One chocolate coat. Ready for company.
For the Occasion
“Will this be right for the afternoon?” Felix asked.
The chef lifted him above the bowl. Dark chocolate shone along his sides, leaving a pale oval of coconut down his front.
Below him, Albert stood very straight.
“Excellent.”
“Quite smart,” Sid agreed. “What happens this afternoon?”
“Company,” Albert said.
“Yes, but who?”
Felix looked from one to the other. He had heard the chef say the word while arranging the plate. Since then, he had been trying to decide what sort of greeting went with a coat like Albert’s.
Now he had one himself.
A long drop gathered beneath him.
Before the Greeting
Albert had suggested a small bow. Sid had suggested asking somebody a question.
“What question?” Felix had asked.
“Something you’d like to know.”
He had several. From his place beside the bowl, he could see a cupboard, a bright window, and the lower half of a clock. He wanted to know what was above the clock, whether the cupboard opened, and why Sid’s feet pointed in slightly different directions.
Albert had demonstrated the bow again.
Felix had watched carefully. He liked the way Albert finished upright, as though somebody had drawn a line through the middle of him.
He imagined doing that when they met properly. He would say good afternoon without rushing, then ask a question Sid would enjoy answering.
The chef turned him a little above the bowl.
Warm cocoa rose around his feet. Against his chest, a loose thread of coconut tickled beneath his chin.
“Good afternoon,” he tried quietly.
Nobody answered.
The Last Drop
Both penguins were looking below his feet.
Felix glanced down too. The chocolate drop had stretched into a thin, shining thread.
It lengthened.
Sid leaned forwards.
Albert’s careful posture leaned with him.
The thread broke. Chocolate fell into the bowl, making a small round hollow that closed almost at once.
“Oh,” Sid said.
Felix waited.
“I thought it would reach.”
“The bowl?”
“Without letting go.”
The chef carried Felix to the plate and lowered him between them. His feet met cool ceramic. For a moment, he stood still, adjusting to the weight of his new coat.
Albert stepped back to give him room.
Felix began his bow.
“Your feet,” he said to Sid, halfway down. “Do they always do that?”
Sid looked at them.
“Only when I’m standing.”
Felix straightened, laughing. A small movement of his flipper brushed Albert’s side, and he drew it back quickly.
“Sorry.”
“Mine’s set,” Albert said.
“Like the greeting,” Sid added. “He’s been ready for ages.”
Already Acquainted
Albert looked towards the window.
“I thought we might have visitors.”
“We have,” Sid said, nodding at Felix.
All three considered this.
Felix asked about the cupboard. Sid had seen it open twice and gave an account of both occasions. Albert supplied the shelf Sid had forgotten.
They moved a little closer so Felix could see past the bowl. Above the clock hung a small picture of a boat.
He raised his beak towards it, then remembered his carefully prepared arrival.
“Was that formal enough?”
Sid followed his gaze to the boat before turning back.
“I thought we’d finished that part.”
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