Isaac Cortes picked up the bronze ring on his way to work. He tried it on his index finger, seing no one around. If anyone had been looking for it, he would graciously offer it back, obviously, but he was alone, like most mornings, here. The ring fit snuggingly firm, without risking of sliding off his finger. By the time Isaac got to work, he even forgot he was wearing it.
The young man had always been on the trusting side of humanity. As a kid, it caused him to be bullied quite a lot for believing in Santa roughly 4 months and a half after the other kids stopped, or for believing whatever he was told. He was not a stupid kid, though, he just didn’t see the point of lying. He grew up to be a reserved teenager with a handful of friends who would tease him from time to time when he’d forget to "turn his naivety off", as they would call it. It helped him develop his critical sense, essential for the his university major. Now a 27 years old office worker, quiet Isaac was slowly regaining his long-lost confidence and exploring the extroverted side of himself, partaking in various activities and trying hobbies to find one that would feel fitting to him as well as to meet people.
Isaac came in a few minutes early. Enough to brew his coffee and have time for a bit of small talk with Nate and Lucia, his best friends at work. He docked his laptop at a free station close to theirs and started going through his emails. The office was quiet, speakers played something hushed. The typing from various desks alternated as a choreography of sorts, and the chairs would just slide as his coworkers left to take a call in the appropriate rooms. There was still bursts of laughter from time to time, as well as whispered conversations. This was a professional environment, not some kind of jail or modern-time inhumane factory.
"Hey guys!" This was Achilles, but he really didn’t like the name his parents gave him, which Isaac could understand: not the most glamorous Greek hero. Or body part, for that matter. That is why everyone used his nickname.
"Morning Hank. You’re late", Lucia said.
"It’s alright, I have an agreement with Susan." Isaac sighed. Even as a grown-up, he really couldn’t get his head around people who would lie for such trivial stuff.
"No you don’t. She would offer this kind of benefit to everyone, she’s fair."
"But she’s also old-school", Nate said, "so just shut up and work. Why would we care if you’re late."
Hank sat down and started working, moping for a bit. His mood eventually increased, as could be told by the way he started drumming on his desk with his fingers. Annoyed, Isaac sighed. It wasn’t that he disliked Hank, just that the guy was too loud and outgoing for him. At least for now. It didn’t really help that Hank just moved into this office from his hometown and always seemed a bit too carefree to Isaac’s tast. He always seemed to roam around, with his nonchalant demeanor, chatting up someone different every ten minutes or so. And yet, Isaac had read his reports, and they were not lacking. Isaac could always find a little something to improve, even in Lucia’s work or his own, and he was aware of this. Still, he couldn’t say Hank’s work seemed compromised in anyway.
Isaac looked around, hoping for his friends to say something as Hank’s rhythm was getting on his nerves. Lucia was not at her desk, and Nate was laser-focused on his work, headphones over his ears and all.
"Hey, Hank?"
"Ssup ‘Saac? It’s a pretty slow day, right?"
Isaac could feel the flow of hot blood coming right into his cheeks. No, it wasn’t a chill day. In a low and rapid hush, he answered.
"Not really, I have an important deadline coming on. Would you mind not stomping on your desk and leaving music to musicians, maybe?"
Hank recoiled for a second, visibly unhappy with the request.
"I’m a musician, man."
Isaac raised a brow, unconvinced. Hank was better not be shitting him.
"I was the drummer in my band."
"Really?" Isaac blinked. Why not, after all. "What was it called?"
Hank stared for a second, a surprised expression on his face. He raised his forearm, showing his tattoo.
"The Northern Spores. I never told you? I’ll send you a link to our stuff if you want, I’m sure you’ll love it."
"Sure." Isaac was distracted. He could swear that the tattoo on Hank’s arm used to be different. He couldn’t point out exactly how. There had always been the stylised compass rose intertwined with stuff. Now that Hank said it, it made sense that it was some sort of funghi. And the dots on his skin, that Isaac assumed were freckles, would be the spores. They were after all like a constellation surrounding the letter N.
Hank had resumed working, visibly brooding at Isaac, who messaged him a tentative peace agreement, asking to listen to The Northern Spores. The message went read and stayed that way throughout the morning.
"Boys, it’s lunchtime." Lucia waved at her three coworkers. They all removed their headphones and Isaac could see Hank switching window and hitting a single key: enter. Immediately, a playlist appeared in the conversation between Isaac and him. When they reached the lobby, Nate turned to tell the three others:
"You won’t believe what Tanya messaged me this morning."