Comments | rosenhan_logs: It's good to see the sun and feel this place, this place I never thought would feel like home

cowboy_newsie in rosenhan_logs

It's good to see the sun and feel this place, this place I never thought would feel like home

Oct 22, 2009 20:55

Day: 10
Characters: Reeve Tuesti, Jack Kelly
Summary: Chillaxin' on the beach, yo
Status: Closed; incomplete

( And I ran forever far away and I, I always thought I'd end up here alone. Somehow
the world has changed and I've come home to give you back the things they took from you, and I feel you now I'm not alone )

reeve tuesti, jack kelly

Comments 11

cowboy_newsie October 27 2009, 00:44:10 UTC

"I call it good luck," he retorted, smirking. "There's gotta be a reason I ended up there, righ'? Even if it weren't where I meant t'go."

He shrugged, glancing around. "This state's as far from New York as you can get," he replied, smiling, amused by the small geography lesson he was giving. "Plus I live in the city, I don't know nothin' bout no animals on islands." Jack paused a moment and then added hesitantly, "I think there's . . . sharks and stuff in the water, ya know? O', uh-- nah, never mind."

He was thinking of when Specs had read Treasure Island two or three years ago. He'd been so damn excited about it, and finally Jack'd asked-- both out of curiosity and a desire to get the boy to finally shut up-- what the big deal was. It'd prompted Specs to open the book and begin to wildly describe some of the things he'd read-- pirates and parrots and hidden treasure, all thanks to a map or something ( ... )

felis_fidelus October 27 2009, 01:07:11 UTC

"Sharks I comprehend," he said, amused. "Bears as well. But... dear stuff? That's a little confusing. Or are they all cute little things girls would coo over?" He pointed at a colorful green and blue bird flying overhead.

Little tufts of grass were beginning to sprout up here and there out of the sand. Tiny ones, but it was odd to see the splotches of green against the gold, and he bent to pluck a long piece. "A reason you ended up there? usually that's what everyone else calls 'getting lost'. but then, I think I like your definition better."

Reeve paused. "As long as it's not one of those 'I'm running for my life and wound up in a corner' scenarios, anyway. Then I wouldn't call it good luck."

cowboy_newsie October 27 2009, 01:54:54 UTC

"Wha'?" Jack asked, staring, before realizing what Reeve meant and snorted. "No, no, no'-- it's an animal, it's-- it's called a deer, and it's-- here." He squatted down in the sand, drawing a rough round shape and adding a head, four legs and a small tail. He stared at it critically before adding an eye and nodding. "Looks sorta like tha'."

Standing again, Jack threw an admiring glance at his artwork before facing Reeve. "And nah, tha's the type I call bad luck. O' jus' interestin' luck, anyway. Ya meet interestin' people when ya's runnin' away from the bulls an' get trapped inna corner." He grinned. "Tha's how I met me friend Medda, runnin' int' the back o' her theater an' hidin' in the props."

felis_fidelus October 27 2009, 02:49:28 UTC

Nodding politely, Reeve looked at the crude figure drawn in the sand. The basic shape was clear enough to not be canine or feline, which ruled out anything like Guard Beasts or Nibel Wolves. And it didn't look reptilian- which was good, as Reeve knew he couldn't face a Zolom without a lot of backup (and several Materia). "It... looks like a Gighee. These deer aren't pink, are they?"

He raised an eyebrow at the description of Jack's encounter with the 'bulls'- police, he assumed. "Medda?" he asked. The name sounded vaguely familiar. "The last time I knew anyone who hid in a theater...." He couldn't repress a snort of laughter. "They ended up getting stuck in the leading roles. It was hilarious. A complete wreck, but the original play was stupid, so it was an improvement."

cowboy_newsie October 28 2009, 02:52:19 UTC

"Brown," Jack answered authoritatively, though he hadn't ever actually seen one before. "I don't think there's any animals in our world that's pink." Any he'd ever seen, anyway, or heard of, though there were probably one or two Edgeworth could tell him.

"Medda's a singer," he answered, tugging his vest closer on his body as the wind whipped at their faces. "The one who gave me this hat, as a matter o' fact, the first time I ran int' her theater and hid backstage, when I were a kid." He chuckled at Reeve's description and added, grinning cockily: "See, at least I were never onstage-- well, I were never onstage accidentally, anyway. And I always improved the thin's I were in."