The Park, Sunday Afternoon
Reno needed to get out and about.
Friday had been spent locked firmly in his apartment, ignoring all incoming calls and resolutely not answering his door for fear that people would see some of the baggage that had appeared. There were some things that Turks didn't broadcast for the whole world to see. Their issues were one of those things. Their fears, the faces that lurked in the shadows and the screams that could be heard every time they closed their eyes... People didn't get to see those.
Turks didn't have them. Not so far as the rest of the world was concerned. Hell, not even so far as the rest of the Turks were concerned. Reno's issues were Reno's fricking issues, and they were made to stay hidden under the million little layers he'd built up over the years.
At least now they were back and away where they belonged, for himself to know about and only himself to know about, and he'd taken a day to just mellow out again before deciding that, shit, today was a nice day. The island had a sky. He needed out.
And that was why he was flopped backward on a bench in the park, looking upward at the clouds as they drifted by, and occasionally tossing beer nuts at the squirrels that wandered near. He liked the squirrels, when you got right down to it. It was hard not to after spending a year drinking their rum in exchange for keeping up on all the recent gossip around the island.
[Open! Why not?]
Friday had been spent locked firmly in his apartment, ignoring all incoming calls and resolutely not answering his door for fear that people would see some of the baggage that had appeared. There were some things that Turks didn't broadcast for the whole world to see. Their issues were one of those things. Their fears, the faces that lurked in the shadows and the screams that could be heard every time they closed their eyes... People didn't get to see those.
Turks didn't have them. Not so far as the rest of the world was concerned. Hell, not even so far as the rest of the Turks were concerned. Reno's issues were Reno's fricking issues, and they were made to stay hidden under the million little layers he'd built up over the years.
At least now they were back and away where they belonged, for himself to know about and only himself to know about, and he'd taken a day to just mellow out again before deciding that, shit, today was a nice day. The island had a sky. He needed out.
And that was why he was flopped backward on a bench in the park, looking upward at the clouds as they drifted by, and occasionally tossing beer nuts at the squirrels that wandered near. He liked the squirrels, when you got right down to it. It was hard not to after spending a year drinking their rum in exchange for keeping up on all the recent gossip around the island.
[Open! Why not?]