Bald EaglesOz looked up from his desk just in time to see his partner shamble into the communal office with a huge yawn; his boots shuffling over the polished, white floor. Marshall had not yet put on his vest and Oz’s sharp, golden eyes detected a few minor creases in the vole’s normally starched, light blue blouse.More Like This
Odd, he arrived almost fifteen minutes early. Summer, the red butterball would be soon to follow.
Marshall meandered between the grid-work of desks and flopped heavily into his squeaky chair at his own desk to Oz’s left. He could tell Marshall had had a long night. He probably came in early to give himself a time cushion to recharge his morning batteries.
The vole didn't even bother to gel his hair. His wheat-colored locks hung in a neat mess, like a feathery mop, without it. That and the infamous coke-bottle glasses from his college days were back. God, he almost looked like a different person with them. This look always made Oz want to grind his fist i