Jul. 28th, 2016

suitably_heroic: (dsp: fear the jacket)
It'd been a long couple of days of conversations with the kids, talking them through what happened, or just shooting the shit. It was rewarding, though, because theirs was a language Atton understood - one he was a straightforward senior in, someone to pass on the lessons of a gnarled and screwed-up life to.

Or just beating the poodoo out of Damar at pazaak. There was that, too.

But now it was Thursday, and he'd told Sparkle he'd be home; so he'd parked the Hawk on the roof, and now he was standing outside the door, pack slung over his shoulder. Fumbling to figure out--

"Where did I put my keys? Come on, come on..."

That.

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Atton Rand & miscellaneous names

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