06-20-2016, 03:04 PM
The wind blew hot off the water, carrying the scent of salt and sun-tan lotion. From the shade of the bar, he lounged, legs crossed casually, and surveyed the view. "Relaxing isn't it?" The crash of the surf was quiet. This side of the continent lapped gentle on the sand compared to the might of the Pacific-side.
He produced a payment for the bartender, and with a single thumb print, their spending for the day would be routed from Dane's accounts-which were bursting from Damien's generosity anyway. Dane liked fine things, and Damien was lackadaisical in his accounting.
"Do you want to go swimming?' He asked as the surfer toppled into the water. The man was bleeding when he stomped onto the beach, dragging his board, and complaining about hitting his face against shallow coral.
If they opted for swimming, they would need to buy gear in the shop. And Dane was far too comfortable at the moment to leave his seat. The tickle of warm winds around his collar pushed his lips into a slender smile, even as he sipped a refreshing mojito.
There were plenty of people to watch. A man in a hip hugging speedo lathered up his chest with oil. A woman with beads in her braids kicked at the foamy surf, a poodle trailing behind on its leash.
A shard of power reached out from Dane, and snipped that bejeweled leash on two. Freed, the poodle sprinted off, it's owner chasing it down. Swimsuit not constructed for jogging, more than one person watched. Dane chuckled. But he was soon bored and roamed for another target between minty fresh sips of alcohol swirling his brain with fuzzy delight.
Dane's imagination wandered as his eyes returned to the man working on his tan. He was a lean, athletic type, not unlike Nox. How hard would it be to hold his head under the surface of the sea until he stopped kicking?
He produced a payment for the bartender, and with a single thumb print, their spending for the day would be routed from Dane's accounts-which were bursting from Damien's generosity anyway. Dane liked fine things, and Damien was lackadaisical in his accounting.
"Do you want to go swimming?' He asked as the surfer toppled into the water. The man was bleeding when he stomped onto the beach, dragging his board, and complaining about hitting his face against shallow coral.
If they opted for swimming, they would need to buy gear in the shop. And Dane was far too comfortable at the moment to leave his seat. The tickle of warm winds around his collar pushed his lips into a slender smile, even as he sipped a refreshing mojito.
There were plenty of people to watch. A man in a hip hugging speedo lathered up his chest with oil. A woman with beads in her braids kicked at the foamy surf, a poodle trailing behind on its leash.
A shard of power reached out from Dane, and snipped that bejeweled leash on two. Freed, the poodle sprinted off, it's owner chasing it down. Swimsuit not constructed for jogging, more than one person watched. Dane chuckled. But he was soon bored and roamed for another target between minty fresh sips of alcohol swirling his brain with fuzzy delight.
Dane's imagination wandered as his eyes returned to the man working on his tan. He was a lean, athletic type, not unlike Nox. How hard would it be to hold his head under the surface of the sea until he stopped kicking?