Foxtrot and Tango || Simbin
Right so –
It’d been a couple o’ weeks since that whole Hunger Games thing and that had definitely been a bit of a shake up, but he learned quickly from the people he served at work and the people he drank with at the bar that this was a sorta Swynlake thing that happnened every so often. A magic thing. Most of the people who’d grown up here were just dismissin’ it (though there were a few whispers of how this sorta thing was happenin’ more often than it did when they were young, etc, etc; Rob dinnit put much stock in this sorta talk, since most people who looked back on the good old days or what have you will were usually wrong).
Rob was just headin’ outta his shift at Hatters when he spotted a familiar-lookin’ fellow out of the corner of his eye and then pivoted on his foot.
“Oi!” he nearly yelled, waggling a hand as he caught up to the tall man. “Tango – no Simba – it’s me, Rob. Fox, I mean. From the – you know.” He waved a hand. “That whole schtick. Er – nice to meet real you.”
@simba-lyons
