He wasn't sure what had brought him to a city he didn't call home; whether it was curiosity or insanity would have to be confirmed at a later date. He had rented a loft apartment downtown close to the commercial space he had bought out recently. Back at home he had left his most trusted staff to care for his main building. Elijah had always been fond of the arts: painting, sketching, photography... anything that allowed oneself to express their deepest inner-workings. Still, he couldn't deny his lack of talent so instead he invested on promoting art. He bought it, sold it, collected it and believed his mission was to share art with the world.

All insanity and curiosity aside... one particular art piece had brought him to the faraway city. The signature upon it struck a chord with him. It was the only connection he had to one of his most trusted friends from the past -- one he had been torn away from quite unwillingly. Elijah had paid a pretty penny for said piece as it now hung upon a wall in his loft apartment. Being a businessman with a slew of connections, he followed the trail until it led him to this city. It was then, despite his resolution to find the source of the artwork, to set up shop and expand his business' reach. Elijah was ambitious and stubborn; nothing would deter him from success and getting what he wanted.

Strolling down a busy city side-walk with a cigarette clamped in his lips, a hand rose with his Zippo lighter to ignite the cancer stick. The end blazed cherry red before smoke riveted from the tip, and with a deep exhale he released a pungent puff of smoke from his nostrils. Slipping his cigarette lighter into his slack pants pockets, he held his business jacket flung over his shoulder with two fingers. It was nearing late afternoon and he had spent most of the day closing loose ends with his new shop. With enough money to hire people to set the place up to his liking, Elijah found time to venture further into the belly of the city to sniff out his prey.

"Looks about right." He stood outside of a small local art shop, eyes squinting at the glare of the sun upon the expansive windows. "Hnnn." Reaching out, he pushed the door open before it gave a delightful jingle to signal his presence. Boy, he hoped he had gone to the right place... otherwise he'd have to play the fool and act like he was just here to look around.

Above his shop was where he lived and painted. Atticus didn't want to waste money on a car, on gas, on much more than bus fare if he couldn't walk to wherever he was going. He preferred to save money for paint, canvas, the best quality brushes he could find, and treats for his son Mason. His six year old son seemed to enjoy living in the two floors above the shop, having a unique and interesting home to tell his friends at school about. Mason had been off school today, however, since there was apparently a water main break on the first floor somewhere and the classrooms had been flooded. So while Atticus touched up a current painting---a glen of wildflowers at dusk that he'd had a dream about not long ago---Mason was rolling on the floor making cat noises, and playing with one of the balls of yarn Atticus usually used to string up photos he'd taken.

Finally happy with the finished painting, Atticus cleaned his brush and stored them in their thin, velvet-lined case, closing it up and taking the canvas to a safe place to dry in the studio room. Mason jumped up with the yarn clamped in his mouth and Atticus laughed at him, taking the yarn and putting it on the table. "Y'know that's dirty, don't you?" He asked his son, smiling down. He had his mother's brown hair, but Mason didn't know that. He'd never even seen a picture of his mother, who had died of complications after his birth just several days later. It did hurt to think about---Lily had been sweet and delicate, and he'd really adored her---but love was hard to describe. He'd loved her, or he thought he had. Mason had come from that, after all.

"Blaa." Mason stuck his tongue out. "Yeah, but if I get sick I won't haf'ta go to school!"

"Hah, you're not playing that with me, little man." Atticus ruffled the kid's hair as they stepped into the living room, a large place that had a staircase right in the middle of the room that led up to two bedrooms and a bathroom between. "Go downstairs, we've been on break too long and you got lots of work to do."

"When you gonna start paying me?" Mason turned and crossed his arms, his soft childish features trying to pull off a stern expression Atticus always smiled at despite trying to remain stoic.

"When you get your own job and take this one as a part time. March." He pointed behind Mason, to the doors that led to the stairs that led to the shop below their feet. He'd heard a bell and that acute hearing of his was never wrong. Mason rolled his eyes, but did as told, and Atticus followed quickly behind, running his hands through his wild blonde hair. When he stepped out with Mason into the storefront, behind the long line of counters, he glanced around. "Hey, welcome." He barely glanced at the newcomer as he started around the counters with Mason. "Looking to buy?"

Aside from transitioning from boy to man, Elijah didn't look much different from his youth. Sure, he was taller and more mature looking but he still sported the same thick auburn locks of hair and striking hazel eyes. He was clean shaven which added a breath of youth to his appearance. Having put out his cigarette for the sake of courtesy, both hands were now tucked in his slack's pockets. He rocked on his heels, offering a wry grin. "I figured I'd have a quick look around is all," he paused to look around before the sight of a small boy caught his eye. A brow quirked in curiosity, but he held his tongue for now.

"Hm, things have certainly changed, Attic." Elijah purposely used the nickname to catch the other man's attention. "I thought I recognized your art when I bought the piece," Elijah chose to be vague about which art piece he had gotten his paws on as his hazel eyes continued to scan the shop. "At least your art style hasn't changed much." He brought his attention back to Mason before offering a much gentler gaze. Elijah had a soft spot for kids, but he hardly ever exposed his mushy inner core. He was always on defense, but around children? He didn't have to hide, usually.

When he finally made his way around the counter and the several tables in the way, Atticus had a clear sight of the man and his throat almost closed up. He hadn't recognized the more adult voice but the more mature looks were absolutely unmistakable. He started when Mason threw himself against the back of his legs and pulled his arms around the front of them, peering out at the man. He was usually somewhat shy until Atticus made it clear that someone was safe and friendly. And until now he had barely made a move for favor or aversion.

"Well... Eli... I can see you've hardly changed." Atticus's voice was hoarse, and he paused to clear his throat. Elijah had bought one of his paintings? Which one? Where was it? He'd sold several most recently and they'd been pretty good paydays, but which had Elijah gotten? "Looks like you're doing pretty well if you ask me. Got something good going for you." He looked down, prying Mason off his legs. "Mason, say hi. Elijah is a friend of mine from when I was a kid."

"Like me?"

"Well, a little older, actually..." He looked up to Elijah and bit his lip. They had been teenagers, at least, so it wasn't just 'a little' older. Nonetheless, Mason offered a smile, and pulled away from Atticus to get a better look at Elijah.

To seem less intimidating, Eli came to squat down to Mason's level. "Mason, is it? Nice to meet you." He extended a hand, waiting patiently for the timid boy to take it and give a shake. "Quite the grip you have there, son. You're going to grow up to be quite the slugger." He teased in a friendly manner before gently ruffling Mason's hair with a chuckle. He saw someone else in Mason -- clearly his mother, but he also saw Atticus in the boy. For some reason his heart lurched in his chest.

Elijah began to silently wonder where Mason's mother was but he didn't ask. Instead he drew his attention back to Atticus. "Yeah, funny how the world works. I run an art dealership and I collect art pieces to add to my own collection." In the back of Eli's mind he wondered if fate existed... and if that was what had brought him here. It was too ironic that Atticus' painting end up in his hands.

"How have you been, Atticus?" This time instead of his usually enthusiastic, boyish tone... Elijah's voice had softened. He had a better handle on his emotions than Atticus at the moment, but that didn't mean he wasn't happy to see him... and a bit sad. Nostalgia was swallowing him whole in that very moment.

Atticus couldn't help but smile at Mason and Elijah's interaction. His son was sweet, he was always told, well behaved for a little boy his age. It was no different now and for some reason having Mason act well in front of an old friend was just a little better than usual. He leaned against the counter as Mason excused himself and wandered into the back of the store. It was a pretty large place, and he would hide away under tables or chairs. Atticus turned his attention toward Elijah when Mason was out of sight. Really, how long had it been? Atticus could barely remember, and he felt ashamed that he hadn't thought of his friend for so long. It had taken a while to forget him, but when he had, Atticus hadn't even spared him a passing consideration.

He smiled, but felt it was a little wistful. "I've been... okay. Being a single dad is hard and all, but... When you have a kid that's this well behaved, it's not hard to spend time painting and watching out for him." He shrugged, looking back at his old friend and marveling at how... grown up, yet youthful he looked. Had having a child made Atticus look older than he was? Doubtful, but he sometimes wondered. "How're you, Eli? Running an art dealership, that's pretty big... I never got the hang of business, to be honest... I have a friend handle the numbers since I religiously failed math class." He gave a lopsided smile and chuckle. Math was the bane of his existence, anything more than simple addition, subtraction, multiplication and division was basically impossible for him to get the hang of.

The word single hadn't of gone unnoticed. Had they divorced? Separated? His mind began reeling with questions that dared not pass his vocal chords. Rubbing the back of his neck, Elijah gave a half-laugh. "Eh, nothin' too big if I say so myself. I'm no mathematician but I'm not half bad either. Once I earned enough money to hire people to do my dirty work... I did." He held up his hands in his defense. "But I treat them well, or... I'd like to think I do." Another laugh followed before his shoulders relaxed and he went back to scanning the art.

"I came to say hi to an old friend after all these years, but... I also came on business." Taking interest in one painting in particular, Elijah stood before it and began to look at it in detail. "I've been thinking I might buy some more art from you but... I haven't decided yet." With his back to Atticus, his sly smile was well hidden. "Think you have time to sit down with me tomorrow and discuss business?" He rose a brow, peering over his shoulder to give Atticus a more serious glance. "It'll be on me. You can even bring Mason."

Atticus put his hands on the counter behind him and lifted himself up, sitting on the edge and folding one leg over the other. He wouldn't admit just how glad he was to see Elijah, even though the continuously dropping sensation in the pit of his stomach said much more than he wanted to acknowledge. He smiled, though---there was little doubt that Elijah did well by his employees. They probably loved him.

He widened his eyes when Elijah turned back to him, and when he tried to speak his voice caught in his throat. Atticus had never really had someone show such interest in his art as a whole. He got commissions, did them well, and sold them for a pretty penny, but as a whole he didn't have sponsors, steady buyers, ad space anywhere in the city. He was well known in some circles, but by the most part he was still considered a budding artist. "Um... Well, yeah, I mean... I'll be honest, I don't really know the first thing about business, that's why I've got a friend to handle most of it... But I wouldn't mind." He quirked his mouth into a smile again and nodded. If it were anyone else he wouldn't have trusted them. But Elijah was truthful, Atticus knew that it hadn't changed. He was a good guy, and always had been, really. And he wanted to keep the guy around a bit more now that he came walking back into Atticus' life. He wouldn't let that go to waste.

Elijah had always been the class clown and a mischief maker, but it was all in good humor and intent. He was a trouble maker as a teen, but he always took the fall for his messes. It was always in good spirits and his philosophy had been life was too short, so it was better to laugh and enjoy it. He was always able to adapt to most any social situation. Hearing Atticus' response, Elijah's expression brightened. "Great, sounds like a plan. How about tomorrow afternoon? I'll meet you here and you can show me somewhere new. I haven't exactly had time to explore the city... I've been busy setting up shop."

Bringing his gaze over to Mason who was quietly occupying himself with some of his toys, Elijah gave a crooked smile. "Try and convince your dad to take us somewhere fun, alright Mason?" He gave the boy a wink before turning on his heel towards the exit. "Choose about ten or twenty of your best art pieces for me, would yah Attic? Take pictures, if you can, and bring them with you. We have a lot to discuss!" Digging in his coat pocket, he grabbed a business card before waving it playfully and strolling over to Atticus. He placed it on the counter beside his friend, their gazes meeting briefly.

It was then he felt an unfamiliar zap of emotion to his heart and he quickly tore his stare away. "See you tomorrow, alright?" And with that he pretended to tip an invisible hat atop his head before taking his leave. He needed fresh air... and he needed time to collect himself. Why had that been so difficult?

Turning his gaze to Mason, Atticus was glad to see he'd seemed to warm up well to Elijah. He smiled and nodded and sat to watch them, turning a LEGO around in his hands. When he looked back to Elijah, Atticus' eyes fell in line with his friend's, and his heart seemed to palpitate in his chest and then pause. He somehow managed a smile and nod before Elijah left, and then he turned to stare blankly at the painting he had been looking at. That stillness in his chest, like his heart had ceased its beating momentarily to leave him struggling for breath and lightheaded... it felt familiar, and then brought the memory itself back. It became a shadow, then started to sharpen, and Atticus shook his head hard to get rid of it. He wasn't like... them. Not different. 'Unnatural'. Wrong. He glared at the painting, a little blonde girl he saw on the street one day. She had looked exactly like a little angel. Sliding off the counter, Atticus grabbed the card off the counter and stuffed it in his jeans pocket, and turned to find Mason approaching.

"Where we gonna go tomorrow?" He asked, trying to pry two LEGOs apart.

"We're gonna talk to Eli about buying some paintings, Mase." Atticus smiled, going back around the counter to fish out a camera. It was a professional Nikon with a variety of lenses to catch the right image in the right light, and this camera was one he used to catch pictures in the artificial lighting of his downstairs shop. "C'mon, let's get some together so I can take some photos. We'll do about... fifteen, eh?" He and Mason stepped into the heart of the shop, searching and picking, and lying out the paintings in a stack. He picked a few landscapes, a couple old Victorian houses, some people he saw out and about. There were a few close-up views of intricate flowers he saw in floral shops. After gathering these, Atticus paused and stared around, crossing his arms. "Need a few more..." He muttered.

Mason knocked on a door that Atticus always kept closed. "How 'bout some in here?"

Atticus widened his eyes. "No, Mase, get back. I don't think... Actually... Yeah. You stay out here, okay?" He passed his son, who nodded and went to clean up his toys as Atticus unlocked that door and slid inside. He trusted Mason not to come in without his permission, or to go to the door if someone came in. He stored certain paintings and pictures here, however. Darker things, Gothic styled, with dark, bold blacks and reds and a lot of royal colors. He photographed several of these first, because he didn't like showing them to Mason.

Much to Elijah's dismay, it was extremely hard for the male to achieve restful slumber. He tossed and turned in his bed, very aware of the lonely silence that suffocated the air around him. Instead, that night, he settled for a cup of sleepy time tea and a book to keep him company. He had gone through a few boxes of his unpacked belongings from the move, surprised to stumble upon a book gifted to him as a teen by none other than Atticus himself. It were as if fate were screaming to him that everything was slowly falling into place.

It didn't take long after his cup of tea and about a hundred or so pages for Eli to succumb to sleep. He awoke early the next morning to attend business, anticipation high for his meeting with Atticus and Mason. When the clock struck time for him to meet the two, Elijah made a point to pass a local candy store. Strolling in, he selected a small baggy of mix and match candy he thought Mason would enjoy. What kid enjoyed business meetings? Elijah's logic was: why not treat the kid for coming and behaving himself? Admittedly, he was a bit shocked to see his long time friend with a kid of his own due to past circumstances, but he liked Mason nonetheless.

With the baggy tucked in his coat pocket, Elijah strolled into the store and just as yesterday the bell chimed to alert them of his presence. "Yo! Anyone home?" He joked, giving a crooked grin when he heard the sound of light footsteps running down the stairs. Mason was the first in sight, peeking around the corner with a somewhat shy grin. It was an odd relief to see the kid didn't seem to hate him.

"Hey Mason. Your father around? I brought you somethin'... but I think I'll keep a hold of it until you tell me where we're goin'." He gave a playful wink, reminding Mason that he had instructed the boy to pick somewhere for them to go. Heck, Elijah would have settled for McDonald's if it kept Mason happy. Still, he was hoping for a bit of privacy... like at a park or something where they could select a spot off to the side.

Mason was a little late to bed because he wouldn't take no for an answer---he was going to stay and help Atticus set up the paintings to photograph, then carry them back to where they were before. The kid had basically grown up in the shop, so he knew where each thing went as if it were second nature. And when Atticus carried him upstairs at nearly eleven, the kid snapped right awake and demanded a story from none other than his favorite book: City of Bones. Why the kid loved a book meant more for teenagers was beyond Atticus, but he always promised to fall asleep after a chapter or two. Tonight was a single chapter, however. Atticus had barely turned the page and Mason had gone still and silent. Though it was harder for Atticus, who was lying wrapped in his blanket like a mummy and staring at the ceiling, thinking about Elijah. It felt like so long had passed, and yet here he was, looking slightly older and much wiser. It had to be that businessman air that made him look like he knew what he was doing. That fitted suit. Atticus had almost felt like a bum in comparison in his old, worn tee-shirt and jeans. Finally, he didn't know what time, he closed his eyes and opened them only when light streamed in the window.

They ate breakfast before going downstairs to open the shop for the day. While he was there, Atticus got a few people stepping in and looking around, and one asked to call later that evening for a commission. His heart had leapt at that, and he'd agreed immediately. And as he stared at the clock, wondering when Elijah would be by, Atticus realized he had forgotten his camera upstairs and raced up the old stairs. When he was halfway down, he heard his friend speaking to Mason, and Mason's reply, which had the air of confidence one would only find in a lawyer that was far, far too sure of himself:

"We're going to the lake in the park." Mason said, and when Atticus turned to enter the show room, he saw the little boy with his arms crossed and his shoulders squared. "Dad says it's his favorite place. And it's mine too!" His confidence cracked when he smiled, and Atticus grinned at him. "Dad! Your friend's here. Should I charge 'im for standing around?"

Atticus laughed. "Mace, we don't do that. Besides, you're going to the park today, you should be glad."

"I am!" Mason wrinkled his nose. "I'm gonna get my stuff. Don't go and leave me ahind!" His childish demeanor came out in that moment and Atticus felt warmth for the boy. His boy. Sure, he hadn't expected to have a child at all, but now that he did, it was a choice he wouldn't take back. When they were alone, he looked at Elijah. "Hey, I got about fifteen photos here... I decided to go as diverse as I could, so you can see a bit of everything..." He didn't have a favorite style, but loved painting surreal landscapes and adding a little fantasy to reality. He just hoped Elijah would like them. It was a dreadful, bone-deep fear that no one would ever take a liking to his work, and he and Mason would be having a bit of a hard time all their life. He wanted to be able to let Mason have a real house, a real yard outside the heart of the city, but that was still high in the air. Something Atticus just couldn't bear trying to think of as a reality someday, in case it never was.

"I heard that!" Elijah chuckled at Mason's clever comment, rocking on his heels as he often did when he was idle. Shaking his head, the male blew his unruly bangs from his line of sight. Outside of his business attire, Eli chose to wear a simple button up long sleeved shirt and jeans. It was a trait to be always be well-dressed. Having been raised in a low-income household, Elijah had a slight complex with money and constantly having it. He wanted to never go without like he did growing up, and he made a point to give to those who had less. All personal ties aside, it was partly why he stood in Atticus' shop that very moment; although Atticus wasn't on the streets and flat broke... he wanted better for his friend and Mason.

Finally, when Atticus appeared at the foot of the stairs Elijah gave a nod in greeting. "Good. I like a little bit of everything," he teased while flashing a grin. There was no denying it -- Elijah was flirtatious by nature, and even now Atticus was no exception to that fact. However, he breezed right into the next subject while awaiting Mason's arrival. "We'll sit down at the park somewhere quiet so we can go through them together. I'm not especially worried about it, though. Unless your style took a sudden drastic turn, I always did admire your work in high school." The quiet was interrupted by Mason's arrival. The boy had an arm full of toys and the sort of pride that wouldn't allow anyone to help him carry them. "Ready?" Elijah chuckled, amused by Mason's antics before the trio set off.

He allowed Mason and Atticus to lead the way while enjoying the warm Spring weather. It was around seventy-five with a cool breeze and not a dark cloud in the sky. When they arrived, he was pleased to note how empty the park was that day. It was why he chose to meet on a weekday before 5PM. Mason instantly scouted out a park bench near the lake side, bounding towards it before placing his loot upon the table top.

"I'm going to go feed the ducks! I promise I won't wander too far or nothin'!" Mason beamed up at his dad, holding a baggy full of old bread pieces that he had gathered specifically for this event. He bounded off towards the waters edge near a hand full of ducks and their ducklings, standing tall as he opened the baggy and began to feed them. Normally, the boy would squat to get closer to them... but he certainly didn't want to compromise his 'mature' appearance in front of Elijah so instead he remained standing.

Elijah shook his head, chuckling again. "He has your brains, but the confidence? Must be from his mother's side. Last I checked I was always stepping in for you," Elijah teased, smirking before bringing his gaze towards the images Atticus had in tow. "Show me what you've got."

Initially Elijah's praise about his work had put Atticus in a half-dream state. He was still seated on the earth, but his mind had decided to raise above the clouds. He heard people say how much they liked his works, some more than others, these better than that, the landscapes more beautiful than the houses and such. But Elijah coming back and saying that since high school he had loved Atticus' work put a slight spring in his step. He could allow himself to drift a bit, Mason was smart enough not to wander away, and Elijah was there in case Atticus entirely lost his mind. But one of Mason's favorite places was the park, for quite obvious reasons. He could feel the grass and climb trees like he couldn't otherwise. He kept a close eye on Mason when he went to the lakeside with his bread for the ducks, but decided to let the kid go on his own to focus on his friend. Even casual, Elijah had a well dressed appearance. Atticus almost bemoaned his plain, thin white tee-shirt and old blue jeans, which happened to be his favorite combination.

"Yeah, I missed having someone step up after it all." He said with a light wistfulness. Elijah's stubborn, outgoing demeanor had offset Atticus's quiet, rather less-than-confident side, but he'd always been lacking. Lacking quietly, so few even knew how hopeless he felt his work was sometimes. He had certainly missed that, and only just realized it. He unhooked the camera from around his neck and turned it on, looking through the lens for a moment before pressing the 'view' button. "Most are... well, you've seen some things like them before but there are some I really... don't show..." He shrugged a little, as if it was't quite as important as he felt it was. The darker paintings, the ones he rarely, if ever, sold. They all had meanings, but he never tried to think any up. Considering the thought that their existence was just born of his own inner angst was something he didn't really want to put into actual words. So he handed the camera off, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning his gaze to Mason. He had half a dozen eager young ducks quacking around his feet, and the boy was laughing as their feathers ruffled around his ankles.

Taking careful hold of the camera, Elijah quietly began to view the pictures Atticus had taken. He took his time, observing details to the best of his ability through the pictures. For now the idea was simply to gather an idea of what he'd be showcasing. Inhaling before giving a deep sigh-like exhale through the recesses of his nose, Eli handed the camera back to Atticus. He slouched forward, elbows resting on the table top before chuckling and ruffling his fingers through his auburn hair.

"We'll have to introduce some of those to the public a bit slowly, but... I dig it." He saw the inner turmoil that those paintings depicted; deep human emotion that not everyone would support, but still Elijah was determined. "Do you think you can handle being put into the spotlight, Attic?" A brow quirked upward in questioning, worried over his past friend's shy and off set demeanor. "You'll have to become used to having a hand in business -- nothing drastic, because I'll be around to help you... but you'll also have to sacrifice a few nights of good sleep."

He laughed, although serious about losing some sleep. Setting up an art showcase took a lot of hard work and passion. There would be finances, advertising, setting up... all of it. This wouldn't be Elijah's first go around so he doubted there would be too many kinks to smooth out. Still, deep down... he most looked forward to working with Atticus one on one.

Atticus didn't realize he was holding his breath until it came rushing out of him in a swift puff and a smile took its place. Elijah wasn't disappointed, at least. He couldn't help but laugh at Elijah's mention of 'a few sleepless nights'. "Eli, come on. I got a kid, I had nothing but sleepless nights when he was between newborn and one year. And let's not forget sicknesses. And being an artist, my schedule is all wonky, so I'm usually up until three or four in the morning just to finish a painting I'm especially inspired with." He put his hands back in front of him and laughed quietly. "I guess I'm in a good place with it, y'know?"

Then he studied his friend. Elijah had always worried over him, his shy, easily-walked-on personality while in school taking him to new lows. But he wasn't like that now. "Eli, don't worry about me. I don't run a shop entirely by wishful thinking, I'm not as shy as I used to be. You have to talk to people in my job too. You have to understand what they want. You have to sit down for hours to get the right template, the right idea and style, and you can't go hide in your shell if they get too demanding or insistent. And having a first grader helps too. I have to talk to his teachers, and other kids his age, and I've gone on a couple field trips with him to very public places that force me to interact with people... It's been a while, Eli, so... I'm not too easily pushed around anymore." Maybe it was just hard for Elijah to see that. After all, when they had parted Atticus had barely been able to hold a conversation with a teacher, let alone a peer. Maybe Eli had trouble seeing beyond that younger Atticus. But if Eli were staying in town---living in town, so nearby---they could get back to that friendship they used to have. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he was almost desperate for that. He barely had a friend, after all.

Elijah shrugged and held up his hands. "I'm just sayin'..." he tried to relax again. "S'been awhile since someone has ruffled your hair, huh?" By ruffling hair, he meant tease. Although Elijah was a year older than Atticus, he still held onto some childish traits. He loved teasing people and being a goofball every chance he got; he was able to be serious when need be, though. Behind it all, however, were troubles of his own.

Elijah didn't shut down -- he skirted around things... usually. "You're ahead of me in the whole family department." He chuckled, peering over to watch Mason as he attempted to climb a tree. "I never really thought about it with my lifestyle." 'Lifestyle' -- the vague way of saying 'sexuality'. For the moment he, as expected, skirted around it before giving a yawn and rubbing his fingers through his hair again. "We'll start first thing in the morning... maybe after you drop Mason off at school?"

Atticus shrugged and smiled. He didn't want to admit that the last time someone had joked around with him had been quite a long time back. More than a few years. And that was only because he didn't like letting others in that much. But Elijah was different, of course. He was still Atticus' friend. And Atticus was sure he could see in his friend what few others could, even without trying.

He nodded shallowly, glancing back at Mason. He knew what Eli meant when he mentioned his lifestyle. He'd learned that quite a while back firsthand. Breathing in, Atticus glanced back at Elijah and nodded. "Yeah, first thing tomorrow. I get him to school before eight, so we'll have five hours on our own..." He smiled, thinking about the prospect of actually being with his friend, one-on-one, after so long. Sure it was to talk business, but it didn't mean that was all they could talk about. He fidgeted with his hands. "Uh, hey, y'know, when we're done here Mason and I are probably gonna stick around here for a while. He doesn't get too much time with grass and open air like this, so... we kind of take as much time as we can here. You can stay, if you want. Maybe catch up if you've got the time." Of course, being an adult meant there wasn't as much time to just sit around and talk. And catch up with years of no contact.

With Mason well out of the way of the possible effects, Eli pulled out his pack of cigarettes. Smacking it onto his palm a couple of times, he fished out a single cigarette before clamping it gently between his lips. Once his pack of cancer sticks were slipped back into his pocket he fetched his lighter and set the cig in his mouth ablaze. He inhaled, tilting his head away from Atticus before exhaling and giving a nod. "I've got a few hours to spare." He replied, offering a smile, hardly protesting the idea of catching up with an old friend.

Reclining as best he could at a park bench, he continued to enjoy his cigarette before his hazel gaze settled upon the blonde male. "So... what happened after you and your family moved?" Elijah had always wondered what took place once Atticus was swept away from him. He had spent many years feeling angry and resentful towards their parents, but over time it dissipated. Hell, for many years, Atticus barely passed over his mind. It wasn't until he got a hold of that painting did he focus his attention back on his past friend, and first lover.

Atticus had been thinking about that. When Elijah brought up what happened after they were separated, after Atticus had been forced to move out of their shared hometown to this particular city, a lot had happened, and not much of which he enjoyed remembering. But he had almost dreaded recapping it. "Well..." He fidgeted, looking anywhere but at Eli for a moment. His gaze settled on Mason, who had actually managed to get onto the lowest branch of the tree he had his sights on. Finally, he put his eyes back on his friend.

"Well, the watered-down version is that after we moved my parents tried some... tactics to get the 'demons' out of me. When it wouldn't work they sent me to a... one of those Christian camps. More like a concentration camp with pretty letters. After I got out of that hell I was kind of lost for a while. I met Mason's mother, Lily, drunk one night, and kind of made some stupid decisions. My family demanded I marry her because having a child out of wedlock is almost as bad as my 'unpure' thoughts. So I did, it was a quick, little ceremony, and the night Mason was born, the doctors couldn't get her blood pressure under control. She fell into a coma and two days later, died. So I had Mason on my own, but I don't regret it. He's kept me sane."

He offered a pale smile to Elijah, but stopped there. He'd thought about his friend nearly every day. Before Mason, that was what had kept him sane. "That's about it. I started selling my paintings, got enough money to get that shop I have now but not enough to get a house or apartment. I'd rather have a house, for Mason to have a yard. It's just kind of hard. Anyway... how've you been doing? I mean, it's obvious you're well, with everything how it is..."

Elijah listened silently for the most part, but his expression was twisted with a strange mixture of anger, sorrow, and sympathy. He could never imagine the sort of mental torture Atticus went through; surely his friend was mentally scarred by it all. Eli was afraid to pick at old wounds by asking more questions. The last thing he wanted to do at the moment was reopen those wounds and pour salt into them. Inhaling a deep puff of smoke, he let the poisonous gas fill his lungs before exhaling slowly away from Atticus. "I was never fond of your family," he mumbled gently, the scowl still prevalent upon his face. He gave a slow sigh, shoulders slumping.

"I'm glad you've done better for you and your son though." And he meant it. However, when the subject turned to him he gave a light shrug and his trademark crooked smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Things changed after you left. I guess you can say I became a bit more responsible." Atticus had always kept Elijah in check when they were a pair. "After my father passed away from cancer, my mom needed all the help she could get. I started working two jobs and gave her what money I could. That's when I decided I'd do better for us... for myself." Once he had settled into his current career and stock piled some money, he bought his mother a new home and car.

He paid in cash so neither of them would have to worry about paying anything off, just your general taxes and such. Running his fingers through his hair, he put out his cigarette with the heel of his shoe. It gave a crunch against the pavement as his shoe worked into the ground. "Other than that? Nothing really. Worked, graduated, went to college for business... and... here I am." He shrugged, his eyes turning to watch Mason. "Funny how it worked out."

Atticus had to smile at that. He knew Eli hadn't really liked his family. Whenever he mentioned them Eli would change subtly, as if holding back from saying a lot of nasty things. But he couldn't blame the guy. Atticus had to live with them, and after they'd been found out the nightmare had become more acute. He hadn't taken a moment to wish what came before to be different, however. He nodded when Eli gave his own shorthand version of what happened after they had been pulled apart. He'd liked Eli's family well enough, and was sad to hear that his father had died and he hadn't even heard before now.

He turned a bit to face Elijah and gave a little smile. "Well, I'm glad it worked out for you, Eli. You really deserve it." In school he would mention that Eli was pretty much smart and able enough to build up such a massive empire that he'd own half the world someday. He'd played it off as a joke, but had never admitted to being entirely serious. Seeing where Eli was now, Atticus was pretty sure his predictions had been more or less accurate. He followed Eli's gaze to Mason, who had tumbled onto his backside after taking a jump from the lowest branch. "You be careful!" He called, scolding.

"Okay, okay!" Mason waved, playing off the fall as if it were nothing. Atticus rolled his eyes and looked back at Elijah.

"I so can't pay for a broken limb right now..." He sighed. He spent half his free time making sure Mason was free of illness, getting him to like vegetables and fruits and somehow it worked---the kid loved things most kids would gag at the mere sight of. But no amount of healthy eating or running around would serve for a broken limb.