Getting to Richard's apartment was pretty easy with the GPS. He lived on the opposite side of the city to the DPD, just outside the city centre. Hank had expected him to live in one of the fancy new builds in the inner city, but he was in one of the slightly older blocks. Still classy though. Hank had to wave his badge to be allowed in, and even then the guard was reluctant to let him enter a tenant's room without permission. A lift took Hank to the fourth floor, where there were four rooms down each hall. Richard lived in the apartment on the righthand corner of the building, and as Hank entered, he had to take a moment to get his bearings.
As soon as he entered, he was in an open living area with long windows and a balcony with a long wall on the right. Hank took off his shoes and left them by the door. Richard seemed the meticulous housekeeping type. The floors were shiny and looked like wood, but Hank was pretty sure it was some sort of imitation linoleum. It didn't feel slippery or cold enough to be actual wood. The city centre was visible from the long windows, twinkling in the distance. It seemed, from the position of the black leather sofa, that Richard spent many evenings gazing out at those lights, probably doing a little paperwork on the side. There was a windowless nook in a small walled off section near the kitchen, where he could see a large desk and bookcases. That had to be where Richard worked when he was out of the office.
At the end of the long wall, the open room curved to the right, into an open kitchen, complete with a round dining table that looked barely used. It seemed Richard usually ate at the little breakfast bar attached to the island. That's where all the papers and mail were. Behind the wall was a doorway leading to the rest of the apartment. There were two hallways. One straight ahead, and one turning left. Hank started on the left and found a single door near the end of the hall. As he opened it, he was unsurprised to find the master bedroom.
There was a huge bed straight ahead, surrounded by dark wood closets and draws built into the wall with a handy shelf above the headboard. The bed was one of those expensive ones with a TV stored in the base that would pop up at the press of a button. The whole wall along the left was glass, overlooking yet more of the city, with the river in the distance. It was a pretty dark room, with grey carpet and matching bedding. A door on the right led to an ensuite bathroom, all white tiles and fake marble fronting with shiny gold attachments.
Backing out again, Hank returned to explore the other hall. So far, there was no sign of any pets. Either they were extremely shy, or Richard had a special room set aside for them. Most of the apartment seemed cold and orderly, almost like a show home. Hank wouldn't be surprised if the pets were confined to a single small space. The first door he opened led into a smaller bathroom, probably intended for guests. It was functional, with a sink, a toilet, and a glass shower cubicle with the same white marble and gold fixtures as the ensuite. It was the room next to it that really caught Hank's attention.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" He grinned as he stepped inside and shut the door. The moment the door moved, there was a scuffling sound and a streak of brown fur disappeared into an intricate knot of long plastic tubes. From the right, as he shut the door, came a loud hiss and a squeak with more scratchy scuffles as the second animal hid in a cat box. That's no fucking cat! "Hey, it's alright. Richard sent me to take care of you." Clicking his tongue softly, he approached the wooden box that had been fixed to the wall and peered inside. He couldn't believe his eyes. Richard Perkins, the ferrety little fucker from the FBI he'd been teasing for months, had pet ferrets.
The problem was, much like their owner, they were less than friendly. Hank didn't dare put his hand near the box as the creamy ball of fluff within hissed. He could just see its face as it fluffed its tail. It was mostly cream, with a soft layer of warm brown along its belly and tail. Beady little eyes stared out at him, pink nose twitching as it sniffed his unfamiliar scent in the air. The second ferret shuffled its way out of the twisting tubes and scurried towards him to nip his jeans, apparently trying to defend its friend. This one was a rich dark brown with a cream face, except for the blob of brown across its eyes that looked like an eye mask.
"Hey! Get out of it!" Hank shook his leg gently, trying to dislodge the sharp teeth, but this only encouraged the fluffy noodle to dig in its claws and scurry up his leg. Fortunately, it stuck to the outside of his pants. "What? Hey! Don't you dare!" Hank stumbled in a circle as the ferret climbed, making it all the way to his stomach before he managed to get hold of it. The ferret opened its arms and hissed, trying to look intimidating as Hank held it at arm's length, trying to be gentle. He didn't want to hurt or damage it. The ferret remained still, paws spread and mouth open. "Shit! Don't even think about it!" Hank stumbled forward as a new weight landed on his shoulder, the cream ferret apparently emboldened by its friend's act of bravery. Dropping the darker ferret, Hank swatted at his shoulder until the other one hopped away. "You're as bad as your owner, you know that?"
With much squeaking and rustling, both ferrets scarpered across the linoleum floor and disappeared into the plastic tubes again. Sighing, Hank looked around for their food and bowls. Richard seemed to keep the ferrets confined to this one room, so it made sense that their bowls at least would be there. He was soon proved right as he looked along the wall, right next to a key locked cabinet. The key for said cabinet was on the bunch of keys he'd been handed earlier, so Hank soon had the door unlocked and grabbed two foil sachets from the neat Cyberlife packaging stored inside.
"Oh, so now you're interested!" Hank scoffed, closing and locking the door lest they slip inside and wreak havoc. There was much squeaking and wrestling as the mechanical ferrets scurried around his feet. Looking at the china bowls, Hank couldn't help but chuckle. They were clearly custom made, or custom painted at least. One had Pop Tart painted in swirled red writing and the other read Treacle. Looking at the pair, he was pretty sure he knew which was which. Treacle was a rich, dark brown colour, so it made sense the darker ferret would match. But why Pop Tart? It was a story he'd have to drag out of Richard when he had the chance. "Alright, hold your horses!"
The ferrets were insistent, hopping on their hind legs and pawing at his jeans before running in circles. As he tore the first sachet, the oily scent of thirium reached his nose, but it wasn't liquid, like the thirium Connor drank. He could only guess it had been redesigned to seem more like pet food. It was a thick, blue jelly with meaty looking lumps inside, like blue cat food. The gloop didn't look appetising to Hank, but Pop Tart and Treacle certainly weren't complaining. As he straightened up with the bowls in his hands, the ferrets went crazy. Treacle jumped at his leg and tried to climb up as he bent down, while Pop Tart immediately squeaked and nipped at his hand.
"Agh! Fuck! You little-" The cream ferret already had its nose buried in the bowl, blue smears coating its little snout. Treacle was probably just as blue, only it was a little harder to tell. Looking at his thumb, Hank considered himself lucky the skin hadn't broken. Dealing with Richard's ferrets was a little more work than he'd expected. He did warn me they weren't the friendliest of pets…It was probably because they didn't know him. All pets would take issue with a random stranger turning up in their home, especially if their owner didn't come along with them. With that in mind, Hank searched around the toys on the floor and selected a feathery ball on a string. Richard said they needed play time to burn off some of their energy.
Treacle noticed first as he abandoned his bowl and slinked across the floor like a fluffy snake on legs. His beady eyes remained fixed on the red and yellow feathers as he scurried behind an empty cardboard box and took aim. Hank bobbed the toy up and down, enticing him closer before sweeping it out of the way as a streak of brown fur whizzed by. Indignant squeaks soon followed as the ferret turned for a second pass. Hank chuckled as those nippy teeth grabbed the feathery ball and Treacle curled around it, clawing and rolling, only to be shortly interrupted by Pop Tart. The cream ferret streaked across the floor and leapt at Treacle, wrestling him for the toy.
"Hey-hey! No fighting!" The ferrets were now rolling around on the floor, squeaking and nipping, leaving the toy forgotten. Clicking his tongue, Hank bounced the toy between them, drawing their eyes and making them forget their earlier tousle. Swinging the toy out of reach, Hank watched with some amusement as the ferrets scurried across the room and split up, each claiming a space to watch their prey. Treacle had returned to the plastic tube maze and hunkered beneath it, while Pop Tart had hidden beside an empty cardboard box. Hank slowed his bounces, making it seem like the feathery ball had forgotten their presence.
Within seconds, they pounced. They hopped their way across the floor, each squeaking their own victory, until the ball bounced away. Pop Tart made a valiant effort, leaping from the floor and grabbing at the string, but he was a little too late. Hank dragged the feathers along the linoleum, letting the ferrets give chase before pulling it up and watching them hop on their hind legs. You know, they're not so bad from a distance. He couldn't handle them, but watching them play was both cute and entertaining. He paused as his phone buzzed and pulled it out of his pocket.
"Hello?"
"It's me. I just wanted to check in and make sure you found everything alright." Hank huffed fondly. It wasn't exactly a lie, but he was pretty sure he'd called up more to check on his boys than to check on him. Holding his phone with his free hand, Hank idly bounced the feathers with the other, keeping the ferrets vaguely interested. "How are they? They're not too much trouble, I hope." Hank was pretty sure he could hear a trace of worry in Richard's tone.
"No, not at all. They're a little nippy, but other than that." He pulled the toy out of reach and watched both ferrets elegantly arch through the air with their paws outstretched. They missed as Hank bounced the feathers again, making them change direction and scurry to the other side of the room. Treacle almost ran straight into the wall with his enthusiasm, making Hank chuckle.
"Thanks again for doing this. The doctor said I should be able to go home tomorrow or the day after." That seemed a little quick. Perhaps too quick for Hank's liking. Back in the hospital, he'd looked so small and sickly. Was it really going to be alright for him to go home in just one or two days? He wasn't sure how bad the injury was, but from where the bandages were, he guessed his arm would be out of action for a while. Doing things one handed was a bitch, especially when you lived alone. On top of that, he had two energetic pets to take care of.
"Is that what the doctor decided, or what you decided?" There was relative silence on the other end. Called it. Once patients were out of danger and patched up, they could legally discharge themselves. Hank made a mental note to double check with the doctor and see if it really was a good idea for Richard to be home alone. It wasn't like the guy had a lot of friends. Someone would have to check on him.
