"James, I hope you plan to finish that sandwich before it attracts any ants," Said his mother with a teasing smile as she huffed. "And would you pay attention? My goodness, mayonnaise on your shirt, really? You've not even finished half of it!" She fussed, reaching forward.

However, the boy of no more than thirteen pulled away, his eyes absolutely glued to the gaming device in his hands. "Mum! I'm... Ugh, I'm about to get my fifth badge!" He whined, not really caring about food or the mess he'd made on himself as he read the words on the screen and commanded whatever game he was playing.

"Seriously, James... are you ever going to look up and around you?" She asked, only to see him shake his head in response. Didn't he only just get that game the other day..? Then again, she never knew what he was talking about, so she only sighed and glanced about the outdoor potluck.

Families sat on blankets, chatting and laughing as they enjoyed the food. Some people stood in groups and even so there were several frisbees to be thrown and footballs to be kicked back and forth. James, however, moved to lay down on his stomach, holding his videogame beneath a tree, a clear look of concentration on his face. He heard his name being called, but he was so intent on the electronic in his hand that it went into one ear and out the other, buttons being mashed.

"James! Your father is calling you, put your game down and pay attention," She scolded seriously.

The boy looked over at her, surprised - he hadn't realized he was being called. He put his game down and looked over, "Sorry, dad, what?" He called back, sitting up onto his knees.

"Get over here and kick the football around a bit," Came the reply as a ball was dropped to the ground and held under his foot.

James sighed and looked at his game, hesitating before he heard his mother, "Don't you even think about it." He groaned and climbed to his feet, at which point she reached forward with a wipe in hand and cleaned off the spot on his black sleeveless shirt.

"Walk a little slower, you pillock," Chimed in a boy of about seventeen. Matt, James' brother, had dark brown hair like their mother, unlike James, who took after their father's young white hair.

"Matt! Watch it, that's your little brother."

James stuck his tongue out teasingly, "Yeah, Matt! I'm too sensitive," He said, feigning offense as the ball was kicked off.

It was merely a game of passing it around, none of them were professional, but it got them all moving and bonding. Matt, however, was always very athletic; he was strong, fast, and rather intelligent. James, on the other hand, was absolutely in love with technology - everything from games to programs, he was glued to it. That didn't mean he detested sports or activity, though he lacked the coordination in his feet and had terrible aim with his kicks. One couldn't help but commend him for his effort and vigor in the game, even if it did make it that much harder for Matt or his father to receive the ball. Finally, as the ball came to him once more, he took a couple of steps back and then ran forward and slammed the side of his foot into it as hard as he could. It flew right past the larger boy and bounced across the small field of grass straight into the eating space of another family, where it knocked into plates and kicked up food. James stood, dumbfounded as Matt bolted after the ball.

"Oh god, sorry," He apologized, "My brother isn't very good at this sort of thing and I wasn't fast enough to catch the ball that time."

"Hey!" James yelled as he came up from behind, red in the face, "I'm not that bad - you're just too slow!" A hand was placed on his head and his hair ruffled as his brother laughed.

"He'll happily help you clean up here and get you more food if you need it," Matt said, ignoring the boy before turning around.

Finally, their father joined the mix, "Boys, stop. I swear, if you two don't stop I'm... well, I dunno, but you can bet your ass when I figure it out you'll wish you were better to each other," He threatened unconvincingly. "Oh, hey," He said, recognizing the members of hte family, "You're the Watsons, right? I think I've seen you at the school before, I think James here and your daughter are classmates, right?"

James turned a bright red and looked up, as if asking why it mattered. "Yes, dad. Sasha and I go to school together... God, why do parents think that just because people go to school together, they're friends... I don't even know her," He retorted as Matt had already opened his mouth for a teasing.

"Matt," Their father cut him off, "I'm sure your mother needs help cleaning up our area... I think you should [I]go,[/I]" He insisted before looking to the group on the blanket again. "Mind if we sit down and help with the mess that we made?" The man offered, "Oh, I'm Peter, by the way - Peter Delacourt."