[for Lennox]
It's a bit of a trek to the smaller of the two waterfalls, but now he knows why Shane makes it. Much as he loves--needs--other people, their company, their presence alone, he grew up on the streets of New York and grew up some more in a concrete and plastic building, and with his meds refilled and dutifully taken, it's kind of nice to just go for a walk when he feels like it, to go somewhere quiet.
And it's not like he's completely alone. "I don't think you wanna play there, gatito," tumbling Angelo back from the water's edge with one hand. He'd thought about going for a swim, but between the kitten's needy curiosity and Jack's shell-shocked disposition, he doesn't think he can afford to. Angelo slinks away from him and decides the rabbit makes better fun than whatever bug was leading him into the water, draping his lithe little body over the rabbit and licking the place where his ear ought to be. It still boggles the fuck out of Miguel that they get along, but that's the island: happy little people and animals in their fucking huts, not bothering nobody.
Setting his shoes aside, he digs out one of the cigarettes Joe gave him, rolled with the pages of a book or some shit and stowed carefully against the instep. Far from contraband but old habits die hard, though he hasn't had to sharpen his toothbrush into a weapon yet. Watching Angelo roll onto his back with his claws out, waiting for Jack to fight him while the rabbit chews nervously on a leaf, the idea just makes him laugh.
And it's not like he's completely alone. "I don't think you wanna play there, gatito," tumbling Angelo back from the water's edge with one hand. He'd thought about going for a swim, but between the kitten's needy curiosity and Jack's shell-shocked disposition, he doesn't think he can afford to. Angelo slinks away from him and decides the rabbit makes better fun than whatever bug was leading him into the water, draping his lithe little body over the rabbit and licking the place where his ear ought to be. It still boggles the fuck out of Miguel that they get along, but that's the island: happy little people and animals in their fucking huts, not bothering nobody.
Setting his shoes aside, he digs out one of the cigarettes Joe gave him, rolled with the pages of a book or some shit and stowed carefully against the instep. Far from contraband but old habits die hard, though he hasn't had to sharpen his toothbrush into a weapon yet. Watching Angelo roll onto his back with his claws out, waiting for Jack to fight him while the rabbit chews nervously on a leaf, the idea just makes him laugh.