ArchivedLogs:Fresh Fish

Fresh Fish
Dramatis Personae Eric, Shane
In Absentia	2013-09-09 '
Location <WES> Croton Gorge Park - Westchester
Situated on the east bank of the Hudson, this large park offers events year-round and a plethora of activities for nature lovers. With playgrounds, facilities for camping and swimming, boating and fishing, plentiful trails for hiking, biking, horseback riding, cliffs for rock climbing, grounds for winter sports, and ample ground to just sit and enjoy the weather, these park grounds are a great place to relax year-round. The grounds are well-tended, and with a host of avian and herpitological life, early mornings often find animal lovers scoping out the grounds in search of a glimpse of some rare bird or lizard hiding in the trees or rocks as well. The Croton Gorge Park is well-maintained and sunny, and even on a Monday afternoon, there are a few scattered guests stepping through the paths of the park, and a parent playing with their kids. But deeper into the park, feet from the Hudson, reeds grow up and tall, six, seven feet in the air. The wind causes little leaves to scatter off of the surface of some of the reeds, floating away in the wind. Here, deeper into the reeds in a patch near the water, someone has cleared away a little clearing by carefully folding the reeds down into a mat of sorts. A heavy blanket sits on top of the reeds as a cushion, and a picnic basket is on top. The reeds thin towards the water, creating a little opening where the people on the blanket can see out onto the water, but the rare boat can't easily see in. Pushing his way out from the little picnic-area that he created, Eric steps back towards the main path, heading in the direction of the gate. He pulls out his cell phone, finger swiping over the surface of the screen. (Eric --> Shane): I'm all ready for you. A return text comes shortly after Eric has left his little picnic space. (Shane --> Eric): Tease. You still have all your clothes on and everything, how ready could you be. Eric glances down at his phone and stops. His eyes look up and around, glancing back and forth around the park. No Shane. His eyebrows furrow, though a smile spreads on his face, and he turns back to head the way he came. (Eric --> Shane): I thought you liked unwrapping your presents. Spying on me, are you? (Shane --> Eric): Spying implies I'm trying to be secret about it. You DID make this sweet little nest just for me, though, didn't you? (Eric --> Shane): Of course. I figured you'd like a picnic with a view. Eric pushes his way into the thick reeds, vanishing from the sight of the trail and coming out a few momements later in the little banketed clearing. "I'm back," he says, eyes twinkling warmly. "Did'ya miss me?" "I /had/ a view." Shane has apparently been in the middle of texting this, but he slips his phone back into the pocket of his jeans, glancing up instead. The jeans are paired with a pale button-down and a grey houndstooth vest, buttoned closed, with a black vest layered over top of it, hanging open but held more or less in place by a chain connecting its buttons. He rests back on a palm, tipping his head back to let his black eyes slide up over Eric. "-- Just got better." "Indeed, it did." Eric says, straightening up and striking a noble pose. To be fair, his noble pose consists mostly of holding his hands behind his back and looking up into the sky. He can't hold it for more a few moments until he bursts out, laughing, and looks back down towards Shane. "Heya, Shane. How'ya doing?" he asks, dropping back down to his knees and sitting down on the blanket. He opens the lid of the basket and pushes it towards Shane. Fish sandwiches. "How's classes goin'?" Shane shrugs a shoulder, webbed fingers spreading out where they lie. "Taking a class with Pa this term." He leans forward, sniffing at the basket; it draws his brows into a small frown. "Huh." That is his only comment on food; he ignores the sandwiches to flop backwards against the blanket. "How's, uh. Policing." "Mm. Fish is fresh. Bought it right off of the pier from some fisherman personally. There's also some other stuff in there. Picnic food, if you want it." Eric gives a little shrug of his shoulders. "You know. People commit crimes. We arrest them. Or not." Eric lets himself fall onto his side, propping his head up on one arm and looking at the younger man. "Thinking of asking for a transfer, thinking of taking the Sergeant's exam, thinking of just doin' more of the same. You know how it goes." He shrugs again, a half-movement, and his eyes look over Shane. "How's Daiki and Peter doin'?" "Transfer to where?" Shane laces his hands together behind his head, his knees crooking upwards towards the sky. "They have -- school, too. And work. So -- busy, I guess." He glances to Eric, but then looks up at the sky. "Not dead." "ESU, if I can get in. Or, maybe, to the area up in Harlem, temporarily." Eric gives a little shrug of his shoulders and looks up towards the sky himself. "God knows we could use one of us in uniform up there, if things start goin' south." His eyes slide back to the right, looking over Shane. "I dunno. I've ain't been sure exactly what I've been doin', lately. I think the clubs're startin' to bore me," he jokes, lightly. "Maybe I need'ta branch out." "If things did start -- going south -- up there, what would you do? If you were posted there?" Shane's eyes stay fixed on the sky. His brows furrow slowly, ridges knitting together. "Maybe you're having a mid-life crisis. Buy a motorcycle." "Get in the middle. You know I'm good at it," Eric says, playfully. "And, I'd keep things as calm as I can. Ain't saying it'd do much, but it'd certainly be better than nothin'." The man's eyes look over at Shane, and he turns to lie on his stomach. "I dunno. I used'ta think I was a cop, first, and a mutant second. With the way things're going, I'm startin' to think that maybe I got those two in the wrong order. I'm gonna be a mutant a lot longer than I'm gonna be a cop, 'specially if someone's findin' out about it." "With what you do?" Shane's brows hike upwards. "You're going to be a mutant a really fucking long time." He turns onto his side, hand lifting to prop his cheek against his palm, weight resting on an elbow. "I think if you got in the middle of shit up there, it'd end your career as a cop in short order. S'a lotta cameras around there, if you took a bullet and walked away." "Probably would." Eric says, and he gives another, little shrug. "Still, a lot I can do without gettin' shot at. Believe me," Eric says, a bright smile on his face. "'Sides, that's why they give us kevlar." He reaches a hand into the basket and comes out with a bag of potato chips that he tears open with two fingers. "And shit's gon' happen if I'm there or if I ain't. Not like there's any officer on the force that ain't gon' be goin' to work if everythin' falls apart up there. Us and the National Guard." "Don't think kevlar does a lot about getting incinerated." Shane pushes his tongue up beneath his upper lip. His eyes fix on Eric's hands, watching their motion as the bag is opened. "The National Guard," he repeats, brows slowly furrowing. "What about HAMMER?" His eyes flick back up to Eric's face with this name, curious. "HAMMER?" Eric asks, raising an eyebrow and looking confusedly at Shane. "I think they're talkin' about going straight to the National Guard. Tanks n' machine guns n' shit." Eric gives a little bit of a shrug. "No, it certainly doesn't." Eric pops a chip into his mouth, chewing on it and leaving his fingers in his lips a little longer than is strictly necessary. "What's a HAMMER?" "I don't know," Shane admits, eyes dropping back down to the blanket. "Some government thing. Do you remember when --" He stops, hesitates, his cheeks flushing faintly darker. "No, you -- didn't know about that." He flops over back onto his back, curling his hands behind his head again. "Do you think it'll be soon? In Harlem? I -- went up there," he admits. "Last week, there -- s'more people than there were." "I... didn't know that." Eric repeats, flatly, raising one eyebrow as he looks over the boy across the blanket from him. "Yeah, I think it... I think it'll be sooner than later, ya know? It can't last forever, and I think the Mayor' gettin' real tired of it bein' in the front page of the news. You make it go all away, and it hits the news for... what, a few days, and then people'a find somethin' else to see that's interestin'." The police officer reaches one hand out to rest underneath Shane's, and his head. "Guess we'll see." Shane's brows furrow, his frown remaining etched deep into his face. "Be kinda nice, though. To have a place that --" His nostrils flare, breath chuffing out hard. "Not that they'd ever let us." He sits up kind of abruptly, shifting away from Eric's hand as he pulls himself up cross-legged. Leaning forward, he snags one of the sandwiches, hesitating only a moment before peeling the top slice of bread off and picking cod out from inside. Eric withdraws his hand, slowly, giving Shane a little bit of a confused look. "Nah, not that way, anyway. I mean, least I know, they wouldn't 'low it anywhere, but definitely not anywhere if'ya take it by force like that." The police officer shakes his head and lets out a long sigh. "Fightin' back, at that point, just seems like terrorism. Ya know? At least, that's what they'll say, and ain't no one gonna disagree." A sigh, and the police officer pops another chip into his mouth. "Anything we do seems like terrorism." Shane extends his claws, spearing fish on one to eat it in quick bites. "Kinda seems to me like shoving people into cages and torturing them and killing them is the real -- terrorism, though." He makes it through about half the sandwich's innards before he sets it back down, licking his claws clean. Eric's eyes watch Shane's tongue-claw interaction, cheeks flashing a little bit darker. "Yeah, well, terrorism is what they call anyone they don't like, ya know?" he says, looking up at the sky for a moment. "I think I agree with ya, I've gotta say," The police officer says, taking another two potato chips out and tossing them into his mouth. Om, nom. Eric turns to sit up himself, turning to stare through the reeds and to the water beyond, falling silent, a vague frown on his face. "Yeah." That's all, and then Shane falls silent, looking away from Eric out to the water as well. "We're allowed to swim here, right?" Eric grins and shakes his head. "Probably not, but, fuck it. It's quiet enough this side of the Hudson ain't nobody goin'ta bother us," he says. He grins and reaches into the picnic basket to pull out a black speedo. "I brought swim gear for me, too." he drawls, winking at the younger man. "I need'ta pick up flippers so I can even have a chance'a keepin' up." Shane stands, unfastening his vests quickly. He folds his clothes as he pares down out of them, neat and careful to stack them beside the picnic basket. He hasn't bothered with swimclothes, just strips down out of all his clothing before slipping towards the water. "You won't keep up." "I doubt I will," Eric says, stripping down himself. He does put on the speedo, but quickly jumps into the cool water after Shane, grinning and laughing as he swims out towards the boy. "But it'll sure be fun t' try!"