birds and reptiles," Milo replied with an overtone of doubt and ponderance, scratching his chin. "I don't know how to get to any more sounds without taking a field recording trip."
"You sure about that, Rabberts?" Stagart raised his eyebrow.
"Pretty sure. There was nothing that-" Before Milo could even word his thoughts, he was cut off by his chief immediately.
"Then you take a field recording trip," Stagart spoke steadfastly, rising from this seat, "Record something that's wholly you and isn't a stock sound, then put it into the mix and see how it works."
Milo's ears jumped up in utter shock, raising his hands apprehensively, "Wait. Sir, I don't have time to record that many-"
In response, Stagart simply flashed a business card from one of his jacket pockets and showed it to Milo, "The Steve Ermine Zoological Research Center on Outback Island has been our partner for over twenty years for recording wildlife. They're cut off from the traffic and teeming with wildlife, so you couldn't ask for a better location with regards to noise. Two days will do. Your equipment will be given to you by us, and optionally, hire a partner to help you out with boom operation. You said you're capable of recording wild animals, so I fully take your word for it. You'll have paid ferry tickets, hotel stay and any liability issues, but I expect you to take care of the equipment you're given. Is that okay?"
Hearing all this out was a stark reminder to Milo that he was all in when it comes to this assignment, and that he had to do whatever it takes to make it work. If it was a two-day recording session that was necessary, then he'd see it done, even if he thought it was a short amount of time. Milo nodded, "Yes, sir. That's okay."
"Good," Stagart curled the edge of his mouth into an ever-so-slight smile, "Call him up to schedule a session for tomorrow and the day after."
"Wallace Beanie?" Milo read from the card.
"Yup," Stagart nodded, before closing in on Milo and lowering his voice a little, "Oh, and just between us, he's quite a wild card, so don't get too comfortable around him. By the way, let me know whom you've hired as a boom operator."
This cautionary warning was kind of outre for Milo, but he had to take his boss' word for it, "Yes, sir. I'd best be off, now. Those sounds won't be designing themselves."
"All right," Stagart nodded, thereby approving his departure, "Good luck."
"Thank you," Milo hopped down from his seat and scurried out the door with the intent to finish his venture as soon as possible.
Lionheart Avenue
3:44 PM
Even though he had enough logical arguments in his favor and a slight tinge of motivation to go on this field recording session, Milo knew it would take more than his good will and resolve to make the trip to Steve Ermine's worthwhile. There were animals of all shapes and sizes at that sanctuary; some of them were really small, and some of them rather large. Some species were docile, while others were groomed by nature to be carnivores and, as such, quite dangerous. They could destroy his microphones and boom, if they so choose. He knew he couldn't count on his own strength to wield a boom for close-miking water-dwelling animals like crocodiles, or large snakes. He needed someone larger, stronger and with far more reach than him, while he manned the recorder.
As he left the studio complex, he saw Melanie making her way to a street crossing. Before she could get away, the buck darted towards the giraffe, "Hey, Mel! Wait up."
"Hi, Milo!" Fortunately, she was one of the few mammals his age who knew better than to wear headphones on the street, "How's your sound effects deal going?"
"Well, I've kind of hit a speed bump," Milo explained himself, "I have to go into the field to record wildlife, and I need help. You know, someone with reach, a long boom, that kind of stuff."
Melanie listened intently, with a slow nod, "Right. So, where are we going?"
"Well, it's on…" It occurred to Milo that his question may have already been answered, "Wait. We?"
"Yeah, we!" Melanie chuckled, "I know it sounds kind of out of the blue, but I just took a week off."
"It's on Outback Island. Two days, starting tomorrow, with a hotel stay," Milo explained to the giraffe, "If you could make it, that'd be great."
"You're on," Melanie winked, then extended her index hoof in the rabbit's direction, "Just call me when you get home, so we can talk about setting everything up, okay?"
"Of course, of course," Milo nodded, then graciously clasped his hands together with a smile that emanated pure gladness, "Thank you so much…"
"Aw, you're cracking me up…" Melanie laughed in endearment, before hearing a bus horn behind her, "I gotta trot off, now. I'll miss my bus."
"Right; see you!" Milo waved away, even though the giraffe was cantering rather than trotting.
With the matter of team work out of the way, Milo had no qualms about anything relating to the recording trip. Fortune was on his side, indeed. All he had to do was make sure it stayed that way.
Just when the buck took out his phone with the intention of informing Stagart about the newly assembled duo, it rang. Seeing that the caller was Steve, it piqued his curiosity. He answered, "Hello?" Whatever Steve had to say made Milo a bit apprehensive, "Well, I don't know. I'm gonna have to get ready for-" Here, the buck cut himself off, and his initial look of concern faded into an excited grin, "The Pink Elephant Pub? Otis holding a meeting? Don't move a muscle; I'm coming right over!" With that, the buck rabbit stashed away his phone and darted towards the parking lot. Whatever Milo was rushing to, it was clearly an event worth noting.
The Pink Elephant Pub, Bayou Trail 78, Southern Savanna Central
4:13 PM
This bar, in contrast with its name, wasn't a place where revelry and alcoholism were common practices. Here, one had the opportunity to do a multitude of things: either meet and greet the Motorvators (a motorcycle club that owned the bar and used it as a gathering area), or occupy one of the many attractions that were laden across the bar, be it the bowling alley, arm-wrestling stand or pool tables. The bar itself was situated on the west wing. In front of each chair, one could see a small seat protruding from slightly under the bar, to accommodate for smaller mammals that wished to reach the bartop.
Although the Motorvators were, by in large, a peaceful, law-abiding club and no ruckuses took place here, today was an exception. Today, the bar interior was ringing with the disaffected screaming of young adults, whom the club officials were trying to placate.
"Look, I don't know where you're pulling this from, but we're not posting alligator hides anywhere on the web," the bartender, a portly grizzly bear wearing a jean vest and a beret explained desperately to some very angry small mammals.
"Then stop wearing reptile leather, specists!" One of them, a male dik-dik, dressed in a plaid shirt with thick glasses adorning his eyes, croaked petulantly.
"That isn't helping the conservation of endangered species, you know?" Added a female wolverine dressed in a suit jacket, with some dyed fur implants for hair, with an overtone of moral superiority permeating her voice, "For all we know, we shouldn't even be wearing animal products!"
A lioness who was sitting to the bear's right rolled her eyes in annoyance, and unapologetically called the wolverine out, "Says the girl with a wool hat…"
"Hey!" The small predator shrieked defensively.
"Dude, like, chill," Steve was also in the midst of this, and trying to ease the ongoing tensions, "You're not doing-"
"You called her 'dude' without a trigger warning? That's a sexist microaggression!" The dik-dik was throwing what most resembled an apoplectic seizure at this point, "I'm like, so Tweeting this!"
The bear face-palmed in exasperation, seeing that there was nothing he and his friends could do right in the eyes of these mammals, "It's no use. Bulwark, get them out of here."
Bulwark, a large American wood bison with a chiseled physique, picked the two diminutive, but clearly overly aggressive, mammals and carried them away from the bar and out of the building.
"Hey! Let me go, you redneck!" The dik-dik cried shrilly, flailing his arms about, "You're gonna lose-" whatever other pearls they wanted to clutch were muffled by the closing door of the Pink Elephant Pub. The fourth mammal that was seated at the bar, an auburn wolf who had a pin with the name "Dave" written on it and held an acoustic bass in his hands, played the bassline of Yes' "Roundabout" as this situation ended.
Such was the behavior of mammals who were so blinded by their desire for validation and moral superiority that they couldn't see the wood for the trees.
"Rotten little attention hogs, if I ever knew 'em, these college kids…" scowled the fifth mammal in a nasally, raspy, Southern-accented voice – an elderly, portly wild boar with a muscle tee and a bandana over his head.
"Holy shizzle, Kenny, they're at it again?" Steve asked with concern, as the aforementioned bear returned to tending the bar.
"This is, like, the fifth time this month," Kenny said, frustrated by this predictably unreasonable, petulant behavior. He gestured at his brow, "Do they even ask themselves if some random dead gator photo on the internet is worth freaking out over?"
"Gotta get those victim points somehow," deadpanned the lioness.
"Ain't that the truth, Sam?" Kenny replied.
"They're just loungin' around, poking at their 'smart' phones and goin' to…" The grouchy old boar paused to snort contemptuously, before finishing his statement, "Twitter."
"Aw, come on, Si, old dude," Steve patted the old boar on the back, in a joking mode, "Everybody uses Twitter!"
Silas was no more jolly after hearing these remarks, regarding the magic of the world wide web as utterly superfluous, "Hmph. What kind of name is that, anyway? A bird don't moo, and a cow don't tweet."
"I think these twerps are giving Otis some right headaches at this point…" Samantha shared the group sentiment, still leaning on the bar. She stood out from the rest of the gang in that she wore a midriff-baring jacket over a pink t-shirt.
"So, I missed the show?" A male voice could be heard coming from the front door's direction.
"Oh, you bet you have, Spike…" Sam nodded snidely, before her face completely changed. A giddy smile crossed her fangs, as she turned around towards the newcomer, who happened to be Milo, "Spike! You're here!"
"Oh, Spike?" Kenny smiled joyously, echoing the unusual nickname. Dave, on the other hand, played the bass line of Michael Jackal's "Speed Demon" via the slapping technique and flashed a dopey grin of his own.
"Hey, guys!" Before Milo could even approach his friends, he was crushed in an affectionate smother by Sam, who started to play with his cheeks.
"It's been so long since I hugged you and pinched your squishy little cheeks!" The overjoyed Samantha soon felt the rabbit's small hand patting her on the arm, which was a message she understood all too quickly. She set him down on an elevated seat, and apologetically fixed his jacket while he caught his breath.
"Dude! You're ahead of time." Steve chimed in a congratulating manner.
"Well, I can't say I was fixing to miss another roll call," Milo fixed his jacket a little more. Nevertheless, he was happy to be in the company of his fellow bikers. By in large, the Motorvators weren't concerned with matters of species, gender or any kind of identity politics, valuing equal opportunities for all its members and applicants.
"So, let's hear some more about that promotion thing!" Kenny beamed joyously, leaning against his own end of the bar, "Steve told us you hit a deal."
Promptly, all eyes were fixed on a flustered Milo, who giggled nervously, "Well, I…"
"Well, well, well… Are you skipping work, or something, Spike?" A deep, husky male voice emanated from behind everyone, and drew everyone's gazes towards him. Walking inside, alongside Bulwark, was a tiger – a ten-foot-tall, middle-aged yet still muscular pantherine dressed in a black jacket adorned with spikes on the rims, with a Motorvator emblem on the left. He wore sunglasses, which he promptly removed as he approached the bar. His muzzle riddled with slight bald spots from healed scars, his eyes a dark brown. Dave slapped again, this time playing "Run For Cover". Anyone who was standing around Kenny respectfully got out of his way.
"Yo, Rick! How goes it?" Steve greeted, patting the tiger on the back. Suddenly, the cat's ear twitched and his tail stiffened, and a stringent glare came across his face.
"Hooves off. Now." Rick deadpanned, and the wildebeest complied quickly. As unlikely as it was for a feline to be averse to physical affection, it was clearly possible. The imposing tiger was conveniently standing to Milo's left, and took the time to address him, out of all Motorvators, "I'll take a wild guess here; you're feeling miserable because you can't make the connection that taking any kind of action is more likely to get you a sound designer's position than doing nothing." Afterwards, the tiger turned to Kenny, "Pour me a Corona."
Milo knew where this was coming from. He could see himself, exactly as he used to be only a few short months ago, behaving exactly the way his senior clubmate put it. This gave him all the more reason to break the good news, "Rick, I…"
"Just don't tell me you're going to do something about it. Every time you did, you went back to doing the same thing over again. To the surprise of absolutely nobody, it didn't make you feel better," Rick's sardonic edge wasn't dulled by anything he thought Milo had to say. He knew how insecure Milo was, and that he wasn't keen on change any time soon, "I'm sorry, but I'm tired of listening to you digging yourself deeper and not answering your wake-up call. I trained you long enough to know that you always fumbled at the sight of an obstacle." Feeling that he was done with the matter, the tiger turned to take a sip of the beer that Kenny poured.
The training Rick was talking about was in defensive martial arts. Everything said was true, no matter how grating, crudely put or discomforting it was. Still, Milo's conscience was at ease, because he knew what he was going to say in response was going to change his old mentor's mood, "I already answered my wake-up call."
Rick barely stopped himself from choking on his drink before turning back to Milo with an intent gaze, "Dazzle me."
"I struck a promotion deal with my boss," Milo explained, surprisingly fearlessly for everyone that was around him. Especially Rick, who was already rubbing his chin with curiosity about how everything came to be in the first place, "I have to create some sound effects for a TV show that's piloting soon, and now my career depends on it. It happened after a board meeting."
Rick sat like a gym teacher watching intently at his student going through an exam, slightly adjusting his whiskers, "Tell me what the meeting was like."
"Stagart asked if there was someone who wanted to help with some dinosaur sound design, and I volunteered. I asked to do it." The ease with which Milo talked about this was enough to put smiles on everyone's faces, even though Rick reserved his own ever so slightly.
"Yes!" Sam victoriously clenched her forepaw into a fist.
"All right!" Kenny cheered as well.
"On your own?" Rick was, if slightly, excited to hear about this.
"Yeah, all alone," Milo giggled innocently.
Si clapped his hands and chuckled in utter disbelief, "Criminently! Little ol' Spike showing some backbone? This I gotta hear…"
"It's true," Steve interjected, "I didn't have to talk it into him any more than you guys did, and I totally didn't think he'd follow through with it anyway."
Rick's gaze was no longer discriminating and scrutinous, but filled with happiness and pride. He asked, "How did it feel to finally be open about yourself?"
"It…" In this moment of honesty, Milo chuckled and smiled, "It felt great. Really. It was quite cathartic. I mean, I couldn't believe how easy it actually was. Of course, Xander wanted to louse it up." The buck shrugged, no longer annoyed by the matter.
"Spoiled little brat…" Sam concurred, cringing in disgust.
"What did that good-for-nothin' dirtbag want?" Silas scowled, albeit in a protective manner this time. Overall, no one was very happy to hear that name. It was almost as if they knew him well enough to dislike him.
Milo hesitated for a brief moment, before delivering his final words on him, "Whatever it was, I remember telling him that I don't care if he's got a problem with me and that he has no right to rob me of anything. I wasn't looking for a seal of approval from anyone; I just wanted to help, because I can." The buck rabbit then put on a cheeky half-smile, "And do the job I love, at the same time."
"See what I mean? He's been doin' totally radical, bros!" Steve raised his fist triumphantly, glad to know that he didn't need to speak for him. However, he noticed that Sam was looking at him, "And sis." Sam only chuckled and shook her head.
At this point, Rick could no longer contain a very wide smile. In his eyes, Milo passed the exam. At the very least, the first one in a line of exams. He extended his hand for a shake and nodded with unequivocal approval, "Now, you're talking…"
"What happened then, other than you getting the job?" Kenny pried curiously.
"Well…" Before Milo could say any more, he was cut off by the fluttering of small wings as a minuscule fruit bat landed on the bartop, slightly catching her breath, "Guys! Otis is coming down soon. You'd better get ready."
The Roll Call Cave
4:20 PM
The Motorvators descended into the basement of the Pink Elephant Pub, inside a large auditorium lit with LED lights. There was a long, horseshoe-shaped table that stretched almost all of the room's length and faced an enormous podium. This bar was built on the foundations of a 1940s radio station, and these parts of the architecture are all that remained of those bygone years.
Just as everyone sat down in quietude, thudding came from a staircase from right behind the podium, behind a beaded curtain very wide and high. The first thing that came through that curtain was a sharp point – a tusk.
As the tusk, very long and curving forward, moved the curtain aside, Otis Ivorson at last came into view. He was an African bush elephant, but even by his own species' standard, he was a giant. Standing at 15 feet high and with a surprisingly strong build, he dwarfed every other mammal in his current vicinity. Even though he was nearly sixty-eight years old, his left tusk greatly severed, his fan-like ears riddled with holes and rips and his face criss-crossed with wrinkles, he maintained an upright posture and a confident gait. He wore a black alligator hide vest over a blue jean shirt, while his head was adorned by a cowboy hat with the Motorvators emblem on the hat's face.
The old leader's arrival was met with adulation from the Motorvators, who clapped and whistled. However, all that the old elephant gave in response was a humble, wholesome smile and a wave with his trunk. As he approached the podium, his deep, resonant baritone, riddled with a Texan drawl, heralded the beginning of what seemed to be a meeting, "Afternoon, everyone."
The entirety of the club quieted down, only to perk their ears with the utmost attention, now that the meeting was in session. Otis donned his glasses and began to read from a sheet, "Okay, the first item we've got today is from the Blues. Our brother-in-law, Rodrigo Delgato, sent me a report this morning. Says something about reptiles being stolen from pet shops around the south of the city. Keep your noses clean, and try not to buy leather accessories until this thing is cleared up."
Even though this order was met with annoyed groans and eyerolls from fellow bikers, the elephant wasn't going to let his thoughts be oversimplified, "Don't get me wrong; I can't stand them self-righteous college kids next door any more than you. I just don't want us to end up in trouble over it. And, come Hell or High Water, keep politics out of the Motorvators. We ain't senators, we build bikes." He made his point all the more clear by patting his trunk on the podium surface. Then, he cleared his throat with a slight cough, before resuming his list, "Second item: LaFleur Children's Hospital in Bunnyburrow. Joey, where are we standing with the cruiser we planned for them?"
Joey, a grey wolf with a black stripe running along his fur, responded diligently, "The metalwork is done, and ready to be painted."
Otis addressed another wolf on the charity event, "June? The funding campaign to help 'em get started?"
June, a brown she-wolf sitting between Joey and Dave, clasped her hands together somewhat shyly, "Well, we've managed to get to 52% of our milestone this week since May. We're going to need a little more effort to get it done by July 25th."
Otis nodded in understanding, "Right. Have you done anything about it?"
"We did open up a donation box next to the bar, and a few posters outside. There's also the cross-country tour right before their grand opening. It might give us some attention," June conceded. The situation may have indeed looked slim, but she wasn't bent on leaving it to chance.
Even though this wasn't the result the club head was hoping for, he knew that this took time and effort and that things could turn around during the set time, "All right, then. Somethin' to ask, anyone?" This question was met with shrugs, aside glances and overall, silence, "All right. That's it for the day, and I hope you enjoy the rest of yours! Let's hit it." With that said, Otis went away from the mic and let out a blaring trumpet, which was followed by whatever vocalization the animals that could vocalize could offer.
The Pink Elephant Pub
4:30 PM
With the meeting over and nothing else to cover, the Motorvators resumed their regular activities. Milo and Steve themselves wanted to kick back a little before heading home. At present, there was no more interesting way to do so than watching Rick and Bulwark, two powerhouses in the club, squaring off in an arm-wrestling match.
With the corner of his ears, Milo could hear Otis' voice from behind, "Say, Kenny, you don't happen to have any more of that good old marula brew, do you?"
"You're in luck, Big O," Kenny agreed and provided, even opening the bottle and pouring a glass for the elephant's convenience, "Here it is."
Otis smiled courteously, raising the mug with his hand politely, "God bless. Cheers." Then, in the only way nature could permit him, he sucked the beer in with his trunk before pouring it into his mouth ever so gently, so as to not spill.
Milo met Otis a long time ago, when he was a child. The Motorvators were first friends to his late biological mother, and by extension, his father Gerard afterwards. Since then, he's looked upon the old elephant as someone who would always listen patiently to whatever anyone had to say, then unfailingly give them the most sound advice. For all his size, he had his feet on the ground and never saw himself as superior to any mammal. Milo felt like he had to tell him the news regarding his sound design, as well as share his gripes about it, "Hi, Otis."
Otis' right ear twitched ever so slightly as he turned over to the rabbit. A caring, welcoming smile crossed his face, "Howdy do, kit?"
"I'd be lying if I said I've seen better days lately," Milo fiddled with his thumbs before he turned his gaze up at the old pachyderm, "Work's really starting to pick up. For the better, too."
"Oh, yeah," Otis nodded solemnly, with a daredevil grin, "Some two months ago, you wouldn't even bite a biscuit, and here you are, already fixin' up to turn that career of yours around. Rick already told me about that." Suddenly, they both heard a loud thud coming from the arm wrestling table – it appeared that the bison won the match.
"Well, you got me there, Bulwark," Rick twisted his shoulders and massaged his weary right arm.
"Wanna go again after we take a break?" Bulwark asked playfully.
"You've done it," Rick pointed at him quasi-threateningly, laughing, "There's no way I'm gonna quit now."
Otis chuckled and shook his head, before he noticed that Milo was rather somber. It was as though things picking up at work weren't quite enough to solve all of his problems. It's not that Otis expected it to be that easy, but he needed to know about it nevertheless. He leaned in ever so slightly, "What's eatin' ya?"
Milo hesitated ever so slightly, but reminded himself that he couldn't afford doing this anymore. He sighed, "My first take on those dinosaurs wasn't exactly what the director was hoping for, and tomorrow, I have to go to Outback Island to record some wildlife."
"Little bump along the way?" Otis puzzled.
"I guess," Milo replied half-heartedly, "I know how to do all those things, but I guess I got too excited when I first got the assignment."
It seemed that Milo still needed to understand that if he wanted to do something he thought was worth doing, he had to do it a bit worse than he hoped the first few times. He needed to understand this was par for the course. Otis mused, "Let ol' Otis tell you something. In times like these, I just sat down and remembered what I set out to do in the first place. When you do that, that big wall you call a setback drops down a hundred feet. You get your bearings back together. And when you do, you get up, shake off the excess, try again and, this time, just beat the devil out of it. That's what ol' Bob Moss used to say, anyway."
Another thud rang from the arm wrestling table; but this time, Rick's tone suggested a different outcome, "Ooh, yeah! Who's the tiger in this outfit?!" He shouted, and high-fived the bison respectfully. Both were joyous, both were jovial and no hard feelings to be had.
"Awesomely super-sensationalistic, bro!" Steve clapped, and the clattering of his hoofs was enough to make the tiger's ears ring.
"All right, all right. Now, you're spoiling me…" Rick prompted him to stop.
This prompted a hearty laugh from both Milo and Otis alike. But Otis wasn't finished yet. He assuringly laid the tip of his trunk over the rabbit's shoulders, "Listen, kit: don't worry if it ain't right the first time. It ought to be like that, no matter what job you're doin'. What matters is what you get it in the end. If there's anything I know about you, it's that you don't give up on anything when you set your mind to it."
Milo couldn't help feeling a fair amount of drive knowing his new trajectory was received so well by all of his loved ones. It was a drive that he silenced at all costs for a large part of his career. A drive that told him he can do better. For once, his aspirations were in tune with his logical mind, and he looked at the world with much more clarity than before. What Otis said meant that success was never permanent, and that he'll have to titillate up and down the hill for as long as he lives.
"Thanks, Otis," Milo smiled.
"That ought to prove to Gerry that you can do it," Otis patted Milo on the back.
Milo shook his head in disagreement, "Well, I don't think it's that." The elephant was a little concerned that Milo would say something against his father, like he usually has, but listened anyway, "I never saw it as proving anything to him. I just… I want him to be proud of me. That's all."
Otis eventually backpedaled and nodded in concurrence, but not without a clause of his own, "I don't know how proud my pa was of me when I set out to build bikes instead of workin' on the railroad, but I know Gerry was always rooting for you. He was just worried you wouldn't follow with it, and I bet he's really glad you did now. Kim would be, too."
Kim – his mother. Minus the 'step'. The very mention of her name sent a pang of nostalgia and memory in Milo's heart, filled with a bittersweet collection of moment. In order to avoid wasting words on the matter, he simply nodded and smiled.
"Yo, Miles?" Steve approached the bar, standing between the two mammals of drastically disparate proportions, "Shouldn't we be heading out? I've got to put my grubby hooves onto some work, 'cause I have a deadline tonight."
This was a timely and well-asked-for call, because Milo wasn't exactly free-scheduled either, "I'd love to hang out more, but we gotta go. I have to get ready for tomorrow, too."
"Alrighty, then. Take it easy, you two," Otis nodded solemnly, as he followed the departing mammals with his gaze. At the last moment, Milo turned back around and waved, smiling with joy. Otis called out, "I know that you will." With that said and done, Otis turned back to his drink, then recounted everything that came to pass. Hearing this made his day all the better, because he truly did see Milo as a sort of grandson. A smile, showing both joy and benign surprise, molded the wrinkles on his face. What he read from the young buck today was proper motivation.
Well, here we are. I hope you all had a terrific Christmas and a splendid New Year so far! For you, I have a new chapter & new characters.
The Motorvators are a long-standing Motorcycle club in Zootopia that I had great fun coming up with. I wanted to make them as wholesome and approachable as I could, for a biker club.
That being said, I want to pose the old voice actor question again; which actors do you think will fit these Motorvators:
Otis
Rick
Kenny
Silas
Samantha
In any case, that was it for this chapter. Catch ya later on, down the trail!