Who: Phoebe, Apollo What: Grandmother and grandson meet. Where: Central Park When: Tuesday, early afternoon Warnings: N/A
A summer afternoon in Central Park was heat, people, and noises of the city permeating even the well-clustered group of trees surrounding the park. Thankfully, the swears of taxi drivers were filtered out better than the sounds of carriages, the sounds of pop and rap blasting through stereos, and the laughter of children.
"What are little boys made of, what are little boys made of? Frogs and snails and puppy dog tails, that's what little boys are made of."
The boy smiled upwards at the man before him, grinning with the youth that all mortals envied.
Apollo smiled back, watching the child run back to his nanny, a crisp dollar in hand along with a flower that he presented to his babysitter. But before she could ask who it was from or even scold the boy properly, Apollo was up on his feet, moving further down the opposite path, towards a meeting with his grandmother.
Who might be doing the scolding, come sooner or later.