#d.event02

"Thanks for coming by! And thanks for the vegetables!" Wren chimes behind a departing figure, waving pleasantly as she tucks a handful of young vegetables behind the counter beside her. "Just one second!~" She sing-songs, straightening up a moment later to greet the next person in line. "Hiya! What can I get for you?" She questions, leveling green-gray eyes on Zelda a moment later. "I've still got some spring lemonade, and a whole buncha tarts of all kinds of flavors- they're on the chalkboard- If yer looking for a flower crown, that's Robbie an' Brute's little table-" She informs, motioning to the little boy and his dog sat nearby. "And daddy- dammit, daddy. MALLARD!"

"What what!? Somethin' broken? on fire?" He appears from around the corner, stomping out the remains of a joint and waving away the smell of herbal smoke. His brows crease as he comes face to face with someone who looks... oddly familiar.

"We got customers, and you're slackin, is what- anyway, daddy's sellin' toys an' sculptures an' drawings of folk in their festival clothes- so if ya need anythin' give us a holler!" Wren declares, Duck chuckling as he climbs into the trailer again.

"You look familiar- ain't seen you around town 'fore though. Where you from, Darlin?" He questions as he seats himself again- it's small talk, really.

@zeldarowanromero

"Daddy, can I have another little pie....?" Duck glances up from his work, taking another long drink from his lemonade and sitting his carving knife aside. "I've only had like, four." Robin insists, dangling from the counter's edge, Brute sat obediently beside the boy. "And they're tiny so they don't count that's what ya say about th' little cups of spicy water you're always drinkin'-"

"Robin, bud, hush." He sighs, standing up with a groan. "You don't need anymore sugar, yer gonna be a nightmare when we go home. here." He reaches into his pockets, handing over a couple ration cards. "You take these and go get whatever you want, a snack, somethin' t play with, whatever. Just take Brute with ya, and behave, okay? What do we do?"

"Say please and thank you, tell the grown ups if I need help, and if anybody tries t' touch me in the bad way, start screamin' and bite somethin' off so they can't lie t' the cops about what happened."

"Atta boy. Get goin." He insists, watching the kid run off before leaning against the counter with a groan, head set against wood before a shadow tells him someone else has arrived. "Hey what can I get- Holy shit." He's a hell of a lot older from the last time Duck's seen him, sure, but call it a brother's intuition when he lets out a short bark of a laugh. "Ain't you a sight for sore eyes, what the fuck are you doin' back in Huntsville, Tal?"

@ofenigmas

"Okay, bud, come on, time out." Duck groans as he steps out onto the sidewalk, bending to pick up his son with a grunt. "I know, the feelins are real big and you ain't sure how t' handle 'em, so we're gonna go somewhere else so you don't make a scene." Robin isn't exactly coherent, the little boy blubbering and squawking about something breaking while he was working on it- enough to tip the scales in his head to cause a breakdown, it seems. It's a few minutes, behind the trailer and away from the hustle and bustle of the festival itself before Duck has him settled again, crouched in front of of the boy and wiping his face with a handkerchief. "There- all better?" He questions, the little boy red-faced and sniffling, but nodding once more. "A'right, now get back to yer spot, okay? Daddy'll catch up in a minute." It's when Robin leaves him, darting back to where he's sat in the dirt with the dog and his flowers, that Duck pulls the joint from behind his ear and his lighter from his pocket, sparking up the end and taking a long drag. He pauses, when he spots Matt looking on from nearby. "Ah don't look at me like that." He chuckles. "This isn't because of him, I don't like that many people around my shit either- difference is, I'm 40, he's 8, so we're not gonna give him any weed." He adjusts, leaning against the trailer with a grunt.

"Hear you an' Hawthorne are livin' together now. Finally get tired a' the sharin' and carin' shit at th' commune?"

@wanderinglcst

"Robin- dammit, give me that." He sighs, bending over and grabbing his boot knife out of his son's grasp. "How do you keep gettin' this off me, I swear to God, boy, yer gonna hurt yerself. What happens when you stab yer leg or hand and then you gotta tell Uncle Hawk what you did? He's gonna make fun a' you while he stitches ya up." He sticks the blade back into the holster alongside his foot, sighing and fluffing Robin's hair up as he moves back up into the trailer proper to sit down. "Wren, babydoll, once you clear that line up go have some fun, a'right? I don't want you workin' all day, I can sell food an' draw at the same time." He insists, glancing up as a familiar crop of red hair appears at the window. "Now what brings you by, little lady?" He questions, kicking one boot-clad foot over his other leg as he flashes a sideways smile at Halley. "Figured you'd be off makin' trouble fer yer daddy, or whatever it is kids you an' Wren's age do when I ain't puttin' her to work." Wren rolls her eyes, leaning against the counter.

"Hey Halley. you want somethin' to snack on? Daddy's kicking me out after I clear the line so he doesn't have t' hang out with me all day."

"Now I never said that!" Duck protests, Flicking a paper flower across the trailer at the side of her head. "Listen to 'er, tryin' to make me look like a bad dad. How you keepin' on, kiddo?"

@exmcrtis