(2015-09-29) Fishing Pole 1 - Piper 0
Fishing Pole 1 - Piper 0
Summary: Fishing by the river
Date: 9.29.2015
Related: None

River Bank - Southside

The bank of the river gently slopes downward toward the flowing waters of the Platte River. Near the shore the current is sluggish enough for wading, but get out to deep and the current picks up and could carry a person much faster and farther then expected. Jutting out into the river is a dock where the boats available at the boat house can be secured. A path follows the river.

It's midafternoon and the sun is high in the sky. With no clouds the cool air is crisp and air smelling fresh and autumny. More and more of the trees are starting to show the yellows, golds and reds of fall. A cool breeze stirs leaves that have already dropped and send them skittering over the ground.

Sitting on the end of the dock jutting over the river is Piper. Fishing pole in hand, but she doesn't seem to be having much luck. Her bucket, partially full of water only has one fish in it, but it is a large one at least. Maybe she would have been better of hunting, but it's a little late in the day for that now.

Quinton's returning from being out as well, his backpack is full of mostly useless stuff. The worst is the bag of marshmallows…which is expired. Sad, sad day. Quin's actually headed to a small bank he's grown fond of for writing…not that he'd admit that he's trying again to anyone. He slows when he sees Piper, but then decides that she, out of anyone, will understand that he's not able to find words today and heads over. He shuffles his feet as he walks, hopefully to alert her of his approach. There is a glance about, making sure there's not another strange woman trying to swindle them out of a trade.

No one here but Piper. There is evidence there were more. Little bitty muddy footprints run across the deck and across the dirt bank. Could be why she only has the one fish. Hard to catch anything when you are trying to keep kids from falling in or if they are so noisy that they scare the fish away. All quiet now though.

The shuffling of dry leaves does catch her attention and she glances back over her shoulder, a wave of tension gripping her and then flowing away when Quin is seen to be the source. She lifts a hand to wave at him, but doesn't speak just yet, perhaps she doesn't have words today either.

Ah, today may just be a quiet day then. The poet offers a small smile as he moves forward, settling down next to her. His backpack is shrugged off with a silent huff and he lets his long legs dangle over the edge, feet skimming the waters edge be fore he realizes and pulls them up.

Her eyes watch him instead of the fishing line in the water, which seems to be moving against the current. Piper notes the backpack seems to have stuff in it, but the way he is acting seems to reflect he had no luck. It's a contradiction. Or so it seems to her. But she wasn't out there. An eyebrow arches. Clearly a question. One that could easily be satisfied with a nod or shake of head thankfully.

Quinton finally looks over and shrugs his shoulders. That probably doesn't help much and he gives a small smile, finding the humor in his own actions. The backpack is unzipped and there's //another bottle of wine- a fancy Manischewitz, 1 1/2 packs of diapers and a crumpled bag of marshmallows. It wasn't horrible, but it's definitely not two chainsaws.

Piper leans a bit to peek in the bag. She doesn't know much about the wine, except the one thing "Kosher." she says. Her amused tone suggests she is using it two ways, to describe the wine, and she slang way to mean cool. She pokes at the diapers, and gives a thumbs up. To her those are way more useful than chainsaws. She can never have to many of those. Not for another year and a half or so at least. "Awww." she sighs upon seeing the bag of crumbled stale marshmallows. Now all they are good for is fun ammo.

Quinton's hands go up in a 'Thank God' kind of motion before smirking. He sighs, agreeing with her sentiment. "…might….smell…in fire…" And make them all want them, but still. that's all he can think to use them for. pity.

Piper makes an amused noise at his motion but her eyes fall back to the bag of marshmallows, her expression turns thoughtful "Crafts." she says after some moments of thought. "Kids." she may have something in mind to use them for. She waves a hand and then notices that her fishing line is taut. It's snagged on something. She begins to pull and tug at the rod and line only to have the line snap and the rod fly back and smack in her face at the sudden release of tension.

Quinton hadn't thought of that, but smiles. He'd like that, fi the kids can still get something out of it. He'd have been such a good uncle. He's turned back to the bag to zip it up so he's too late to stop the lien break, but does manage a "SHIT!" as she suddenly is smacking herself. His hands fly up to try, too late, to shield her. Instead he's just grabbing the pole and pulling away from her. Worry pretty much pours off the man and inhales sharply, but can't ask.

There is a sharp noise of surprise and pain to go with the poet's eloquent cursing. Good thing he is grabbing the pole otherwise it would have went into the river. Piper has a hand over one eye, and a red welt is starting to form on her face. Her other eye is teary so clearly it hurt and she probably got one of the line guide things in the eye she is covering, "Fine." she says to assure the man. She's had worse injuries. "Stung." her tone may suggest she is trying to decide whether this is funny or not. It certainly will be sooner or later.

It's not funny currently. Quin's frowning, the pole set tot eh side and he'll try to gently pull her hand away so he can make sure i's not something serious. Not that he'd know what to do it it was. Well, besides freak out, that is. He shakes his head, not believing her that it's fine. He needs to see for himself.

She won't fight him. Piper understands the worry, though she seems a bit confused at its intensity. She tilts her face up so he can examine the damage the rod did. The red welt goes up her face from check, past the eye and continues on her forehead. That will clear up in a couple of days. The eye itself is even more watery than the other and bloodshot but still in the socket where it belongs. Yup she's as fine as she ever was.

Quinton huffs softly, shaking his head, but he seems satisfied that she's not going to lose her eyeball. At least not from the fishing rod. "..Go back….Ice." He'll move to stand up and then offers her a hand up.

Her sleeve is used to dry her eyes and she lightly feels the welt on her face. Yeah it stings and is enough to get her to nod in agreement about the ice. Piper takes the help to get to her feet, glancing into the bucket with its lone fish as she gets up. One fish is hardly going to be enough so she uses a foot to tip over the bucket and dump water and fish into the river. "Live!" she says to the fish, using that as an excuse to let out laugh that she has been holding back for the last minute or so.

Once Piper is standing he kneels down to get the backpack and rod. Before he can grab the bucket Piper is playing God and releasing the poor fish. He can't help it, a small laugh escapes him too. Poor fish. poor piper. He smiles up at her before standing, the backpack slung onto a shoulder , over the holster and gun.

Since he has the rod, she grabs the now empty bucket so both can be returned to the boat house where they belong. Piper smirks at him, her temporarily marred face turning to him "See. Funny." she moves carefully along the dock to the bank. She doesn't want to add insult to injury by falling off the swaying dock.

Quinton's eyes narrow slightly. he doesn't think her getting hurt si all that funny. But he's not going to argue(Well, he can't). Instead he just shakes his head and starts twarsd the boat house. "Ice"

Piper bites her lip, holding in the rest of her possible mirth. "Yes." she agrees once more to the ice, patting him on the arm as she does. She leaves the bucket with the others and once the rod is put back, down the trail back toward camp. She makes no effort for silence so dry leaves crunch under her barefeet until the pauses to pluck an orange-gold leaf off a tree, spinning it between her fingers before poking the stem into one of her braids. The hair style seems to have stuck with her for now.

Quinton slows as they walk, letting Piper set the pace. The colorful leaf is eyed as she tucks it into her hair, a thoughtful expression crosses the poets face. Some thought starts to form, but he tucks it away for later. It's too complex an issue with his head the way it is. So instead he smiles, reaching over and tugging on the braid lightly.

Anyone else and she would be backing away from the hand. Sometimes even now Piper has to stifle the reaction with the poet. Not /right/ now, she has her moments but this isn't one of them. "Hey." she says at the gesture, her tone more of wonder, like 'what was that for silly.' and not one of offense. She steps sidewise to lightly bump her shoulder into his arm.

Quinton just chuckles, letting his hand drop to his belt. His thumb catches and he'll look ahead and keep walking. The bump, which he was expecting is playfully over exaggerated and he'll stubble to the side.

She reaches out to grab his arm a split second before realizing he stumbled on purpose "Goof." Piper says affectionatly as they approach the kitchen entrance to the dining hall. By now her eye is a bit swollen though not alarmingly so, and has stopped weeping at least.

Quinton's just happy she's staying in a good mood. he feels bad, like maybe this is somehow his fault. He was distracting her. Once inside the kitchen he'll hurry over to get her ice in a dish towel. "Here…sit…rest."

Piper is about to go do all that herself but is waylaid by the suggestion to sit. "Ok." she says moving from walk-in door to go sit on the stool near the kitchen island. So now she watches him move about in an effort to take care of her, instead of letting her take care of herself.

Quinton doesn't seem to notice any watching, he's focused on not dropping the ice a he cracks it and places it in the dish rag. "Need….med?" Fot the pain, most likely. Finally he'll look up, smiling softly over at her. "Hurt?"

She shakes her head at the question "No." Piper isn't going to waste any pain killers on this minor thing. Holding her hand out for the ice she gives another shake of head "No. Stings." there is a difference.

Quinton didn't think she'd take any. He understands that part, he wouldn't either. And he certainly understands stinging vs. hurt. The ice is handed over with an apologetic grimace, "Drink?" He gives people things he finds, he's not feeling like he's very good at taking care of people otherwise.

The ice is put to her eye with a wince "Thanks." Piper says to him, her smile appreciative. Leaning her elbow on the counter she hmmms and nods. She could use a drink. If only it could be an hard one. But that will have to wait, for a few more months at least.

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