[Luck Harris]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","post-frosttalonsector-o"]

[attr="class","frosttalonsector-post"]

LET'S USE SPORTS ANALOGIES

we found the common ground in all of men's personalities

Monday. First game of their office's softball bracket. Why the Sector scheduled it on a workday, and so close after quitting time, Luck couldn't fathom. But it wasn't the most questionable choice that his employers had ever made. [break][break]

"Well, I think it's hilarious. Who knows, maybe it'll get a laugh out of the guy." [break][break]

Luck's mouth swished to one side of his face and he hummed doubtfully as he dropped his tailgate. He craned forward to pull the ice-chest from its place further in the truck, drained yesterday's water, and then emptied the fresh bag of ice into it — covering the dozen-or-so cans of beer at the bottom. As he worked, he lifted his eye to where Tawny was inspecting the team jerseys she'd pulled from the backseat. Luck tried not to wince as she turned, flashing the back of James' in his direction — 'Presumed Dad #2'. [break][break]

An unfortunate manufacturing error. Or a typo on someone's end (most certainly not Luck's). In any case, he'd already ordered a replacement and it would be in by next game — assuming they even made it to another game. [break][break]

"I'd wager it doesn't," he commented, stepping next to her to pull the pack of waters from his backseat floorboard and then moving back to unload them into the cooler. Tawny made a noise in her throat and shrugged, then pulled her own jersey over her head; tucking the ends of it into the waist of her pants. "Hey, maybe he won't even show. He didn't say he was coming, did he?" [break][break]

"He didn't say he wasn't," Luck mirrored her shrug, unable to keep his lips from tugging as she started pulling up her hair and he saw the name on the back of her jersey. [break][break]

'Turkey'. [break][break]

She'd been so irritated with him when he'd showed her. Then she'd been momentarily confused, claiming that 'turkeys' were supposed good things in sports. He'd had a laugh as he assured her, yes, that was true — just not in softball. And then, finally, she'd laughed, too. [break][break]

With the cooler readied, Luck stepped again around the other side of his truck, opened the door, and pulled the bag of bats and mitts from his seat. Slipping it over one shoulder, he then nabbed a cap from the front dash and locked everything up. "Ready?" He shot her a grin as he grabbed the cooler in both hands and she put up the tailgate. "As I'll ever be," she chirped in response, mimicking his grin with a notable dash of sarcastic enthusiasm. [break][break]

They made their way from the dirt parking lot toward the field and stepped through the fence. A couple of their coworkers were already there, idling around, and they all exchanged a few pleasantries, bitches about the day, and laughs, before setting everything up and waiting for the previous teams to finish their leaving.[break][break]

"Who are we up against?" Luck asked as he pulled on his own jersey — 'Dorothy #24' — and crouched to start emptying his bag. Evan — a brickhouse of a man who looked worlds better in baseball pants than he did slacks — scoffed a laugh and cast him a sympathetic glance from where he was leaned against the dug-out fence. "The FBI's Accounting department," he answered flatly, and Luck lifted his eyes with a knowing twist to his mouth. "Oh... fuck. Well," he clucked his tongue and tipped his head. "Gonna be a short game." Maybe he'd get home in time to catch the last bit of the NASCAR race that'd been postponed.[break][break]

Tawny kneeled beside him, fixing him with an expectant look. "Alright, Messy, time to glam up. I said I was only gonna continue to do this with you if we got to play the part as well as the game." She beamed and waved a dark grease-stick on the air. He rolled his eyes, grumbled just a little, but let her apply the thick swatches of black under his eyes and dutifully did the same to her. Then he suffered — graciously beamed — through the selfies that'd been part of their deal and waited for the rest of their team to show up.[break][break]

Though he wasn't really expecting James to show — he'd invited him sort of last-minute and stressed the point that there really was no pressure — he still looked for him.

we talk a big game, that's how we relate[break]it's the easiest way for men to communicate

Tag: James Clark [break]
Give me a nudge for any changes/tweaks! I'm not great at starting posts in general and my brain has been toast since the beginning of this year basically (lmao), so this is a GIANT mess. Just trying to get some stuff out while I can! Once James actually shows up, I should get into it a little more lolol~ Feel free to make any assumptions or move my guys around at all if desired/needed!

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[James Clark]

James walked across the parking lot, a small gym duffel slung over his shoulder and a jumbo bag of sunflower seeds tucked under his arm. He scanned the growing clusters of people gathering at the field, trying to find a familiar face. He didn't particularly like The Sector all that much and therefore usually made a point of avoiding eye contact with anyone while he was there--which made it difficult to recognize anyone by face. Nevertheless, he'd promised himself that he'd keep an open mind today, be social and friendly with anyone on the team--with the sole exception of Imani. He highly doubted she was the type to run around and get all sweaty, not with her propensity for fashionable skirts and carefully chosen jewelry. Besides, Luck probably wouldn't have invited him if she was on the team. He wasn't cruel, after all. Anyways, if she happened to show up, James might accidentally just happen to hit a foul ball that might just randomly slam directly into her face...

James sidestepped around the bleachers, slipping his hand into an old worn mitt, flexing his fingers inside it. He wasn't going to let Imani--or anything else--bother him. He liked baseball, aways had, and he was looking forward to playing a little softball. He loved the feel of the glove hugging his hand, his own faded initials 'A.J.W.' stenciled onto the cracked leather. He wondered briefly if Luck knew that he'd snuck back to his wife's house the day before yesterday, waited until she'd left, and then spent an hour or so poking around the boxes in her basement until he'd found his old glove. (He knew Tabby would have kept it; she was more sentimental than anyone he'd ever met.) He had no idea how close of tabs Luck really kept on him and, to be honest, he really didn't care all that much. Let Luck chew him out if he wanted--but it had been his idea for James to join this Sector team. And technically, James hadn't broken any rules that The Sector had set for him. It's not like he'd seen his wife or let her know that he wasn't dead in some ditch somewhere--which, in his opinion, was quite commendable.

James smirked. He was actually in a pretty good mood, all things considered. Probably a direct result of Katie's insane enthusiasm. He'd made the mistake of telling her that he'd been invited to join an inter-office softball team and she'd immediately taken it upon herself to insist that he stop being such a 'frowny-face' all the time and join up. He'd made some crack about how she'd have to force him at gunpoint, putting his fingers into the shape of a gun in his coat pocket like Kevin Costner. That had been his second mistake--because of course she had never even heard of the 1989 movie The Field of Dreams, which he then found himself watching with her the next day, easily rekindling his love for America's favorite pastime. Still, James could be quite stubborn, and if she hadn't pushed him out the door, he probably would have found some excuse not to come tonight. Katie had probably gone and switched hours with someone at work, just so she could be home to make sure he actually got in the car. It was actually kind of sweet. Her joyful eagerness was contagious, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

It didn't take long at all to find Luck, his tall well-built frame easy to pick out amongst the players. Catching the guy's eye, he nodded his head amiably, grinning at the sight of the eye black smeared across his cheekbones. Breaking into an easy jog, he quickly closed the distance between them. "There's no way I'm donning that grease," he said, dropping his duffel to his feet. "So don't even try it," he warned jokingly, holding a finger up to Tawny, who seemed the most likely candidate to try to start coloring his face.

"Hey, thanks for the invite," James said, slapping Luck on the shoulder. "I don't think I've played this game in, like, 20 years, but don't worry, I'm not out of practice." He winked, one corner of his lips curling up into a silly grin. Time travel had messed everything the eff up, but James still had a sense of humor. He'd laughed pretty hard when Luck told him the back of his jersey--Presumed Dead--over the phone last night. (Katie, for her part, had been totally confused.)

"So, one of these--" he started rummaging through the pile of shirts, his eyes landing on the misprinted jersey. Presumed 'Dad'. "--must be--oh." James blinked, a slew of memories clouding over his eyes. Tabby nine-months pregnant and complaining about not being able to sleep/Sami lying in her first crib, ornately carved with the Peanuts cast/Peter toddling across the kitchen floor and face-planting into the edge of a cabinet/The Sector telling him about Hannah, the daughter he was supposed to have, a future child for a presumed d--

He forced a smile, trying to hide the grief he felt stinging in his eyes. He was a good liar, yes, but even he knew he wasn't that good of a liar. Certainly not to a therapist like Tawny and not to someone like Luck, who knew his history with Sector better than anyone (except maybe Imani).

"Now that's just mean," he managed to joke, but it fell flat even to his own ears. Whatever excitement he'd been feeling just moments ago was instantly replaced with a flood of fresh anguish, and he wished he'd stayed home after all. What did he really think was going to happen tonight, that he'd make some friends, forget about his family, ...move on? No matter what he did, the universe would always find a way to mock him, shouldn't he have learned that by now? "What's yours say, huh?" he asked, pushing Luck's shoulder to see behind his back, looking for some way to deflect. "Dorothy. I don't get it, what's that about?"



Tag: Luck Harris
OOC Notes: haha, it's a good first post! (I also hate starters, , so thanks for taking one for the team). Ditto on assumptions/moving James! lmk if you need/want any edits--I'm easy

[Luck Harris]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","post-frosttalonsector-o"]

[attr="class","frosttalonsector-post"]

LET'S USE SPORTS ANALOGIES

we found the common ground in all of men's personalities

Luck gave up on looking and busied himself with more preparations. But hardly any time passed when a bony elbow prodded his arm.[break][break]

"Oh look, there's James. He's... smiling — oh, he's jogging," Tawny uttered the (very shrewd) observations next to him and Luck could hear the muted wariness tucked beyond her deadpan surprise. He huffed an amused breath. When he'd first mentioned to her that he'd invited James, she'd screwed up her face and scowled dubiously — no doubt recalling the man's surly treatment of them all months earlier. How stark he'd been. [break][break]

But he knew she wasn't the type to hold a person at their worst. To hold a grudge. And like Luck, she had to understand the 'why' behind James' bewildered and accusing behavior. She'd give him a chance. And as Luck met James' gaze across the field and tossed a hand in a small, acknowledging wave, she did the same.[break][break]

In a way, Luck felt like he'd been waiting and preparing for James for a lot longer than an afternoon. He'd been observing the Winslow family for almost eight years, knowing one day James would arrive in their present (after what had only felt like the blink of an eye for him). Most of the time, he never thought about it. His check-ins with Tabitha and the kids had grown increasingly less frequent over the years. But every time he did open their case and make his routine observations, he had to acknowledge that it was "one check-up" closer to James coming back.[break][break]

Now that he was here — had arrived — Luck realized that those eight years had actually done very little in preparing him for how to handle it. The Sector had saddled him now with making sure James didn't... overstep... with his family and... it was a very unique situation. One in which Luck was still struggling to decide whether he should act with sensitivity or severity.[break][break]

He'd been fresh into the Sector when the case of the Winslow family was handed down to him. Already seven years had passed since the "incident" and it had felt like a safe assignment. But he'd been fresh into advocacy as well and hadn't yet been coached on how to keep one's distance. How to maintain a professional disconnect. How to not "care too much". Though it was still something he had the semi-frequent struggle with, eight years later, he'd been awful in the beginning. And he could recall the precise moment he'd realized it — matching the wild-eyed and incredulous look of an older (far more jaded) colleague when he mentioned, so flippantly, that he'd attended a client's elementary school play.[break][break]

With the Winslow family, it was apparent what the Sector's primary concerns were — had the children developed any megapowers (capable of destroying unsuspecting metropolises)? Was Tabitha pregnant with what could be a potential harbinger of catastrophe? No, no? Check, check — we'll have another look-see next year. Everything else that Luck had ever noted in the case file — Tabitha had switched jobs, Peter was struggling to make friends in school, Samantha was responding well to the therapy her mother had enrolled her in, etc — while his supervisors had never phrased it so... directly... they'd made it clear enough that it was all "superfluous". Unnecessary bullet points in a lengthy review that he needed to learn how to trim down. [break][break]

James reached them and shot a warning tease to Tawny; making an amusing nod at the eye-black across their cheeks. Luck chortled as Tawny lifted her palms before her, looking suspiciously innocent. "Hey, I've got the stickers, too?" His head swiveled, attention snapping to her while his lips parted around a quiet, accusing scoff. "You hav— then why didn'—" he rolled his eyes, dismissing the query — knowing full-well she'd say something like 'the grease would look more authentic' — and looked back to James. "Nevermind. I'm glad you could make it, man."[break][break]

It was soothing, to see the wink and the lopsided grin that pulled at James' lips. To hear the joke that fell, with such little threat of consequence, from him. Luck chuckled and nodded knowingly — mouth quirking in a mirroring expression. Though he would never consider himself particularly astute, he made quick note of the worn glove in James' hand — possibly another of the man's thrift-store finds, but... probably not. [break][break]

Luck knew he was visiting San Diego. But he hadn't yet followed him or intervened. [break][break]

He was still deciding how to go about the entire thing. After all, it was nearly impossible not to sympathize with the guy. And it was going to be difficult to "slap him on the wrist" for simply loving and missing the family he'd been so unfairly ripped from. But Luck supposed, probably soon, the conversation would become inevitable — or, at the very least, the question of what James thought was the best-case/worst-case scenario, should his wife or kids see him. What he hoped to accomplish or achieve by going back. How much good it was doing him now. [break][break]

He wasn't looking forward to it. Like with a lot of things the Sector asked him to do or to speak upon — it just didn't feel like his place. He had no right. And he'd have a hard time arguing when James, very likely, told him exactly that.[break][break]

Though Luck's eye lingered on the glove for a telling moment, the observation didn't touch his face in any way. [break][break]

He could have joked back that he was fully aware of James' affinity for baseball. Could have commented that Tabitha had tried putting Peter in the sport at one point. Had probably given the boy that very glove to use. And that Peter had given it a try but quickly given it up. Luck hadn't needed to look any closer to know why. He could only imagine that James had tossed a ball around with his son plenty of times, back when Peter was too young to be any good at it. (And "back when" was, what... a couple of months ago, for James?) Luck could guess that his father's unexplained disappearance had sort of soured the whole sport for the young boy.[break][break]

But now most certainly wasn't the place for such tellings. If there really was a time and place for it at all. Luck could only assume there'd be mixed emotions about him — a stranger with no stake in the matter — making observations on his kids' growing up when James himself had had the privilege so violently stripped from him.[break][break]

And the point of today was not to focus on James' predicament. To possibly build a rapport beyond it. To have fun. [break][break]

Though, as James crouched to find his jersey among the rest, Luck felt himself inwardly brace. Especially when the man found it and stilled. There was a silent moment, slightly stretching, in which he only stared at the misprinted words, and Luck glanced uncertainly at Tawny beside him — she met his sidelong look with only a hard blink and a widening of her eyes. [break][break]

He wanted to draw his hands down his face, realizing he should have asked Tawny to just leave the jersey in the truck, so they could fib and simply say it hadn't arrived in time. But James recovered, or attempted to recover — Luck could hear the disconnect between his words and his tone as he straightened and joked. As the man pushed at his shoulder to get a look at the back of Luck's own jersey, he stifled the growing desire to reach for him with his Gift — to gauge how thinned the man's inner line was, if only so Luck knew how to act. [break][break]

But, for the moment, he resisted. He'd give James the benefit of the doubt — the respect of not being read and the privacy of showing only what he wanted to show. [break][break]

Luck chuckled, making the intentional effort to seem wholly unconcerned. "Well... I'm from Kansas," he explained, happy to allow the redirect. "And I have a little black dog." As he spoke, he crouched down next to the pile of jerseys and began thumbing through them. "I offered to bedazzle him a pair of ruby-red cleats... make it all a little more obvious... but he's a sour-puss and said no." The toe of Tawny's shoe nudged into his hip, trying to misbalance him, and he swatted her away with an exaggerated grumble. "Yeah, yeah... maybe next year." [break][break]

"Sorry about the jersey. I've already ordered a replacement." He shrugged. "And if you want, you can borrow one of the frequent no-shows." Plucking a few shirts from the rest, he straightened and turned to James to display the backs of them. He quirked a brow and let a grin tug across his face. "We've got 'Master Batter'? Very classic. Viren's such a crackpot. 'Sammy So-So'? Sam's might be a little small on ya, but I think it'd look fine." Luck blinked hard, trying not to stall as he realized — abruptly and belatedly — that mentioning Sam could be another misstep. "Or hey, what about 'The Big Yo'? Yolanda's on leave, which is... really, so unfortunate. She's got the best arm of us all."

we talk a big game, that's how we relate[break]it's the easiest way for men to communicate

Tag: James Clark [break]
Bruh, this got so long and I'm sorry. ;v; Let me know if anything doesn't fly with ya! Or if you need more to work with. I figured anything I mention about the family can 100% be overridden if someone decides to pick up Tabitha or the kids in the future, but just let me know if you disagree or want me to edit anything! c:

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[James Clark]

James listened to their banter about Kansas and ruby cleats, his expression one of pleasant interest and engagement--but he felt detached, as if he was watching two strangers interact with a person who merely resembled himself. And what self was that exactly? Did he come here tonight to be the James that his Tabby had fallen in love with? The quiet guy who melted effortlessly into a crowd, interjecting a joke here or there, confident and social? That had been his plan for tonight, his optimistic goal, but he didn't recognize the person standing amongst Tawny and Luck. He looked down at the hand holding the misprinted jersey and it took a few seconds before he realized that the white knuckles were actually his own, and then the tense pain of his grip finally registered to his brain. Consciously, he relaxed his hand, but he couldn't let go of the jersey entirely, his eyes lingering a moment longer on the word 'DAD'.

"Oh, right, that Dorothy," James said, a sheepish grin masking his face. He rolled his eyes to the side, trying to picture Luck surrounded by corn fields, a mangy little dog following at his heels. "I was worried I'd have to ask my roommate to look something up on..." He paused a second, trying to remember what Katie had called that World Wide Web page she was always urging him to look at. "Urban Dictionary when I got home." It was nice to know some pop culture references he still understood. The thought of clicking his heels three times and transporting himself out of this softball game was quite appealing, getting himself back to 2008 even more so. "I'd personally have advocated for more of a Clark Kent reference, if I was you, 'cuz I don't think The Sector really gets 'There's no place like home.'" He shrugged. "Maybe ya'll should watch that movie again sometime."

He smiled--and this time the bitterness undercutting his joking words was entirely intentional. A little flavor of the James that Tawny and Luck were more used to, rather than this imposter trying to pretend like he could just show up and play some ball with a group of people who had uprooted his entire life. Sure, he'd helped The Sector on a few cases in the last two months--all kids struggling with some Gifted crisis--but James never considered himself part of the organization. He wasn't sure he liked being associated with them at all, but James had a passion for working with teens and he was good at what he did. He'd never turn his back on a child if he knew he could make a difference, so he kept returning The Sector's calls against his better judgement.

He knew Luck took his own job seriously, advocating for those under his care with as much passion as James did. He had a lot of respect for that, knowing how easy it was to burn out in their chosen professions, seeing all the trauma and the pain day in and day out. It was part of the reason he hadn't immediately shut down the idea of joining the softball team, but James still wasn't sure how much of the invite had been pity and how much had been genuine.

He certainly hadn't missed the quick glances exchanged between Luck and Tawny, their uncertainty for how James would react when he saw the jersey. He wasn't at all surprised. They had both seen him at his worst, back when he was first detained transitioned, staying at one of the many Sector properties where guests were kept comfortable despite locked doors and armed support staff. The first few weeks had been particularly rough, James exhibiting a persistent anger he'd only ever helped calm but never experienced himself before.

For the most part, he'd been left alone, given the space and the time to move beyond the initial shock. He didn't have any powers, didn't pose any threat, didn't need much oversight; The Sector's only interest with him was an assurance that he'd stay away from his family, keep quiet, and not take anything public. Those first few months went by quickly, days blurred into weeks, and, even now, he wasn't entirely sure when he'd stopped yelling and finally fell into more of a depressed haze. He'd been mostly isolated during that time, more from choice than anything else, but he had a few memories of Tawny stopping by and offering to chat. He distinctly remembered ripping up her business card and slamming a door in her face.

Seeing her again now, outside of the Sector offices, dressed so casually for the game, she looked even younger than she normally did. She was, James realized, basically the age that his own daughter would be now. Sami had been 10 years old the last time he saw her--and now, just a few months later, she might as well be Tawny. A stranger that he barely knew.

James shifted his gaze away abruptly, dropping the #2 jersey back on the pile. He needed to get himself together before he completely lost it. Pulling in a long breath, he forced himself to focus, ignoring the heavy ache ripping at his insides. He was here to play softball and that's what he intended to do.

"Yeah, this one's fine," he said, grabbing the last jersey Luck had suggested without really comprehending anything he'd said (which was a shame, because James would have snickered at 'Sammy So-So'). He dropped his glove next to the sunflower seeds and pulled the jersey over his shirt. "So, do we stand a chance without this Yolanda gal's arm?" he asked, leaning down to retrieve his mitt again. He nodded his head towards Tawny, unable to look at her fully again just yet. "She does know turkeys are only good in bowling, right?" he faux whispered to Luck.



Tag: Luck Harris
OOC Notes: long posts, short posts, whatever--go with it! sometimes the words just flow and sometimes they don't. Love the history you're incorporating. Also, sorry if this feels all over the place. He seems very much in his own head so lemme know if you need more to work with!

[Luck Harris]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","post-frosttalonsector-o"]

[attr="class","frosttalonsector-post"]

LET'S USE SPORTS ANALOGIES

we found the common ground in all of men's personalities

When James spoke again, the words were dressed in a tone distinctly changed from the joke before. Whatever vague despondency Luck had imagined in his previous deflection had shifted now to a bit of a discernible bite and his accompanying smile looked a bit barbed. [break][break]

Oof. [break][break]

Though Luck's outward display didn't budge and he didn't flinch, the empathy trickled from him almost on reflex — curious if the bitterness there was simply bitterness or if it was something more genuinely hostile. At his arm, he could feel Tawny's similar regard and — not surprising at all — her wicked amusement. He didn't have to look at her to see the smirk at one corner of her mouth. [break][break]

He reached for James instead, breathing a vague chuckle as the man dropped his jersey and took the one Luck offered. His emotions were far stronger than Tawny's. They were simply more, despite the overwhelming stunted feel of them. It felt most certainly like a can of worms. Except the worms were varying masses of ache and resentment, wriggling and wrestling against one another and stuffed too tight, too full, into a container only kept lidded (very thinly) by determination. [break][break]

"Hm. Ouch. But no, if anyone's going to be Superman, it's Evan." Tawny spoke, her voice somehow both flippant and firm. Luck could feel a stab of annoyance from her — an annoyance he imagined aimed at him and not James, likely for his lack of acknowledgment or comment. She jabbed a thumb and tossed her head in Evan's direction and he turned his back and lifted his arms to flex, showing the back of his jersey — 'Bamm-Bamm'. [break][break]

Tawny snorted and stepped away to approach him, lifting the grease stick to wave. And Luck reeled the empathy back into himself, dropping the rest of the jerseys back on the pile. If anything, James fit the Superman mold a little better than any of them. Which was perhaps the point. Marooned in a strange land as a young boy, far from home. Taken up and adopted by a sweet couple. The multiple identities and aliases. But... ah... it wasn't worth commenting on. Or simply better that it wasn't commented on. He was already somewhat bristled, it seemed. Maybe even a bit raw. [break][break]

Neither was it worth commenting on that James didn't need to aim that resentment at anyone here. No one who made those types of massive decisions, who had a hand in uprooting his whole existence, played on the softball team. He didn't need to make them all the enemy. But James had to know that already... at least somewhere in that can of worms. He'd come around or he wouldn't. He'd be able to make it through the game or he wouldn't. Luck had a feeling any comment on the matter, especially in that moment, would influence the tip more one way than the other. [break][break]

As always, Tawny had it right with the not quite dismissive, but definitely unruffled lean into it.[break][break]

"Where is Superman from even? Is it Kansas?" [break]
"Smallville. Iowa, I think? Illinois?" [break][break]

"He's from space," Luck corrected, glancing over his shoulder to watch Evan make a show of giving in; bending with his hands clasped above his knees to allow Tawny to mark his cheeks. He turned back at James' question — did they stand a chance? — and offered a more certain laugh as he shook his head. "I'd say we barely stood a chance with Yolanda. We're against FBI accounting. Which doesn't sound intimidating but... eh... I think they field their spring interns on whether or not they were college All-States." [break][break]

"As for Turkey, yeah... she knows. Only cause I told her. I'd say she's in the wrong sport but I think any sport would be the wrong sport. She only comes along because I beg. Is happiest when everyone shows up and she gets to play cheerleader and hand out bats." He shurgged, lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes when he grinned. "Maybe that's why I asked you out here. Thought you'd even the field a bit. Good thing the only thing that really changes about sports with any decade is the trash talk." He tilted his head and lifted his brow. "Don't get us kicked out cause you're on that Urban Dictionary too much." [break][break]

One by one the rest of the team finished milling in. In a fashion that really spoke to "it's Monday, not even a couple hours after work", they moved about, pulled on their jerseys, and readied themselves. One of them made a beeline to Luck's cooler, digging for the beer they knew was there and slipping a can into a coozie to keep it (half-assed) concealed.[break][break]

"Hey, FSISO." Luck looked up as a man propped himself against the fence and looked them over. "Bad luck again this year, huh, getting pit against us on Day One. Phew." Luck successfully stifled a roll of his eyes and simply thinned his lips with a noncommittal shrug. "Well... a couple of our boys are out with the damn flu going around," — Tawny coughed, smothering some whisper (that sounded suspiciously like an STD) into her arm — "And it looks like you've got ten players. What do you say we borrow one of yours so we can still play and keep the teams even?" [break][break]

More than a couple of gazes sifted to Tawny. Her mouth pinched small and tight under their looks and her eyes widened with dawning realization. Then her gaze hardened into something far more cold and accusing as she snapped her attention to Luck and gave a sharp, warning shake of her head. [break][break]

Ah. [break][break]

He knew that, if they traded her in, she'd never come to another game. He wouldn't hear the end of it for weeks (after a few days of her not talking to him at all). But then again... he'd have months to win her back before the Fall tournament. She'd forgive him, after a lot of figurative prostrating and tons of misbalanced favors. And... if they gave them Tawny and she was made to actually "play"... maybe, just maybe they'd stand a chance at seeing the next match-up. [break][break]

((Though he only thought about it for a mere handful of seconds, the deliberation was too long. Snapping him out of his consideration, Evan spoke up. "I'll do it." [break][break]

Luck's shoulders fell and he dropped his head back with a groan. "Oh, Evan... no." The man answered with a deep laugh, already pulling the jersey over his head to abandon with the rest. "Come on Luck," he chortled, the words colored far too amusedly by the smirk that pulled at his mouth. "It'll be nice to be on the winning team for once." And with a quick wink, he was off, tossing a hand over his shoulder with a smarmy comment about "mercy rules". [break][break]

Luck turned to glance at his team, mouth pinching tight before he heaved a hefty sigh. "Alright, now we're on the warpath. Two beer limit Brad, gonna need you sharp," he wagged a finger at the man who'd raided the cooler upon arrival with a severe quirk to his brow. "We're destroying them today, folks." He blinked, a grin threatening briefly at one corner of his mouth as he thought of his high school football coach, trying so hard it seemed sometimes to emulate Mel Gibson in Braveheart. As if the mullet-wearing, dip-chewing boys under his wing were going to war every Monday instead of scrimmaging. [break][break]

His gaze landed, lastly, on James. "Where do you wanna be? Both Yolanda and Evan pitched or played outfield. I'll take Evan's spot, I suppose."))

we talk a big game, that's how we relate[break]it's the easiest way for men to communicate

Tag: James Clark [break]
Give me a nudge for any changes/tweaks! If I've done too much or it's too hella messy scattered, I can edit! Also, if you think it'd be more fun for James to take the offer and play against them all (looooool, gloves are off, Luck be trash-talking him at the bases fo sho), then we can cut out the last bit of my post starting at the ((double parenthesis))!

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[James Clark]

Smiling along to the banter about Superman's origins, James remained quiet, letting the flow of conversation circle around him. He just needed a moment stuck in his own private eddy before he could pull himself out and join the various currents streaming about. He hadn't expected to immediately get stuck in the jagged thoughts of all he'd recently lost and he certainly hadn't come out tonight to wallow. So he ignored the pain in his gut and forced himself to keep moving forward.

As Luck talked about the FBI Accounting team, James looked across the field, sizing up the competition. It was easy to focus on the game, something familiar and simple, and thoughts of his family drifted to the back of his mind, sloshing quietly and muffled. The FBI players all seemed confident and cocky, probably sure of their win tonight based on previous seasons. None of that mattered much to James--who had no preconceived notions of either the opposing team or his own. Aside from Tawny possibly being a disaster, James opted for an optimistic view of their chances. After all, why bother playing otherwise?

'Maybe that's why I asked you out here. Thought you'd even the field a bit...don't get us kicked out cause you're on that Urban Dictionary too much.'

James cocked his head slightly, a momentary look of confusion darting across his face. How in the world could he possibly be reading Urban Dictionary in the middle of a softball game? It's not like there was a computer in the outfield and James doubted any wifi signals would make it this far out anyway. (The idea of using his cell phone--which he'd accidentally left at home anyway--didn't even cross his mind.) ... Unless, he supposed ... there was some kind of computer built-in to the dugout. The sports complex could easily have wired cables from the building across the field and James wouldn't be surprised if people in 2024 always--

As he neared the completion for this train of thought, he realized Luck was joking. Right. Of course. Duh. If his wife was here, she would have elbowed him in the ribs, leaned close, and whispered in his ear 'Stop being so literal, doofus!' She usually knew what he was thinking and, when she was feeling kind, saved him from making a fool of himself out loud. He could almost feel Tabby's soft breath tickle against his neck, smell a hint of the Herbal Essences shampoo she loved so much. He grinned, the memory more comforting than upsetting, and he felt a renewed desire to be the man she used to know, to prove to himself that he was still in there, not completely lost between decades.

"Well, I'll do my best to even out the field," James responded, "I know I'm no Babe Ruth, but I didn't have Nintendo or Sega growing up, so I've probably got a little more practical practice than most of this generation." He smirked, thinking briefly about how he and his friends would meet at the park after school almost every day, kicking around a soccer ball or shooting hoops or seeing who could hit a baseball the furthest, none of them coming home until the sun went down or they heard one of their parents ringing a dinner bell. The late 70s and early 80s was a different time; now it seemed like all anyone did was hide in their house watching TV or playing video games or endlessly scrolling through webpages.

It certainly made James feel vindicated about the concerns he had with the present he and Tabs had been planning for Pete's 7th birthday. Maybe because his adoptive parents had been so much older than most, but he'd heard from the Winslows over and over that video games and tv would rot his brain. Tabby had finally broken him down and convinced James to let Peter have a Wii console so he could play Mario Kart with his friends. James had only agreed on the condition that Pete play it only during rainy or cold weather, otherwise he should be outside where a kid belonged. He wondered if Tabs had followed through with that present after all; he wondered too how many of their days felt rainy and cold after he'd disappeared from their lives.

As the rest of the team arrived, James welcomed the distractions they offered with mixed feelings. This was his first real attempt to integrate himself into the year 2024--and he couldn't help but feel a little guilty about it. The more he built himself a life here, the more he got to know his sister, the more he invested in his job, the more he let Katie decorate his apartment, the more he cared about whether a softball team won or not... the further he seemed from Tabs and Sami and Pete.

Glancing at the other Sector players, he nodded to those he sorta recognized (which was very few) and he shook hands with a couple new faces, introducing himself with an easy friendliness. Generally on the quieter side in most situations, he made no real effort at small talk, but neither did he come across awkward or uncomfortable. Like his boring fashion sense, he was mostly forgettable, pleasant and affable: the type who became part of the crowd, easy to miss unless actively sought out.

Leaning up against the fence, he listened to Luck's words of encouragement, smiling softly to himself. For some reason, he couldn't help but think about Charlie Brown, the team leader who loved the game with all his heart, kept giving rallying speeches and showing optimism in the face of defeat--but was still always on the losing team. When Luck made eye contact, asking him what position he wanted to play, James hesitated for a second. "I'll pitch," he said after a moment, shrugging one shoulder. "If I end up being terrible, well..." he trailed off, grinning. "Seems I'll fit right in."

All jokes aside, James was actually pretty decent. He was the best at hitting, always most at home behind a bat, and he was a fast runner (unsurprising for someone who ran 3.1 miles every day). His skills mostly diminished in the field, where he wasn't quite as adept at quickly throwing across the bases or catching balls flying at high speeds. Nevertheless, James had an innate competitiveness and, like any guy, he liked to win.

As FBI Accounting got themselves into their batting order and The Sector made their way onto the field, James caught Tawny's eye again. He'd been avoiding her on purpose, afraid that he might slip back into thinking about how his own daughter was now basically the same age as her. It was jarring--the last time he'd seen Sami, she'd been in her volleyball uniform, not all that different from the jerseys they all now wore, her brown hair pulled back the same way Tawny's was now. Hard not to make the connection and even harder not to unsee it. He forced a smile. "Refuse to lose," he said, his motivational tone matching Luck's, and he quickly jogged past her towards the pitcher's mound.

It wasn't until his foot was on the rubber that he started to regret his choice. He knew he wasn't very good at outfield, but at least it was easy to stay in the background and blend in there. James could very distinctly feel everyone's eyes on him, the FBI players curious, the Sector players hopeful. He really only had one simple four-seam fastball worth anything and he could maybe pull off a curve ball around 60% of the time. He'd been working on a slider a year or two ago but hadn't quite mastered it with any consistency. Pulling in a deep breath, he glanced around. This was just a friendly softball league, he reminded himself. No need to overthink it. He'd come out to have some fun, maybe make some friends, knock back a beer or two.

And so, relaxed and confident, James threw out the first pitch of the game: the ball completely out of the strike zone, missing home plate by a wide margin.

He hung his head in immediate shame, staring at the dust with disbelief. Good grief. If anyone was Charlie Brown on this team, it was definitely him. He glanced at Luck, rolling his eyes, a sheepish grin curling his lips. This was a great way to make friends. As the catcher returned the ball, James easily caught it (--thank God--) and steeled himself for the second pitch, determined to redeem himself.

Tag: Luck Harris
OOC Notes: sorry for the super-duper late reply! I like them both on the same team, but that doesn't mean you can't still trash talk! =) lmk if you'd like any edits/updates! Scenes with lots of action are not really my strength, ngl, so move along at whatever pace you want. (Lol, I guess I sorta skipped over any kind of warm ups, sorry, whoops) Feel free to have James be as terrible or as awesome as you'd like in your next post. Oo! Does this board have any kind of dice roller javascript or other randomizer? Lol...that would really leave it up to fate. *g* Although, I think he'd probably do okay the rest of the inning.

[Luck Harris]

[nospaces]

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LET'S USE SPORTS ANALOGIES

we found the common ground in all of men's personalities

At James' comment about "practical practice", Luck smirked and dipped his head in a slow, knowing nod. [break][break]

He hadn't had any game consoles growing up either. He'd been too poor as a kid. And then too busy working his ass off later. There'd never been much to do at home besides eat and sleep. Occasionally, he'd had a friend who had something of the like, but it was usually lorded over by younger siblings. Luck and the few people he'd paled around with, their type of fun typically started with meeting up on a front porch and then "taking off" from there. They were always outside. Kicking rocks and building fires. Fishing and swimming in creeks. Shooting cans or birds with BB guns. Playing cops and robbers through the whole town. Returning home filthy and exhausted or being dragged home by the ear when they inevitably pissed someone off (and they could catch them). [break][break]

Then they'd all gotten a little older and bigger and their toys got bigger, too. Trucks, ATVs, guns with a little more kick. Bonfires and lots of beer. Rally cars and dirt bikes at short-tracks. Girls. Stupid, redneck shit.[break][break]

But Luck's ability to make and keep friends hadn't grown with them. [break][break]

As the rest of the Sector's team finally gathered, James mingled. Nodded and shook hands, looking more at ease than he'd been before. Luck wasn't certain how much of it was genuine and how much of it was masking, but he kept his empathy within himself. Though he gauged how he was doing with the occasional glance and eavesdropped on a couple of exchanged pleasantries, Luck left him alone. He didn't need a babysitter or a liaison.[break][break]

When prompted about his position on the field, James answered that he'd pitch and Luck sent a silent "thank you" to the heavens. Then he grinned wide at his little jab — that he'd fit right in with the rest of them if he ended up being terrible — and clutched at his chest as if shot. "Ouch! Hurtful... but true. Don't be afraid to show off, though. Maybe you'll inspire us to greatness. Shame us all and make us want to do better." [break][break]

They moved into the field. Luck turned and walked backwards just in time to catch Tawny and James exchange something brief. She shook her head with a playful roll of her eyes and, when they parted ways, she lifted her gaze and shot Luck a (blatantly-cheesed) thumbs-up. He slowed, waiting for her to reach him, and she screwed up her face with a sarcastic (but not unkind) mock. "He said 'refuse to lose'. I said, 'jeez, I often don't have much of a say in the matter'." [break][break]

They took their places — Luck in the left outfield and Tawny on shortstop in front of him. It wasn't how it usually was. With Evan tending left field, Luck typically took a more involved, infielder position or picked up one of the trickier bases. He also played catcher, if their "usual" catcher was sick or otherwise didn't show up. [break][break]

But they'd make it work. Tawny wasn't so hopeless that she couldn't catch a ball thrown her way. So long as it wasn't too fast to make her scared. Though she didn't (and never would) have a great arm, she was a high school track star. She was fast and she could chase well enough when she let one slip. Still, she liked having other people close by that outfielders could choose to throw to instead of her. [break][break]

The game began, Luck joining in both the field and batting line's palpable anticipation and curiosity surrounding James' first pitch. When it was fumbled, he winced and sucked a breath through his teeth. Well.... shit. He could probably pitch a couple of innings himself. By the end of a game, his arm was usually locked up and acting tight as it was — he'd had surgery on his shoulder long ago — but he could probably manage a couple of rounds. Especially if James needed a break after a while. [break][break]

When James eyes found him, Luck raised his brow, lifted his palms, and pulled his lips tight; eyes fluttering closed as he gave a faint shake of his head — it was a look that attempted to say "hey man, no biggie" instead of "fuck, goodbye all hope". He tucked a thumb in his palm, curling the fingers of one hand into a "thumbs up" while he made a circle with the thumb and forefinger of his other. [break][break]

The game continued. [break]
In... typical, Sector fashion. [break][break]

Tawny flinched away from harder ground balls — no doubt Luck's fault, as he'd (unwisely) shared stories of how they could pop up from the dirt and claim some teeth or break a nose. But, anticipating this, he was quick to pick up her slack. Always running to nab what made it past her or sprinting close when she chased, so she could pass the ball to him to throw to one of the bases (or more often, simply back to James). [break][break]

He'd easily take a dozen more Tawnys on his team than a dozen more Brads, though. At least Tawny ran after the ball and tried (though she almost always looked wild and desperate or was cursing frantically as she did so). [break][break]

Brad, on the other hand, had smuggled his phone into the outfield. Playing right, he perhaps didn't expect a whole lot of hits to go his way. But Luck couldn't fail to note how, eventually, the man didn't even look up at the crack of a ball being hit. Didn't have his glove on until he was "needed". Wasn't ready to field the balls rolling his way until they passed him or someone gave a shout. Luck could have tackled him to the ground and throttled the man when a fly-ball landed only a few feet from him, perfectly capable of being caught. [break][break]

Though Luck had made the Sector team years ago, and there'd been quite some buzz about it in the beginning, lately it seemed the only people who ever consistently showed up lacked a bit of love for it. He suspected some of them were only there because it got them out of doing something else. Gave them some excuse not to go home. Which was awfully sad. Luck had never been able to relate to that (until more recently). [break][break]

The team's lack of verve had to be owed, too, to their infamous losing streak. They needed a win. Something to get excited about. Maybe after a taste of victory, they'd be more enthused. More hungry for another and properly engaged the next time. Would actually show up to practice. Maybe they'd even be willing to go out for a celebratory beer. Any time Luck had tried to talk them into such things in the past, most chose to drudge on home instead. And perhaps talking about it at work in the following days or weeks, they'd entice some "new blood", too. [break][break]

At least James was doing remarkably well now. It seemed the first (disastrous) pitch had just been him "shaking off the rust". Not that his prowess quite made up for everything the Sector's team lacked. But they managed two outs a little quicker than they might have otherwise and... though the FBI's runs were still a little high... if they ended soon, it wasn't too wild to imagine they might catch up on their turn to bat.[break][break]

Maybe. [break][break]

When Evan moseyed back up to bat, looking a little too smug and happy, Luck called out to James on the pitcher's mound and slipped off his glove to tuck under his arm while he jogged up. Tawny gave him a shove as he moved past her, then shouted out to Evan at the home plate. [break][break]

He clapped James on the shoulder and bent his head close to speak low. "Don't try anything with Evan. Just pitch it straight and fast. He hits hard but..." he tipped his head just barely, making a conceding noise in his throat. "Always to the same, exact spot each time." And, nine times out of ten, he batted just shy of a homerun. He hoped today wasn't one of those days he popped one a little further than typical. He didn't feel like climbing a fence to try and catch a sailer. (Not that he wouldn't.) "And I'll be there. Just be prepared if he decides to bunt. I don't think he will," they were already two down. With bases loaded, it wasn't the time for a sacrifice play. It was time for a slugger to try and get everyone home. Even if Evan noted Luck preparing — which he would — he'd probably still take his chances. "But eh, who knows. We Sector folk are squirrely." [break][break]

Luck watched Evan evenly as he spoke, shooting him a wink over James' shoulder when he motioned for them to "hurry up" (obviously not entertained by their conspiring about him). Behind them, he could hear Tawny continuing to mouth off some nonsense and, when she said something particularly dumb — some clumsy progression from "Bam Bam", to Fruity Pebbles, to traitors not getting breakfast donuts at work in the morning — Evan fell from his batting stance and squinted at her, raising his shoulders and shaking his head incredulously. [break][break]

"What? That doesn't even make sense." [break][break]

Tawny raised her own shoulders, tone taking on a sharper (and somewhat defensive edge). "I don't know! But I'm in your head, aren't I? It's distracting! You're confused now! All very intentional."

we talk a big game, that's how we relate[break]it's the easiest way for men to communicate

Tag: James Clark [break]
Sorry, this one took a while! Threads with a lot of action aren't really my cup of tea either lmaooo, so pls forgive if it's awkward. I also know nothing about baseball/softball hahah, so... if things aren't 100% accurate... let's just pretend they are *sunglasses emoji*. Same to you — feel free to move things along however much you want or move Luck and/or Tawny about as well. c: And of course, give me a nudge for any changes or tweaks you might desire! We don't have any dice mechanics but now you're giving me nostalgia for my Pokémon RP days where I had to have five dice rolls in every post (and RNG almost always hated me, lemme tell ya).

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