(Rather than write the same vaguedrivel, here is a pretty gif to inspire you, a link to the weather for the week, and a link to londonist, a great resource for all things London related. As always this post is open all week. Tag in, tag others, check back often!)
"Well, looks are important. I guess you want an egg layer to look like an egg layer." John absently thought about being back at school and in one of Baldy's philosophy lectures. Form and purpose, he dimly recalled, and thought it was Plato.
"It's good some kid hasn't tried to break the eggs or run off with a chicken or something," John observed a few moments later, when they could both see the eggs were all safe and sound. "Kids can be terrible." He'd been a terrible one, after all.
"Probably why the coops are so far back." He pointed out the way the little roost was backed up against the wall, their temporary run surrounded by wire enough that thieving fingers would have a difficult time.
Not that it didn't change how rotten kids could be sometimes.
"I was a real little shit. At least that's what my dad used to say."
"I ran away from school," John observed absently, looking at the layout of the roost and the fencing with a keen eye that was more strategic and analytical than strictly needed to happen with regards to chicken coops. "Burned down some buildings." It sounded like fairly regular wild teenager stuff, right?
"Same," Clint said. It was the truth, in a roundabout way. Once he and Barney were orphans they'd fucked off. So it wasn't really running, just leaving, quiet and unremarkable.
"I joined a gang," John continued in that absent tone, looking around at the other animals, the people, just observing the way of it all. "What was the circus like? All sweeping up elephant crap?"
"Ninety percent sweeping up elephant crap. Ten percent juggling." And a lot more stealing, scamming, and scheming between because circuses didn't run on peanuts and his had been mostly a front for sharpshooting thieves.
"Diverse range of skills. Must make for a great résumé." There was just a pause, and John shot Clint a somewhat wolffish grin: "What industry do you work in, again? I don't think you mentioned, but then what's another corporate faceless behemoth between friends."
Clint snorted, pulling together his usual persona, all dumb bluster. "I don't work in any industry besides assisting for my boss. She's a consultant with a lot of different companies. They're all higher-powered than me."
John looked at the guy: he still thought there was something off about the dude, but he could appreciate a good liar, at least. And didn't we all have something to hide?
"Surprised to see you out enjoying yourself, then. I didn't think you consultant types got let off the leash so easily."
Bless the kid for providing Clint with the perfect setup, just as a handler passed with a juvenile piglet on a lead. "She thinks it's a family reunion," Clint deadpanned.
There was a long, drawn out pause, before John gave him a slow clap. "Good line," he acknowledged. "I'd buy you a beer, but I should be getting him to my guy." He didn't sound that keen about it, frankly.
Clint let a grin sneak out the corner of his mouth when John admitted it was a good line but he could also tell that the kid was supposed to be somewhere, even if he maybe wasn't happy about it.
"Yeah, but it was good to bump into you. Enjoy sweeping up that corporate shit," John said, with a shrug as goodbye, and stuck his hands in his pockets before heading off.
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"It's good some kid hasn't tried to break the eggs or run off with a chicken or something," John observed a few moments later, when they could both see the eggs were all safe and sound. "Kids can be terrible." He'd been a terrible one, after all.
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Not that it didn't change how rotten kids could be sometimes.
"I was a real little shit. At least that's what my dad used to say."
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"But we joined the circus."
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"Surprised to see you out enjoying yourself, then. I didn't think you consultant types got let off the leash so easily."
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"Time for me to let you go, hm?"
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