Boardwalk [OPEN]

[nealdouglas]

"Hey Scumbag, this is your father speaking. So, it's half eleven and your two hours late so I'm taking it your not coming. Your sudden silence is duly appreciated, I love talking to your answer machine. It's the best way to communicate... so stay hydrated and don't forget if your going to play in the rain- wear a raincoat. Oh, now you're talking to me... I am not embarrassing." Walking along the boardwalk, Neal cradled the phone to his ear holding up a hand as he pointed and ordered a familiar Siren Cove delicacy. Sliding a couple couple of bills out of his wallet, he offered them before taking the cone of fried pickles along with him. "Do you have a girl there? Do you have a boy? You know you can tell me I love you no matter which way you want to swim in the stream. Yes, that was an awful salmon analogy I know."

Neal leaned against the railing, staring out at the water and making a face as he chewed on the crisp end of a fried pickle. Glancing down he half expected his kid to be there, looking up at him with those big, sad eyes. Reaching out he let his hand fall away at the memory of fine hair between his fingertips, his kid looked like his mother which was a blessing to him. He didn't think he'd ever twigged or ever realised why he ever took such an interest in his mother's affairs or more importantly in his.

"What? Oh, no just thinking. I do, do that occasionally you know. So, do you want to meet for lunch later this week?" Neal waited for his son's negative reply, one of the only good things he's ever done in this world and half the time he was sure Killian didn't want to be seen with him. He could hardly blame him, his mother was a smart and sensible woman unlike his dad- unlike Neal. One kid who didn't care if he existed and the other one who didn't know he existed. "No, I get it. You're busy. Okay, okay... so I'll see you soon. Yeah... love you... kiddo. And he hung up. Great."

Crunching on the pickles he sighed and brushed his fingertips against the railing, running a hand through his hair thoughtfully. How'd he manage to fuck up his life this much that his kid didn't even want to spend time with him on a Sunday?

"Fuck," Neal swore, looking at his pickles. Who the hell was he going to share these with now?


[OOC: Catch Neal out on the boardwalk or heading back towards town.]

Comments

[danibradshaw]

"That's disgusting. I can smell you from across the pier."

Dani had to clear her head. She'd been working night and day on the next issue of The Cove when she decided she'd had enough of Siren Cove's who's and what's. Besides, it looked like a beautiful Sunday and she needed a little sun.

She had just grabbed an ice cream cone when she heard the familiar voice of one Neal Douglas. It's hard to miss him, really--his loud voice obviously talking to his son, his presence, and well, the fried pickles. Dani slinks up beside him, leaning onto the railing of the pier as she takes a few licks of her chocolate ice cream.

"Disappointing Sunday?"

[lesparker]

His building had undeniable perks. More space. Good kitchen. Comfy bed now that the furniture was where it needed to be. Great view of the docks and importantly the boardwalk. The only downside he'd found so far is the smell, the smell of grease and sugar and popcorn wafting in when the breeze blew in the right way. Each time it made his stomach rumble with hunger and good memories becuase there's nothing like food from the grease-covered booths down on the boardwalk.

It's just a short walk down to the booth from his building, where they sold corn dogs and fried pickles and sweet lemonade. The pickles here are even better than Quill, and Les orders a cone and a lemonade, and he walks down to a bench near the end of the dock, takes his place and his lemonade.

Obviously this place is good for Les. It reminds him of Corry and his mother, mostly, and as he doesn't come down here nearly enough for lots of reasons. But today it's pretty nice.

[bachjones]

With his guitar on his back, Bach crossed the boardwalk a few times before he found someone willing to buy him some food.

The woman had - with some regret - said that she had to go to work, so Bach was now working his way through churros and waffles by himself. Which he didn't mind, especially because the combination was surprisingly nice. He should only have asked for a drink as well, because this stuff was sweet.

[aoife_coombs]

Life was lighter right now. Thomas was back, Moira was off Aoife's mind and then there was silliness and kisses with Isaiah. Of course she could come up with plenty of things that would go wrong, but right now, she refused to.

Enjoying an outrageously big ice cream cone was easier anyway.