Olivia was lost in her thoughts, drinking from the styrofoam cup of coffee, and walking along the pathway by the lake. There were a lot of questions that she had and no answers. Answers that likely weren't going to be answered until she left the village and could talk to Walter.
Her progress took her by a man feeding ducks that she just caught a glimpse of from the corner of her eye. It took her five steps later for it to register that the man feeding the ducks was Walter.
"Walter?" Her tone full of surprise as she turned around and looked at him.
An achingly long moment passed in silence, Walter not acknowledging Olivia's presence, not lifting his head from the ducks. He focused on the near-rhythmic quack-quack-quacking of the birds, making noises as if desperate to speak their minds. It reminded Walter of those endless days in St. Clare's, fellow patients nattering on and on, unable to stop themselves from speaking yet not understanding exactly what they were saying. Soon the cacophony became a comfort, white noise to lull himself to sleep.
Quack-quack-quack.
"Agent Dunham," he croaked finally, a humorless chuckle lurking in those words. Olive. That poor, poor girl. "A fine day to commune with our feathered friends."
Olivia was very used to Walter so the long silence that greeted her question didn't even cause her to blink. "Have you been communing long?" She took the few steps closer toward him, taking in his body language and what he wasn't saying.
"No more than a few minutes," he said carefully, allowing a duck to nibble popcorn kernels directly from his palm. "My memory isn't what it used to be." An outright confession to those who knew the elder Bishop well. "This place, this village, the people. All the little details completely slipped my mind when I returned to our...our world!" His gaze turned sharply onto Olivia. "Was I gone long?"
One of the good things about this village was admittedly the weather. It got warmer here than it did in Boston where Peter currently found himself resident. So he was out enjoying the weather, going for a walk away from the gaggle of children at the museum who wanted to be taught about dinosaurs. He'd let someone else do that tour. While he could do it, he thought it was best the kids actually got some form of education at some point instead of him just making half of it up. His half was pretty entertaining though.
He was rounding the outer edge of the village, coming toward the pond, when he spotted someone who looked very familiar. Peter's brow furrowed. "No, couldn't be." Oh course, he should know better than to put anything passed his father. Peter picked up his face to an almost jog until he was sure it was his father. "Walter!" He called out as he continued to make his way to the bench and the ducks and the aging man.
"Son," he warned in a hoarse whisper, acting as if he'd never left the village. "Voice down to a reasonable level. The aural acuity of common waterfowl exceeds the normal human range by a number of decibels. We don't want them to scatter!"
And with that last harsh word, a number of the birds fluttered away.
Peter arrived a moment after the birds fluttered away and he watched them for a second before turning to his father. "I'm sorry. I'll be sure to keep my volume down the next time I find myself in an alternate reality where my father suddenly disappeared for three weeks and came back."
"Three weeks?" he barked, staring at Peter as if the younger Bishop had just suggested painting the buildings polka-dotted pink to ward off against possible rain. "Twenty-one days. Longer than the entire life cycle of the common housefly." It had been longer for him. So much longer. Perhaps lifetimes...
"It's...good to see you, Peter," he said finally, offering him the rest of the bag of popcorn. Whether to eat himself or to feed to the ducks, he left for his son (truly his son) to choose.
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Her progress took her by a man feeding ducks that she just caught a glimpse of from the corner of her eye. It took her five steps later for it to register that the man feeding the ducks was Walter.
"Walter?" Her tone full of surprise as she turned around and looked at him.
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Quack-quack-quack.
"Agent Dunham," he croaked finally, a humorless chuckle lurking in those words. Olive. That poor, poor girl. "A fine day to commune with our feathered friends."
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He was rounding the outer edge of the village, coming toward the pond, when he spotted someone who looked very familiar. Peter's brow furrowed. "No, couldn't be." Oh course, he should know better than to put anything passed his father. Peter picked up his face to an almost jog until he was sure it was his father. "Walter!" He called out as he continued to make his way to the bench and the ducks and the aging man.
(ooc: I lied, have a Peter >.> lol sorry XD)
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And with that last harsh word, a number of the birds fluttered away.
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"It's...good to see you, Peter," he said finally, offering him the rest of the bag of popcorn. Whether to eat himself or to feed to the ducks, he left for his son (truly his son) to choose.
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