fandomtownies | the boardwalk ; wednesday afternoon

Current Mood: mellow

Entry tags:

the boardwalk ; wednesday afternoon

Sam's ghosts were leaving him alone (literally) which meant he had a semi clear head and was in a semi decent mood when he and his skateboard hit the boardwalk. He hadn't done this in too long (the lack of road rash on his elbows could attest to that) and it felt good to have the wind in his hair and the sun on his face.

For some reason, he felt like he had to be active today. After his duplicates had been lazier than even he'd been at his the height of slackerdom, Sam felt like getting out and doing something would save him from that fate.

Hopefully it would save him from that fate, that is. After all, the M&M's that the teachers had given him had been really good and naps were really fun. But, he didn't want to think of himself getting like that. He wove his way down the boardwalk, getting lost in his own head and his own thoughts of things past and things future.

But, he wasn't too unfocused to trip over cracks or pebbles or run into rails or even off the boardwalk completely and into the sand. Anyone wanting a laugh wasn't going to find it in Sam today.

Just don't toss anything in front of his wheels. Then, he'd probably faceplant and that would hurt. And it'd be mean. Don't be mean.

[Open place in town means open post, of course.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sam the side of a sneaker along the ground to slow himself down so he could roll to a stop easily. He'd seen her when he'd been further back down the boardwalk but hadn't decided if he was going to say hello or just roll on past.

She'd made that decision for him which was always easier for a slacker. "Are you trying to jinx me? I don't fall that often. You've just happened to see me after I wiped out."

He rubbed his elbows sympathetically. They didn't need to be shredded up like his poor back.

Kate shrugged, and raised her hands. "I just call them as I see them." Unfortunately, what she'd seen painted him as a klutz. "Appearances say I don't need to kind."

"I'd be worse," she admitted, though. Skateboarding was not in her skillset.

"You should be nice," Sam chastised, keeping one foot on the ground and stretching out his back. "I've heard karma's a bitch and tends to get you in the end. Wouldn't want a skateboard to fall on your head from the cargo hold of an airplane."

"Karma doesn't like me anyway," Kate told him, a wry laugh escaping. She'd been screwed over since birth. Could it get worse? ... Well yes, but she preferred not to think about that possibility.

"But hey, I'm in a class about not being evil. Maybe something will stick?"

"It's cute that you think any class here is really geared towards that level of academia," Sam remarked with a shrug. Sam didn't really think you could teach not being evil anyway. "Gonna try for valedictorian next? That'd be funny to see."

"Sweet of you to ask. I have my speech all planned out already." Because she was that academic. It was miraculous she got that out with a straight face. "I might even throw you a shout out if you're nice to me."

"Nice is a subjective term," Sam replied, shrugging. "What's nice to me might not be nice to you. So, where does that leave me? Confused. What does that tell me? That I shouldn't even try to be nice to you. See, all works out better in the end."

That was about as existential as Sam would get and even then, it wasn't very existential at all.

And even that was more existential than Kate ever got. It drew a raised eyebrow, and a sort of laugh.

"And here you were telling me karma was going to bite me on the ass for teasing you." He was just as bad. "What's with the double standards, Seattle?"

"What double standards?" Sam asked, shrugging. "That was all hypothetical. I didn't say I wasn't going to be nice to you but you took it that way. Assumptions are only gonna make you an ass. One of my teachers used to say that but she didn't use the word ass. Swear word and all."

Kate shook her head, "Hypothetical double standards, then. Smartass." He knew what she'd meant.

She grinned. "Do I have to modify that one for your delicate ears?" She couldn't help herself.

"Double standards exist everywhere," Sam replied, barely resisting the urge to smirk at having gotten the slightest of rises out of her. "I'm just perpetuating that fact. Wouldn't want the world to go all topsy turvy because double standards went away."

Yes, he was always going to be a smartass. It would never go away.

And Kate was always going to be a brat. They all had their irritating flaws.

"You planning to take that on single-handedly?" she wondered. "Insuring the continuing corruption of the world is a big task."

"You think I could do it?" Sam wondered, pretending to be interested about that. "My mom wants me to graduate high school, I've got a Council seat that's pretty important and an estate back home. Could I fit corruption in between those? Hmm."

"Council seat and your own estate, sounds like the best place to orchestrate corruption from," Kate noted. "Politicians and big landowners are usually at the centre of dodgy activities."

Sam pretended to think about it a little longer before he shook his head. "Both the estate and Council seat were inherited. Sort of. I'm not really meant for them but..."

He shrugged a little helplessly. "Ways of the world, I guess. I'll leave the corruption to the mafia. They look much better with slicked back hair then I do."

Kate twitched a small smirk. "Spend a bit more time perfecting your mafia-look in front of the bathroom mirror," she suggested.

She hesitated a moment before adding her next question, "How do you 'sort of' inherit something?" Didn't you just inherit... or not? That was her experience, anyway.

Sam would never slick back his hair and he would never grow some bushy mustache or anything else that was stereotypical of the mafia. Movies had given him a lot of knowledge.

"It wasn't my choice to inherit anything," Sam replied, shrugging. "It wasn't like a rich uncle died and left me his millions. It didn't go down like that."

"Generally that's not by choice either," Kate noted. "Unless you really hated the guy and were a cutthroat sort of relative."

"Okay fine, what's it mean to inherit something in Georgia terms?" Sam asked, balking on actually telling the entire story. He wanted to keep some secrets.

"You have a family who does the whole heirloom thing?" he guessed.

Kate exhaled a laugh. "My father didn't believe in 'having things'." If it didn't have a viable purpose it wasn't worth having and it got left behind. So no, definitely not an heirlooms sort of family.

"My sword is the closest thing I have to an heirloom, and no one died to leave it to me."

"Congrats," Sam said dryly. "I got what I got through unusual terms. It wasn't really like inheriting it. It was more like...taking up the mantle. I don't freaking now. There's not a word for it."

Or well, there was, but Sam didn't want to go into it right now.

"Unusual sounds about right," she decided. Obviously he didn't want to elaborate, and she'd get cranky if anyone pushed a subject like that on her.

"Everything I wanted to inherit off my mom, I didn't. Being adorable, blonde, loved by all." No, Kate took after her father the megalomaniacal necromancer. Go figure. "If only they did let us pick and choose."

"...you wanted to be adorable and blonde?" Sam asked, fighting the urge to snicker slightly. "Did you wanna be a cheerleader too?"

"If I had that whole girly cutesy thing going for me, sure." Was that so weird? It wasn't as if she spent her childhood dreaming of being 'that girl who hits pretty hard'. "Who doesn't want to be normal and peppy sometimes?"

Sam raised a hand. "Yeah, I never wanted to be peppy. Ever. That just meant too much energy I might have used to join a club or a team or something."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject