- NATE -
Then you're left in the dust, unless I stuck by ya
You're a sunflower, I think your love would be too much
You're a sunflower, I think your love would be too much
Nate's hands came up in compromise as both of them immediately complained about not doing something with what they caught. "Okay, okay. We can do a little fire and cook some of what we catch, and you," he turns specifically to Clem, "can take anything left over to whoever you want." There is a moment of concern at the mention of street kids, but he tries to rationalize it away. He'd gotten into worse at Clem's age, and far less sturdy than the ascended, and he'd been fine.
Watchful eyes followed as they each grabbed and hooked a crawfish in turn, neither attempt particularly refined. It wasn't like he was the most practised teacher either though, so they were already doing better than he'd expected. And if Nate heard the soft words, he made no mention of it. Casting the lines is a little less successful still, but each of them manages to get their lines in the waters, somehow. As soon as they are Nate relaxes a bit, holding his rod near his hip and turning to Sunjata with a bright grin. "Course we can swim after." He promises easily, somehow even more relaxed by how normal and easy this feels.
"A lot of fishing is waiting." Nate offers sagely, after a handful of moments of nothing happening. He lowers his rod, digging the end into the sand so it was still upright, and sauntered over to check the others lines. Just as they both dipped, the slightest bit of resistance felt for both of them. Nate jumped, grin suddenly animated, and gestured for both of them to start reeling in their lines, offering what sounded like nonsense as he did. "Don't fight it too much, you want to play with it a little." Neither of them would feel much resistance though, not until they had reeled in everything, and found the hooks tangled around each other. After a breath where he simply stared, Nate let out a bright laugh and moved to detangle the lines. "Maybe.... try again, little bit further apart." Moving between them, Nate shifted them each a step or two over, his hand gentle on Clemente's shoulder, and far more familiar around Sunjata's hip.
He stood by to watch them cast again, jumping a little bit as his own rod suddenly fell to the ground, his impromptu stand not holding as well as Nate had though it would. Moving to grab it again, Nate turned to Clem, brow raised. "How's your whittling going?"
Watchful eyes followed as they each grabbed and hooked a crawfish in turn, neither attempt particularly refined. It wasn't like he was the most practised teacher either though, so they were already doing better than he'd expected. And if Nate heard the soft words, he made no mention of it. Casting the lines is a little less successful still, but each of them manages to get their lines in the waters, somehow. As soon as they are Nate relaxes a bit, holding his rod near his hip and turning to Sunjata with a bright grin. "Course we can swim after." He promises easily, somehow even more relaxed by how normal and easy this feels.
"A lot of fishing is waiting." Nate offers sagely, after a handful of moments of nothing happening. He lowers his rod, digging the end into the sand so it was still upright, and sauntered over to check the others lines. Just as they both dipped, the slightest bit of resistance felt for both of them. Nate jumped, grin suddenly animated, and gestured for both of them to start reeling in their lines, offering what sounded like nonsense as he did. "Don't fight it too much, you want to play with it a little." Neither of them would feel much resistance though, not until they had reeled in everything, and found the hooks tangled around each other. After a breath where he simply stared, Nate let out a bright laugh and moved to detangle the lines. "Maybe.... try again, little bit further apart." Moving between them, Nate shifted them each a step or two over, his hand gentle on Clemente's shoulder, and far more familiar around Sunjata's hip.
He stood by to watch them cast again, jumping a little bit as his own rod suddenly fell to the ground, his impromptu stand not holding as well as Nate had though it would. Moving to grab it again, Nate turned to Clem, brow raised. "How's your whittling going?"
Or you'll be left in the dust, unless I stuck by ya
You're the sunflower, you're the sunflower
You're the sunflower, you're the sunflower
