I Hope He Is A Gentleman

The Penguins lost to Montreal, 3-4 in overtime.

I watched the last period of the game with my dad after class, peering through slitted fingers as the pressure became too much for me to deal with. Of all the players on both teams, Evgeni wasn't singled out as playing a particularly amazing game, but I still couldn't keep my eyes off of him.

My dad turned the TV off with a huff, muttering something about poor passing under his breath, even though I'm pretty sure this was the first full-legnth hockey game he had ever watched in his entire life. I instantly pulled out my computer and began searching through my emails, sitting alone in the dark living room. Someone from Player Personnel had emailed the interns a while ago with a schedule (subject to change) of the players' practice schedules, incase we ever needed to reach one of them. Tomorrow, the players didn't have to be at the rink until at least one in the afternoon. As I closed my computer and headed upstairs to bed, I prayed that time was still the case.

Once again, Henry beat me to the office. He smiled and looked up from the newspaper he was reading -- the business section. For once, I was reassured to see that Henry was, in fact, human, and that his entire life didn't revolve around this internship.

I set down my stuff and immediately pulled out a piece of paper and something to write with. My Russian writing was slow, and probably full of spelling mistakes that would earn pointed looks and snide comments from Geno, but I tried my best.

Hi Zhenya,

I watched your hockey game last night, you play very well. Next game, you will definitely win. I'm not sure what time you will be in the Consol Center until, but I will be here until 6. Then I have Russian language class. We might get the test back tonight, I don't think I got a good grade. I hope you have a good day today.

From,
Remy

Also, enjoy the candy bar.

Carefully aligning the corners, I folded the note into a smaller square and taped it on to a snickers bar I had gotten from the vending machine down the hall. Alright, so it wasn't quite as personal as some Russian tea biscuits, but it would have to do. "I'll be right back," I stated as nonchalantly as I possibly could. Henry barely even moved his head in acknowledgment.

I felt a little more badass than I should have as I walked silently down the Consol Center halls. I barely encountered anyone, save one maintenance member who didn't even look my way. I pushed open the double doors to the locker room, praying I wouldn't run into one of the other players. Thankfully, the locker room was completely dead, save for the almost overwhelming scent of air freshener. I'd hate to be in here before it was sprayed down.

I scanned the plates on the lockers as quickly as I could, my eyes finally landing on Geno's. With the upmost care, I lifted one of the perfectly-placed gloves and slid the note and candy bar under it.

I then ran out of the locker room as if my life depended on it.