tragic_mask | (no subject)

"Well, I haven't broken the law in a while. At least not on purpose. So I will keep you on the straight and narrow."

But she's grinning, just a little.

"I will try to be good," he says. "It isn't easy--I don't do much in moderation. It's either very, very good or very, very bad."

"Ah," she says. "Well, moderation probably isn't a natural quality, anyway. At least not if you listen to Freud."

"Back in the primordial days, when existence was much more of a struggle, you had to get everything you could while it was available, to tide you over through the days when there was nothing. If you were moderate, and saved your food, your neighbors who didn't save theirs would just steal yours. No incentive for moderation."

"Exactly. Still, we have to move with the times," she says, grinning.

"...I suppose," he says grudgingly. "There are no grasslands in New York to live in, and the police do tend to stare if you go hunting on the streets. I will have to live indoors."

"Like civilized people," she says, wrinkling her nose.

"Civilization is overrated," he says. "In the old days a man could live on the land, provide for his family, keep them safe--it's the Minnesota Boy Scout way! Still, as an artist, I have to admit that the birds and squirrels wouldn't be buying my work, so we do need some civilization."

"Yeah... I quite like it, sometimes. After all, I'm not very good with nature."

She says it convincingly, too.

"...you'd be allowed to bring some equipment with you, at least to start," he grins. "No building shelter with just your bare hands. You could have gloves. Maybe a knife and some matches, if you ask nicely. Or if you ask really nicely, I'd probably let you borrow some of my fire."

"Really?" She thinks about it. "I'd probably figure it out on my own. Wouldn't want to be indebted to you."

"Then I'm afraid war between our settlements is inevitable," he says. "But you're tougher than you look, and I'll underestimate you and be defeated. I hope you won't plow salt into my fields when I am vanquished--they're good lands."

"Which lands, again?" she asks. "I didn't know we had decided on this natural way of life already."

"You know that park near your apartment?" he asks. "I claim the part over past the benches. Good land for farming, if you can keep the students with the frisbees off your crops."

"Hey, now. I don't think you're allowed to claim that land. I have it by seniority, if anything."

"Ah, so it begins," he says, with mock sorrow. "At war before we even set foot on my lands. I suppose that even throwing off the yoke of civilization cannot bring peace."

"Quite doubtful," she agrees.

"Still... if it gives me the chance to see you out in nature, with leaves and feathers in your hair, and maybe carrying a knife..."

He nudges her foot gently, under the table.

"It couldn't be all bad."

She gives him a wry smile. "In my natural habitat?"

"In New York?" he asks with a chuckle. "That could be arranged."

"Really?" she says, with an eyebrow quirked. "I thought New York was the epitome of civilization."

"There are parks," he says. "We could run wild in one. Possibly more than one, and subways in between. It's like caves, only... with more risk of being attacked by giant metal beasts."

"Wow," she says, and ponders it.

"Have you ever gone spelunking?" he asks. "We could, sometime, if you'd like. I haven't been in ages, but it can be very..."

He sips his coffee. "Very grounding. There aren't as many distractions underground as there are aboveground."

"Sure, let's go. I've never been... I generally go up, if I go anywhere."