Fishing - [Risa; the Scotts]

[allmhadadh]

Fishing on the sea shore was virtually impossible for any number of reasons; the biggest being, of course, that they had several seriously pissed off dockhands who would probably have an eye out for them.  But another reason was that it was too busy and bustling for any such thing, and therefore any attempt at fishing would have to be made

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[amplenacelles]

Scotty didn't often indulge in scenery, but it was difficult not to when one was on a planet as beautiful as Risa. As he hiked toward the water with the younger Scott, he found himself surprisingly at ease. The weight of the bait bucket in hand and the familiar shape of the pole propped against his shoulder were comfortingly nostalgic. He regarded the other Scott as they came up to the wide cove--no, he corrected himself--it was technically a lake. He wasn't sure what to say, and found that he couldn't really think of anything that properly fit the mood. Instead, he surveyed the water.

"Where dya' think we should drop down, lad?"

[allmhadadh]

He'd only been fishing a few times, but they were enough for him to loosely think of it as a hobby. He didn't mind the quiet as they walked; it was a far more comfortable silence than it had been at any point prior, the kind that has its own language.

It was technically a lake; a very pretty one, too. Deep blues, not quite like the sea. He quirked a bit of a smile and stepped close to the edge of the water, looking up and down the shoreline. "Somewhere in th' shade?" He tended to tan, but it was pretty clear that the other Scott was more apt to burn; he thought about some ribbing over it, but wasn't quite ready to yet.

There were a good number of large rocks along the way, and he pointed to one with a fairly large, flat surface, mostly in shadows and some mildly filtered sunlight. "That work?"

[amplenacelles]

Scotty craned his neck and spotted the outcropping of rocks. Half in the shade, half dappled lighting, it would definitely be more forgiving than full twin-sunlight. He'd probably gotten enough exposure for a long while and he'd only been on Risa a full day or so.

"Aye, that'll do," Scotty replied with a nod. The two picked their way across the rocky shore until they managed to perch on the most convenient shaded spot. With a grin, Scotty dug into the bait--some native insect that looked like a green and fuscia earthworm with twelve eyes--and cast out into the lake.

"Relaxation," he commented with a long happy breath. "Now this is a holiday."

[allmhadadh]

He completely eyed the bait with one of those 'what the fuck...?' expressions. Not much off-Earth time, nope. Frowning a bit, puzzled, he pulled one of those twelve-eyed earthworm... things out of the bucket and held it up to eye level. "'At's... somethin' else." And after a moderate period of study, he put it back in the bucket and went to putting a lure on his own fishing pole. "That PADD have any way t' pull up native species an' see if they're keepable an' edible?"

[allmhadadh]

Time wore on somewhat, at a relaxed and leisurely pace; the older Scott was very quiet. Scotty didn't know if he was asleep, or if he was just resting with his eyes closed, but either way he kept something of a silent guard on both the man and his fishing gear, and did his best to keep his head clear of the too many things that would crowd in if he let them

[haroldlee]

Harold wandered up to the pair by the water, hovering some feet away, suddenly very insecure about how to announce himself.

Um, hey? How's it going, man? Don't mind the bite marks?

Shit.

[allmhadadh]

Scotty had registered the approach from further away than a few feet, and once he had ascertained who it was, he'd smiled slightly to himself but didn't shout -- he didn't want to go disturbing the other Scott. But he looked up, then tipped his head to the side and eyed Harold with a grin. "Bad room service again?"

[haroldlee]

"Heh. Actually... pretty damn good room service this time." Harold cleared his throat, shaking his head, trying to stifle the big stupid grin he could feel taking over his face.

He motioned at the other Scott. "Voices down, huh?"

[haroldlee]

Being that close to the elder Scott made things in Harold's brain fire funny, twisting around into hot and cold.

"Hey, hey, closer, don't go away--"

The sound of water enveloping the younger Scotty reverberated in Harold's mind - it comes in waves--

"Oooh, I love swimming!"

Harold, wide-eyed and childlike, was gone in a split second, shirt thrown into the wind.

[amplenacelles]

Scotty spun on his heel as the lad blew past him, pulling his shirt up over his head. He caught sight of the two just as Harold hit the water and stumbled, falling flat on his back. After a couple of seconds, he let his head loll to the side and spied the fishbirdthing. It was still frowning, though from here it looked like a bracket

[allmhadadh]

He sank for about twenty-odd years, on a beam of stray sunlight, but then he felt a little nervous when he stopped seeing it and swam back up for it again, breaking the surface. Something slightly more coherent was filtering into his head now, along with a pervasive, really worrisome sort of dizziness.

"...fit?"

[haroldlee]

Surfacing, Harold frowngrincringed, water cascading from his forehead. He drank some as it fell, suddenly aware that he hadn't had a drink in several years. Wait-- Scotty said--? What did that mean?

"Yeah, you are."

Hair all plastered to his face like that, Scotty looked-- Scotty blushed blue. That's a little weird.

He held out a hand, smiling shyly. "Hi."

Harold boggled as Scotty's blush shifted to purple.

[allmhadadh]

The news was surprisingly encouraging. Namely speaking, apparently the fish that had slapped them (and slimed them) did have some kind of somewhat psychotropic secretions (ick), but they weren't inherently deadly unless directly injected at high doses. In fact, the same fish was often kept in special farms to harvest their unique... slime, for use as a particular Risan pleasure drug

[haroldlee]

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Fucking-- Sorry.

Every step was a litany of sorry.

He clenched his teeth, wishing he had more of George's ale. Good at washing clandestine flavors from one's mouth.

Fuck. Sorry.

[allmhadadh]

The older Scotty wasn't that heavy; not much heavier than the younger, really, even with the height difference. And the younger Scotty was fairly strong, albeit still more a wiry strength than the power he was genetically due to finish getting in a couple years.

But that man sure felt like a ton of bricks right then.

He cast a sidelong look at the upset Harold, frowning a bit, even as he trudged mule-like with the deadweight across his protesting shoulders. "Ye a'right?"

[haroldlee]

"Fine. Stupid." Nice. "--Stupid. Sorry."

Harold kept his eyes trained on the trail, his own muscles so deeply in pain that he'd pushed it down into his gut, along with as much shame as he could. He willed his furious, burning blush to fuck off.

"You?"