Post by Ashley Williams on Jan 6, 2021 5:47:55 GMT -6
Ash waved a broad gesture across the embers of the campfire, flavoring his self congratulatory speech with plenty of eye catching movement. Keeping his audience interested, of course, to his tales of daring heroism.
“So, that’s when Sam whips out three aces! Imagine my surprise, since I had four in my own damn hand!“ He laughed. “He’s a tricky little bastard.”
Cheryl laughed. “Ashley, you really expect us to believe a talking dog beat you at poker?”
Scott elbowed him, “And that he’s better at cheating than you? I mean, come on, man. Up your game!” He thumbed the watch around his wrist, rotating it in time to his goading words.
Ash rolled his eyes. “He’s also a detective, genius. Pretty sure it takes some brains and some slight of hand to last in that field,” He slugged him on the arm for good measure, and Scott laughed as he leaned away, rubbing the sore spot. Linda rolled her eyes, smiling wide with faux annoyance.
“You guys are so stereotypical sometimes.” Linda leaned against Shelly, humming softly as always, passing a tape recorder between her hands, back and forth, an old comforting habit. Ash didn’t have the heart to bring up the complicated feelings tape recorders of all things stirred up, so he looked back at Cheryl.
They smiled at each other, a brief sibling body-language conversation to the effect of, “Ashley, your friends are idiots.”
Ash laughed softly, almost to himself. God, he missed this. For some reason it felt like he hadn’t gotten to just... relax with his friends in… ages! Obviously that wasn’t the case, his work schedule wasn’t THAT hectic, and he still saw Linda there every day!
But, smiling into the warmth of the campfire… it was different. It was nice. It felt safe.
“Cheryl,” Ash started, head down, voice warm. “You know-”
“C’mon, Ashley,” Cheryl cut him off, fussing with her sleeves. “How many times do I have to remind you, I prefer Heather?”
He looked up.
Blonde, yeah, and scruffy as his sister. But definitely not his sister.
Heather. Heather Mason. Right.
He looked to Scott. Sorry, not Scott. David. King, not… Not Tapp. The… scrapper. Right, right. Looking between those in the circle around him, his brain churned to reconcile the faces in front of him, not to mention where he was.
David, Kate, Zarina, and Heather.
Not Scott. Not Shelly. Not Linda.
He scratched his head. Pointedly, with his good hand. He didn’t have the mental fortitude at the moment to deal with cold metal in place of fire warmed flesh.
Not Cheryl.
“Yeah, of course. Sorry, kid. Force of habit.” He smiled at her, and she put a hand on his shoulder. She leaned closer, slightly, a knee tapping his own.
She gave him a sympathetic look, to which he feigned ignorance. Ash cleared his throat, rolled his shoulders, and sat up straighter. He looked to Heather’s expectant eyes, worry clear in them. He smiled, not quite so cock-sure as always, but making his way back towards it.
He rolled his next words around in his mouth for a moment, thinking if she’d care to hear.
“I ever tell you about my sister, kid?”
“So, that’s when Sam whips out three aces! Imagine my surprise, since I had four in my own damn hand!“ He laughed. “He’s a tricky little bastard.”
Cheryl laughed. “Ashley, you really expect us to believe a talking dog beat you at poker?”
Scott elbowed him, “And that he’s better at cheating than you? I mean, come on, man. Up your game!” He thumbed the watch around his wrist, rotating it in time to his goading words.
Ash rolled his eyes. “He’s also a detective, genius. Pretty sure it takes some brains and some slight of hand to last in that field,” He slugged him on the arm for good measure, and Scott laughed as he leaned away, rubbing the sore spot. Linda rolled her eyes, smiling wide with faux annoyance.
“You guys are so stereotypical sometimes.” Linda leaned against Shelly, humming softly as always, passing a tape recorder between her hands, back and forth, an old comforting habit. Ash didn’t have the heart to bring up the complicated feelings tape recorders of all things stirred up, so he looked back at Cheryl.
They smiled at each other, a brief sibling body-language conversation to the effect of, “Ashley, your friends are idiots.”
Ash laughed softly, almost to himself. God, he missed this. For some reason it felt like he hadn’t gotten to just... relax with his friends in… ages! Obviously that wasn’t the case, his work schedule wasn’t THAT hectic, and he still saw Linda there every day!
But, smiling into the warmth of the campfire… it was different. It was nice. It felt safe.
“Cheryl,” Ash started, head down, voice warm. “You know-”
“C’mon, Ashley,” Cheryl cut him off, fussing with her sleeves. “How many times do I have to remind you, I prefer Heather?”
He looked up.
Blonde, yeah, and scruffy as his sister. But definitely not his sister.
Heather. Heather Mason. Right.
He looked to Scott. Sorry, not Scott. David. King, not… Not Tapp. The… scrapper. Right, right. Looking between those in the circle around him, his brain churned to reconcile the faces in front of him, not to mention where he was.
David, Kate, Zarina, and Heather.
Not Scott. Not Shelly. Not Linda.
He scratched his head. Pointedly, with his good hand. He didn’t have the mental fortitude at the moment to deal with cold metal in place of fire warmed flesh.
Not Cheryl.
“Yeah, of course. Sorry, kid. Force of habit.” He smiled at her, and she put a hand on his shoulder. She leaned closer, slightly, a knee tapping his own.
She gave him a sympathetic look, to which he feigned ignorance. Ash cleared his throat, rolled his shoulders, and sat up straighter. He looked to Heather’s expectant eyes, worry clear in them. He smiled, not quite so cock-sure as always, but making his way back towards it.
He rolled his next words around in his mouth for a moment, thinking if she’d care to hear.
“I ever tell you about my sister, kid?”