Tonight there was a farmer's market in this area. Across one of the baseball fields, judging from the tents he could see in the distance. This being Nachton, just because the sun had recently gone down didn't mean everyone closed up and went home. Cris was working, because while they came close they couldn't always manage to mesh their schedules, and Rowan had a mind to come pick up some local produce, fruits, vegetables, cheeses, easy things that did not require heat to prepare, and make a nice light dinner for them to share with a bottle of wine.
He passed by the playground, as usual drawn to the kids playing there. There were some bored moms standing around chattering and one taller woman obviously playing with the children. There was a lot of running about happening, and he couldn't quite make out what was happening.
As he skirted the edge of the playground the crack of a baseball bat sounded in the distance from one of the fields. Rowan turned toward it, shading his eyes against the stadium floodlights to see if someone had hit a home run. As he turned back he heard someone yell, "Watch out!"
He collided chest to chest with a young boy and they both went down in a tangle of limbs. Something old, metal, and green slipped from the boy's grasp and landed on Rowan's chest. He looked at it. A tiny, rusty metal frog, faded and worn.
"He has Sir Hopsalot!" Someone else yelled.
Then, from his other side, "Get the treasure!"
Cupping the little frog against his chest Rowan sat up to see two groups of very enthusiastic kids barreling toward him.
((ooc: Rowan is wearing faded, distressed and torn jeans over black boots. He has on a deep turquoise tee and a grey hoodie over it. The usual array of nuts and bolts as well.
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