Coconut Grove the day is done, but i'm having fun

well, govinda wasn't spilling the tea. lame. rannveig tried to hide the slight deflation (really, it was only slight -- he promised he wasn't that kind of guy that loved the town gossip) ((not rly, he actually is the town gossip)) that settled on his shoulders.

some clams couldn't be pried open, rannveig had found -- no matter what powerful jaws pried their tough shells, it was time that forced their halls to open. he supposed maybe govinda was not so different; eventually, he might be more forthcoming... but now, tucked between the hard cocoon he had put around his heart, what need did he have to expose its tender meat?

as govinda shuffled the coconut around, rannveig's thoughts went from clams and the complexities of the heart, to his family. he huffed; his family was a much less fascinating subject. "what do you want to know? ford's still stiff as a dry piece of kelp, velen still mouthy as a gull -- and i'm still the handsomest." he said it all tongue in cheek, of course, but it was hard to miss he believed every word of it.