(Untitled)

[homerinexile]

Donald Maclean was good at avoiding things. Avoiding issues, avoiding people, except of course, when he felt the need to tell all, to deal with things now and in the immediate. To say he wasn't a man built of contradictions was a lie

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[todddowney_said]

The rec room was overrun with people, children, and various animals. Mort had nothing against any of the above, but he had a shiny new laptop that was giving him a chance to do something worth some energy and it was difficult to tap into inner genius when there were random puppies attack his pant legs. Ner mind the fact his inner genius had taken a little vacation logn before he'd even arrived to this place, but it was even more difficult with constant interuptions.

That determined, he was dressed with his new computer snug in a carrying bag, carefully slung over his shoulder at the moment, and walking down to path trying to find a shady place to sit where it wouldn't be too hot, too wet, or likely to have some sort of jungle cat leap from the trees and tear out his jugular. Instead, he end up crossing paths with a man. With a bucket.

"Err," he starts eloquently, raising a hand in greeting as he approached. "Hi. Good afternoon?"

[homerinexile]

Donald smiled at the man, the ice clinking in the bucket. "Hello."

"I'd say use this path often, but it likely would sound odd, wouldn't it?'

[todddowney_said]

"That...would, actually, but in an understandable way." There were only so many paths afterall, and only so many places. It'd be like walking up to a woman at the Hub and asking if she came there often, it answered itself.

"That's a...lovely bucket you have there." Somewhere on the island or in his own head, which actually still could be the island, a Southern psychopath snickered behind his hands.

[homerinexile]

"Thank you." It was a lovely bucket, silver and engraved, and had appeared with his drinks cabinet. "I thought scotch is much nicer on the rocks."

[todddowney_said]

"Oh, always." Perhaps he began to salivate slightly at the mention of scotch, though it wasn't his drink of preferance, but the meer mention of it made him think back to the New year's Eve party he'd joined and how everything from bathtub gin to Tanqueray had been available. And Jack Daniel's whiskey. Oh lord, his old buddy Jack had been met well.

"I'm a fan of scotch, but I've always been more of a whiskey man, myself."

[homerinexile]

"Ah. You mean Irish Whiskey?" Donald smiled, "I've some of that as well if you'd like to join me."

"I'm Donald," he added afterwards.

[todddowney_said]

He was opening his mouth to correct the man on his preferance, but somewhere between the neuro receptors of his brain and his mouth somone put up a red flag that said 'SHUT UP' and his mouth was closed before it was even open. Instead he pushed a smile and nodded appreciatively.

"Well, that's very kind of you and I suppose I'm obligated to accept." He readjusted the strap oh his bag, "I'm Mort, it's nice to meet you. And I'm sure I'll be happy to meet your whiskey."

[homerinexile]

"Excellent," Donald smiled a bit more widely, "I'm out past the small waterfall, just past the Hamlet."

[todddowney_said]

"Ah, that's a nice area." Mort hadn't actually been out there all that much, but the purpose of small talk is to force yourself to say something and not sound like a complete moron. Once he'd actually been quite skilled at it.

"I'll go out on a limb and say the liquor may have been an island gift? I thoguht everything else available was moonshine and cider. And that god aweful pinapple wine."

[homerinexile]

Donald was actually quite good at small chat. He needed to be in his line of work. "Yes. Very nice in fact. I find the sound of the water quite soothing, don't you?"

He nodded the affirmative, "I believe that it is. It was simply there one morning."

[todddowney_said]

"I don't actually spend that much time around the water," he admitted, which was an odd confession considering the habitat of his current residence. "I mostly keep to the Compound, I'm sort of restricted due to," Don't say crazy. "Some medical issues. Back home I had a cabin right on the edge of this beautiful lake though, I loved it there."

He nodded. "I got a new laptop," he said, patting the bag at his hip. "I'm a writer, so it'll help me get back to work hopefully."

[homerinexile]

"Are you able to go that far?" Donald was concerned about that. He'd hate for the man to have some sort of episode and not be able to get care.

"Ah. I was a diplomat. Not much work for me here really."

[todddowney_said]

"Oh, yes." He assured him, hands up in the classic expression of honesty. "I've been making a point of going out more. Fresh air and all that." Actually he was feeling rather good about himself, he hadn't actually seen Shooter since before the New Year, and he was feeling distinctly hopeful about that prospect. If not also a little suspicious.

"A diplomat?" He was impressed. "Where were you?"

[homerinexile]

Donald nodded, heading back down the path as he spoke. "France before the war. Washington, Cairo. London as well, obviously."

[todddowney_said]

"War?" Mort raised an eyebrow and gave the man a brief look over. True, his dress was more of an older style than you generlly saw on the island, but Mort was no expert on fashion and couldn't rightfully say he could immediately idenitfy anything. "Which war, exactly?"

[homerinexile]

"Ah," Donald forgot sometimes of all of the people here from strange times. It was easy enough, when you were comfortable in things. "The second. World War I believe they were calling it."