Re: dock: atticus and mal
Wasn't sorry to hear the voice that interrupted Billy's love song. Was glad of it in a way that didn't escape his own notice. Had no desire to be introspective, but was unable to ignore his own thoughts at times recently. Was annoying. Didn't like it. Wanted to go back to a life so busy that there wasn't time to do anything but lazily slouch between bursts of responsibility. Eat a slice of pizza. Have some ice cream. Read a book. Try a new beer. Now that he could do those things as much as he wanted, without anything to break up those moments of well-earned laziness, well, wasn't enjoying it as much as he'd always thought he would.
In short, was glad of the interruption.
Wasn't buzzed. Wasn't riding on anything but tobacco and caffeine and Billy Joel.
Couldn't exactly see the owner of the voice, but wasn't concerned. Wasn't worried. Was never worried. Could see three haunts on the edge of the dock. Angry haunts. Haunts that counted on him for recharging. Weren't going to let anyone harm him, even the mostly-disembodied voice on the dock. Couldn't control them at all, but understood their motivations with perfect clarity.
"Hey." Sounded vaguely eastern seaboard. "Nice night. Out for a walk?" There was a light on the very edge of the dock, but it was rheumy and old. Allowed for some illumination, but nothing telling if the voice in the hoodie wanted to remain anonymous.