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[greying_raven]

The listening man sits in the sun, warm to touch the way a stone is because it sits under the sky. If you have something to say, he's here.

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[freyborg_fenix]

"Nice day," Stock says briefly (a usually incomprehensible sentence), from where he stands, some feet away.

[greying_raven]

Luther looks to him and smiles, welcoming.

[freyborg_fenix]

Stock smiles back, and looks away. "Been a while since we've talked," he comments. (Brevity isn't something that comes naturally to the poet, but Luther's contagious.)

[greying_raven]

Luther nods, indicates the chair next to his, inviting Stock to sit.