bound_john (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} bound_john) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} bound_rp, |
John caught the ball deftly, trying not to wince as it flattened the top of his thumb. Elliot had a bit of an arm on him when he wanted to, and punching through the kind of calluses John had on his hands took a bit of force. He surreptitiously shook the fingers out, hoping it was far enough away that his friend didn't notice.
"Bring a gift," he advised, tossing the ball back, giving it a bit of height this time. "You even seen her in the past couple of years? I don't know, man, Boston changed her. She's, uh, angrier." He held up a hand for a moment before he moved to where his pack lay on the ground a few feet off, taking out his sunglasses. The light had begun to shift just enough to hit his eyes, and a busted face wouldn't be the easiest thing to explain to the foreman tomorrow. Or to live down, for that matter.
"Same as always, this place doesn't change," he said, taking the opportunity for a draw on his water bottle, before signaling one-handed for the ball again. "I mean, outside of the usual, it's not a hive of east-coast activity. What was it that Katie called it last time? Crescent Grave."
He caught the ball again, feeling his muscles begin to limber up and he let it fly back.
"What about you? You don't call, you don't write. You can't spell in a text message to save your life. What's been going on in your world?"