Cyberlad
Qia
Half Pint
Festive
mickilennial
AndyC
Sep
Roman
Rockette
Lord WraithBanjo sighed happily. He was settling back in. Re-finding his tempo.
This bunch were just the right blend of mixed nuts, as far as he was concerned.
Best girl by his side, his hand nursing a brew. Unruly mob returning from wherever the winds had blown them through the holidays. The sun was good today.
Blackjack was spread in twos and threes, with even the new Amma finding a bright greeting from Katja as the pair slowly made their way over from the water's edge. His smile widened, relieved that even she wouldn't feel left out of things, and better her than him. Katja had a warmth to her, a brightness which could cut through the thickest clouds. Whereas he... well, he could rub a lot of people the wrong way.
Baxter, Pallyx, Mei...
And then right in front of them, their own personal National Geographic channel.
Lorcán and Aurora, with the odd sprinkle of their friends Haven and Rory mixed in.
“Hi Lorcán,”
“Catch any good waves this morning?” She asked before taking a delicate sip from her drink. “And what about Ripley, is she here yet? I can’t wait to meet her.”
He knew Calliope would be watching, she wouldn't be able to help herself. She loved to people-watch, and she was good at it. Even better than he was, and try as he might, he couldn't help but absorb bits and pieces even when he was trying to ignore the tangle of people's lives. Another curse of his power. Heightened focus, even on things he'd otherwise rather not care about, and liked to act like he was above.
It's why he knew he'd be able to say it to her without so much as giving a glance, to check she knew what he was talking about.
"I don't understand... pandas are easier to get together."
He turned and watched as her lips pursed together. Not quite. Couldn't get a laugh... but he was close that time. His mood brightened even further knowing she liked it though.
"Not everyone is as loud and open about their feelings as you."
"Nail on the head there, I guess." He thought to himself.
"..."
"...I guess. Well, Rory's going to say som-- BAA HA HA HA HA HA!"
"Hey Red, Hot Shot over here just reminded me... there's this senior dance after the Homecoming Trials. You want to go?"
Banjo exploded into laughter. He doubled over in the sand, his outburst would have drawn attention from the others, if not for the fact that everyone's eyes were already glued in astonishment at the pair in the midst of the dance proposal, hanging on the response as the school's cultural highlight of the day that it was.
""Oh shush. He's trying at least. Though that was bold, even by my standards."
He knew her standards. Five years ago it was a bold chance to take a shot at a nutcase she barely knew, asking if he'd be up for sharing a tent one night at a campsite.
It was a very mixed night for Banjo that one, ended in hospital. But that was undoubtedly the highlight of the day, and perhaps surprisingly the part he best remembered. Even despite near death experiences. Funny how memories can work.
It was right then he knew she wouldn't be able to leave it at that for these three. It wasn't in her. She'd be on top of things.
“And like totally save me a dance, dude!.” Calliope couldn't hear everything, but Lorcán had spoken softly to Rory before making a break for it to the cooler, in which time he had toppled over it and fell to the sand.
What a crescendo!
"I'm gonna need a minute or five..."
"Oh shit, there he goes! In the drinks!"
"Okay, I need to step in. Lorcan is...not doing great. Save my spot, won't you love? And try to hold in your laughter until he's in a better mood to reciprocate it?" He did his best to stifle it, a firm-lipped smirk holding back the laughter. "For you, I'll put it on ice. Speaking of.." He held his warm, half-finished bottle out, for Calli to add a chill to, with a pleading wide grin. Calliope rolled her eyes and touched the bottle, sending a chill through it enough to ice it up.
"Ta, love."
He watched as she walked away. There just wasn't a bad angle to view the gal. He took the bottle to his lips and downed the rest of the contents.
He watched as she straightened out Lorcán, before moving on to Rory in a matter of seconds. Full of poise and grace.
He off-loaded his empty and pulled a fresh bottle from the cooler, returning to their spot and losing the botletop with another fancy snap. He put his head back and closed his eyes with a self-satisfied grin, basking in the sun's warmth as he pulled the second bottle to his lips.
Re-finding his tempo.
The sun was receding to the Pacific, where the vast ball floated on the horizon and cast a reddening hue upon the sky.
Calliope lay back on her towel underneath the umbrella, empty red cup which once held Rory's best approximation of a martini by her side, her phone vibrated. She drew it from her bag, and held it out to Banjo to show the message meant for him.
Banjo sighed and disposed of his latest empty. "'Scuse I, ladies and gents. Gotta go save a bloke from his mid-life crisis."
Calliope sat up on her towel and looked over the rim of her sunglasses at the fading sun and considered what she was wearing.
"I might come with you. I should change out of this if we're staying here through the evening anyway."
His smile broadened. "Of course." And offered her his hand, helping her to her feet. He found his shoes and socks, they'd dried somewhat, and he stuffed the latter back in the former in case he'd need them with the job at hand.
He'd had a half dozen or so, by this point. Enough to put a happy buzz through his skull, not enough to knock his confident gait off its torper. He'd have to go through the instantly sobering experience of 'juicing up' once he got there, in order to move the boat, but for now he was able to happily revel in the haze. To live in the moment.
The pair traipsed happily along the firm sand nearest the shore, hand in hand. Banjo waited until they were out of earshot before opening up lines of conversation.
"Thanks for comin' out, Snow Bunny. I know this ain't exactly your location or event of choice."
"It's all right. Even a crummy beach is better when you're there."
Just hearing the words from her heightened the spin he was already feeling between his ears. He thought back to her greeting early, and the expression which came with the words.
"Everything really all good? That wasn't for their sake, yeah? I know they stuck you on the pointy end with 'Mock' lately. How'd that go?"
They were both in a lot of the same teams for their own Houses; debate, mock trials. But being in different Houses they often didn't see the progress of the other unless free time allowed or they were in direct competition.
They had very different styles. Hers was a more polished, conservative, traditional approach which made great use of her hard work and the strength and conviction beyond her words. His tended to be more swift, cutting, brutal acts of showmanship that exploited his spontaneity and rhetoric, as he'd often open, slice up the opposing sides entire argument, attack myriad points across in general, which could possibly lead to straw man arguments if he didn't carefully pick his attack points. Essentially tearing the entrails out of opposing arguments and leaving them on the floor, for their opposition to try and find a way to put an argument back together without addressing the points he'd already attacked, or with valid counterargument.
Hers was a more honest debate, and generally viewed more respectably and valued accordingly, but it also tended to rely on her truly believing in what she was arguing for.
Banjo on the other hand could throw words at anything and walk away.
And that's why it made things difficult when she was expected to make an argument like she'd recently been asked to - in favour of Government monitoring Hyperhumans. Subject matter which hit very close to home.
"It was hard and I hated every word I used in my argument, but I won."
He suspected this was just the tip of the iceberg. But didn't say anything to further make her self-conscious. Settling for just squeezing her hand, warmly. He felt a jolt of electricity as she reciprocated.
He looked out to sea, and she'd need to change course if she was going back to the shared Strigidae/Ursus dormitory house for her wardrobe change.
"Right-o, see you back here when we're both done, Hun?" He released her hand.
"Of course. See you in a bit, love." She left his hand, and gave a simple graceful wave, which he took the second's pleasure to enjoy, before turning his attention to the boat bobbing on the cresting waves near the shore-line.
Banjo's breath quickened and halted once again with the familiar sensation... and not just because he was watching Calliope leave... His body turned jet black and his spine straightened as he felt the power rush into him. His synapses flared, muscles and sinew re-knitted, and he rode the surge, as the bright corona encircled his body. He drank deep of the late afternoon sun, as the young man faced the reddening sky and the task ahead of him.
His appearance restored to it's natural state, with muscle throbbing with potential. He looked down the beach to the car and boat trailer, and thought about how he'd go about getting object A to destination B, and dropped his shoes and socks to the sand, striding into the surf to make it happen.
The pair walked han-in-hand back to the beach site once more.
Calli in a white hoodie, denim shorts and sandals. Banjo in the same clothes as he wore earlier, albeit a bit damper again for the effort. The evening breeze off the sea didn't bother him any. Another of the perks of his power, whilst he could pinpoint the local temperature to a fraction of a degree if asked, the temperature never bothered him.
"Should've brought a road beer or two, for the trek." He'd lamented a few times. His power left him sober as a judge and he'd lost all of that happy buzz.
Now he only felt the high of walking back hand-in-hand with Calliope, which was far from a kick in the head, but could have gone better with a few more beers sunk. Few things paired better with hard work than a couple cold ones.
As they approached the group they saw Lorcán and the others setting up a fire with beachwood. He made a beeline for the cooler to start work on his buzz again from scratch, grabbing a few extras to save himself the walk later, and plopped himself down in a large bare patch between a Gil and Calliope, turning and offering the former a smug grin for an uncomfortably long period of time until he turned and looked away, before shuffling away slightly to talk to someone else, creating even more space.
"Yeah mate, that's what I bloody thought..."
Haven spotted the gap and happily filled it, seeing it as just right, by her reckoning, for her wingspan.
Lorcán kicked off matters with a friendly “Alright gentle-dudes and lady-brahs, where does everyone see themselves once they graduate?”
Banjo had a fair guess about the intentions of most of the group already, but was curious to actually hear them address the question directly. In some cases he suspected he had a better idea of their direction, than they themselves had.
Haven happily spoke up about her desire to get into Parks and Wildlife and the US Forest Service. Excitedly singing the happy song of a magpie at dawn. Minus the kaboodling, mind.
"I'm hoping to volunteer for the U.S. Forest Service this summer, before I start my career." She dapped Banjo on the shoulder seeing his appreciation at her enthusiasm, and looked at the rest of the group. "It depends on how friendly they are with hypes, but there has to be at least one Ranger out there that will accept me." She shrugged as if the comment wasn't as heavy as it seemed. "If I go, feel free to visit me in the states, Lorcán. The American National Parks are gorgeous."
The enthusiasm was infectious, which meant it was only a matter of time before Baxter would chime in on how she would conquer the world.
First she lent support to Haven, in a similar fashion to how Banjo felt, and figured pretty much any right thinking person would feel the same - "Only a total dropkick wouldn't see Haven as a total boon to their service", then used the opening to unload her own plans.
"If I keep my grades up, I’m aiming for a spot in a diagnostic radiology residency program." Leaning back, she traced patterns in the sand. "It’s not as fancy as it sounds, though."
"Yeah, no, sure. Medical field. Piece of piss. Let you walk on for that." He sarcastically thought to himself, regarding her false modesty. He had little doubt she'd get it, or at least grind herself to dust trying.
Next came Rory. Banjo was pleased to see his confidence had restored somewhat and he was putting his best foot forward again, after what happened earlier. He was going to move into the psych field. Help others less fortunate. He'd picked up on that before Rory even changed his courseload to move in that direction. To follow his Aunt who was one of the shrinks here on the island. Made too much sense. He had a strength in his emotional intelligence to him, as well as an empathy and gentleness about him, that would've been a waste to not pursue that field.
"I... there's a lot of kids who are like us out there trying to make sense of everything. Powers, Hyperion, the backlash, watchlists.... this place isn't the solution for all of them. And even if it is, they need help and the tools to get through it. They need someone in their corner, cause not everyone has that." Banjo nodded his head, satisfied with his suspicions confirmed as Rory stared into the fire. He could tell he'd never had to parse out his plans properly to date. The plan barely more than a bare-bones idea. Banjo wasn't concerned though. This place, the island, tended to take care of their own and help them find their place if all else failed and they struggled with such things. It was part of the reason Lorcán still seemed so sheltered from the ways of the world. If you had a direction and were a good person, like Rory was, in a place like this it seemed to often be enough. "I don't know if that means working for H.E.L.P., or joining a practice, or what... I'm still figuring that out." Rory's gaze remained on the fire after he spoke, an uncomfortable pit forming in the center of his chest that he couldn't yet place.
Banjo had been holding off. His own plans known to pretty much all in attendance, or at least any who might actually care. He didn't find it particularly interesting or newsworthy to anyone here, but seeing Rory spiralling back into that place which could often drag his self-confidence, Banjo interjected.
"Well, not everyone's gonna know the Whats, Whys, Wheres and Hows, mate."
"There's still time to wrestle with the details." He said, hitting one of Rory's keywords, which at least brought something of a smile to his face.
"I mean, I intend to move into criminal defense law when I'm done here. Who's to say where?" Of course this wasn't exactly true. He intended to follow Calliope, depending what opportunities and where her degree opened her career up, and she had extensive plans, thoughts and contingencies for her career all mapped out with varied probable degree and grade results. Whatever city they planted roots in - probably New York or Washington D.C, by his estimation, he'd hustle the Public Defenders circuit for six months to a couple of years and probably have enough set up to start his own small solo private practice somewhere. But that wouldn't make Rory feel any better. "Good thing about that, can do criminal defense law anywhere and everywhere. I figure head-shrinkin' is no different. Can do that anywhere."
He wasn't sure how much of that Rory had actually understood or taken on board, but he seemed a bit more chipper about things now, so Banjo stopped talking and poured beer down his gullet instead.
This bunch were just the right blend of mixed nuts, as far as he was concerned.
Best girl by his side, his hand nursing a brew. Unruly mob returning from wherever the winds had blown them through the holidays. The sun was good today.
Blackjack was spread in twos and threes, with even the new Amma finding a bright greeting from Katja as the pair slowly made their way over from the water's edge. His smile widened, relieved that even she wouldn't feel left out of things, and better her than him. Katja had a warmth to her, a brightness which could cut through the thickest clouds. Whereas he... well, he could rub a lot of people the wrong way.
Baxter, Pallyx, Mei...
And then right in front of them, their own personal National Geographic channel.
Lorcán and Aurora, with the odd sprinkle of their friends Haven and Rory mixed in.
“Hi Lorcán,”
“Catch any good waves this morning?” She asked before taking a delicate sip from her drink. “And what about Ripley, is she here yet? I can’t wait to meet her.”
He knew Calliope would be watching, she wouldn't be able to help herself. She loved to people-watch, and she was good at it. Even better than he was, and try as he might, he couldn't help but absorb bits and pieces even when he was trying to ignore the tangle of people's lives. Another curse of his power. Heightened focus, even on things he'd otherwise rather not care about, and liked to act like he was above.
It's why he knew he'd be able to say it to her without so much as giving a glance, to check she knew what he was talking about.
"I don't understand... pandas are easier to get together."
He turned and watched as her lips pursed together. Not quite. Couldn't get a laugh... but he was close that time. His mood brightened even further knowing she liked it though.
"Not everyone is as loud and open about their feelings as you."
"Nail on the head there, I guess." He thought to himself.
"..."
"...I guess. Well, Rory's going to say som-- BAA HA HA HA HA HA!"
"Hey Red, Hot Shot over here just reminded me... there's this senior dance after the Homecoming Trials. You want to go?"
Banjo exploded into laughter. He doubled over in the sand, his outburst would have drawn attention from the others, if not for the fact that everyone's eyes were already glued in astonishment at the pair in the midst of the dance proposal, hanging on the response as the school's cultural highlight of the day that it was.
""Oh shush. He's trying at least. Though that was bold, even by my standards."
He knew her standards. Five years ago it was a bold chance to take a shot at a nutcase she barely knew, asking if he'd be up for sharing a tent one night at a campsite.
It was a very mixed night for Banjo that one, ended in hospital. But that was undoubtedly the highlight of the day, and perhaps surprisingly the part he best remembered. Even despite near death experiences. Funny how memories can work.
It was right then he knew she wouldn't be able to leave it at that for these three. It wasn't in her. She'd be on top of things.
“And like totally save me a dance, dude!.” Calliope couldn't hear everything, but Lorcán had spoken softly to Rory before making a break for it to the cooler, in which time he had toppled over it and fell to the sand.
What a crescendo!
"I'm gonna need a minute or five..."
"Oh shit, there he goes! In the drinks!"
"Okay, I need to step in. Lorcan is...not doing great. Save my spot, won't you love? And try to hold in your laughter until he's in a better mood to reciprocate it?" He did his best to stifle it, a firm-lipped smirk holding back the laughter. "For you, I'll put it on ice. Speaking of.." He held his warm, half-finished bottle out, for Calli to add a chill to, with a pleading wide grin. Calliope rolled her eyes and touched the bottle, sending a chill through it enough to ice it up.
"Ta, love."
He watched as she walked away. There just wasn't a bad angle to view the gal. He took the bottle to his lips and downed the rest of the contents.
He watched as she straightened out Lorcán, before moving on to Rory in a matter of seconds. Full of poise and grace.
He off-loaded his empty and pulled a fresh bottle from the cooler, returning to their spot and losing the botletop with another fancy snap. He put his head back and closed his eyes with a self-satisfied grin, basking in the sun's warmth as he pulled the second bottle to his lips.
Re-finding his tempo.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: The Farm/The Beach - Pacific Royal Campus
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Welcome Home #1.035: Plans Over A Brew or Two
Interaction(s): The Whole Bloody Lot Of Yas
Previously: Greetings and Shit-you-takings
The sun was receding to the Pacific, where the vast ball floated on the horizon and cast a reddening hue upon the sky.
Calliope lay back on her towel underneath the umbrella, empty red cup which once held Rory's best approximation of a martini by her side, her phone vibrated. She drew it from her bag, and held it out to Banjo to show the message meant for him.
Hi, its me. If you could remind him that he
helped me get this bloody boat in the water, and
I'm gonna need him to get it back ashore
again, that'd be greatly appreciated.
Banjo sighed and disposed of his latest empty. "'Scuse I, ladies and gents. Gotta go save a bloke from his mid-life crisis."
Calliope sat up on her towel and looked over the rim of her sunglasses at the fading sun and considered what she was wearing.
"I might come with you. I should change out of this if we're staying here through the evening anyway."
His smile broadened. "Of course." And offered her his hand, helping her to her feet. He found his shoes and socks, they'd dried somewhat, and he stuffed the latter back in the former in case he'd need them with the job at hand.
He'd had a half dozen or so, by this point. Enough to put a happy buzz through his skull, not enough to knock his confident gait off its torper. He'd have to go through the instantly sobering experience of 'juicing up' once he got there, in order to move the boat, but for now he was able to happily revel in the haze. To live in the moment.
The pair traipsed happily along the firm sand nearest the shore, hand in hand. Banjo waited until they were out of earshot before opening up lines of conversation.
"Thanks for comin' out, Snow Bunny. I know this ain't exactly your location or event of choice."
"It's all right. Even a crummy beach is better when you're there."
Just hearing the words from her heightened the spin he was already feeling between his ears. He thought back to her greeting early, and the expression which came with the words.
"Everything really all good? That wasn't for their sake, yeah? I know they stuck you on the pointy end with 'Mock' lately. How'd that go?"
They were both in a lot of the same teams for their own Houses; debate, mock trials. But being in different Houses they often didn't see the progress of the other unless free time allowed or they were in direct competition.
They had very different styles. Hers was a more polished, conservative, traditional approach which made great use of her hard work and the strength and conviction beyond her words. His tended to be more swift, cutting, brutal acts of showmanship that exploited his spontaneity and rhetoric, as he'd often open, slice up the opposing sides entire argument, attack myriad points across in general, which could possibly lead to straw man arguments if he didn't carefully pick his attack points. Essentially tearing the entrails out of opposing arguments and leaving them on the floor, for their opposition to try and find a way to put an argument back together without addressing the points he'd already attacked, or with valid counterargument.
Hers was a more honest debate, and generally viewed more respectably and valued accordingly, but it also tended to rely on her truly believing in what she was arguing for.
Banjo on the other hand could throw words at anything and walk away.
And that's why it made things difficult when she was expected to make an argument like she'd recently been asked to - in favour of Government monitoring Hyperhumans. Subject matter which hit very close to home.
"It was hard and I hated every word I used in my argument, but I won."
He suspected this was just the tip of the iceberg. But didn't say anything to further make her self-conscious. Settling for just squeezing her hand, warmly. He felt a jolt of electricity as she reciprocated.
He looked out to sea, and she'd need to change course if she was going back to the shared Strigidae/Ursus dormitory house for her wardrobe change.
"Right-o, see you back here when we're both done, Hun?" He released her hand.
"Of course. See you in a bit, love." She left his hand, and gave a simple graceful wave, which he took the second's pleasure to enjoy, before turning his attention to the boat bobbing on the cresting waves near the shore-line.
Banjo's breath quickened and halted once again with the familiar sensation... and not just because he was watching Calliope leave... His body turned jet black and his spine straightened as he felt the power rush into him. His synapses flared, muscles and sinew re-knitted, and he rode the surge, as the bright corona encircled his body. He drank deep of the late afternoon sun, as the young man faced the reddening sky and the task ahead of him.
His appearance restored to it's natural state, with muscle throbbing with potential. He looked down the beach to the car and boat trailer, and thought about how he'd go about getting object A to destination B, and dropped his shoes and socks to the sand, striding into the surf to make it happen.
The pair walked han-in-hand back to the beach site once more.
Calli in a white hoodie, denim shorts and sandals. Banjo in the same clothes as he wore earlier, albeit a bit damper again for the effort. The evening breeze off the sea didn't bother him any. Another of the perks of his power, whilst he could pinpoint the local temperature to a fraction of a degree if asked, the temperature never bothered him.
"Should've brought a road beer or two, for the trek." He'd lamented a few times. His power left him sober as a judge and he'd lost all of that happy buzz.
Now he only felt the high of walking back hand-in-hand with Calliope, which was far from a kick in the head, but could have gone better with a few more beers sunk. Few things paired better with hard work than a couple cold ones.
As they approached the group they saw Lorcán and the others setting up a fire with beachwood. He made a beeline for the cooler to start work on his buzz again from scratch, grabbing a few extras to save himself the walk later, and plopped himself down in a large bare patch between a Gil and Calliope, turning and offering the former a smug grin for an uncomfortably long period of time until he turned and looked away, before shuffling away slightly to talk to someone else, creating even more space.
"Yeah mate, that's what I bloody thought..."
Haven spotted the gap and happily filled it, seeing it as just right, by her reckoning, for her wingspan.
Lorcán kicked off matters with a friendly “Alright gentle-dudes and lady-brahs, where does everyone see themselves once they graduate?”
Banjo had a fair guess about the intentions of most of the group already, but was curious to actually hear them address the question directly. In some cases he suspected he had a better idea of their direction, than they themselves had.
Haven happily spoke up about her desire to get into Parks and Wildlife and the US Forest Service. Excitedly singing the happy song of a magpie at dawn. Minus the kaboodling, mind.
"I'm hoping to volunteer for the U.S. Forest Service this summer, before I start my career." She dapped Banjo on the shoulder seeing his appreciation at her enthusiasm, and looked at the rest of the group. "It depends on how friendly they are with hypes, but there has to be at least one Ranger out there that will accept me." She shrugged as if the comment wasn't as heavy as it seemed. "If I go, feel free to visit me in the states, Lorcán. The American National Parks are gorgeous."
The enthusiasm was infectious, which meant it was only a matter of time before Baxter would chime in on how she would conquer the world.
First she lent support to Haven, in a similar fashion to how Banjo felt, and figured pretty much any right thinking person would feel the same - "Only a total dropkick wouldn't see Haven as a total boon to their service", then used the opening to unload her own plans.
"If I keep my grades up, I’m aiming for a spot in a diagnostic radiology residency program." Leaning back, she traced patterns in the sand. "It’s not as fancy as it sounds, though."
"Yeah, no, sure. Medical field. Piece of piss. Let you walk on for that." He sarcastically thought to himself, regarding her false modesty. He had little doubt she'd get it, or at least grind herself to dust trying.
Next came Rory. Banjo was pleased to see his confidence had restored somewhat and he was putting his best foot forward again, after what happened earlier. He was going to move into the psych field. Help others less fortunate. He'd picked up on that before Rory even changed his courseload to move in that direction. To follow his Aunt who was one of the shrinks here on the island. Made too much sense. He had a strength in his emotional intelligence to him, as well as an empathy and gentleness about him, that would've been a waste to not pursue that field.
"I... there's a lot of kids who are like us out there trying to make sense of everything. Powers, Hyperion, the backlash, watchlists.... this place isn't the solution for all of them. And even if it is, they need help and the tools to get through it. They need someone in their corner, cause not everyone has that." Banjo nodded his head, satisfied with his suspicions confirmed as Rory stared into the fire. He could tell he'd never had to parse out his plans properly to date. The plan barely more than a bare-bones idea. Banjo wasn't concerned though. This place, the island, tended to take care of their own and help them find their place if all else failed and they struggled with such things. It was part of the reason Lorcán still seemed so sheltered from the ways of the world. If you had a direction and were a good person, like Rory was, in a place like this it seemed to often be enough. "I don't know if that means working for H.E.L.P., or joining a practice, or what... I'm still figuring that out." Rory's gaze remained on the fire after he spoke, an uncomfortable pit forming in the center of his chest that he couldn't yet place.
Banjo had been holding off. His own plans known to pretty much all in attendance, or at least any who might actually care. He didn't find it particularly interesting or newsworthy to anyone here, but seeing Rory spiralling back into that place which could often drag his self-confidence, Banjo interjected.
"Well, not everyone's gonna know the Whats, Whys, Wheres and Hows, mate."
"There's still time to wrestle with the details." He said, hitting one of Rory's keywords, which at least brought something of a smile to his face.
"I mean, I intend to move into criminal defense law when I'm done here. Who's to say where?" Of course this wasn't exactly true. He intended to follow Calliope, depending what opportunities and where her degree opened her career up, and she had extensive plans, thoughts and contingencies for her career all mapped out with varied probable degree and grade results. Whatever city they planted roots in - probably New York or Washington D.C, by his estimation, he'd hustle the Public Defenders circuit for six months to a couple of years and probably have enough set up to start his own small solo private practice somewhere. But that wouldn't make Rory feel any better. "Good thing about that, can do criminal defense law anywhere and everywhere. I figure head-shrinkin' is no different. Can do that anywhere."
He wasn't sure how much of that Rory had actually understood or taken on board, but he seemed a bit more chipper about things now, so Banjo stopped talking and poured beer down his gullet instead.
