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Donovan had just gotten off an assignment in the Congo that took him six months: six long, hot, aggravating months. The photos he’d gotten came out beautifully, possibly the shots of his career, but he’d spent a very long time away from home. On the plus side, though, he didn’t need to worry about money again for a few long time. Wanting to take advantage of his first real day off back home in a long time he was walking down the boardwalk and savoring the salt of the sea air blowing in his face. There were no oceans in the Congo, only long winding jungles and vast plains. He managed to leave before monsoon season started, but only just barely, so a nice arid day with a cool breeze was welcome.

Stopping, he leaned on the railing not far from where he’d had his unfortunate encounter with Malay. The memory of it still gave him mixed feelings and a small sigh escaped him. He spotted someone fishing at the end of the pier, an activity that actually sounded rather nice to him at the moment. Ignoring his mixed emotions, he approached the man.

“Catch anything?”

There were marlins around this time of year, and possibly sea bass. The latter was particularly tasty baked and basted in white wine and butter. He was fond of fish and right now anything that wasn’t very spicy.

Nischal had quite the adventure over the past couple of years since he had left Destiny City. From the mountains to the deserts, to the great lakes up north, his little beat up RV managed to go everywhere and find peace where it roamed. Still, nothing seemed to beat the fishing here in the city he called home. Everything seemed to fit his hand better while he remained on this pier; everything still felt the same. The worn in hole that he dug at in the wood to have a place to slip in his rod was still there, as was the nails he added to one of the beams so that he could hang his extra hooks at. It just felt like home.

So cozy he was at his little hovel on the pier, humming softly to himself that he wasn’t quite aware when someone approached him. In fact, he was so out of it, watching the water glisten in the midday breeze that when the man spoke to him,he jumped, and turned wide eyes up to question the man.

“Huh? Oh! Uh, A few things, but most seemed to be too small to keep, so I had to toss them back. I’m waiting for that nice, big catch so that I can actually have something fresh to eat for dinner.” Take out was certainly getting old for Nischal, and sure, he could go out and get some fish at the market but that just took the fun out of it! And besides, fresh air was good for his mind and helped to keep him feeling at ease. “Did you come to fish? Eerr, Did you want to? I always have a spare rod if you’d like.”

Donovan nodded along conversationally, acknowledging about the water. Even though the pier extended out pretty far into the surf, fish generally got wise to people being in their territory and tended to stay away. All except the young ones, of course, that didn’t seem to know better. He did, and usually opted to rent a board for sport fishing when he wanted to catch enough to eat. Maybe this guy wasn’t local and didn’t know that, but that was ok. The calm of it all was the best part, more than the haul at the end of the day.

“You might catch a sea bass out here, but that’s about it. None of them will be huge this time of year but enough for one or two people to eat. Your best bet is renting a boat if you want to do some serious fishing. Ezell’s, down the way,” he gestured further down the beach to a small shack by the marina, “gives you a pretty good deal for a day charter.”

Though at the offer of a rod his face split into a wide grin and he nodded happily.

“That’s kind of you, lad. I’ve been away from here for longer than I care to admit and it would be nice to indulge in some of my favorite activities.”

Like Nischal, he’d been gone from the place he called home for much too long for his tastes and this was about the right speed to get back into it.

“I’m Donovan, by the way. Donovan Flynn. My friends call me Flynn.”

Like Errol.

“Pappy always said a good day started with some fishing and ended with a nice, cold beer.”

Even though the man had been dead for nearly five years now it was hard for him to let him go. The man had shaped everything he was and those things were the voice in his head, no matter the time of day or the situation.

“It’s not so much the catch, but the peace that comes with it. Fishing is like meditating, calm and contemplative. I am not too big about the charters though, it always seems like it's a competition between fishers.” At the nod, Nischal scooted over a bit to make room for the other man, offering him the spare rod. “Hooks, lures, and bait are all in that box right there. From the way it sounds, you don't need any tutorials on how to set it up, so feel free to do you.”

The man's name immediately made him think of a sailor from one of the novels he read, so he immediately associated the man to that character, insuring that he would not forget.

“Lad? Hehe, I don't think I'm THAT much younger than you, Flynn. My name is Nischal, and no real nicknames, so… If you want to come up with one for me, that's fine!” He couldn’t even remember the last time someone joined him for fishing. It was probably before he left DC in the first place, so to share something he truly loved with another was exciting!

“I don’t know too much about the beer, but your pappy sounds like he had the right idea! So besides fishing with strangers, what are you wandering around here for?”

Donovan smiled, taking up the rod and baiting his hook in such a way that suggested that he’d done it a time or two before in his life. Soon enough his hook was in the water and he was whistling a jaunty tune into the air. The salt breeze rushing in his face brought back a lot of good feelings and there was little that was going to upset him while he was fishing with a new friend.

He chuckled at Nischal’s observation.

“No offense intended, lad. Call it a quirk of speech. I’ve called men older than you lad and it probably won’t be the last time if we remain acquainted.”

He nodded at the introduction, though, and filed the name away in his mind for future recall. He wasn’t always great with names but he did try.

“Like I said, I just came home from assignment in the Congo. Africa has its charms, but I find the salt of the sea agrees with me after spending time abroad. That’s why I’m here, to re-acquaint myself with the city I call home.”

He’d refused any other long assignments for the next year or so because he didn’t enjoy being gone so long. He used to relish the travel and still enjoyed it, but six months away was a bit too long for his tastes.

“Pappy had a lot of ideas, most of them right.”

“If you wish to continue to call lad, I will not stop you. I don’t mind it at all. If I may be so bold, I rather like the idea of remaining acquainted. I just returned home as well, and would love the company.” Nischal smiled, listening to the talk of Africa and it’s bits and pieces, finding the entire thought process very familiar.

“A world traveler, huh? Mighty impressive, if I do say so myself. I travel a bit too, in fact, I was on the road for twoish years until the song of home called to me far too sweetly and I found myself back in the city once again. Though I definitely did not go as far as you have, merely around the states in a beat up ol’ RV. It was one heck of an adventure for a seventeen year old on his own, I must say.” He always found himself really enjoying the wondrous looks he got from people when he mentioned just how old he was when he started out on his own. Not nearly as impressive as some of the people who were making a name for themselves at fifteen or earlier, but still at least a little impressive.
The line in his hand bobbed ever so slightly, and the young curly-haired man was quick to jut upwards and reel it in. Sadly… Nothing. With a bit of a sigh, he cast the line out once again, hoping this time maybe something would bite.

“While we sit here in comfort with one another and enjoying the day, would you mind if I ask more about your adventures abroad? I always did love a good story.”

Well, at least that point was easy. Not many people tried to fight his mannerisms, and it was nice. Lad and lass were just second nature to him, long drilled into his head by Pappy while they watched television. Pappy called everyone lad or lass, being from the “Old” country, wherever that was. All he knew was that it was in the UK somewhere. It hardly mattered now, with the man in his grave and the habits he passed on set in his grandson’s demeanor.

He raised an eyebrow as the other admitted he was just home himself and elaborated. Perhaps not a world traveler, local travel was just as broadening. He grinned as they stood side by side without even so much as a nibble on his line. That was fine by him, to while the day away in peaceful talk and the sounds of the ocean and children at play.

“I could tell you such stories, lad!”

He was off and running, telling him some of the more tame stories from his travels abroad. Some of them were vaguely inappropriate, but not the worst he had, by far.

Even though no fish were biting at all after Donovan arrived, there was no way Nischal could say he wasn’t entertained. How could he not be when the other went on and on and on with stories that seemed far too amusing and exaggerating to be real? Despite that, he found himself hanging onto every word, leaning in a bit closer when certain parts came off as especially exciting.

A soft laugh escaped his lips as some of the more vulgar things came to light, not that he minded!

“Well… None of my stories are THAT interesting… What it would have been like to have seen them unfold myself! When are you planning your next grand adventure?”

“I go out on assignment, lad.”

None of the locations were his decision. He went where his magazine sent him. Sometimes the shoots were quick and he was home in a week. Other times he spent months out in the wild with his colleagues trying to get the full story and pictures no one else had ever gotten. He was proud of his career and of his modicum of talent. After a while he stopped prattling, figuring he’d said enough or now. After all, he didn’t want to bore the guy.

“After this last six month go I think they’ll be keeping me home for a while.”

Which was a bit of welcome news. He didn’t mind staying close to home for once. He was sure there were still plenty of things in the world to see and God knew he had the money to see them, quite a stash tucked away against his meager bills. Living simply had its advantages. He looked sidelong at the young man next to him and smiled, finding him attractive, though such things were still a bit close to home to think about.

“We could go have that pint, if you were after something else?”

Nischal almost looked disappointed when the stories settled down. He supposed some things never changed, and his heart was still all too eager to listen to stories for days. In the small pause that fell between them for, Nischal finally took a good look at the other man. He was older, wasn’t he? And his eyes were certainly a stunning shade of green.

“Oh, right.. Right… Well, I guess that’s lucky for me then, since you’ll be around here for a time. It would be a shame to make a new friend and immediately have to say goodbye.” Over the course of his time going across country in his RV, there were countless times that had happened, and it was never a happy moment. Nischal could think of more than a dozen people he had met and never heard from again because of that same situation… He would be happy for that NOT to happen while he was now back in the city.

Finally deciding that there was no use trying to keep on trying when it seemed like the fish didn’t want to bite anymore, he reeled in his line, unhooking the bait and tossing it into the water. Something would eat it eventually; if not the fish than the shellfish would be glad to deal with the remains. He was just a moment away from standing until the offer for drinks caught him off guard, as did the suggestion of something else.

In a flash, a reddish hue came to Nischal’s face and ears and he awkwardly began to fiddle with the hook on his line in an attempt to pull his eyes from just staring at Donovan for a time.

“Um… Well, I’m not so sure if I would be the best company for a pint… One, I kinda smell like fish, so probably not so appealing, and two… I’m only 19… I wouldn’t be able to enjoy that pint, I’m sorry.” Hesitation forced him to pause again, before finding his voice enough to softly speak once more. His words weren’t malicious or judgemental, simply confused and a little shy, unlike how he normally spoke. “But… Tell me, what are you after, to imply that I would be after something?”

Donovan was slightly inflated to hear his companion’s age. Beer was more than a beverage to him, it was a past time. Hell, it was practically his favorite hobby. Having a pint at the local pub was something more ingrained into him than sea shanties and baseball. Obviously, this was something he couldn’t do with someone that wasn’t a minor, but was still underaged. He frowned and tried to think of something else to do.

He also hadn't meant to imply that either side expected anything, more that the afternoon didn't have to end with the fish failing to bite. There were other things in this city to do and see, or so he'd been told, but he happened to prefer his time within the confines of a local bar. He reeled the line in and set the pole to balance against the wooden rails of the pier, packing it in, so to speak.

“I simply meant to say that if you were after something else to do, we could grab a beer as Pappy used to say, but it appears not.”

Because, honestly, if he were hitting on Nischal at this point he’d be very bad at it. He hadn’t had much practice hitting on men or recognizing who would be responsive to it. Xander had been more of a divine fluke than a conscious effort on his part.

“I’m not after anything, lad, not a thing. But I’ll never be so rich as to turn away a friend.”

He enjoyed making friends, if truth be told, and he automatically had something in common with the intrepid fisherman.

Oh. OH! The blush on his face just got darker as he realized he interpreted the whole situation wrong. Of course he would have seen it as someone hitting on him, as someone wanting to do something with him beyond the spectrum of just being friends. Likely such feelings were caused by an odd bit of loneliness he continued to feel every now and then. Ah well, that was okay.

“Ah, I see… Well, I may not be able to share a beer in public, but if you’d like to stop by for dinner later on, you could bring over a case of it. After we’ve cleaned up the fishy smell off of us. And if that’s not enough for you, there’s a nice pub nearby my apartment. I could accompany you there and slowly watch the descent into drunkenness. I’m sure it would rather amusing, and that way if you get drunk enough to dance atop tables, We’ll be close enough to just return to my apartment for the night.” His words were said with positivity, and a bit of jest, but he was true with them. He had been around people who were drunk out of their minds and found it most amusing. Especially when they started dancing.

Donovan was just sort of a friend to everyone, or he tried to be. His heart had plenty of room inside it for all people and with plenty of beer in him that belief was only strengthened. Let it never be said that he was anything but a happy drunk. He listened to the plan and nodded along, finding it wildly appealing. He wouldn’t be responsible for actually breaking the law, though, as that was just a recipe for trouble. He had plenty of good intentions, but never any luck to speak of. It would be along those lines that he’d be caught as soon as he crossed the threshold of the place with a minor in tow.

“I’m wounded,” he exclaimed, putting a hand to his heart. “You underestimate my experience at being drunk.”

But dinner with a new friend sounded like a nice idea. He wasn’t very handy in the kitchen but he did know his way around a fish. And a grill. You know, things Pappy enjoyed cooking and eating. Marlin was probably used to having the apartment to himself most of the time so another night out was hardly any different.

“But that sounds like fun, lad. I’ll bring the beer and we can see how much trouble we can get into - safely within the confines of your apartment.”

There was no way he was taking the chance.

The very thought of the older man being wounded was more than enough to elicit a laugh from Nischal, who at first tried to hide it behind his hand but couldn’t help but let it go freely.

“I-is that so! Well, Flynn, I suppose I’ll just have to see it for myself, hmm?” His eyes simply sparkled in delight and anticipation of their dinner together. Standing, stretching until he heard a satisfying pop, then picking up his gear, Nischal’s smile didn’t fade one bit. In fact, at the mention of trouble, it only grew wider and another, simple blush came across his cheeks.

“Here, let me give you my address…” Always handy with a pen and paper in his tackle box, Nischal quickly jotted down the name of a rather high-class high-rise in downtown Destiny City, the condo number, and his cell phone number just incase Flynn got lost. His condo, was near the top of that building, and was protected by a guarded front desk. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem embarrassed handing the slip of paper to Flynn and picking up his gear once again, starting off down the pier to head home.

“When you get to the front desk, just tell them to send you up. I’ll leave a note with the doorman that I’m expecting you, so you shouldn’t have any trouble getting up there. Hehe, I look forward to seeing you tonight then.”