Wide's arrival on Talos Island was marked by his team headset being filled by the melodic thrum of Fae Wree Tail's chatter. Wide listened half-heartedly, and eventually told her where his licorice stash was in the base. Her gratitude included an innocent statement that gave him hope.
"I'm sure you'll get your Happily Ever After, Wide Receiver."
Smiling, he entered the Freedom Corps building and was soon brought into a back room. His breath caught in his throat at the sheer presence of the man before him. Despite Wide's enormous stature, the room was still filled by this man. An intense gaze flicked over the Legendary uniform Wide was wearing and met his eyes.
"What did you need, Wide Receiver?" Statesman asked.
Wide took off his helmet and ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, you see, I kinda need some ... personal advice."
"You took me from investigating Lord Recluse's latest plan for that?" he turned and began to walk out the door.
Panic gripped Wide like an opposing player trying to strip the ball from a running back. He blurted, "If I don't get a game plan from someone who's been there before, you're gonna have to bring me in for involuntary manslaughter."
Statesman's cape billowed out as he whirled. His gaze intensified beneath his faceplate. "Explain yourself."
Unable to resist the tone of command, Wide let everything out. From his first meeting with the diminutive Minuet Mac Hine, through their early relationship and his current fears of hurting her accidentally. He kept at it doggedly like a great team forced to use running plays against the Steelers: many stops and starts, but with inevitable progress towards the goal. Statesman's gaze never wavered. He stood and listened. When Wide finally ran down, a slight smile crossed his normally stern visage.
"Well," Statesman said, placing his hand on Wide's massive shoulder. "I think I can help you there."
He then proceeded to give Wide Receiver some frank advice on his love life.
Wide's blush was bad when he left the Freedom Corps building, but his relieved smile made up for it.
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''
-- James Nicoll
"I'm sure you'll get your Happily Ever After, Wide Receiver."
Smiling, he entered the Freedom Corps building and was soon brought into a back room. His breath caught in his throat at the sheer presence of the man before him. Despite Wide's enormous stature, the room was still filled by this man. An intense gaze flicked over the Legendary uniform Wide was wearing and met his eyes.
"What did you need, Wide Receiver?" Statesman asked.
Wide took off his helmet and ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, you see, I kinda need some ... personal advice."
"You took me from investigating Lord Recluse's latest plan for that?" he turned and began to walk out the door.
Panic gripped Wide like an opposing player trying to strip the ball from a running back. He blurted, "If I don't get a game plan from someone who's been there before, you're gonna have to bring me in for involuntary manslaughter."
Statesman's cape billowed out as he whirled. His gaze intensified beneath his faceplate. "Explain yourself."
Unable to resist the tone of command, Wide let everything out. From his first meeting with the diminutive Minuet Mac Hine, through their early relationship and his current fears of hurting her accidentally. He kept at it doggedly like a great team forced to use running plays against the Steelers: many stops and starts, but with inevitable progress towards the goal. Statesman's gaze never wavered. He stood and listened. When Wide finally ran down, a slight smile crossed his normally stern visage.
"Well," Statesman said, placing his hand on Wide's massive shoulder. "I think I can help you there."
He then proceeded to give Wide Receiver some frank advice on his love life.
Wide's blush was bad when he left the Freedom Corps building, but his relieved smile made up for it.
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''
-- James Nicoll