Heather Mine headed into the "creatively" named Fox Ice Cream Joint which was, surprisingly enough, an ice cream parlor run by foxes. She groaned; the door had felt so heavy to her. She'd just finished with her strenuous exercise regime. She knew she probably didn't have to work herself so hard for college-level pawball, but she figured there was no point in giving it any less than her best.
She headed to the smallest register, where a smug looking fennec fox wearing pastel and white colored clothes greeted her. Heather looked at his name tag. A fennec named "Finnick". This place was just full of "surprises".
"What can I get you?" Finnick asked her in his extremely deep voice.
"Think I'll have a small-size double scoop of vanilla, with sprinkles," Heather looked over the menu. The cool, sweet treat would be just the refreshment she needed.
"Vanilla?" Finnick scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "Girl, we got thirty-six flavors."
"Yes, and vanilla is the one I want!" Heather snapped. "There's nothing wrong with vanilla!"
"Ooh, feisty! I like that," Finnick chuckled, filling her order. "You keep that up. We small animals have gotta keep our zest."
Heather rolled her eyes and paid for her treat, picking up the ice cream bowl and spoon and heading to a bar-stool close to the register to eat it. There weren't many other small-sized customers to serve, so Finnick ended up glancing over at Heather every now and again.
The stoat reflected over her life at Zootopia University. She couldn't really complain. She'd easily placed onto their Female Mustelid Pawball Association team. Though it was just the college level, she was determined to give it her all. She was intensely aggressive in her play style, and often ended up scoring the most goals on her team. Stoats were rather infamous among mustelids for their temperament, but Heather's exuberance on the field stood out even among her contemporaries. Her practice doing physical "tricks" with her friends in her youth led her to develop some unique kicks that she showed off every now and again. She gave a grin into her ice cream dish as she allowed herself a secret thought about how good she was. Finnick caught this grin, and realization slowly grew over his face.
"Oh! I recognize you," Finnick grinned, snapping his fingers and pointing at her. "You play pawball, don't you?"
Heather cocked an eyebrow, looking with disbelief at Finnick after swallowing a bite of ice cream. "You watch college the Female Mustelid Pawball Association? That's a bit of a niche pick."
"Young mustelid females are about the feistiest group of mammals you could ever watch when it comes to sports," Finnick chuckled.
"Wow, okay!" Heather narrowed her eyes, grimacing. "Please stop talking to me, old creepy fennec."
"Hey, I ain't old, I'm middle-aged," Finnick insisted, starting to rinse and clean some ice cream dishes. "You're Heather Mine?"
Heather sighed. "Yes. And you're not getting my autograph unless you want me to write it on your forehead with this ice cream."
"Yo, you paid for it, you do whatever you want," Finnick grinned.
"Why are you so irritating?" Heather snapped.
"Cause I finally got what I wanted out of life," Finnick chuckled. "A steady job, servin' treats. My own ice cream joint. Nice an' easy life for ol' Finnick from here on out."
"Your dream was to be a soda jerk?" Heather seemed confused.
"No doubt; I had the jerk part down early," Finnick winked with a toothy grin. "And it's like you said. Ain't nothin' wrong with vanilla, even if that's yo' passion. Course, if I could kick a ball like you can, maybe I'd be singin' a different tune."
"Hm..." Heather looked contemplative.
"What's the matter?" Finnick tilted his head. "You ain't like havin' a full scholarship and bein' the best striker in the whole association?"
"No, that's fine, I just wonder if it'll carry over to the pros," Heather winced, looking unsure. "The mustelids there all seem even crazier than I can get."
"Oh, is that all you're worried about?" Finnick laughed again. "You'll be fine. And boy, the money those pro pawball players make..." Finnick raised his eyes to the ceiling, shaking his head with a serene smile.
"Sometimes... I did wonder if it was my dream or not," Heather suddenly admitted.
"Whatchoo mean?" Finnick replied.
"Well, my dad, Roger Mine, used to be a pro pawball player," Heather shrugged, taking another bite of ice cream. "I feel like I'm just following his path rather than making my own, you know?"
"I getchoo," Finnick nodded, "is there somethin' you'd rather be doin'?"
"That's the thing," Heather tapped her spoon on the dish. "I... don't really think so? I don't really have a drive for anything else. And, well, I am pretty good at pawball..."
"Those dances you do when you score a goal ain't bad, either," Finnick chuckled.
"Oh, heh, those, learned those from a good friend," Heather had a small, but toothy grin.
"They your significant other?" Finnick flashed a smile.
"Oh no, she's spoken for," Heather shook her head.
"Ah, into the ladies, then?" Finnick gave a deep chuckle.
"What? No!" Heather threw her spoon down. "Is it just because I'm into sports and have kinda a husky voice...?"
"Uh, no, I ain't said anything was wrong with that, anyway, girl, chill!" Finnick laughed even harder. "You got a boyfriend, then?"
"There's barely any time for that," Heather shook her head. "Dunno how much I really want one, anyway. The mustelids that come after me are all trying too hard to impress me with how cool or male they are. I kinda want one that I can be tough on, you know? Maybe a little sweet, smart. ...Oh fluff me, I do just want a male version of my best friend."
Finnick cackled again. "Boy that's a shame, innit? Sure you can't 'switch teams'?"
"I don't even know why I'm talking to you," Heather tried to sound angry, but she was grinning.
"Ah, the ladies can never resist a fox," Finnick rubbed his claws on his apron. "Specially not a fennec. We're just too adorable."
"Yeah, with that voice?" Heather shook her head.
"So tell me about your friend, huh? Sounds like she's important to your story," Finnick folded his paws over the counter.
"Don't you have some sort of work you could be doing?" Heather gave him a reproving smile. She had finished her ice cream, but she was still sitting there for some reason.
"Naw, my boys got it," Finnick grinned, gesturing to his co-workers, who were all different, taller fox species than him. "Not a lot of non-foxes come into a place like this, anyway, much less random smaller animals like you."
"So you want to know about my ferret friend?" Heather folded her arms. "I'm not really great at telling stories."
"C'mon girl, I've still got a few hours left in my shift," Finnick encouraged. "Amuse me. Maybe I'll give you a free ice cream next time. Vanilla, of course."
"Yeah, if I ever come back here," Heather smirked. "Fine, I guess so."