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The Park, Most of Sunday

Had the carnival changed? Retreated? No, but perhaps it had filled up even worse over the past twenty-four hours or so.

The look on that mustached man's face certainly exuded a certain amount of triumph as the lights went on again early on Sunday morning. He stabbed the ground with his cane and watched; if experience counted for anything, then there would be yet more pouring into his carnival today.

The feeding was good, here.

That scent of cotton candy rolled over the island once more, and the carnival's music touched what it could not.

It's a new day, Fandom. Come, enjoy it.

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Nathan laughed at the yelping and the shrieking, pleased. The only thing that could have made it better was if he'd actually hit Roland.

"See, this is much more fun!" And then he tried to chuck two more at Roland's head, leaving him with three now. He just wanted one to hit home. Just one.

Roland was a nimble kind of guy, with some experience dodging thrown things. You wouldn't believe how many teenagers thought it was funny to try to egg the street musician. Still, one of them clipped his shoulder, and there were a few moments of yelping and smacking as Roland tried to make sure his jacket didn't catch fire.

He liked this jacket. Sure, it was too hot for it now, but it would be getting cooler soon enough.

"That, uh." He could not believe he was saying this. "That all you got?"

Nathan's eyebrows arched up at the potential challenge. The speed with which he was juggling the remaining tennis balls increased and he pursed his lips.

"That sounds like a stupid challenge," he said and slung a ball hard and right at Roland's stomach. Two more left.

Exceptionally so.

Balls thrown at the stomach were much harder to dodge. So Roland caught it.

Which was also exceptionally stupid.

He shrieked and flung the ball away again immediately, then lost another few moments patting and swatting to get rid of any extra flames.

Ow.

And that meant Nathan was going to try and take advantage. The last two tennis balls came flying at Roland, leaving him weapon less but he didn't think he'd need anything after this. He thought he'd take Roland out and move onto someone else.

The advantage of being at least slightly used to operating under circumstances of sheer, unadulterated terror was that you learned not to freeze up. And also, to trust your instincts. So Roland, still slightly on fire, barrelled straight past the two last flaming tennis balls and leaped at Nathan.

And if hugging him happened to smother the last of the flames, so much the better. He was going to miss this jacket.

That was a surprise. So much so that Nathan yelped and caught Roland against him with his arms. He stumbled backwards and immediately tried to struggle because there were flames on him now.

He didn't say anything but he was definitely going to squirm and try and twist away from both Roland and the burning pain ow.

SHARE THE PAIN, NATHAN.

"Sorry," Roland muttered, holding on tight and occasionally attempting to pat away flames on both of them. "It's supposed to work. Sorry about this."

"Stop hugging me!" It sounded so silly to say that. "I hug no one!"

Except Roland right now, that is.

"Stop it! No! Stop it!"

But he couldn't seem to break away from the embrace.

"Sorry," Roland said again, still holding on tight. "Terribly sorry. Should start working any minute now."

Roland wasn't wrong. It started working fairly quickly and Nathan stopped struggling and leaned against Roland without really meaning to. He was just tired now. Tired and sore from the fire.

When his head cleared and he realized what was happening, he said, "Um."

Very eloquent.

That was promising. "Any urges to throw flaming balls at people?" he asked. He didn't want to let go before he was sure it worked.

"No."

What he was feeling now was just embarrassment.

"Did I hurt you?" Um. "Did I hurt you, sir?"

Tried to be polite since he'd thrown flaming tennis balls at the guy.

"Oh no, I'm fine," Roland said. He wasn't, his hands were burned from catching that tennis ball, and they were starting to ache, but he didn't want to add to any guilt the kid was already feeling. He gave Nathan a final pat -- ow -- and let go. "All better, alright. Good."

"Yes, thank you," he said, embarrassed and abashed about the whole thing. "I apologize for the -- "

He mimed throwing the tennis balls and looked down. "Thank you."

Roland waved that off. "Happy to help." He looked back at his guitar case and let out a squawk when he saw scorch marks across the top. He snatched it up, then juggled it a little as his hands protested, then ended up hugging it to his chest. "I'm just going to go check on my guitar. If anyone tries to kill you, hug them."

Nathan nodded.

"I will." He hoped no one tried to kill him, though, so he could just sit and stew in his guilt but he'd remember at least. "Thanks."

Roland nodded. "No problem."

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The Park, Most of Sunday

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