Lá Bealtaine [open thread, come one come all]

[CourtCat]

"Relatively, I guess. I've been here more than a year, less than two," replies Reese as he shifts his plate to answer Calden's offered hand; he isn't so young up close as he appears from further away. The corners of his eyes and mouth are lightly lined by both smiles and difficulty in ways that imply he's nearer to thirty than he is to twenty-five. There are hints of being careworn. (It should be said, perhaps, that there's nothing of Breeding about Reese. Any resemblance to family heroes is topical only, though that particular distinct jaw, shape of eyebrows, can be found in far more than just these two Evanses.) At any rate, the shake is firm and warm, comfortable and confident. Reese has an artist's hands with long, thin fingers deceptive in their delicacy.

"You? A transplant, or a lifer?"