Please Stop Saying "Cornhole"

Cherry Hill 
A Cheeguar BBQ thread

Abe 2 was feeling a little more confident now that he'd waved at all the cheetahs and hadn't thrown up or been hit in the face. He was still lowkey scared of embarrassing the group, as they all probably were, but it seemed doable to be able to play a yard game and eat hot dogs without doing irreparable harm. He kept himself busy dragging the plastic frames industriously across the lawn and dumping bean bags in a pile halfway between them.

Somebody please come and play with Abel.

 Isolde was still feeling prickly about this. She was loathe to leave Yana’s side at first, but eventually loosened up enough to go check out one of these Jaguars. It would be hard to figure out what kind of people they were without engaging them. She guessed.

 Cornhole was a terribly named game but not altogether boring or lame. It was nowhere near as interesting as certain other sports or competitive activities, but... it spoke to her more than giant Jenna.

 "Hey," she greeted the jaguar with an even voice, face largely unexpressive as she studied him. "Am I taking anybody’s spot or... can I play?" How elementary of a question it was, and she would grimace internally for having asked it at all.

One of the cheetahs approached his game, which was a relief, but also he was still kind of nervous because it was one of the very serious and very tall women. (Maybe not very tall, but. Definitely taller than Abel.) He beamed at her and stooped to pick up some bean bags, bouncing slightly on his feet. "Sure, come over! It's um, Isolde, right?" He for sure knew that was her name but wasn't super confident on the pronunciation!

 The man exuded a very genuine sense of friendliness. Isolde eyed his big smile and the energetic movement of him bouncing on his toes. "Yes," she confirmed simply. And he was Abel, but saying it seemed unnecessary. She crouched to pick up some of the bags as well, considering the wooden frames and moving to stand behind one.

 "Tell me something interesting about yourself," she prompted him, attempting to keep her voice closer to gentle. Her eyes moved from his face down to the target, and tossed one of the beanbags underhand at it. There was some satisfaction in watching it flop perfectly into the hole.

Abel fiddled with the bags as he watched her throw, and when the bag sunk cleanly into the hole he was overcome with the feeling of outclassed. He let out a startled Oh! and then laughed, rocking back on one foot. "I have a feeling this isn't gonna go good for me."

He watched as she lined up her next throw and tried to come up with a truly interesting answer, not so easy when you were trying to not remember most of the things that had happened to you in the last ten years. He frowned. "I'm not very interesting. I can ride a unicycle, I guess? When I was little I wanted to grow up and join the circus." Also not that little, he had been fourteen. But nobody needed to know that!

 Isolde would allow a small grin as he voiced his concerns. Isolde was no master cornholer, but remained amused all the same. She eyed the board again, but waited to make her second toss until Abel revealed some precious gem of himself. Unicycling was a factoid that did not disappoint, and Isolde made a face that might explain how she was impressed. "Cool," she said, simply but genuinely, as she moved to send the bean bag towards the hole again. She’d thrown it a bit too hard, and though it initially landed on the board, it’s momentum kept it going until it plopped into the grass near Abel’s feet. Wordlessly, she threw the last bag, and was somewhat placated by the fact that it landed on the board this time, one edge hanging precariously into the hole but not going all the way. "I don’t know if I would have the patience for a unicycle."

"I think adults probably have better things to spend their time on," he replied with a smile, lobbing a bag forward and watching about 3 feet to the left of the board. Well, that was upsetting. "What. How about you, got any interesting secrets?"

 "Eh," she said nonchalantly, observing his stray bean bag where it laid in the grass. "I sometimes make candles." Yes. Super interesting. "Been getting back into martial arts lately." That one made her feel a little better, she decided. At least Charlie could attest to that.

Candlemaking actually sounded kind of cool to Abel, in an archaic, homestead-y way. He carefully hefted another bag as he listened, and this one slid cleanly into the hole with barely a sound, just a gentle bean-rustle from beneath the stand. Mmph that was satisfying! He grinned very proudly over at Isolde, then returned with laser focus to throw his final bag.

Four feet past the goal. Abel was not good at this game; his face fell again. "What kind of martial arts do you do?"

 Isolde watched him toss the bags with mild interest, hands on her hips. Once he had thrown all three of them, she stooped down to gather them up in her hands. "Mm. Mostly jiu jitsu. A little kick boxing," she informed him quietly as she eyed his board. The first bag sailed right over it and landed between Abel's feet. "I was super into jiu jitsu when I was younger but... cat got my tongue, so to speak." Another toss, another bag in the grass just shy of this side of the board. She sighed, and tossed the last one a bit more carefully - it landed on the board, at least, mere inches from the hole.

"That's so impressive," he replied with complete sincerity and more than a little awe; he had managed to not stand out one way or another athletically, and had never developed an interest in a physical hobby in the decades after gym class ended. "Which one is jiu jitsu? Is that the..." He started a wavy hand motion before aborting that in order to not embarrass himself. "The one based on dancing?"

Scooping up the bags, he tried to ask the question in a natural way, as if it were not an insane thing to say to anyone. "How long have you been a cat?"

 Isolde's mostly stoic persona would crack some with Abel's genuine interest. Idly, she thought that he and Charlie would probably get along well. "No. You might be thinking of capoeira. Jiu jitsu is more... grappling. Ground fighting." The explanation came easily, from some bank of relevant knowledge. Isolde put her hands on her hips, a mostly relaxed gesture, tilting her head at the man. There didn't seem to be any humans around, so she would humor him. "Seven years," she said after a moment of counting in her head. Time sure did fly - sometimes it felt longer, sometimes shorter. "You?"

Ground fighting sounded supremely impressive and made Abel feel like a soft weenie in comparison. Over here knowing how to juggle and toot around on a unicycle like a literal clown. "Wow," he responded with a sheepish grin, sending a bag gently through the air.

It landed just a little shy of the hole, drooping over but staying hung on the ledge. "Eight or nine years for me." The next bag another wild failure, landing off in the grass. "Has your group been here for that long?"

His last bean bag flew disastrously as well, sliding up the board and knocking the dangler straight off the back. No professional cornholing for this Were :(.

 Eight or nine. Not too much longer than herself. She hummed a quiet sound of acknowledgment, eyes watching the beanbags as he tossed them. "No. We've been here about a year." This was harmless information, she decided as she bent to pick up the bags again. Her first toss hit the grass a few inches to the side of the board, and the next two shots would seem to show some improvement in her own tosses as the second landed on the board with a soft plop and the third sank cleanly into the hole.

He nodded thoughtfully, scooping up bean bags and checking in on what the rest of the cats were up to. "What do you think of getting new neighbors?"

Asked with a smile and distinctly soft eyes, Abel did his best to seem affiliative and nonthreatening. Since he was Abel, this wasn't difficult to do.

 She considered his question for a short moment, eying the board at her feet. She felt oddly compelled to be kind to him, to not say something like 'well I don't think I really like jaguars so, eh.' Instead, she would settle for something neutral and mostly mild. "I think if everyone behaves, it'll be swell." She offered him a smile that was small but no less genuine. "It smells like that meat's almost done. What do you say we take a lunch break?"

Isolde the Cheetah was as cool as a cucumber, but she smiled, and he thought probably it was sincere. He grinned back. "Sounds perfect!"

One down, he thought bracingly to himself, eyebrows raising as they walked toward Abraham and the grill. Three to go!

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