028. Fishing
The air was calm and peaceful. On a small dock nestled by a lake sat a long figure, relaxing in an easy chair. His long legs stretched out in front of him and his eyes fluttered closed briefly before he opened them again. A small fishing pole was at his side, leaning against his chair. He gave it a passing glance before scanning the horizon, the setting sun painting his skin with hues of red and gold. Closing his eyes yet again, the man exhaled, a smile creasing his face.
A sudden sharp tug to the fishing line caused him to snap his eyes open. Eyeing the pole warily, the rod seemed to be still once again. The man gave a small shrug and settled back again, only to be disturbed once more by the twang of the fishing pole being pulled taunt. He looked at the pole again, and seeing it was still taunt, grabbing it roughly.
The line remained strong against him after a small tug. The man’s face was a picture of concentration as he started to reel in the line, an inch at a time. Soon most of line was pulled in, and he would finally be able to see the fish he had been fighting against all this time.
Suddenly the line went slack again; the man swore loudly, cursing his luck. An outline of a figure came up in the water, and made a jump onto the dock, landing at the man’s feet. The man from the water had shaggy brown hair, covering his face from view. He moved the hair with a casual swipe of his hand, grinning at the dry man.
“Hey Ville. What’s going on?” Ville took one glance at the man, then kicked him in the side.
“I thought I had caught a fish Bam! What the fuck?” Bam laughed, grinning even more.
“I’m better than a fish anyway. Got any beer?” Ville groaned, stamping his feet as he walked off the dock.