Full Name: Patrick Cromwell né Goodwin
Nickname(s): Pat
Face Claim: Andrew Scott
Pronouns and Gender: cisman (he/him)
Birthday and Age: October 21st, 1976 (46)
Zodiac: libra ☉ libra ☽ gemini ➶
Hometown: Aurora, WV
How long have they been living in Philly? returned 2 years ago
Sexuality: homosexual
Neighorhood: Chestnut Hill
Occupation: currently unemployed, non-practicing veterinarian
Family: Arthur Goodwin (father — deceased), Harriet Goodwin (mother), Matthew Cromwel (husband — deceased)
The Personality.
Patrick is a man who’s used to keeping his head down, mostly because he’s done so all his life. He grew up in an environment that led him to keep to himself and pretend to be someone he's not for as long as he can remember. His overall demeanor is a little awkward and reserved, maybe even strange to some, but behind the fidgeting and pulled up shoulders hides a gentle soul that has been through a lot. He tries to always be friendly and forthcoming, even if he’s not someone who talks a lot, he’ll go out of his way to hold a door or pick something up for someone before they can even lean down. Trust doesn’t come easily to Patrick though and he tends to keep people at an arm’s length in order to protect himself and others. He doesn’t like sharing a lot about his life or identity either but that’s mostly because he’s not used to being able to. Bearing secrets has become a habit he finds hard to shake but even the thickest and highest wall has to start chipping at some point.
The Biography.
Trigger Warnings: parental death, death of a spouse, depression, alcoholism
Patrick grew up on a small, run-down farm in Aurora, West Virginia and was born into a family that had barely enough money to put food on the table
His upbringing was anything but gentle and while his mother tried her best to offer him protection and shelter for as long as she was able to, he had to at least try (or pretend) to adapt to a life full of hard work and barely any ways to develop a personality of his own
His father was hard on him and yet wanted the best for him which translates to: he mostly wanted to raise him to be the “men” he and his own father were
Patrick was anything but that though, always a little too tender and unable to do what was expected of him, either because he cared too much about the animals living with them on the farm or simply wasn’t strong enough to work the way his father needed him to
He was always a bit of a dreamer instead, someone who liked to lay out in the sun to daydream of a life that was entirely different from the one he was leading
His love for animals was ultimately what would get him out of the small town
When his father passed when he was only eighteen, he had to promise his mother to do what he wanted to do for once and in turn, she sold the farm and moved into a small house in Aurora, while Patrick moved to Pennsylvania to start college with no money and more debt than he could’ve ever imagined BUT he pulled through
He got into veterinary medicine, working hard to get good grades, all while trying to make some money as a waiter at a local restaurant to keep a roof over his head
It was then when he met the man that'd be his first love and eventually became his husband, Matthew Cromwell.
They were polar opposites and yet, somehow completed each other. They moved in together and started to build a life together, getting married as soon as they were able to on a beautiful day in June, 2014 with Patrick taking on Matthew's name - an almost liberating moment for him.
But it'd only be a few years from then until tragedy struck.
Matthew loved the outdoors, while Patrick liked to stay in more, so it wasn't out of the ordinary for Matthew to take solo hiking trips without his husband in tow to unwind.
Patrick had a weird feeling about it from the start but ultimately let him go, a moment he regrets to this day.
Matthew died in what Patrick can only assume was a terrible accident that'd be the start of a series of traumatic events for the widower.
Since they couldn't retrieve Matthew's body and false accusations were quick to be made by both neighbors and Matthew's estranged family, Patrick was accused of having something to do with his husband's disappearance.
After a months long trial that'd drain Patrick emotionally and financially and left him with little to no time to properly work through his grief, he was suddenly all by himself and without an alibi.
Apparently, Matthew had a hefty life insurance that not even Patrick had known about until then, making him a suspect, considering it'd be paid out to him.
Ultimately, charges were dropped due to lack of evidence but Patrick was left shaken and a sum of money he wasn't exactly comfortable with.
The two of them had built a good life together after all, with Patrick working as a veterinarian and Matthew being a neurosurgeon but that didn't matter much to him now, not when he was stuck in that life without his best friend and partner to share it with.
Patrick's mother begged him to move back home and start working again after not being able to do so for over a year but Patrick insisted that he'd just need some more time to heal.
After trying his best to stay put and failing, he used the extra money along with their savings to get some space and moved into a house in a small town in Washington State, trying to settle into a new life but with no drive and his grief still weighing him down, Patrick didn't really see a point in trying to run away constantly. Instead, he moved back to Philadelphia, using the insurance money to buy a new home in their old neighborhood Chestnut Hill in hopes that the exposure to his past would help him back on his feet.
That didn't work out though. With enough money to take a break, he's not working right now and is currently stuck in a loop of sleeping most of the day and drinking too much with no real motivation to break the circle, all while trying to seem put together enough to pretend he's doing absolutely fine.
His mother and few remaining friends tell him to finally start living again but even after close to five years without his husband, Patrick has been unable to do so.
He also still wears his wedding ring, which tends to lead to people asking questions about his spouse but he's learned to dodge them most of the time.
You can find his full bio here.
The Connections.
friends
drinking buddies
someone he might actually talk to about his ongoing inner turmoil (good luck tho lmao)
A knowing, humorous chuckle escaped the dirt-blond in response to the liquids listed by the other and the ruined carpets, a story he knew all too well. “The silver lining is, you get extremely good doing laundry and learning tricks to get rid of stains” he fired back, a smirk expanding throughout his lips. Blue eyes fell from the man in front of him to the two dogs by his side, his snarky smile softening immediately. “Double the trouble, double the joy” he offered his hand for the dogs to sniff before looking up at the other. “Is it hard? Having two? Wouldn’t trade this one for anything in the world” his eyes shifted to the labradoodle next to him with a smile “But two? I don’t think I have the energy for that” When he had gotten Pollux for the first time, his intention was to get a second one within a year, named him Castor and accept his fate as a history buff, but life had gotten in the way.
Lips curled up as the other affirmed his phone wasn’t damaged, eyes swiftly switching from the man in front of himself to the phone and then back. “The coffee on the other hand, didn’t have the same fate. Can I buy you another one? My beliefs wouldn’t let me continue with my day if I didn’t at least ask” he offered, before giving out his hand for the other to shake. “I’m Alexander and this is Pollux, I’ll even put on my headphones while you make your calls on the way to the coffee shop.”
With a chuckle of his own, Patrick gave a nod in agreement. That was a point he hadn’t considered before – for obvious reasons. It usually felt more like a chore than a chance to get better at something. “You’re probably right about that,” Patrick confirmed with a small smile. Another chuckle escaped as he nodded. “You could say that, yeah,” he said, not mentioning that it was always supposed to be a two for two kind of deal and not something he’d have to take on by himself given his circumstances.
Giving a shrug, Patrick shook his head. “Not really, no – it’s almost easier because I’d like to believe that they enjoy each other’s company so they’re never alone, even if I’m out of the house running errands without them. I like seeing them run around and play together,” he admitted. “They also tire each other out that way,” Patrick added, as if he was sharing a secret recipe to owning dogs. He followed the other’s glance, tilting his head. “I also think dogs keep you busy in a good way. I’d not get as many steps in if I didn’t have them so the good definitely overpowers the bad.”
Patrick sighed as he looked his phone over, looking back at the other man with a furrowed brow. “You really don’t have to do that,” he was quick to tell him, feeling bad already that he was taking up the stranger’s time and not wanting to keep him any more, though he appreciated the kind offer. “If anything, it should be me who’s buying, considering you had to witness all that,” he half-joked, an apologetic look on his face before he reached out to accept the handshake. “Patrick – this one’s Meadow,” he pointed at the white Samoyed, “and this one’s Jet,” Patrick added, motioning at the black lab. “It’s a pleasure to meet you two,” he said, holding out his hand for Pollux before looking back at Alexander. “Oh – god, no. It’s…,” with that, his phone started ringing again but once more he declined. “Just my mother being – well – my mother. She’ll be fine not talking to me for a bit but again, don’t feel like you have to do this. I’m sure you have better things on your agenda.”
"I'd be lying too," Sookyeon settled, knowing she would be just as happy to plant herself on Patrick's food and mull over the takeout options. Dark hues landed on the gloves he showed off before his eye-roll was met with one of her own. "Yes, she friended me on Facebook," she retorted, her gaze returning back to the table in front of them. Most people she came across voiced it odd that she was not on social media, her sister also labelling it as "sus", as the youth said these days, but Sookyeon did not feel the need. No friends from high school she wanted to keep up with, or a special pursuit group she wanted to join. "Well I'll be happy to report a good thing back to her," a quick snipe, she had never actually spoken with Patrick's mom, and she is sure if they ever were to meet they'd have a lot of notes to compare, but in all honestly, he had become someone she cared for and leaned on, at times, and someone she wondered how he was doing, if he was eating well and sleeping well, that's all she asked, nothing extraordinary. As the Lunar New Year approached, she could not comprehend what she wanted from this life, she mused that moving to Philadelphia might somehow alter anything. "No, no, you're fine. I'm fine." Mimicking his early action but with her scarf.
"Okay, today's mission," Sookyeon held up the piece of paper so the other could see it clearly, "look closely, this is what we are searching for. This tile. Study it, get to know it, commit it to memory... okay you don't have to do that, we have the sketch, but it is very specific and it is somewhere here. I know it, I can feel it." The pattern was a Manises Jet in a burnt orange colour, and had baroque details in the small diamonds. "The detail should be blue. And if we manage to locate it your reward is as many drinks as the bartender will allow, on me of course." Her route began near some booths in the corner, as she scoured the content of each table. "What have you been up to lately?"
“Hey now, it was your idea and don’t act like you weren’t absolutely thrilled to be back in my ever so uplifting company,” Patrick joked, a tired smile on his lips but it felt good to realize that he was still capable of it nonetheless. Spending time with Sookyeon was a blessing in disguise more often than not and probably the only time he felt like he could just be these days. Most people who stuck around tended to be judgmental or even worse – full of pity for him. With her, as much as he hated to know that she understood where he was coming from, he felt like he didn’t have to hide his sadness but also never his joy that, while rare, seemed to slowly resurface in moments like these.
Getting out of the house was progress – at least that was what he told himself. Even if it was only for a walk or a coffee run, a check in with the few friends he’d made, anything to get him up and going. Patrick’s brows raised before his features returned to something a little more neutral. “She did not,” he hissed but the realization was quick to hit him – just like Sookyeon, he refused to engage in any kind of social media. Always had. But with his life having taken too many wrong turns, he also didn’t feel the need to give more people a platform to approach him and ask questions about how he is or how he's been. The sheer horror. Patrick shook his head at his friend. “She’d be absolutely thrilled. As if she hasn’t already sent me a text this morning asking me just that like she does every day,” he complained. In reality, Patrick knew that she meant well but it was that kind of overbearing care he found hard to stand by now. With Sookyeon, Patrick couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed – he knew she meant well, too but in a very profound sense. One that made him feel less alone in this world.
Relief washed over Patrick’s features when Sookyeon assure that she’d been fine and keeping warm but the words that followed grabbed his attention again, making him perk up. Squinting, Patrick leaned in to do as she told him to. Taking in the tile, he hummed. Once again, he was thankful for having her in his life – a distraction like this was welcome and enough to occupy his brain with something else for once. “You don’t have to reward me with anything for this. I’m honestly just happy to come along on the journey,” Patrick told her sincerely, aware that it was a tempting offer but it wasn’t more rewarding than being able to say that he spent a day outside of his home, helping a friend out. His eyes started scanning their surroundings, taking in the different textures and materials but without any success. “You mean other than hibernating in my house with the dogs and spending some milder evenings at the bar? Not a lot…,” he admitted. “What about you? I have a feeling you have more interesting things to share.”
The Reading Terminal Market was a locale to behold, the almost rhythmic buzz that lingered through the throngs of patrons, as they milled around and shopped, both tourists and residents alike, sheltered under the brick building. The colour of her cheek was florid and strands of dark hair were plucked out of the thick wool scarf that wrapped snuggly around her neck as she walked inside from the numbing eastern mistral. Sookyeon's eyes straggled the sea of faces, some foreign, some she knew from doing work with before, but when she did not find the one she was searching for, resigned herself to the fact that he was late, or he had arrived and got distracted from their designated meeting place. She hasn't a head for cellphones or technology in general, a trying custom to her peers who want to contact her, but she almost ripped her answering machine from the wall back in South Korea, so she knew it best to stay away and only use it amidst work hours. She can't text Patrick to check in, but she knows he would be there soon, the woman tending to the same space so she does not miss him as she returns to her notebook for the sketch of the tile she enlisted his aid in scouring for.
When the man in question surfaces before her, she gives him a once-over, and then a nod, her best attempt at familiarity. Still, despite her neutral presence, she is brimming with sincerity, "was it extremely difficult to get off your very comfortable couch today and leave Meadow to brave the Philadelphia cold and see me?" Sookyeon teased, taking the sketch out of her pocket. "Have you eaten today?" No hello, or how are you, she knows how he is, how he's been for the past two years they have known each other. It's the big sister in her, to scold, her two younger siblings never hear the end of it on the rare times they catch up on Kakao, and are perhaps obliged to Patrick that she now has someone else to nag. "And not coffee, no liquid calories."
While Patrick had gotten a little too comfortable with his introvert ways by now and tended to stick to his own company, there were a few people that he liked to be around enough to leave the house for. Granted, it was probably for the better that he did, otherwise he’d be glued to his couch with little to no motivation to do much of anything – and that wasn’t to say that some days weren’t spent like that, yet, he was getting better about it or at least he hoped that he wasn’t just pretending that he was. It always took a little extra work to keep it up though. Some extra effort that Patrick didn’t always find the energy or will for but Sookyeon had gotten pretty good at coaxing him out of his home by now, offering a welcome distraction from whatever paths his mind was leading him down on that day.
He’d rushed, running a little late but not by much he hoped, to meet his friend. He knew that Sookyeon understood – maybe a little too well – what made things like these so hard for him sometimes but either way, she’d managed to successfully stay in touch with him over the past two years, which wasn’t something Patrick made easy for people. He was always a little distanced. A little too shallow in the way he treated his relationships but somehow, she’d found a connection to him, one he could return and did so happily.
A smile appeared on his lips when he finally sought her out in the sea of people frequenting the space, his shoulders a little hunched from the over stimulation of too many faces and voices but he’d be fine, he needed this, he reminded himself. Normalcy was good. Not scary. He was safe here.
Patrick couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at his friend’s greeting. “I’d lie if I said that it wasn’t and I didn’t consider staying in,” he half-joked, “but I’m glad I made the trip, don’t worry. I’m bundled up,” he assured, holding up his gloved hands for emphasis before his features shifted and he could barely contain his eye-roll. “Did my mother set you up to this? Did she wiretap you?” He teased, letting out a breath. “You and my mom will be very happy to hear that I have indeed eaten today. You’re welcome,” Patrick said with a nod, settling in with her. “I’m fine,” he said almost dismissively, regardless, out of habit more than anything. “What about you? I didn’t make you wait out here for too long, did I?”
God, she probably looked like a nosy fuck. But she wasn't trying to listen to or stare at the man, she just swore she recognized him. Or perhaps, more so that she recognized the dogs on the ends of the leashes he was holding. That had always been her way. She could remember Pretzel, the bloodhound from her neighborhood back when she was 13, but had no idea who in the hell he had belonged to. It makes sense the career she went into, now looking back on that fact. Sure, she wasn't working with the neighborhood bloodhound, but she worked with animals.
She was just about to sate her curiosity and ask the gentleman the name of his dog when she had seen the tell-tale sign of sudden interest in the beautiful dog: ears perked, tail up, legs tensed. And then she was off, for a moment anyways. Thankfully in an attempt not to get in the dog's squirrel chase, Cory had already taken a step back, which helped her to avoid the back splash of the coffee as well. "No worries," she responded with a good-hearted chuckle as she quickly bent down to retrieve the man's phone, his hands obviously too full, but being beaten to it, "I think it's a rare few dog who can resist the siren call of a squirrel, no reason for embarrassment. -- Can I?" she asked, gesturing to the dogs, hand slightly raised, incredibly eager to pet.
Patrick, while a little oblivious by choice more often than not, could feel the eyes on him. He wasn't sure what it was but then again, it was him walking two rather big dogs on his own and he knew that a lot of people were fans of them. It was one thing he'd always loved about working with animals - they were a gift as it was but even more so through the connection they could create between people. It was easier to talk about them when you didn't want to share too much of yourself with a stranger but at the same time, they kept the conversations from turning stale too soon. It wasn't the reason why he liked pets, it was merely a welcome bonus at this point.
Then again, there was also downsides to being a pet-owner and Patrick made sure to be a rather public reminder of that. Embarrassment crept up on him - he'd never done well with attention, good and bad. He thanked her when he realized that they'd leaned down to reach for his phone in almost the same moment and shot her a crooked yet friendly smile as he tried not to dissolve from the humiliation he felt. Taking in a deep breath, he shook his head. "She's definitely aware of the fact that she shouldn't give in to this but I can't be too mad. She loves squirrels - always has and no training in the world is helping as it seems," Patrick reasoned with a thankful glance when the kind stranger tried to soothe his hurt pride. He appreciated it, even if it didn't change his mind on just how embarrassing this first encounter had been. "Oh - of course," Patrick gave her the okay with a nod, checking Meadow's demeanor once more before a more genuine smile graced his features at the realization that she was calm but definitely excited to meet the other. "Go right ahead. She's friendly - just a little overeager sometimes."
The question had become routine for his six-year old, especially when they'd take walks through Rittenhouse Square on Frankie's days with the kids. The park was constantly full of canines on and off leash, and while the male was content with the views and the occasional interactions that very much didn't mean he wanted to take care of an animal the girls would only see a couple of times a week -- maybe less, maybe more depending on whenever the custody battle with Willa started wrapping up, and who knew then the hell that would be.
"We've been over this, Emmy. If we get a dog, I'll have to give him some of your toys," he arched his brows, giving the little girl a knowing look. "And if you don't like sharing with your sister, I don't think you'll like sharing with something with very sharp teeth." Emmy gave her father a pout, to which he had to hold back a chuckle. Maybe lying wasn't the best way to get what he wanted, but after becoming a parent he learned that it was the quickest way to get his kids to settle. Giving her hand a light squeeze, Frankie opened his mouth to say something else when suddenly he witnessed a man stumbling to a fall right in front of him, coffee splashing against the toe of his shoe as Emmy squealed in delight at the sight of the dogs pulling this poor man along. Another reason he didn't want a damn dog.
"Holy hell, man, who's walking who?" He joked, letting go of his daughter's hand and using it to help the poor sucker up. Frankie had seen his fair share of wipe outs in the park, but this one definitely looked the most painful. "I should be asking you that. Phone ain't cracked in half, is it? Or, uh, any bones?" he arched a brow, glancing over at Emmy who'd become entranced with the two dogs that'd lead to the man's ultimate demise and began to pet them . "Sorry -- she's a little bit canine crazy. Pretty much has tunnel vision when she sees one." The former ballplayer reached over and tugged the little girl towards him, before whispering, "What did I tell you about asking permission first, huh?"
Embarrassed would’ve been an understatement for whatever rush of emotions Patrick felt upon quite literally falling to a stranger’s feet. He was quick to get back onto his own, thanking the other in a rush as he tried his best to regain his composure and hopefully at least some of his dignity. What was even more humbling, was that he knew better. Patrick had dogs in his life for as long as he could remember – even back on the farm he grew up on, there’d always been one or two dogs around, leaving out the countless ones he’d met working as a vet. “I swear – and yes, I know this is a very cliché thing to say as a dog owner but she’s usually very calm,” Patrick insisted under a breathless chuckle, his palms smoothing over the front of his coat before he reached up to drag his now free hand over his jaw. “No – no, it looked worse than it was, I promise. She just caught me off-guard but by god, she loves squirrels,” he said, as if that was a proper excuse and he realized that once again, he should explain. He told his dogs to sit and they listened immediately, settling calmly next to him. One to his left, the other to his right. “She thinks they’re her buddies and they’re playing a game of catch,” he told the man but looked over to the girl accompanying him. “It’s her favorite,” Patrick added with a smile. “But uh – no. No broken screens or bones, I think. Just a tragic loss of a perfectly brewed coffee.”
He tugged on the dogs’ leashes lightly when he realized that the child was trying to pet them. “Stay,” he whispered under his breath and thankfully, the dogs remained still, merely their tails started wagging with excitement which was exactly what he’d expected to happen. Nothing more, nothing less, much to the child’s and her father’s luck. “It’s perfectly fine,” he assured. “Once again, very cliché, but they’re good dogs. Your dad’s right though,” Patrick said, leaning down to retrieve the now empty cup of coffee to throw away later but also to get on the girl’s level, a gentle smile slowly replacing the frown that had been plastered on his features before. “Not every dog is patient and kind like these two. It’s better to ask first before touching them but if it’s okay with you two – you can go ahead. This one’s Meadow,” he told her, gesturing at the white Samoyed. “And this one’s Jet,” Patrick added, getting back up before gently patting the black Labrador’s head.
Alexander was half-submerged in a book with Pollux resting his head on the blue-eyed’s thigh, chewing on his human’s fingers playfully, a signal that he was all tired up and demanding a snack. It never ceased to amaze the dirt blond, how intelligent and well behaved his 6 year old labradoodle was, how well they both had adjusted to eachother and their routine. They were on their second walk of the day that usually consisted on them walking the entirety of the park and it usually ended up in the two of them, resting in the nearest bench with Alex catching up on his extensive reading list while the other people watched, drinking from the portable water dispenser Alex had found on the internet a few years ago.
Feeling the nibbles in his fingertips, Alex couldn’t help but chuckle, scratching the back of Pollux’s ear “I gave you one already, don’t try to play me. I’m old but not that old” the dirt blond chuckled as the chocolate labradoodle answered with yet another little bite to his fingertip, as insistent as him. His eyes drifted from the line he was reading, eyeing the dog. “You’re lucky you’re cute” he mused, reaching inside the belt where he kept all the necessities for their walks together. However, his attention was swapped away as his eyes saw the man struggling in front of him, the phone and beverage hitting the ground before any of them could do anything. Pollux’s attention, shifting at the fugitive squirrel, making him alert. Alex, in response, grabbed onto his leash tighter. “Happens to the best of us— not enough people warn you about how many drinks you’ll waste when getting a dog. The amount of carpets this one has ruined will shock you” he noted with a sympathetic grin, gesturing to the other. “I’m fine, thanks. But I think I should be asking that question. Will your phone survive?”
Shooting the other an apologetic half-smile, Patrick couldn’t help but fidget, trying his best to get a hold of both the situation at hand and himself. Thankfully, his own dogs were well-trained and calm in moments like these – thanks to his late husband’s and his own work and their personalities. He sighed, the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment but he figured it did happen to the best of people. It shouldn’t be a big deal but Patrick had never dealt well with being looked at so he’d been used to a life of blending in as much as he could. “They really don’t. I’ve been through it all – coffee, red wine, soup – anything will spill if you’re not careful and preferably on light fabrics,” he added jokingly. “So, I have to admit…I’m not all that shocked with those two in my life,” Patrick said, nodding at the two rather large dogs by his side. “But I’m sure you know all about it.”
Looking down at the spilled beverage, Patrick nodded and leaned down to pick up the now empty cup. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he said, frowning slightly as he pulled his phone back out from where he’d hurriedly stuffed it into his coat’s pocket. “Just a little scratch on the screen. Nothing too serious.” Just as he’d uttered the words, the phone started vibrating – of course his mother would try to call back. He was quick to decline the call, taking a mental note to call her back later. “And apparently it works like a charm.”
"Not at all," she said softly. If their positions had been reversed, she would've strongly considering going back home and crawling into bed in attempt to forget the morning's events – but objectivity was much easier when she'd seen things play out secondhand. For a moment, she almost felt bad for not intervening, somehow – as though that would've resulted in anything but his coffee finding a way onto her instead of the sidewalk. Still, Del offered the man a smile, tilting her head at the seemingly genuine concern for something that it had seemed – at least from her vantage point – that he had almost no control over.
"Oh, you don't have anything to apologize for," she said, smile lingering as she knelt to see if there was an chance in salvaging any of it. "I am afraid the coffee is a goner, though. Your phone – it didn't break, did it?" She asked, straightening and nodding toward it, now empty coffee cup in her own hand. She quickly looked around the area until her eyes finally landed on a garbage can. Her penance for eavesdropping, she justified, was to at least save him the trouble of scrambling to clean everything up. She made an attempt to toss it into the can, pulling a face as it arced off the side and landed uselessly in the grass. "That," she started, lowering her voice and offering an almost conspiratorial smile, "was embarrassing." She made the few steps to rectify her terrible aim, this time dropping the cup into the bin.
“Oh, but it is,” Patrick insisted with a soft chuckle before giving the leash a gentle tug which was enough for the dogs to settle next to him. He took a moment to collect himself, smoothing a hand down his coat before assessing the damage. Thankfully, the coffee had only splashed down on the ground but neither on the kind stranger, nor himself. The smile she flashed seemed genuine enough though and it was enough to cause Patrick to relax his shoulders and take in another deep breath. It wasn’t a big deal, the more rational part of his brain knew that but another scolded him for not being more careful or alert. It wasn’t his dog’s fault, not in the slightest but he should’ve been more mindful of their surroundings.
Finally mirroring her smile, Patrick gave a small nod. “I’m afraid you might be right about that,” he mumbled, checking his phone for any cracks or scratches. “I think it’s fine – though it wouldn’t be too big of a deal if it broke. Less people to talk to on there and break things in the process,” Patrick joked, the corners of his lips turning up the slightest bit, as if he was just now learning how to implement humor back into his speech. He felt bad when she was quick to kneel and pick up his trash, though he didn’t appreciate it any less. “Thank you,” he said and yet, he couldn’t help the amused grin that found its way onto his features. “In that case, we’re now even,” Patrick commented with a shrug. “Not that I would’ve been more successful. My aim has always been absolutely terrible,” he assured, reaching down absently to pet Meadow soothingly, only to be nosed at by his black lab Jet. “Seriously though, thank you for checking in. You didn’t get anything spilled on you, did you?”
Tallahassee grinned, eyes practically lighting up at the prospect of ally who was even potentially more capable of putting forth a better argument than he’d managed in 140 characters or less. “That, my friend, makes you uniquely qualified – and not just because you’re agreeing with me,” he said, though it was entirely because he was agreeing with him.
He let out a sound that could only be described as a chuff. “If I block him, he wins. I already engaged, locked and loaded, we’re in this until one of us gives up. And it can’t be me, I’m in too deep. You know how little dignity there is in losing to parttimekumdumpster24?” He asked, the question clearly rhetorical, but he paused just long enough to make it seem like there was an actual answer to his inquiry.
“I’ll tell you. Even less than there was in fighting with him in the first place, which is a thing I already did. Partimekumdumpster24. Not even respect for full time, and not good or fast enough to get 0 through 23. I can’t lose, or I spent every day for the rest of my life thinking about how this particular exchange. That’s Dante’s forgotten circle.” He shook his head, like the gesture could reorient his thought process. “Now, if you had to give like, three reasons you did not vibe with New York, what would they be? Feel free to be specific, but know that I already used that dude who stands in the subway station decking the shit outta people – apparently he’s still at, if you didn’t have the pleasure during your stint.” He had but assigned this man the unfortunate task of being his social media manager in the span of time it had taken for Tal to essentially press his iPhone into his hands. It was only with that revelation that he registered the ‘don’t do social media’ bit, nodding in a delayed, confused sort of approval. “No socials huh? You do the whole luddite, no tech past whatever era thing?”
.
While a sense of accomplishment settled within Patrick, he wasn’t exactly sure if the stranger thinking he was uniquely qualified should make him feel proud or scared for himself. He figured, he’d find that out as they went but for now, he’d entertain the idea the other man had of him.
Clearing his throat, Patrick shifted once again. Obviously, there was a point to be made but for someone who wasn’t getting into virtual – or in this case – very real fights with people who resorted to rather questionable usernames, he wasn’t sure that he fully understood what was even going on. He opened his mouth to answer but the stranger beat him to it, making him listen to yet another rant that he wasn’t sure he was following. Whether that was due to the drink he’d had or the situation he found himself in, was yet to be discovered.
Pressing his lips together at the argument, Patrick tried his best to remain serious, brown eyes wide and alert as he nodded in fake understanding. “Right,” he commented. “Definitely Dante’s forgotten circle – who’d want to lose against someone who can’t fully commit,” he sympathized, not quite sure how he managed to get involved in this conversation but at this point, it didn’t exactly feel like a choice anymore. With the question thrown at him, he sat up a little more upright, forehead wrinkling as he thought about it. He had to admit, the memory wasn’t necessarily a terrible one now or maybe he was merely romanticizing those he’d made with his late husband but if he had to list the reasons why he’d nagged about the trip back then, he had to try a little harder to remember. “Oh – Jesus, no – I didn’t get decked. There were a lot of strange people but I was not assaulted,” he clarified, chewing on his lower lip as he tried to come up with his top three, though the question that followed pulled his attention instead. “No, no, it’s not that. It’s just not for me. I wouldn’t know what to use it for, so I never bothered,” Patrick explained, hoping it’d suffice.
“But right, New York,” he brought them back on the topic at hand. “It was loud, I kept getting crowded and people were breathing down my neck. Literally. There was a man that smelled like he’d just bathed himself in a rancid tuna can and he kept asking me if I liked real country music – whatever that may be. I didn’t ask for specifics,” Patrick shuddered at the memory. “The rats did seriously ruin it for me along with the trash laying around,” he went on before taking a breath. “And it was ridiculously expensive.”
Location: Rittenhouse Square Park 🌳
Status: open starter @philly-starters
"Yes, mom - I did have breakfast. No, it wasn't just a coffee, I'm fine! I told you."
There was an agitation to Patrick's tone, one that seemed almost permanently attached at this point whenever his mother started asking questions he was slowly but surely getting sick of. Some of them being "Are you taking care of yourself?" or "Are you doing okay?" The real answer was always no but Patrick knew what she wanted to hear and maybe, in a way, he needed to say it more in order to start believing it himself. Yet, it was tiring and Patrick was always tired anyways so this didn't exactly help his case. He lowered his phone and let out sigh before putting it back up against his ear, a fake smile spreading across his lips so it'd register on the other end of the line. "What about you?" He asked, trying to somehow coordinate holding a phone, a leash that had two dogs attached and a cup of coffee when suddenly a squirrel ran across their path. "Oh shit," Patrick breathed. "No, not you - I - yeah, mom? I gotta go."
That was all he managed to choke out before his day turned into one that seemed like it was taken right out of some over the top romcom if you took away both, the romance and the comedy - at least for the protagonist. One of his dogs had spotted the squirrel and before he could say anything, Meadow, his usually rather calm samoyed, gave her leash a good tug that had Patrick tumbling forward, causing him to drop his phone along with his coffee in the process. The sound was enough for his dogs to focus back on him but the damage was done and he could feel at least one pair of eyes on him in a way that caused a flush to creep up his neck. "Well...that was embarrassing," he said to the person the coffee had splashed in front of and he was quick to reach down to retrieve his phone. "I'm so sorry about that. Is everything okay?" And now, on top of everything, he sounded exactly like his mother.
“Yo, pal, I need you to settle a debate for me,” he said, abandoning his post behind the counter as he settled in gracelessly beside the person he’d decided to corral into his argument. “Los Angeles, or New York? This kid on Twitter is all over my shit because I tweeted Cat Stevens lyrics last night – don’t come at me about it, the dispensary’s got a new supply and I underestimated the power of the right album in the wrong moment. And because he didn’t get it, I had to double down on saying New York is a shitty place, but I don’t know if it’s a shitty place, because the last time I was there was in 2007 and on a lot of drugs. And now the kid has backed me into a corner where I’m defending LA, like it’s not also shitty. I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel here,” he said, extending his phone to display his very well thought out ‘Less rats 🐀’ response in a now twelve-reply deep argument. An argument that Tallahassee was so wrapped up in that he didn’t even consider the consequences of inadvertently letting another person have free reign of his Twitter account. Like it mattered, his last dozen tweets were either song lyrics (not his), or pictures of sandwiches (definitely his). “I can’t let him win. I’ve spent too much time on this to let…” he squinted over at the phone, immediately pulling a face. “Parttimekumdumpster24 – Jesus Christ – win.”
The unfamiliar voice was enough to make Patrick jump a little, not quite expecting someone to approach him in such a way but he turned nonetheless, eyes wide and a sliver of curiosity flashing behind them. “Oh – okay – I mean, yes?” Patrick cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, creating a little bit more space between the stranger and him. Up close, Patrick felt like he’d seen the other man around, which wasn’t all that surprising when you were a regular at a lot of places around town but even knowing the man was a fellow Philly resident, he wasn’t sure if he appreciated him intruding his personal space like this. Loud and brash – not exactly qualities that he was comfortable with. Trying not to be so bitter and judgmental for once though, Patrick let out a long breath – 1, 2, 3 – and tried his best to focus his swimming mind back on the question at hand. Pursing his lips, Patrick couldn’t help the small, helpless chuckle that escaped him. “I’m not sure that I’ll be able to help. I have only been to New York and frankly, I hated every single second of that trip,” he admitted with a crooked smile. His husband had taken him there for a well-meant vacation but Patrick had never been a fan of big cities of that capacity. It was too loud. Too hectic. Too dirty.
Once again, he forced himself to focus and keep his mind from drifting, blinking rapidly as he listened. The guy was honest – Patrick wondered what it was like not to have a filter – but he simply nodded in understanding. “So, what you’re saying is, I’m just as clueless when it comes to New York as you are,” he concluded, chuckling and shifting in his seat once more. “I feel like both places are miserable to live in – at least for me, which is why I’m here and not there an-…,” he trailed off when the phone was suddenly thrust at him, losing his trail of thought.
“Less rats…,” Patrick mumbled as he read out the reply, unable to hold back a snort. “No – that is a solid comeback, I think,” he told him almost too sincerely before his eyes widened once more and he muttered a breathless: “Jesus Christ indeed” at the reveal of the opponent’s username.
“I don’t really know how this whole social media thing works but…can’t you just block ku-,” he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as if to reset himself. “That user? That seems like the easier road to take.”
