Pleasant surprises.
Tuesday, 26 February 2013 14:30![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeremiah_garou26 February, 2013
The moon is in the waning Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (91% full).
It's a nice day, for Washington springtime, and that nice day finds Jeremiah out and about in the park. Not begging or loitering under the trees, right now the young man's doing laps of the park, in tattered jeans, combat boots, and a faded teeshirt that shows the hardness of purposefully built muscles. Laps wih enough purpose to make other people either get out of his way, or get further out of his way, though he runs along the grass rather than the path, skirting a small encampment with a nod to those there and circling back towards the fountain before he comes to a pause at one of the water fountains.
Slash, for his part, is not running. Rather, the Strider makes his way into the park at a leisurely pace, his hands tucked into the pockets of his denim jacket. For all that his gait is causal enough, though, there's a certain wariness about the tall tattooed man. He might not be looking for trouble, but he's keeping alert in case it comes looking for him.
Jeremiah sets out at a jog again, only to come skidding to a halt as he nearly runs straight into the Strider. Manages not to, with a good three feet of stopping distance, but whether Jeremiah was paying too much attention to where he was running is hard to say. "Sorry, sir," is offered, and the young man directs a glower at his general surroundings, the grass, trees, path. Slash too.
"Polite. That's a pleasant surprise. I was half expecting you to blame me for not getting out of the way," Slash replies in a ravaged voice that would be right at home in an anti-smoking ad, much quieter than normal and tending toward raspy as well. "Hell, right about now, more of us than usual would."
Jeremiah continues to glower but shakes his head. "Wasn' looking where I was going," the response comes. Although the ahroun might well be pulling himsef together from being this close to exploding, he's no more angry at Slash than he is at the grass. Significantly angry, and there's a nod. "I was running. Right about that reason. But." A few deep breaths further, and his fists unclench.
Slash has a good enough sense of where the other people are around him that he doesn't even need to look around before offering up his introduction. Still, never hurts to be extra cautious, so it's even more abbreviated than usual. "Slash. One of Owl's from out of town."
There's a nod of acknowledgement, and Jeremiah shoves his hands into his pockets. "Bullfrog," he responds. "Rat's." In stark contrast with his appearance. "Just here briefly, m'self. Won' be stayin'." The younger man seems to trust that most people are going to keep a wide berth, and most people give the two a fair amount of space.
Slash replies, "Hard t'say, here. Been known t'settle down places for a while, or at least stick to a general area. Figure I'll stick around and help out for a while, see what happens once the big stuff is handled." Whatever he may think of Jeremiah's tribal claim, he doesn't dispute it.
Jeremiah nods again, though he's still working to get that last bit of control. "Mm," is the acknowledgement. "I've got some business. Tryin' a keep myself occupied, out've trouble, and maybe even productive, in th' mean time."
Slash has a bottle of water sticking out of one of the cargo pockets in his pants, and he reaches down to grab it and take a swallow. "Fair enough. Where you out of normally?"
"Nowhere in particular," Jeremiah responds. "I…" he glances about, but they're still being given a wide berth, "kind of fell out of the sky here. Was in Connecticut. 'fore that, the Green, an' in the Carolinas, an' a lot of places since I left Nevada last fall."
Slash says, "Doesn't sound like the most comfortable way to travel, but if it works for you, who'm I to judge?" At the mention of Nevada, he notes, "Ran messages out around Vegas for a while a few years back."
Jeremiah shakes his head. "Wasn't meanin' to travel, particularly. Umbra had diff'rent ideas," Jer says. "An' here I am, so. Figure I deal w' the here an' now." There's another nod. "I only got to Vegas last year spring." Before that, well, the Gnawer doesn't seem keen to say. "Some good folk down there."
To the part about not meaning to travel, Slash has only a shrug and a "Huh," to offer. As for Vegas, rather than commenting on the people, he says, "Always liked the desert. Especially in summer." One might expect that someone who seems to walk from place to place would find that the worst time to be there, but it seems not.
Jeremiah purses his lips, and the second comment has the Ahroun biting back a flare of anger, things all too close to the suface with the moon this big. "Grew up near the desert, Colorado," Bullfrog says, with a fair helping of detachment from the words he says. And with that flare of anger, Jeremiah glances up at Slash, and then to the path. "Nice meetin' you, but I should— I need to go, I think," he offers, with the intent to get back to his running apparently. "An' road rise t' meet you."
The moon is in the waning Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (91% full).
It's a nice day, for Washington springtime, and that nice day finds Jeremiah out and about in the park. Not begging or loitering under the trees, right now the young man's doing laps of the park, in tattered jeans, combat boots, and a faded teeshirt that shows the hardness of purposefully built muscles. Laps wih enough purpose to make other people either get out of his way, or get further out of his way, though he runs along the grass rather than the path, skirting a small encampment with a nod to those there and circling back towards the fountain before he comes to a pause at one of the water fountains.
Slash, for his part, is not running. Rather, the Strider makes his way into the park at a leisurely pace, his hands tucked into the pockets of his denim jacket. For all that his gait is causal enough, though, there's a certain wariness about the tall tattooed man. He might not be looking for trouble, but he's keeping alert in case it comes looking for him.
Jeremiah sets out at a jog again, only to come skidding to a halt as he nearly runs straight into the Strider. Manages not to, with a good three feet of stopping distance, but whether Jeremiah was paying too much attention to where he was running is hard to say. "Sorry, sir," is offered, and the young man directs a glower at his general surroundings, the grass, trees, path. Slash too.
"Polite. That's a pleasant surprise. I was half expecting you to blame me for not getting out of the way," Slash replies in a ravaged voice that would be right at home in an anti-smoking ad, much quieter than normal and tending toward raspy as well. "Hell, right about now, more of us than usual would."
Jeremiah continues to glower but shakes his head. "Wasn' looking where I was going," the response comes. Although the ahroun might well be pulling himsef together from being this close to exploding, he's no more angry at Slash than he is at the grass. Significantly angry, and there's a nod. "I was running. Right about that reason. But." A few deep breaths further, and his fists unclench.
Slash has a good enough sense of where the other people are around him that he doesn't even need to look around before offering up his introduction. Still, never hurts to be extra cautious, so it's even more abbreviated than usual. "Slash. One of Owl's from out of town."
There's a nod of acknowledgement, and Jeremiah shoves his hands into his pockets. "Bullfrog," he responds. "Rat's." In stark contrast with his appearance. "Just here briefly, m'self. Won' be stayin'." The younger man seems to trust that most people are going to keep a wide berth, and most people give the two a fair amount of space.
Slash replies, "Hard t'say, here. Been known t'settle down places for a while, or at least stick to a general area. Figure I'll stick around and help out for a while, see what happens once the big stuff is handled." Whatever he may think of Jeremiah's tribal claim, he doesn't dispute it.
Jeremiah nods again, though he's still working to get that last bit of control. "Mm," is the acknowledgement. "I've got some business. Tryin' a keep myself occupied, out've trouble, and maybe even productive, in th' mean time."
Slash has a bottle of water sticking out of one of the cargo pockets in his pants, and he reaches down to grab it and take a swallow. "Fair enough. Where you out of normally?"
"Nowhere in particular," Jeremiah responds. "I…" he glances about, but they're still being given a wide berth, "kind of fell out of the sky here. Was in Connecticut. 'fore that, the Green, an' in the Carolinas, an' a lot of places since I left Nevada last fall."
Slash says, "Doesn't sound like the most comfortable way to travel, but if it works for you, who'm I to judge?" At the mention of Nevada, he notes, "Ran messages out around Vegas for a while a few years back."
Jeremiah shakes his head. "Wasn't meanin' to travel, particularly. Umbra had diff'rent ideas," Jer says. "An' here I am, so. Figure I deal w' the here an' now." There's another nod. "I only got to Vegas last year spring." Before that, well, the Gnawer doesn't seem keen to say. "Some good folk down there."
To the part about not meaning to travel, Slash has only a shrug and a "Huh," to offer. As for Vegas, rather than commenting on the people, he says, "Always liked the desert. Especially in summer." One might expect that someone who seems to walk from place to place would find that the worst time to be there, but it seems not.
Jeremiah purses his lips, and the second comment has the Ahroun biting back a flare of anger, things all too close to the suface with the moon this big. "Grew up near the desert, Colorado," Bullfrog says, with a fair helping of detachment from the words he says. And with that flare of anger, Jeremiah glances up at Slash, and then to the path. "Nice meetin' you, but I should— I need to go, I think," he offers, with the intent to get back to his running apparently. "An' road rise t' meet you."