My unicorn got run over by a tractor

Duke's head hurt. He was hungry and tired and his ribs weren't too happy with him, either, but the worst thing was his head, a pounding throb somewhere between stress headache and concussion. Between the chair to the back and the bar to the forehead and the night spent in a jail cell, he felt a bit like his brain leaking out his ears would be the best possible scenario.

And Nathan was smirking at him from the other side of the bars.

( A long time ago they used to be friends )

[NFB/NFI, OOC fine. Mmm, Duke and Nathan's tasty, tasty issues.]

"Really," Duke said, rolling his eyes at his phone. "Bill. You know Thanksgiving is tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. We only just found out you're in Baltimore, man. I figured you were on the other side of the world again. But you're close enough to get up here in time for dinner tomorrow, right? Geoff'll be here and Meg would love to see you and -- it's been too long. The Second Chancers need to get together again."

Duke grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I just -- I've got stuff here, man. I can't just up and leave."

"Duke Crocker. Can't just leave." Duke could hear Bill's turn to roll his eyes in his voice. Which -- was kind of fair. "Come on. Should we set a place for you?"

Duke looked back to the spare room, where Larceny was -- probably either sleeping or discovering new uses for pillow cases. Or maybe hunting porgs. He looked at his notes on how to maybe actually get the Danger Shop to let him do a sea shanties class already. He did the math on how long it would take the Rouge to get from Baltimore to Haven.

"Yeah," he said finally. "You're right. It's been too long. I'll just -- sort some things out here and head out. Just -- don't tell Nate I'm coming back to town, alright? He'd probably arrest me the minute I set foot on the docks."

They arranged some quick details, and Duke hung up to leave a couple messages. Then went to find Larceny and teach her about the wonders of hotels and room service, and post a sign so his students didn't think the Danger Shop had, like, eaten him or something.

. . . Jesus, but he'd managed to forge a lot of ties to this town in the last couple months. So much for the devil-may-care, impulsive life of Duke Crocker, Smuggler. It was kind of nice, though.

He wondered how he was going to keep the porgs from invading Haven this time.

[establishy! There may be canon set-up hijinks this weekend, if I manage to brain enough to write them. Wheeeeee holiday madness!]