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[kid_skin]

Who: Jonas (Middle Billy Goat) & Luke (Eldest Billy Goat)
When: Friday evening
What: Faux-family reunion
Where: The Pen, rooftop shenanigans.
Status: Thread, Incomplete

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[elder_goat]

Luke clambered onto the roof via the fire escape. He'd worn his hiking boots and had been up a time or two before, so he trip-trapped along with a bit more stability than Jonas, but not by a lot. The height was comfortable, even enjoyable. At this hour, before the lights really came on but the sun cast everything in the same shade of murky blue, he could almost feel like he wasn't in the city, that the towers and spires were mountainous peaks, dramatic formations made by water and wind, not hammer and bolt

[kid_skin]

The music gradually filtered into Jonas' awareness with a twitch of his toes. It reminded him of mountains and running, made him smack a quiet counter rhythm with the rubber sole of his flipflop. Tree tops scraped the bottom of his skyline view, swaying in the wind with just enough tempo to look like skeletal arms waving to the melody. Building lights began blinking on like yellow cat eyes. A car alarm went off, blaring a jolting bass-line. He watched it all blink and merge across the horizon until there was suddenly a whole city of swaggering bonemen doing the electric slide to the Devil Went Down to Georgia routine happening on his sloped ribbon of rooftop. Sometimes Jonas thought he seriously had the best life ever.

"Hey do you know any Russian music?" he asked as the melody wound down. He craned his neck, finally, to see the distorted silhouette of the phantom fiddler. With a started 'whoa' he abruptly sat up, and stared, and shivered. His coat was most of the way off at that point, bunched down around his elbows and rendered

[elder_goat]

"Sure, I know a couple of Russian tunes," Luke said as he tuned his A-string. But it was old, and with a comical twang it popped and curled. "Damn," he muttered, reaching into his case for a new string.

At the second question, Luke turned his head around with a quizzical look to see who he was addressing. He chuckled slightly at the ragamuffin clinging to the roof in the devil horns. "I'm an old goat," he answered. "What are YOU then?"

[kid_skin]

"Are you for real?" Jonas scrambled to his feet, skidded again, and stepped out of his flipflops to avoid imminent death. Once he'd shunted the risk of plunging five stories and probably making Bob's life, he turned to stare at the be-horned guy again. In a somewhat sloppy attempt at being casual, he sidled over and half-circled Luke. Without any pretense of good manners or personal boundaries, he reached out and drew his fingers down one horn, then skittered back a couple of feet. He clasped his hands behind his back in a completely contrived display of innocence, like he hadn't just totally groped some stranger's...head protrusion. It was so totally unfair.

Raising his eyebrows, he cast his gaze shiftily to the side and ignored Luke's question as if he had no interest whatsoever in him or his question or the fact that he just said he was a goat. Seriously, how many goats could there be? He had no idea, but he sort of felt that heinous, awesome urge to throw up, like after going on Space Mountain seven times in a row without