Quiet day in the park
Who: Roscoe
When: Sometime after the skunking incident
Where: The park
Roscoe is sitting alone in the park, quietly tinkering with a top. A kid wanders up to him and stares, although he pointedly ignores him.
“You stink like skunk!” the kid informs him solemnly, and Roscoe snorts.
“So?”
“Just telling you.”
“Thanks,” the man mutters in an irritated tone.
The boy stops talking but continues staring at him, and finally Roscoe puts down the top in exasperation.
“What do you want?”
“There’s a kitten stuck in a tree over there,” the kid replies, so Roscoe frowns and gets to his feet.
“Show me,” he says, and the boy leads him a short distance away, where there is indeed a small kitten crying in a tree.
“She can’t get down,” the kid announces gravely, and Roscoe shakes his head as he peers up into the branches and ponders the situation.
“Yes, I couldn’t have figured that out myself. Hold on, I’ll go up and get her.”
Telekinesis could have easily brought the cat down, but that’s not an option right now, so he struggles to climb the tree. It’s not something he’s done in years, but he makes slow and steady progress as the cat watches him warily and the kid stares up in awe.
“C’mere, kitty,” he beckons, holding out a hand while he clings to the tree with the other. “Please come here before I fall to my death.”
The frightened cat edges towards him a bit, and then he reaches out in a lightning-quick move to grab her.
“Got you!” he proclaims triumphantly as the kitten struggles with teeth and claws, but he doesn’t let go.
Slowly, he clambers down the tree with kitten in hand, and the boy is delighted.
“You did it! You did it!”
Roscoe snuggles the kitten comfortingly once he gets to solid ground, and she begins to calm down.
“You’re safe now,” he croons softly, glad to be useful to someone, and pleased that the cat starts to purr in his arms. The kid’s obvious admiration doesn’t hurt either.
“Are you gonna keep her?” the boy asks, and he very much wants to, but shakes his head regretfully.
“I don’t think I’m allowed to have a pet where I’m staying…and I probably couldn’t take good care of her,” Roscoe says with sadness. What would he do with a cat when he’s homeless or stuck in the psych ward? How could he feed her properly without any money?
“Maybe you should take her,” he suggests to the kid, whose face lights up with joy. It hurts Roscoe to hand the little cat away, but he thinks it’s for the best. Fortunately, the boy holds her carefully and lovingly, and she seems to be in good hands.
As they walk back to the bench where Roscoe had been tinkering earlier, the kid looks eagerly up at him.
“Could you show me what you were working on?”
Roscoe looks at him and grins. Not many people demonstrate interest in his work. He pats the kid on the head, and sits down to tell him about it.
When: Sometime after the skunking incident
Where: The park
Roscoe is sitting alone in the park, quietly tinkering with a top. A kid wanders up to him and stares, although he pointedly ignores him.
“You stink like skunk!” the kid informs him solemnly, and Roscoe snorts.
“So?”
“Just telling you.”
“Thanks,” the man mutters in an irritated tone.
The boy stops talking but continues staring at him, and finally Roscoe puts down the top in exasperation.
“What do you want?”
“There’s a kitten stuck in a tree over there,” the kid replies, so Roscoe frowns and gets to his feet.
“Show me,” he says, and the boy leads him a short distance away, where there is indeed a small kitten crying in a tree.
“She can’t get down,” the kid announces gravely, and Roscoe shakes his head as he peers up into the branches and ponders the situation.
“Yes, I couldn’t have figured that out myself. Hold on, I’ll go up and get her.”
Telekinesis could have easily brought the cat down, but that’s not an option right now, so he struggles to climb the tree. It’s not something he’s done in years, but he makes slow and steady progress as the cat watches him warily and the kid stares up in awe.
“C’mere, kitty,” he beckons, holding out a hand while he clings to the tree with the other. “Please come here before I fall to my death.”
The frightened cat edges towards him a bit, and then he reaches out in a lightning-quick move to grab her.
“Got you!” he proclaims triumphantly as the kitten struggles with teeth and claws, but he doesn’t let go.
Slowly, he clambers down the tree with kitten in hand, and the boy is delighted.
“You did it! You did it!”
Roscoe snuggles the kitten comfortingly once he gets to solid ground, and she begins to calm down.
“You’re safe now,” he croons softly, glad to be useful to someone, and pleased that the cat starts to purr in his arms. The kid’s obvious admiration doesn’t hurt either.
“Are you gonna keep her?” the boy asks, and he very much wants to, but shakes his head regretfully.
“I don’t think I’m allowed to have a pet where I’m staying…and I probably couldn’t take good care of her,” Roscoe says with sadness. What would he do with a cat when he’s homeless or stuck in the psych ward? How could he feed her properly without any money?
“Maybe you should take her,” he suggests to the kid, whose face lights up with joy. It hurts Roscoe to hand the little cat away, but he thinks it’s for the best. Fortunately, the boy holds her carefully and lovingly, and she seems to be in good hands.
As they walk back to the bench where Roscoe had been tinkering earlier, the kid looks eagerly up at him.
“Could you show me what you were working on?”
Roscoe looks at him and grins. Not many people demonstrate interest in his work. He pats the kid on the head, and sits down to tell him about it.