The Scotsman

Summer Storm

"Mélanie. Paul," Jim said, a nod at each of them and a grin. He shook Paul's hand, but the girl didn't seem up much for a handshake so he let it slide. Jim wasn't up for forcing himself upon anyone. "I can't say I disagree Paul, can't say I disagree. You guys ever been fishing? I read there's a great lake here, serene. Stunning, not that it surprises me. Fish in abundance. I haven't been fishing, in, well damn, years. We're here for a while, might as well make the most of it," he laughed, not a cold 'let's get this over with' snigger, but a hearty 'summer is here, let's get it on' chuckle. Jim opened the side pocket of his rucksack and pulled out a pair of aviators, planting them in front of his eyes.

Mélanie's off-kilter accent intrigued Jim. It wasn't American, but he couldn't particularly place it. Italian? French? "I love your accent, but where's it from? European, I assume?" he asked tentatively. He didn't want to offend anyone at this early stage in their holiday, nor did he want to come off as brash. Jim wasn't brash, but he was forward when he had to be. He had a way of finding out what he wanted to find. Most people found the intensity in his words enough to convince them that he truly did want to know the answer. His movements had been specially tailored to create an air of confidence but also of care. Rarely did he do something or say something and not mean it. When he asked a question, he wanted the answer. When he laughed, he was enjoying himself. When he kissed a girl, he kissed the girl. Jim was a man of doing.

Jim was basking in the sunlight, letting it splash down his shirt and warm his chest when the horn startled him. He skittered on the gravel until he turned around and saw Dominic Rocha in his Jeep. "Dom, you ass! Great to see you, my man, great to see you! How long has it been you reckon?" Jim exclaimed, wrapping his arm around the neck of the guy who walked up behind him. He had found Dominic through a friend of a friend of a friend, so to speak. Back when they were kids the were great friends, but people had to move and friendships are difficult to maintain over distance's it seemed. Standing next to Jim were two examples of that. Or maybe there was just a common denominator here; Jim. That saddened him. But the coming months were for friendships, fun, and whatever else may come. Jim looked forward to that. To it all. To everything.

Jim listened to what the blonde girl had to say. "Sure. Is there anyone else we have to wait for? All of our party is here, you two are present, and I'm assuming our gracious host is at the cabin," he said. He didn't know how many people were invited. For all Jim knew this was going to be a toga party from Animal House. Or Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Or it could be perfectly normal. But life never happens like it should on paper. He was fully prepared for something to become a sordid mess, and even more prepared for a boat load of weird. Whatever. Roll with the punches.

This Hurricane's Chasing Us All Underground

Don't worry about it @RomanAria, we trust you hahah

This Hurricane's Chasing Us All Underground

Yeah. I'll give her until tomorrow though, we have no idea what her schedule is like.

This Hurricane's Chasing Us All Underground

She's pretty good at posting though, so I'm going to assume she's pretty tied up.

This Hurricane's Chasing Us All Underground

True, I never thought of that.

This Hurricane's Chasing Us All Underground

I thought I'd wait on @RomanAria and @AllIsOne posting before I did, but I'd rather not wait too long as I don't know when they'd get back. What do you guys think?

Summer Storm

Finally, finally, posted. Probably one of may favourite first IC posts to write though. Hope y'all enjoy it.

Summer Storm

James Brody, otherwise known as Jim, sat in the back of a pickup truck with the luggage. His mother, a chubby blonde woman from Finland was bouncing along in the drivers seat with Rocketman, the family dog, in the passengers seat. Sitting across and slightly along from Jim was Henri, Jim's Finnish cousin who he hadn't seen in years. They had been pretty close when younger, visiting frequently and Skyping constantly, but as the years wore on like a beloved duvet, it lost its appeal and school and work and ambitions crawled further up on the priorities list. But Henri had a break or something from school in Finland and decided to visit his Yankee Doodle Doo family. Jim had had made plans to come to this remote little cabin with a friend from school, but when his mom told him to try and get Henri invited so they could spend more time together while they could, Jim agreed. Henri was cool. He could roll with the punches. And now, as they sat in the bed of the old 1989 Ford F100, the wind tussled Jim's hair playfully, like a drunk girlfriend cuddled up in bed with you. The sun warmed his bones gently. If any phrase in the English language could describe this day, it would be that today was perfect.

Rocketman's head stuck out of the passenger window, tongue lolling in the wind and eyes closed. When Mrs Brody came to a halt outside of a quaint little store with 'Ben's' written on a sign, swaying softly from the breeze coming from the lake, Rocketman brought his head inside and looked questioningly at the woman driving, asking Why have you stopped the wind? with the brown eyes of the labrador retriever begging for it to start again. Mrs Brody stroked the dog from head to tail before opening up the window separating bed and cab. "Here you are, honey," she said in her thick Finnish accent. Jim didn't even notice it anymore, he had been so attuned to it for 19 years that it was normal, but everyone else who met her fell in love with the larger womans voice. Most people who met her said she reminded them of a baker, with rosy cheeks and a laugh always in the air. Jim thought she looked more like the headmistress from Matilda.

"Thanks mom," Jim replied, lifting his hiking pack and slinging it over one shoulder. He slapped the knee of the other boy. "Wakey wakey, kiddo. Let's get our hillbilly on," Jim said, not thinking that Henri may not catch the joke. He was bright, but he had only been here a handful of times, and Jim wasn't sure how far the American humour reached across the globe. Jim vaulted off the flatbed and slipped the other strap over his shoulder, securing the heavy bag. He walked to the drivers side and kissed his mother goodbye on the cheek and stuck his arm over, scratching Rocketman under the chin. He was a good dog, didn't bite, rarely barked, and had a sense of humour that almost seemed to rival most humans. He would pick up on jokes (well, the atmosphere of the room) and do tricks or comfort someone if it was necessary, it was almost spooky the way he connected with people like that, but Rocketman had saved Jim more times than he could count, so he didn't question it.

Standing at the entrance to Ben's were two people, a boy and a girl. He vaguely recognised them but not enough to to attach a name to the face. Jim strolled over. Both were reasonably attractive by anyone's standards, male or female, straight or gay. But the blonde girl had something about her, something that drew Jim's gaze. "Hi, I'm Jim," he said as he looked at both of them, a friendly grin on his face. "I just can't get over how beautiful it is today. I'm guessing you're here for that Victoria girl? Dom invited us."

This Hurricane's Chasing Us All Underground

Well most people can just read through it and see what they've missed, but if you're as busy as he says he is then I guess that presents an issue. If there is urgency issue then tagging someone wouldn't be a bad idea if it came to that.

This Hurricane's Chasing Us All Underground

I suppose if people do want to accommodate that rule, they can. For the most part though I think people just interact with others they're already communicating with. If someone interacts with someone new though, they could tag them at the end of the post.