Yeah! I'll get us some dinner. I need more'n peanut butter an' crackers or I'm gonna drift away in the wind here. You go ahead an' sleep if you want, I got this.
[Ever confident. But how hard can it be? He has seen a whole chicken in his mama's kitchen, he can figure a butchered duck should look like that. Headless, gutted, plucked. Easy, right? And he knows how to make a fire, that's basically second nature to him.]
Don't worry, I won't go real far.
[And apparently she's keeping his jacket, but that's fine, it's kinda hot out. He throws his t-shirt on, and bends down to give her a quick kiss, then strides off in search of a duck. Or whatever looks edible, really.
Half an hour later he's grappling with the fact that his aim just isn't that great, and animals are smart and don't want to get shot. He misses a few tries at rabbits and ducks, knocking feathers off of one of the latter. Finally, finally he manages to hit one though as it takes off belatedly from the surface of a wide spot in the creek, but it struggles and flaps, not quite dead, as the current carries it southward away from him.]
Aw, damnit!
[He runs after it, determined - but before he can jump into the stream to try and wade across to pick it up, someone beats him to it. They're not the only people here. Two young men and a woman, all probably about his and Chrissy's age, watch him with looks of mild confusion and caution while one of them stoops to grab the duck from the shallows and swiftly puts it out of its misery with a snap of its neck.]
Oh! Uh, hey guys. That's, uh, that one's mine.
[They don't look like TV Indians, so he's still not sure if this is very early or very late, but he's leaning toward very early. He's also pretty damn sure they don't actually speak English, but really, what option does he have? Spanish isn't going to do him any more favors.]
no subject
[Ever confident. But how hard can it be? He has seen a whole chicken in his mama's kitchen, he can figure a butchered duck should look like that. Headless, gutted, plucked. Easy, right? And he knows how to make a fire, that's basically second nature to him.]
Don't worry, I won't go real far.
[And apparently she's keeping his jacket, but that's fine, it's kinda hot out. He throws his t-shirt on, and bends down to give her a quick kiss, then strides off in search of a duck. Or whatever looks edible, really.
Half an hour later he's grappling with the fact that his aim just isn't that great, and animals are smart and don't want to get shot. He misses a few tries at rabbits and ducks, knocking feathers off of one of the latter. Finally, finally he manages to hit one though as it takes off belatedly from the surface of a wide spot in the creek, but it struggles and flaps, not quite dead, as the current carries it southward away from him.]
Aw, damnit!
[He runs after it, determined - but before he can jump into the stream to try and wade across to pick it up, someone beats him to it. They're not the only people here. Two young men and a woman, all probably about his and Chrissy's age, watch him with looks of mild confusion and caution while one of them stoops to grab the duck from the shallows and swiftly puts it out of its misery with a snap of its neck.]
Oh! Uh, hey guys. That's, uh, that one's mine.
[They don't look like TV Indians, so he's still not sure if this is very early or very late, but he's leaning toward very early. He's also pretty damn sure they don't actually speak English, but really, what option does he have? Spanish isn't going to do him any more favors.]