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"Mh."
"And then I said to him, why don't you just do it like I told you?"
"Mh."
"You know, I mean, what is he thinking?"
"Mh."
"Like, can you actually believe it?"
"Mh."
I watch the very one sided exchange from across the room. Asher Dalton, sat down in his cubby, bent down to tie his skates. Ayri Quinn in the cubby next to him, talking his ear of. It's a regular routine by now. Soon, Dalton will grumble one sentence and Quinn will nod and finally get on with dressing for practice.
"Just tell him to get it done. If he doesn't, it's on him, not you. Don't let it get to you." There it is. Dalton glances up at Quinn, nudges his shin with his skate and gets up to walk towards the ice.
Quinn nods to himself, takes out his phone and starts typing. He's been having some kind of argument with his cousin or something, he told me this morning but I don't remember.
I walk to the door and watch Dalton hit the ice. Some people call him 'little Dalton', especially the media. I despise that. This kid has worked his ass off to get here. I was on the team when he was first drafted and offered a contract with Buffalo. He came to meet the team. I have a foggy memory of a kid with shaggy black hair, an attitude and an ego the size of Texas. After he turned down the contract because of the whole situation with his parents I hadn't thought I'd hear of him again.
I kept playing in Buffalo, became captain a year ago. Now he's back. An old rookie. Same black hair, same attitude, same ego. But he has a different energy to him. A calmer, more settled focus that he didn't have before.
I remember the first days with him. He shook everybody's hands, took photos for the press and the social media girls who were silently swooning. But no smiles, no small talk. Straight to business. And I appreciate that kind of work ethic, I do. But when he was still closed off after a couple weeks I wondered what it would take to get him to crack. The lines gelled enough to work in practice and games, but the vibe was off.
Quinn had been in the cubby next to Dalton this whole time. Young Ayri Quinn, wearing his heart on his sleeve, trusting and open. Quinn had not yet found his spot on the team. Still flundering, trying to figure out his position with players that had been playing together for a long time. He had tried to crack Daltons icy front but had failed like everyone else.
Then one day Dalton came in for practice, the day before a home game, smiling softly. Obviously everybody gave him crap about it. He just kept smiling, even laughed at some of the ribbing, but wouldn't say why.
When I left the rink that day and walked to the parking I watched a cab pull up and a young man get out with a suitcase. He looked around, seemingly lost, looking down at his phone. He didn't seem like the typical tourist so I decided to earn some Karma points.
"Can I help you?", I shouted over to him and walked in his direction. His head had snapped up.
"You're the captain!", he said in a surprised tone. Maybe he was just another tourist. Ready to sign a jersey, I confirmed his statement.
"David McKinnon, nice to meet you", I offered him my hand.
"Kole Hogan, I'm here for-"
"Kole!", a voice shouted and we both turned in the direction of Asher Dalton, hurrying towards us, a bright smile on his face. He stopped short just in front of us, and looked at me, hesitant for a moment.
"Sorry Cap", he said, and promptly pressed his hands to the other mans face and kissed him. I took a step back when the kiss turned into more than a peck.
Dalton broke the kiss and went to hug the other man for a couple seconds, just to lift him off his feet and make him giggle softly.
When Dalton let him go, he turned towards me with a smirk. "This is my boyfriend Kole. He's still in Colchester, this is his first visit in Buffalo."
"I see. Then I won't take up any more of your time." I clasped Dalton on the shoulder and grinned at him. "Enjoy your time together. And don't be late tomorrow."
With that I walked away. The next day, Dalton brought Kole to the locker room for morning skate. He showed him around, introduced him, even somewhat talkative.
Kole and Quinn got on pretty well from the beginning. Maybe that's what's got it started.
After Kole left at the end of the weekend, Quinn and Dalton were suddenly besties. Hanging out after practice, sitting next to each other on the plane and bus, when before, Dalton had kept to himself or sat next to whoever, his earbuds in.
Dalton was still grumpy and rude to the media, not very social with the team, but there was something there. He wasn't a leader for the team, would never in hell make a captain with his social skills or rather lack thereof. But he was a leader to Quinn, someone Quinn could lean on, depend on. They were still polar opposites, but they made it work.
Quinn had managed a crack in the icy front.
The next crack had come when Dalton brought his younger siblings to the rink when they came to visit once. Not his older brother though. When someone from the team had asked about Westly Dalton, Asher had shut it down in a way that made sure no one asked again.
Now, I'm watching him on the ice like he was born just to skate.
I lean slightly over the boards when he skates by.
"Looking good, Dalton", I yell.
"I'm taken, McKinnon", he yells back with a smirk and slaps a puck into the net. I hold out my hand and he taps it with his glove when he skates by again.
Quinn gets on the ice next to me.
"Yo, wait up", he yells to Dalton who swiftly dodges the other players around him, then turns around and passes Quinn a puck across the rink.