I'm good at shooting people, cracking wise, and pretending to know how to fight.

It wasn’t often that Dane got a weekend off– so they made good use of it. Which was to say Jack had found himself dragged off to a snowboard rink on Hunter Mountain, where he had been pressured - peer pressured! - into trying the whole thing himself. (“Why are we voluntarily rolling around in the snow again?” “Aren’t you from Space Canada?” “...Shut up.” “We can go home, if you want.” “...Nah.” “You can keep complaining if you want to.” “... Thanks.”)

He did keep complaining. But he’d also enjoyed it: it had been the first time in a couple of months it felt like they’d had real off time. It seemed like there was always something to do - at the metal clubs in the city, for their friends backstage, or in the recording booth. Jack hadn’t had to dip into his Jedi savings in a few months now. It felt weird.

But good-weird.

“How’s the shoulder?” Dane asked. Jack fiddled with the straps of his snowboard, attempting to wiggle his feet out of it.

This was the worst part. The being stuck in your stupid shoes.

“It’s stopped itching,” he said, finally righting himself. ( That's a good sign, right? )

[[ can be open for phone calls, etc ]]

The last couple of days had been... good. Sure, camping meant mud and cold and rain, but with a space heater and some good company, it was actually tolerable. Besides, everything out here in New York State was so far from the reality of Fandom, of Coruscant, of everything else that it actually brought a calm with it Atton hadn't anticipated.

Until last night, anyway, when he'd finally found out Dane had called in sick for this whole adventure.

He woke up to the smell of woodsmoke and sausages. Squinting, Atton rolled out of his bedroll and stuck his head out of the tent.

Yep, that was definitely his roommate cooking over the fire, out there. He prepped himself to say hello and maybe find a good way to dance around an apology. Maybe they could just ignore it? Or--

"I know you think I let people walk all over me," Dane said, pushing the sausages around the pan. "That I let them fuck up my life. I know, okay? Don't you think Jill hasn't hit me with the same shit over and over again? And she was actually there when I wrecked my own life three times over. You're getting Dane Mark 2.0."

Atton wondered what mark he was on, himself. Atton 5.0? 6.0? Did you start counting all over again with a name change? He sighed, pushing himself up. "I know--" he said.

"I wanted to be here, so I decided to be here," Dane said. "That's it. I'm not going to play fetch and roll around in the mud if you ask me to."

( This was going to be a fun morning. )

[[ establishy, nfb due to distance. ]]