(no subject)

It was hot out. It was the spike, mid-spring, same as ever. It would cool off again and there would be storms, and then more storms going into summer, but today the weather was clear and the sun was bright and Rogue had the power of a locomotive stored in her biceps, so she took to the baseball field in cut offs, sneakers and a cropped t-shirt. It as something to do that, perhaps ironically, didn't require her being around other people.

There had been a good run of years where they'd kept it pretty full the whole season. Multiple teams, trading, people sitting in the stands. It had been good times. Their rosters were pretty empty, these days.

She went to the equipment shed and grabbed three bats, tucking them over her shoulder, and hefted the mesh bag of baseballs they'd accumulated over the years. Some had been made on the island, most were gifts from the island gods. She could spot the ones Toby Ziegler had left behind because they were well made but utterly chewed up by so many seasons' hard use. She sensed someone else there before she saw them, and was already drawling "You just gonna stand there gawkin' or make yourself useful?" as she turned.

The question lost a little of its punch at the end when she saw it was Remy.

"Oh. Guess that answers that."