ArchivedLogs:Three Men in a Park
|Three Men in a Park|
And a stray dog. And some college kids playing frisbee.
<NYC> Central Park North
Central Park North is slightly quieter than its southern counterpart, being further uptown and slightly out of the bustle of the City - insofar as one can escape the bustle of the City even here, in the acres of green and blue that make up Central Park. The reservoir is in the northern half, providing miles of jogging and biking trails along the clear water, as well as benches for people to sit and rest.
It is a beautiful day in New York city! Or at least it is now that the passing thunderstorms have finished up, leaving the air slightly cleaner, or at least moderately less smoggy, and making the grass slightly damp-ish. Still this has not deterred the populace of the city from enjoying the springy weather. Various sorts in half dressed state lay about the grass on towels getting sun, joggers scamper along paths with headphones blocking out the world. Even the stereotypical old men sit on park benches feeding popcorn to the pigeons, though this is probably a poor health choice for the pigeons for a long and healthy life.
Sitting on a blanket closer to the walking path, Sean has various art supplies, snack things and bottles of soda on it. Wearing a button up shirt in a multihued plaid only partially buttoned, a pair of black shorts and vibram toe shoes, he seems nice and comfortable. A half finished sketch in pastel chalk is on an open sketchbook of a fountain, though he seems more intent on watching the joggers go by than the art his hand is producing.
It's funny. In a few months, this will be classed a chilly day. But for now, as New York eases out of winter, it's a welcome respite. Arturo likes being outdoors. Maybe it's his feral mutation, maybe he's just the outdoorsy type. In any case, he wanders casually along the path, hands in the pockets of his jeans. An off-leash dog romps up to him and stops to give him a really good, very interested sniff.
Ben is headed the other direction, meanwhile, about halfway oblivious to his surroundings. He looks sober and otherwise clear-eyed - he likes the greenery just fine - but the sound of the place is lost to him, in favor of the buds tucked into his ears with wires running down to a cheap Shuffle clipped inside one pocket. He slows up as the dog crosses his path, taking the opportunity to slip one of the buds free and take a closer look around.
Watching the wandering dog with a bit of a smile, Sean moves to sit back up for comfort. Running a pastel coated hand up to brush back his hair, he ends up leaving a multi colored smudge along the side of his head in the process. "Hrm, friendly dog, I wonder who it belongs to," he says to himself as he unscrews a bottle of cream soda and takes a sip, watching its interactions with the people actually On the path.
The friendly mutt makes Arturo drop his guard. He smiles big at the creature as it runs around him and drops its head to the ground, ass in the air. Its bushy tail wags and it lets off a friendly bark. The big smile reveals sharper-than-normal teeth and large canines, if anyone happens to be paying attention to him. He drops to his knees to pet the dog. "Hey buddy. Did you lose your collar?"
Ben might've noticed Arturo if he hadn't been distracted at just that moment, in the form of an errant Frisbee sailing through the air and bumping him in the side of the head. "Hey, careful, huh?" he calls out, picking it up and chucking it back toward the gathering of frat boys from whence it came.
Blinking at the sharp teeth, Sean refocuses on Arturo, biting his own lip as his eyes glaze then shakes his head. He does however blink as the frisbee flies over his head. "Whoa," he leans back to avoid it, then offers the frat boys behind him a grin, before looking back to the boy who threw it back. "Flying plastic seems to be dangerous no matter which way it's going."
No matter how interested the dog is in Arturo's smell, he can't compete with a frisbee. The dog breaks away and goes bounding after the plastic disc, barking excidedly as it goes. He keeps smiling and happens to glance in Sean's direction. He suddenly closes his lips and looks self-conscious. Oops.
Ben turns to Sean and shrugs. "Could be worse. About three feet lower--" Yeah, that would've been worse, all right. At least his head is lightly armored. The Tekes, meanwhile, look less than amused as they watch the dog try to yoink their Ultimate.
Sean looks sheepish as Arturo looks self conscious and offers an apologetic smile, and lowers his head. Wincing though at the words from the thrower. "Oh, yes, I wouldn't do well with a concussion. Pretty sure my art would suffer with that headache." Taking another drink from his cream soda, he rubs the side of his head even thinking about the brain pain, making his hair even more smudgey with the pastel from his hands.
"This is a hazardous time of year," Arturo comments to no one in particular. "Everyone's excited about throwing frisbees, but they've lost their aim over the winter." Case in point. Another whizzes a half a foot or so from his head. He ducks.
Which means that Ben has, like, /no/ warning that it's headed for him next. Or next to no warning. He does his best to move quickly over to one side, but the frisbee still just barely clips the side of his head-- or did it? It veers slightly in the other direction, instead of bouncing off at a crazy angle and flopping to the ground like it would normally have done.
Wincing and shaking his head at Arturo's comment, Sean's getting up when he sees it bonk Ben, maybe? He is moving over towards them none the less. "Are you alright there? Looked like.. well I thought it hit you?" He does lean over and picks up the frisbee though, glancing in the direction where it had come from. "Now where did it come from?"
Arturo looks behind him at Ben and winces. "Sorry, sorry. Heads, belatedly. Heads." He looks to Sean, then back along the path of the frisbee. The frat boys seem to have not realized what direction the flying disc has gone. "Hm. Maybe we should confiscate that for the safety of everyone in the park. Public service."
Ben shrugs and looks over toward the college boys and the dog. "Guess it's theirs, too?" The one that the dog is fighting them for is electric blue in place of safety orange, but roughly the same brand other than that. "Oughtta confiscate their keg if you ask me, that's the real trouble." Oh he did /not/ just say that! That's striking them where they live, that is. Fortunately he's well out of their earshot.
"May as well keep it as a souvenir," Sean nods and hands it over to Ben as the victim. "Do they actually have a keg out here?" He peers towards them as he asks. "I thought this place was pretty uptight about public drinking. I mean it's not like its Vegas or New Orleans..." Shrugging, he offers a colorful hand. "I'm Sean, nice to meet you. Hopefully no head injuries?"
"Confiscating their keg. You'd have better luck taking fresh meat from a starving dog," Artur deadpans. "I bet they've got beer in their water bottles. The stuff they drink is clear enough to pass for water." He watches the students for a moment, then looks back to the two young men. "Yes. I hope no horrible frisbee-related injuries. If you are mortally wounded, I /am/ a doctor." His tone is droll, but also a little worn.
"I'm Ben," the other one introduces himself in turn, offering Sean a hand. "No, I'm good. But that /would/ be pretty badass, right? Like that guy from that Bond movie, only instead of his hat, they stuck razor blades on frisbees? Man, I think I just came up with the next Scary Movie ripoff." Oh, and there's the dog coming back, frisbee clutched firmly in his teeth. Looks like he's also decided the Greeks are not worthy of such a prize.
"Ah yes, the old intercourse in a canoe brand beer," Sean grins at his own little joke about their beer. "Well, nice to know we have a doctor around with the risk of head injuries." Glancing about to make sure that mentioning it doesn't cause it to come about, raises a brow at Ben's comment as he shakes color onto the young man. "I don't think saying that in their hearing is a good idea, they probably would attempt to do it. Drunk or not," he says making a face. "Aw, the doggie has returned. More confiscated frisbees from the dangerous."
Arturo lights up when the dog reappears. He drops to his knees to pet the creature again. "I hope he's not a stray. I don't see a collar." He feels around the animal's neck. "Or maybe he's got one of those ID tags." The dog is liking the scratches, but what he really wants is the frisbee to be thrown again.
Ben shrugs off Sean's warning. "Doesn't mean they'd remember it long enough to actually do it. Don't they usually put the tag /on/ the collar?" he adds, glancing over to Arturo as he grabs the frisbee and pantomimes with it. Look, doggie, the human's about to throw it again! Don't take your eyes off it.
"Hrm, well it doesn't seem a dangerous one anyway. But a stray may have fleas, or other diseases. I have hand sanitizer with the rest of my stuff if you want it?" Sean offers helpfully. "And I trust the dumb and dangerous to do exactly what you don't want them to." At the talk of tag, he shakes his head. "I think the doctor means those little microchippy things. The ones in case your dog goes missing?"
"Yeah. Those ones," says Arturo as he nods to Sean. The dog struggles out of the doctor's arms and goes bounding towards Ben. It barks and hops about, its eyes firmly planted on the frisbee. Yes yes! Throw!
Ben waggles the frisbee again. "All right, here, boy!" He sends the frisbee on a long arc, somewhat off in the other direction this time. "Man, those microchips freak me out. First Walmart's sticking them on all their stuff, then dogs, next thing you know they're gonna inject us with them, you know?"
"Yeah they talk about that a lot for medical reasons," Sean looks thoughtful at the microchip thing. "I don't see it happening though, you can't make something like that mandatory after all." Shrugging, he heads over to his blanket and applies sanitizer, rubbing it onto a towel till he's clean. "Easier to just do finger prints, or retinal or whatever. A chip is probably easier to fake."
"Mhmm. Yeah, it seems unlikely that there'd be any kind of...forced microchipping of human beings. But anything is possible in a world where zombie plagues spread by words is a real thing." Arturo stands up and watches as the dog goes bounding after the frisbee. The dog snatches it from the air, but instead of running back, its ears perk up to the sound of a whistle off in the distance. The pup then goes darting off, presumably in the direction of its owner. He watches the dog go, then rocks back a step. He nods to the two. "Have a good day. And beware of flying projectiles launched by possibly drunken college students." And then he's starting to amble off.
"I guess? I mean, I wouldn't know how to mess with them," Ben muses, "but anyone who was planning to make trouble, they could fry them. Or sell detectors. Wouldn't be the w-- strangest thing in the world." Verbal habits do die hard. Waving to Arturo, he watches the guy carefully, just on the off chance that he turns and-- no. No, he's probably just being silly.
"Have a good day doctor," Sean says as he waves to Arturo. "I should get back to my art, pastels wait for no man." He flops down on the blanket and picks up the next picture in his drawing. "Enjoy your souvenir frisbee Ben. Watch out you don't end up collecting more." He smiles at the younger man, and smudges the colors of his fountain.