Foreman followed Amber to the bench, sitting down next to her. His fingers, wrapped around the small paper cup of coffee, were burning on one side, still frozen on the other. He finished his corndog in a few monster bites, just to avoid making any more of a mess. Wiping the mustard off on the napkins was only partially effective, so he looked around before sucking the rest of it off his fingers. The mustard was the perfect sharp contrast to the sweetness of the corn breading, and the whole thing left him more content than if he'd sat down to a three-course meal at a restaurant. Foreman was willing to attribute that to the company, though. "Some kind of wiles." He shifted over, closer to Amber, and draped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "Warding off hypothermia," he said, comfortably rationalizing.
"I can see you taking that role to heart," he teased. "How did your brothers feel about being your minions?" Taking a sip of his coffee, and immediately burning his tongue--it was like the watery, boiling-hot chocolate he'd always gotten as a kid at the skating rink--Foreman considered the costumes he'd worn over the years. "I was a doctor once," he said, with a snort at his little-kid self. So damn serious. But, other years-- "Black Lightning," he said. "I loved that comic." He'd tackled Marcus a few times, using the impeccable excuse that it was just his electric forcefield doing it. For some reason, his mom hadn't taken that logic at face value. She'd said that any forcefield that could knock over a younger brother would also prevent any candy from getting anywhere near his mouth. Foreman shook his head, his breath slipping out in a sigh. The memory was a good one, but it only reminded him of what he didn't have anymore with his family. Marcus wouldn't think of it fondly, and Mom wouldn't remember at all--or if she did, she'd get stuck in that moment, and she wouldn't remember who he was now. Foreman tightened his hold around Amber's shoulders and fell silent, watching the stream of screaming kids flow past but not really seeing them.
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"I can see you taking that role to heart," he teased. "How did your brothers feel about being your minions?" Taking a sip of his coffee, and immediately burning his tongue--it was like the watery, boiling-hot chocolate he'd always gotten as a kid at the skating rink--Foreman considered the costumes he'd worn over the years. "I was a doctor once," he said, with a snort at his little-kid self. So damn serious. But, other years-- "Black Lightning," he said. "I loved that comic." He'd tackled Marcus a few times, using the impeccable excuse that it was just his electric forcefield doing it. For some reason, his mom hadn't taken that logic at face value. She'd said that any forcefield that could knock over a younger brother would also prevent any candy from getting anywhere near his mouth. Foreman shook his head, his breath slipping out in a sigh. The memory was a good one, but it only reminded him of what he didn't have anymore with his family. Marcus wouldn't think of it fondly, and Mom wouldn't remember at all--or if she did, she'd get stuck in that moment, and she wouldn't remember who he was now. Foreman tightened his hold around Amber's shoulders and fell silent, watching the stream of screaming kids flow past but not really seeing them.