"The ice floe?" He raised an eyebrow, smiling despite the perceived seriousness of the story. It wasn't a true threat, more of a boogeyman story that was passed from the First Nations onto gullible Canadian children. He obliged anyway, telling what he could remember, which unfortunately, wasn't much.
Buck had a bad memory for anything that wasn't a grudge, combined with a belief that there was little need to remember the past. "N'importe, one day as a child I nearly shot the neighbor's dog. Nothing serious," He quickly added, in case the story made him sound like a serial killer, "Merely a lack of knowledge in safety, and poor timing." He'd ignored the 2nd law of gun safety, to never point the barrel at anything he wasn't prepared to shot.
"My father was ah, être en mosus. He threatened to drop me on an ice floe and send me out to sea, like the folk tales I'd read in êcole maternelle. He thought it'd scare me, or frighten me enough into apologizing." He chuckled, thinking about how frustrating it must have been to have a bullheaded child, and how much trouble he must have given his parents. He didn't appreciate them enough, he supposed, the alcohol making him feel more appreciative than usual. "When he learned it didn't work, he made me clean mow their lawn instead, for an entire year."
He scratched behind his ear as he finished, knowing full well his story had a rather lame ending. "Here, I've given you plenty of stories of mine, it's only fair for you to share." He raised his glass, pointing the neck to Legolas to indicate it was his turn.
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Buck had a bad memory for anything that wasn't a grudge, combined with a belief that there was little need to remember the past. "N'importe, one day as a child I nearly shot the neighbor's dog. Nothing serious," He quickly added, in case the story made him sound like a serial killer, "Merely a lack of knowledge in safety, and poor timing." He'd ignored the 2nd law of gun safety, to never point the barrel at anything he wasn't prepared to shot.
"My father was ah, être en mosus. He threatened to drop me on an ice floe and send me out to sea, like the folk tales I'd read in êcole maternelle. He thought it'd scare me, or frighten me enough into apologizing." He chuckled, thinking about how frustrating it must have been to have a bullheaded child, and how much trouble he must have given his parents. He didn't appreciate them enough, he supposed, the alcohol making him feel more appreciative than usual. "When he learned it didn't work, he made me clean mow their lawn instead, for an entire year."
He scratched behind his ear as he finished, knowing full well his story had a rather lame ending. "Here, I've given you plenty of stories of mine, it's only fair for you to share." He raised his glass, pointing the neck to Legolas to indicate it was his turn.