only time

such a smile , beamed across his face like a bolt of lightning , was rare for striker cannon . the flecks of hair in a horseshoe across his upper lip twisted as he grinned , flashing rows of teeth that stood like gravestones knocked by harsh wind . when he usually hailed information about cows down on his unsuspecting victims they would roll their eyes , change the subject , stare at him blank and uninterested , but the other knew exactly what he was talking about , and striker did everything in his power to stop himself hopping up and down in his boots . “ aren’t they neat ?! “ not as complex , academic , or well-spoken as patrick , but with a matched enthusiasm nonetheless , “ no , no … the ranch ain’t mine , but i wish it was . that’s my dream — maybe when guillermo steps down he’ll hand it to me . i’m his sidekick , y’know ?? there ain’t nobody else in line to take puhlman’s ranch . “ a slither of hope remained that his friend , his mentor , his boss wouldn’t have children that would inherit the plot of land , as much as his stomach twisted in guilt at the realisation . many an evening had been filled with daydreams of having his own farm , of being able to wake up beneath the copper rays and step out onto the front porch of his land . in this dream he’d have tiziri by his side , then his brothers , and perhaps a dog chasing his heels . such an imagined future would plunge to black whenever striker inevitably reminded himself that happiness wasn’t the cannon way , that a man like him didn’t deserve such joy . a man like him , who wore the wounds of his father across his back and on his birth certificate . it was a rarity these days to find somebody he could speak to genuinely without the need for alcohol or without them turning their back on him after twenty minutes ; so far , it seemed that the coffee-juggling dog dad was a diamond in the rough .  “ — my brothers ?? “ the question pulled him out of his stupor . “ i got two of ‘em , an’ jus’ like your dogs the youngest is way bigger than me . i don’t know what happened while he was growin’ but he shot up like a damn tree and left me in the dirt . “ striker was by no means a short man , standing like a tower as they crunched through wet leaves and undergrowth , but there was something comedic about him being swamped by a sibling ten years his junior . “ you got any , or are you flyin’ solo ?? i can’t get my head around anybody bein’ on their own . feels like i’ve always been a big brother , “ an ersatz father , too , in the absence of their own , picking through trash in order to fill the bellies of the younger boys . “ if you ever need help with these here dogs i’d be happy to take ‘em up the ranch , get ‘em out your hair . i ain’t got much experience with pups but they’re just mini cows , right ?? “

It had been a long time since Patrick had felt genuine excitement like this, or since he’d last talked about animals in that manner. Every now and then, he missed his old life – the routine of having somewhere to be and helping however he was able to. He gave a smile and nodded. “Very neat,” he confirmed before he listened intently to what the other man was telling him. He wasn’t entirely sure of the town’s dynamics just yet and he seemed to learn something new every day. “That’s great though, that you’ll take over at some point,” Patrick told him genuinely and for a moment, there was a pang of guilt that ached in his chest and he wondered if this was the right moment to share that his excitement stemmed from growing up on a farm. “I think it’s important that well-run farms don’t vanish over time…,” he added, his smile a little more forced now.

Patrick’s eyes remained on Tiziri’s, almost as if she was a hunter and he was her prey, ready to skip back into the woods before she could make a move but behind the alerted dark eyes, there was more to it – a look of fear as well as one of conflict. He wasn’t sure what to think. Hell, he hadn’t been sure what to think about any of this from the start. Coming back here, facing all these people he’d only known in passing that now seemed to have that idea stuck in their heads that he was some kind of money hungry monster that’d go so far as to hurt the one person that ever loved him the way he needed to be loved – it hurt and in a way, he hadn’t expected it to. Maybe he’d been too naïve. Too sheltered in his adult life to see what people might be capable of but the moment the voices around him grew louder and more accusatory, he’d realized all over again that apparently just existing was enough to make him a suspect.

It was a journey, anyways. A way to find himself again after he’d gotten so comfortable with being a two for one kind of deal. His love for Matthew had been all consuming and he’d preferred it that way. Seeing his real self took work and now, he had to rediscover what had been buried over the years. His own pain and his own demons that had so graciously rested somewhere deep down within him but now, with barely any joy there to cover them up, Patrick had to learn that just because he’d kept them hidden, didn’t mean they weren’t still there. He dragged a hand along his jaw in agitation, ignoring the little tremble it gave with his nerves getting the better of him.  

No matter how hard Patrick tried, he couldn’t seem to figure out just how Tiziri felt about seeing him here in Roswell. Granted, he didn’t know her well enough but also knew that she’d never been one to let others know her that well to figure her out but despite that, it was hard to get a read on her. A huff escaped, a knowing expression on his features at her words. “Well, that makes two of us,” he told her candidly. “So far, we’ve stayed in our corners, so they can’t really say much about me being here but despite of what you have or haven’t heard, I am here and not in jail, aren’t I? So, make of that what you will.” His shoulders slumped at that, a tired glance wandering before it settled on the ground between them. “Is that what they’re saying? That there was foul play involved?”

Thankful for the question and the distraction that came with it, Patrick checked in with his dogs for a moment, trying to see if there was any leftover anxiety or energy he couldn't quite read but with both of them settled and content, he gave a soft nod. "Of course - go ahead. She's fine now, it was just all very exciting for a minute," the man assured, hoping that it'd be enough of an apology. With a thankful smile, Patrick's demeanor changed into something a little less tense. "I'm sorry about that but that just means it happens to all of us, right? At least nothing worse happened but I get it now - they say don't text and drive but apparently it should also say don't talk and walk either."

"i mean, i was also raised in a city kind of similar to roswell. we didn't have our own alien crash site, but my home-state is famous for area fifty-one. there were plenty of quirky characters in reno," he supposed that roswell, reno, and albuquerque had all felt like home for him. he didn't know if he would ever get out of the western united states. "how long have you been here for already?" nate asked. he had practically shared his entire life story with this stranger. "yeah, very different... but, i can get you a discount on the machines if you ever stop by to wash some clothes or whatever." of course nate had thought of doing art professionally, he'd even done commissions to help get some income on the side during high school and tech school. it had just never seemed like a viable option. "i would love to be able to do art full-time, but it's hard to make it big in the industry. i used to do commissions, but i got paid, at most, two-hundred dollars for a full-color, full-body piece. since i'm not famous i couldn't charge that much."

Patrick held up his hands cluelessly. “I’ve never been. I moved here from Pennsylvania – it’s not my home state but I lived there for quite a few years,” he went on before shrugging – he wasn’t sure why he was sharing this in return but this was how you held a conversation after all, right? “Thank you,” he told him under his breath. He had his own washing machine but it was a kind offer nonetheless. “Oh, I’m sure. I’m not gifted that way in the slightest so I’m not an expert but I do know that it takes a lot to push through. You’d still have to pay rent and put food on your table,” he sympathized. “How long would that take you? Doing these commissions? I have no concept of it but I'm sure it would neither pay your rent nor the grocery store run.”

looks truly could be deceiving . although striker looked the type that you would avoid at the end of a dark alley , there wasn’t a cowboy with a softer heart . perhaps that had been what brought the males together that afternoon , nestled in the veil of spilled coffee ; they had been wandering searching for something to fill the void , and maybe that something just so happened to be the other . “ i swear it . these boots are probably older than me , “ not a day over thirty-five , he would argue ( despite the silver flecks at his temples and the spidered wrinkles at the corners of his eyes ) . if there was a surefire way to sprout a smile on striker’s face it was talking about cows . he could spout about bovine for the state ; in that brain of his , which held very little , he had stuffed every fact about the beasts , able to rattle off alphabetised lists of breeds , temperaments , like and dislikes . it was a characteristic often subdued by liquor but , in the fresh wintery air , it was impossible for the male to fight the spew of information . “ yeah , buddy — they’re the same damn things . you look int’ the eyes of a cow and you try tellin’ me they ain’t the same . cows are real smart . they got real emotional intelligence . i got a cow back at the ranch — “ technically , if patrick were to scrutinise paperwork , he would realise that bertha wasn’t exactly striker’s , but nobody on puhlman’s ranch would question that the tawny-brown creature belonged to the eldest cannon . it was a childlike excitement elicited from the male , one step short of him bounding on the toes of those worn boots and clapping his palms in juvenile glee . “ — her name’s bertha an’ she’s like a damn therapist . always sits and listens to whatever problem i have , puts her little head in my lap . makes you wonder why people eat cows an’ they don’t eat dogs , “ if he had it his way , and if he didn’t have to live off the scraps from the crashdown dumpster , he would have become a vegetarian years ago . “ jet an’ meadow . “ the names rolled off his tongue as he spoke them . he had pondered getting a pet for the three brothers — at first he had thought one of the rats at tripp’s would do if he caught it , with the help of peanut butter or a hunk of cheese , and offered it a cage to stay in . then he thought maybe a stray cat , or one of the raccoons that made a habit of chewing through their electrical wire , but eventually striker came to the realisation that he could barely take care of himself — who would feed , bathe , and clean up after an animal of all things ?? “ i bet it’s nice having little buddies followin’ you around like that . i have my brothers , an’ as much as i like havin’ them around i can’t teach ‘em how to fetch or roll over .“

Patrick would like to think that he was pretty good at reading people, though he couldn’t seem to get a good read on the other man, his eyes scanning but failing to find what he was looking for. He was sure he’d find some sense of discomfort or annoyance but remained without success. There was an edge to him but not one that activated his fight or flight – in fact, it was refreshing that he wasn’t being yelled at or belittled for his mistake. If anything, he was almost too gracious about it and Patrick felt like he should be making up for it. Not that he needed to and by all means, he got that boots like these were made to be dirty anyways but not due to some coffee spill but hard, physical labor. Nonetheless, he appreciated the other’s approach and even snorted at his words. “That’s how you know you went for a good pair,” he commented before a his lips stretched into a genuine grin. “Absolutely. I uh – I worked with quite a few cows in my time as well. They’re highly complex animals but definitely some of the most gentle and social creatures I’ve had the pleasure of treating.” Obviously, there was no way that the stranger would know about his antics when he was still working in veterinary medicine but maybe that fact wasn’t all that important as long as he could relate. “Is it yours? The ranch, I mean?” He wondered, curious now that they got to talking more. Humming in understanding, it was almost endearing just how much the other man seemed to care. His overall demeanor not exactly screaming that he was interested in animal rights or the gentle nature of cows in the first place. “I wonder about that a lot myself,” Patrick admitted. He’d cut back for that reason alone, going through phases where he didn’t eat meat at all. “I try not to. I know most people probably don’t think about it this way but once you’re familiar with the animals, there’s hardly a way to go back.”

“ Shoe is my sassy youngster, Garbanzo is my Mr. Wise. ” He kneels down, giving a small ‘hello’ to the dogs before smothering Shoe with a comforting hand. “ Do you three walk out here often?? I just started creating a schedule and if you’d like, I can change it up to not bother you… I know a lot of people like to walk into the woods for some personal time. ” To keep his anxiety low, Nabeel had maintained a proper schedule all his life. The altercation of change always makes him emotional and overfilled with stress, but he's gotten calmer throughout the years. Finding random things to do throughout the day to expose him to the fears helped a lot too.

“The best of two worlds,” Patrick commented with a smile. “It’s similar with these two – Meadow here,” he nodded at his Samoyed, “she’s younger and definitely a lot more independent. She likes to do things her own way but Jet is older and more settled. We figured that maybe she could learn from him,” Patrick added before he blinked and shook his head immediately at the proposal. “Oh god – no, you really don’t have to do that unless I disturb you all,” he told him. “It’s not like I own this place. We come here every now and then. I don’t really stick to a plan or a schedule. I just see how active they are and whether or not it’s worth it to take the trip.”

The hot flush that had started creeping up Patrick’s neck only seemed to worsen when he realized that the poor soul that had to witness his moment of not paying attention to anything at all apparently. Maybe, partially, his mother was to blame but that was another thing that the man didn’t exactly want to unpack just now and he’d read one too many articles that told him not to put the blame on everyone around him instead of putting it on himself, though he already felt like sometimes he was carrying too many heavy things all at once in the sense that it’d be nice to put some of it on someone else for a change. Either way, there was no one to blame really other than himself. He’d definitely had his hands full – the blonde’s words made him look down at the ground below him in hopes it’d open up and swallow him whole but it wasn’t his lucky day. In fact, it was everything but.

“Thank god,” Patrick mumbled under his breath, checking the other once over as if to make sure she hadn’t missed a spot before he leaned down to pick up all that he’d scattered across the ground. “And that was probably my first mistake,” he replied, an apologetic half-grin spreading across his features. “Uh…” Patrick reached for the phone he’d hastily pushed back into his coat’s pocket and checked for any scratches or damages but aside from a slight chip on its case, it seemed fine. “No, I think for as close of a call that was, everyone came out unharmed,” he assured. “I’m sorry for disrupting you though – that was entirely on me and my full hands.”

he had gotten used to new beginnings ever since he moved out of his parents' house. it seemed like he could never get a break from them, so he might as well embrace them. "sure, sometimes its frustrating," nate agreed, "but, other times it can be super rewarding. like, take for example my move to roswell. did i give up my entire career? yes. but, now i have a tiny bit more time for the things i actually love - like my art." roswell was definitely smaller than reno or albuquerque, but nate felt like the pace was definitely not as slow as bunkerville, nevada, where his parents had taken him a couple of times. "you should get used to it soon enough. it's become like breathing to me," to illustrate his point further, he took in a breath of fresh air. nate couldn't help but laugh when patrick brought up doing art professionally. "me? a professional? yeah, haha, good one," he even slapped his knee a little bit. "i work at the lunar laundromat, you ever heard of it? i also do some appliance repair on the side, but that's neither here nor there. it's what i did professionally before moving to roswell."

A small smile rested on Patrick’s lips and he nodded in understanding. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a conversation with a stranger like this. Not when he was walking around at day, sober and still a little caught up in his previous embarrassment. “I’m sure I’ll get there, yeah,” Patrick agreed with a nod, not exactly looking to share more about himself or his journey or why it was that he’d still not settled around here properly. A puzzled look washed over his features when the other laughed and he tilted his head, nodding. “I’ve walked past it several times, yes – so that is something entirely different then,” he said. “Have you ever considered it though? You seem to have a lot of ideas.”

Having been too caught up to even make note of his surroundings – Patrick’s first mistake – he hadn’t exactly realized who it was he’d been running into. Between trying to soothe his mother’s worries and trying to balance his coffee while also walking two rather big dogs, there was only so much he could pay attention to but the moment his eyes met with a familiar pair, it daunted on him that he shouldn’t have gotten too comfortable around Roswell just yet. It caused him to freeze, the realization that he was standing right in front of Tiziri, someone he hadn’t seen in what felt like an eternity and he wasn’t quite sure how to hold himself now that he was confronted with a part of his past. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, he did move here with a purpose after all but he had no idea what side she was on, let alone just how much she knew about what had gone down in the past few years. A lot had changed and yet, things had always felt tense to him here in New Mexico. He’d never considered it a place he could call home until he’d made the move and had tried his best to will it to be a home for the past two years. He wasn’t exactly sure why he’d done it or why he’d stuck around but maybe, in a way, it were moments like these he’d tried to brace himself for.

He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing with his discomfort and his already pale complexion only seemed to become even paler upon seeing her – as if he’d been confronted with a ghost of his past, yet he knew it wasn’t her fault personally. Not at all. It was the lack of contact that made him nervous. The connection she had to his late husband’s family and the lack of control he had over just how much and what was shared about him in the span of the past few years. Her words caused his shoulders to tense up but he chose to ignore them for now. Dark eyes averted before he took in a deep breath and looked back at her again, lips pressing together anxiously. It had been a bold move to show up here and yet, Patrick’s intention hadn’t necessarily been malicious. It was a deeply selfish thing to do, he was well aware of that but he’d made himself believe that this was the only way to make peace with it all. Yet, it was a dangerous game he was playing, one that kept him on edge at all times until now when he’d started to let his guard down and immediately paid for it. He didn’t know how Tiziri felt about him though, so he cleared his throat and shook his head. “No. I’ve been living here with them for a minute,” he told her, betrayed by the tone of his voice, not as nonchalant as he needed it to be. “I wouldn’t know about the in-laws though,” he pressed his lips together again, shaking his head as he toyed with the golden band still gracing his ring finger absently. “My visits have never felt cordial for as long as I can remember, Tiziri. So it’s not like I’m seeking them out. I’m not here for them,” Patrick was quick to explain without giving too much detail. “Have they said anything to you?”

a positive mindset was so far away from reality for striker cannon that it seemed like a myth , a cruel joke , a fresh cigarette down the grill of a storm drain just out of reach . since he had been brought into the world , the only hell his mother ever raised , the odds had been stacked against him , and it had been his job to keep his silver-streaked head above water . it seemed forty years later ( or thirty-five , striker would insist ) the string of misfortune continued ; never before had he been so heartbroken , carrying around a lead weight in his chest where the organ was supposed to reside . his brothers couldn’t hand him solace and neither could the bar , even bertha — his licensed therapist that just so happened to be a milking cow — was beginning to leave his worries and woes unanswered . the male hadn’t intended on crashing patrick’s party but perhaps , among the universe’s cruel jokes , the world had brought two troubled souls together in the hopes they could save each other from ill decision . glancing down at his coffee-stained boots , striker’s shoulders shrugged and he shook his artificially brunette head . “ you don’t gotta do that . “ words were matter-of-fact , as if discussing the weather or the state of the crops back at the farm ( not the greatest , wilted and struggling in the january cold ) . “ this boots’ve seen worse . they’re cow-shit magnets . a good pair of boots can withstand anything and i reckon guillermo will have a spare pair if i can’t scrub the joe outta them , “ for a man as unapologetic as he , his brows twisted into a furrow at the incessant apologies being batted around his head , the twittering birds of a cartoon concussion orbiting an empty skull . “ really , buddy , i swear you ain’t done no harm . it’s jus’ a little coffee . i got bigger fish to fry , “ and bigger fish to drown in tequila , whiskey , vodka , beer and whatever else he could swipe from the bar-top of the wild pony when the bartenders weren’t looking . “ you can’t control the pups . they’re jus’ like small cows in that way . they do whatever they wanna do whatever you tell ‘em . “  it was the closest comparison he could make . striker hadn’t ever had the privilege of a family pet . the blue-tick hounds and stray cats at the trailer park could hardly be called his own , even if he spooned half a tin of sardines into a dish every now and again when they had money to spare . maybe a puppy would curb the bottomless pit of heartache and loneliness that plagued the lonesome , wandering cowboy . “ you adopt ‘em from pluto or have you had ‘em a while ?? “ he questioned , as though the great coffee spill had never happened , as if they had known each other a decade . “ she’s a pretty little lady even if she ain’t able to be tamed . those are the best kind of women , “ in dogs and in humans , it seemed . striker had quite the type — the unattainable , the uninterested , the unknowable . he had been chasing the taillights of the only woman he had ever loved for the last decade of his life fruitlessly ; the moment they reunited he was left with a heaviness worse than grief , for how can you move on from a loss of somebody that was still very much alive , tracing streets only miles away ?? 

On second glance, the other man didn’t strike Patrick as the kind of guy who’d care much about getting his boots or hands dirty. He felt almost silly now, once the realization hit him, to even offer the service but it was in his nature to make sure everyone was okay. To make sure everyone around him found him likeable, even if it meant that sometimes he’d go out of his way for them. Now, with his eyes averted and focused on the worn-down boots, Patrick’s shoulders slumped lightly and he gave a small chuckle, nodding in understanding. His life back in Pennsylvania seemed almost too far away at this point – a distant memory of a person that was no longer him. It was a painful realization to have but at least he remembered the dirt covered boots and gear he’d put on working with the farm animals. The sometimes unbearable smell of a barn and yet, it had always felt like a piece of him. “You might just be right about that. That was still on me though, I should’ve been more alert,” he admitted his mistake, his own brows furrowing slightly. It was a bad habit to have, one he’d never been able to shake. As if he was apologizing for merely existing – as if he was so bothersome that something minor like this seemed like he was doing too much. He was aware of that though and he was working on it – at his own speed at least. Yet, a smile appeared on Patrick’s lips at the comparison and he was quick to nod in agreement. “They are! That’s exactly what they are,” he confirmed. “Small cows, testing the waters to see how far they can push it.” With that, Patrick smiled down at the dogs fondly, reaching into the small bag by his side to retrieve some treats, content that they’d finally settled.

A look of surprise washed over Patrick's features as he looked back at the other person. "Oh - don't be, I'm fine!" He called over almost immediately as he tried to hurriedly gather his things. Nodding, a small chuckle to underline in disbelief, Patrick looked down to where the coffee was seeping into the ground, no longer warming his hands in the cold air surrounding them, though with his mother's call, it had almost cooled down completely as it was so maybe it wasn't too big of a waste. "You could say that," he confirmed with a sigh, leaning down to pick up the now empty cup before straightening his back and shooting the young woman a small smile. "They're fine. She just got a little too excited over seeing a squirrel and I wasn't paying attention so really, this is on me."

what was charanya doing in the woods? well, she definitely wasn't staying in them — that was for sure and certain. there was enough alien talk already. add onto that the fact that she's seen a lot of horror movies, and you'd have one reason as to why she was somewhat ready to leave this place. the hair dresser was only out there because she had agreed to watch her mother and step-father's dog for a little while as they were out of town, probably somewhere a little warmer than roswell at the moment. bundled up in her winter clothes, she had one hand in her jacket pocket and another hand out, holding the leash. looking down at the dog, she watched as the dog sniffed the ground, her thankful that the dog was getting it out of her system now before they headed back home. that was when she noticed the person in front of her lose both his phone and his coffee. fortunately for her, it missed her (and her parents dog) by a few inches. she looked down at her pants just to make sure of it. " oh, uh, i-it's alright. " slipping the leash around her wrist to keep ahold of it, she reached down and picked up the coffee cup, knowing that there was no way to salvage the drink now. " here. it's what's left of your coffee. " her voice was quiet, yet audible as she spoke. " is... everything alright? "

"Thank you," he muttered, shaking it lightly as he held it between his fingers to get most of the excess off before letting his arms drop to his sides in defeat. His other hand was holding on to the leash of his own dogs as well, tightening its grip when he offered her the faintest of smiles. "Yes! Yes - I'm fine, of course...thank you again," he was quick to reassure. "I didn't mean to startle you but I guess that's my reminder to focus more on where I'm going and less on talking on the phone," he rambled for the lack of something better to say. "They say don't text and drive but apparently that also goes for walking your dogs."

“ Shoe just likes causing problems with dogs. ” Nabeel faintly smiles, sharing an awkward mortification. While the training shows with the older cat, it's growing painfully obvious that the younger one is going to need a bit more time. “ I understand. Shoe will go after anyone for love— who isn't a dog. Garbanzo likes dogs though, if you don't mind him being curious. ” On cue, like a release command, Garbanzo shoves his face against the dog. A loud purr erupted soon after the contact. “ Awkward for us but just another day for them I guess. ”

Patrick wasn't too much of a social being these days, usually keeping to himself, it wasn't in his nature to talk so openly to strangers but in a way, he craved that kind of contact, so he was thankful for a moment of human interaction. "Oh - no, those two are fine around cats. They've known other animals growing up, it's not a problem at all," he assured, giving a nod to confirm that it would be fine and he couldn't help but let out another small laugh at the sight. "Well, you weren't lying about that." He watched Meadow for a moment, petting behind her ears as he praised her being good despite so many exciting things happening. "It must be nice not to have a care in the world," he joked, looking down at their pets. "Meadow here is younger than Jet," Patrick went on, gesturing at the black lab who seemed pretty unaffected by the overall situation. "So she's a little more temperamental but we - I was hoping his personality would rub off on her a little as she grew up but I guess, just like us, she has a mind of her own. Which is good - for the most part. Keeps me on my toes."

he had almost returned the tissue, but now that it was coffee-stained and damp, he just set it under his pencil tin so it wouldn't blow away. "i'm no expert, either, but that's the beauty of art. you can always throw it out and start again." he looked back over his shoulder to see the formerly-flying squirrel sitting calmly against the tree. "all seems right with the world now, you've got your coffee cup back, the squirrel has recovered from its near heart attack, and i have the chance to start a new drawing."

Chuckling, Patrick nodded. "I guess there's some peace in that. New beginnings are never a bad idea," he told him, his shoulders slumping a little. "But I imagine it gets a little frustrating, too." His glance followed the other's and a small smile returned. "That's a great outlook to have, though. I honestly didn't look at it like that but I guess I'm still getting used to living in a small town where everything seems a bit slower and less hectic," he added, looking around for a moment before focusing back on the other man. "So I take you're doing this professionally? Art, I mean?"

For a second, her smile was relieved. It shifted to something more genuine as she registered their little tableau, the two of them looking like they had just been told to drop their shit, put the money in the bag or whatever. She let out a chuckle, brow inching upward as she (slowly) bent down to retrieve her own phone. "You do it on purpose?" She asked, half-smile lingering as she inspected the damage. There didn't seem to be any – not that she could tell. "If you didn't, don't worry about it. Don't apologize for shit you didn't do on purpose." It was meant to be comforting, but Jules was much better at commiseration than she was at comfort. she let out a small laugh, taking a half-second to survey herself before she offered him an overly assuring nod. "No permanent damage. How about you? Sprained wrist, caffeine deficiency? Overbearing someone waiting for you at home?" She asked, flashing an almost grin. "I'd love to pretend I wasn't eavesdropping but no one else is out here and my headphones died fifteen minutes ago. So uh, sorry about that. See, that's an apology, because I did do that on purpose. And, full disclosure, I already regret confessing."

He let out a breath. Well - that would be huge step forward if he'd be able to let the things go that he wasn't responsible for but that was a topic to bring up whenever he'd actually stick to whatever counseling or therapy he begrudgingly kept signing up for, not so much something he should bring up to a poor random soul that had just encountered him living through one of his bleakest moments. Another relieved breath left his lungs when the woman confirmed that she and her belongings remained in tact and he couldn't help but grin at her words, though it made him reach up with his now free hand as he rubbed the back of his neck. "If that was an actual survey, I'd definitely tick the last two but no, nothing got hurt but my pride and dignity," he joked half-heartedly, offering a faint smile in return. He shook his head as if to reassure that it was fine that she'd in fact heard that last bit of his conversation with his mother and while the flush only kept getting more and more insistent against his pale complexion, he found the will to look back at her. "No, no - I appreciate the honesty. It's hard not to hear an overbearing West Virginian mother, so it's not really your fault," he joked, giving a shrug.

A look of surprise followed the squirrel, though Patrick was focusing more on keeping his dogs on the path, blinking and immediately searching his pockets for a napkin or a tissue. "It's really not, I'm so so sorry about this," Patrick was quick to apologize to the young man sitting on the nearby bench and his eyes widened in horror when he saw that his coffee had splashed on him and his drawing. "I know there's no way to redeem myself but...," he finally handed him a tissue before he reached down to retrieve the cup that had flown from the not so safe grip of his hand. "Well, they do say nature is full of wonders," Patrick said, an apologetic grimace settling on his features for a moment. "Do you think there's any salvaging for this?" He asked, gesturing at the now stained paper. "I mean, I'm not an expert but...I'm sorry it got ruined."