date/time: march 30th, night location: the docks open
despite the fact this is where most of the dead bodies he has to dispose of ends up, amycus enjoys being at the docks. this is the closest he’s ever been to living near water all his life, and he tries to make the most of it. he still remembers the stories his mother used to tell him, the photographs she would show -- she’d grown up in a little japanese fishing town, and she’d told him that when people died, they all went back to the waters.
well, he doesn’t know if his mother is waiting for him in the murky waters near new york city, but something about being here calms him down.
there’s no one else around, or at least he thinks, and he has managed to sneak onto one of the tiny fishing boats by the docks, if only to be able to dip his feet in the water underneath. eyes closed, he barely notices someone approaching him until he’s tapped on the shoulder, and he nearly falls forward.
“sorry,” he says, almost instinctively, eyes going a little wide. “i’m -- sorry. is this -- is this your boat?”
