whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

Just my face. Feels a little numb.

[The kid rubs at it while getting lugged back onto his feet. No scrapes or blood, just red on the right side of his face.]

It's a lot easier on wheels.

[Two sets of hands can rub at it. Smoothing over his eyebrow and rubbing the not-quite-there-at-all sideburns.]

Could just be the cold. [It don't look bad besides the red.]

I never tried it with wheels. [Is it that easy? ...or is it that hard? Larry's thinking over other ways to explain a stop.]

Tell you what. Stay there. [He can stay still in one place right?] Watch me a few times, then I'll break it down. Then you try again.

You can't stop like that with wheels.

[For the record. And yes he can stand still gosh the kid's not so inept, old man. Freddy just nods against those hands then turns to stand by and watch. Larry's going to make it look easy, he knows it.]

I'm watching.

Rubber brake pads wouldn't work on ice anyways.

[Okay. Okay. Sheesh. He doesn't want Freddy to bust his head or break something. So sue him. Alright, since he's playing spectator, Larry goes for a quick little turn about the rink...pond.]

I'm gonna put more weight on one leg than the other, it's kind of a scoot.

[Turn, scoot, which makes him come to a stop.]

Like that. See? [Repeats the scooting sort of motion while he's standing still.] Kinda like you're trying to scoot a can that might be full out of the way. You don't wanna kick it or that shit'll get all over your shoes.

[Oh he's watching, listening, drinking it all in because that full can hasn't budged. Then after the demonstration and instruction, the kid has one observation to make.]

You know, you're real light on your feet. [For a guy like you, his tone implies.]

[What the fuck Newendyke that was not the point of the exercise. Larry doesn't smack his own forehead but he certainly looks at the other man. It's a compliment so he doesn't need to get that indignant but this is a learning exercise, shit come on kid.]

On ice.

[The kid as seen him run. Bears aren't known for speed or agility then unless they're leaping to maul. Something like that.]

Need me to do that again? If I can do it, you can do it.

[Oh come on old man, he was paying attention, he just couldn't help but make that observation too. See, the kid's good at looking like he's doing one thing while also doing another. But really there's no need to go down that road of conversation now that Larry's well aware of Freddy's capabilities...as something other than an ice skater anyway.]

No, not yet. Let me try it.

[He insists, back to business now. The kid glides a bit to gain more speed, not as much as the previous time, so when he does scoot it's to a sort of stop. Nothing abrupt and certainly without any spray of ice. But, it's a stop. He wobbles.]

Like that?

[Who the hell knows what they're teaching officers these days, and rarely is Larry ever an admirer of these things but this kid here's got talent.]

Okay sure.

[He pulls back to watch, not making a peep in case if that is counter productive. Not quite a complete stop. It's a California roll. Still, the old man beams.]

Atta' boy. Do it again.

Okay, coach.

[Again with the names, or is it a pet name? Freddy picks up speed to turn that California Roll into an all out stop... He doesn't succeed the second time and even hops onto a toe pick to prevent himself from kissing the ground. Again.]

Shit that was a close one.

[Can it be both? Hearing it, the way it's said...well, the look on the old man's face should be enough. Though he tries his best to keep optimistic.

Yes.

Yes.

Oh.]

Okay. Close that time, honest. Try just the scooting. Need somethin' to hold onto?

[Have an arm.]

[Freddy actually looks around again as he takes that arm. He's holding onto it like an athlete for the record, none of this Rockefeller Center stuff. The kid would rather save that for New York City. One day.]

Don't complain if I knock your skate.

[He warns, as if Larry wouldn't already know how to jump ship to avoid a collision.]

[If only Freddy would say that out loud, because then Larry wouldn't feel so ridiculous for thinking that. One day they will go skating and see that gigantic Christmas tree.]

I'll deal.

[He says that now.]

What are you waiting for? Get movin'.

I'm moving I'm moving. [Larry's nothing like a drill instructor but Freddy's giving him a look as only a player would to his coach. Pacing now he sees the pond's edge coming up.] Okay I'm gonna stop now.

[Fair warning, Dimick. One, two, three! He turn-scoots. Whether his blade locks with Larry's or not is up in the air. He's still holding onto the guy though.]

The movin's good. Not a problem. You're good at it.

[That's not a come on at all. Two can observe and convey a little something special in the meaning. A couch would focus on what needs to be done.]

Okay, hotshot. Stop.

[Yeah, it was fair warning. Again Larry's too confident that he'd keep them both up. The locked skates, when did that happen? Freddy goes but Larry hits first. One hand gets squished between the kid and the ice. Is it just cold or is the throbbing in his fingers something else?]

Fuck.

Shit!

[So much for being good at it. Rather, what good is being good at moving when you can't stop? He rolls off Larry but is careful not to get on his feet. Those blades are dangerous don't you know? Freddy sits on his ass instead only to reach out and pat the old man on the shoulder.]

You okay?

Mmmhmmmph! [That's a tight noise in the back of his throat because he's processing exactly what it is now that the blood is flowing through his fingers...finger really. Trigger finger. Goddamn.

It didn't feel good for the rest of him to hit the ice but that's eclipsed by the kinda heart beat throbbing going on.

Larry shakes it out some, hoping it isn't a sprain. Okay. Shaking not a good idea. Brown eyes look at the kid.]

I'm fine.

[Swift exhale.]

[The kid doesn't believe him for a second.]

You sure?

[He's looking right at you, old man. Don't lie, don't lie to this concerned face.]

Mighta got my finger sprained.

[He's not sure yet. But see, what's a finger verses the rest of him? Larry shows the damage. Not bad. His knuckles are a bit scraped. That's no thing.]

I'll tape it when we get home. [To his middle finger. Hey, and they've got plenty of that stuff hanging around. How about that.]

Damn. Sorry.

[He doesn't even ask to see Larry's hand before taking it for himself to scrutinize. Scrapes sure and at least if it is sprained it's on ice. Har. No really he looks at Larry.]

You wanna keep on?

[Woah, hey. Careful with that.]

It's not that bad at all. Don't you worry. And for fuck's sake, don't apologize. [All said softly. He was really concerned? Boy, if Larry had a nickel for every time he hurt those big paws of his growing up...]

Yeah. [Provided the kid gives him back his hand although he doesn't mind. Not one bit.] You still dunno how to stop yet.

[Fortunately for them both he doesn't say he's sorry for saying sorry over and over.]

If we keep at it long enough I'll be beat up in no fuckin' time.

[He says in the most casual way, still in good humor. Oh yeah, he lets go of Larry's hand to get back up on his feet. This time it's Freddy who offers a palm for pulling the other man up.]

[Such a good kid this one. Larry grips his hand. It's not Rockefeller, and that's okay. Any time he can it's a good time and place. Someday though...]

Well. Let's give you one more fall and then you can't anymore. You just gotta do it. So either use your fall right now or save it for later.

[Of course it isn't as simple as that but determination can do quite a bit.]

Keep most of your weight on the leg that's not doing the scooting. Try it again.

[He'll be near by. Maybe not literally at hand this time.

Okay.

[He won't go as far as telling Larry to take a seat or anything. That'd be insulting. He does let go of the man when they're both up though. The kid's gonna try it again. And again. Until he gets it right because they have only the lunch break to do it, but that won't be the last of it will it? For Larry's sake he hopes he can master it soon enough to not run the risk of hurting his hand again.]

Thanks, Larry.

[Freddy adds, not just because they're close but because it's deserved.]

Thanks for indulging. [True game play will have to go down another day. The picks and sticks need to be scuffed up ahead of time. He forgot.]

You do me proud, Scooter.

[Sprain or no sprain.]

But I ain't no madman.

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