Quinn wasn't sure why she'd agreed to meet Greg on the beach with the perchance of teaching him to 'speak swell'. Part of her felt bad for him because he was from the past and most of them were current time. The other half retained a little 'mean girl' streak from high school and poked plenty of fun at his 'groovy' speak. She couldn't help it. No one talked like that anymore. It was about 'cool' and 'awesome' with a dash of 'hot' or 'sexy' trickling in for a bit of variety. The last time Quinn heard someone say 'groovy' was her dad and she was pretty sure he was trying to make a joke of some sort. She couldn't remember, but if it included that word, it had to be dud of a joke. Quinn was pretty sure her response included a massive eye roll, much like the response she had to Greg's post. It belonged in one of those old beach movies, with surfing and old cars, girls in bikinis and guys rocking way too short of swim trunks. Beach bum movies? Was that what they were called? She should ask Greg, he would probably know.
With the sun setting low in the sky, Quinn tied her hair up in a few pieces of non-poisonous, strong vine, slipped her feet into her battered shoes, and headed for the beach. Once she reached the beach, she'd strip off the shoes and go bare foot, but considering the terrain in between, she'd keep them for the time being. Besides, it wasn't a long trek to the beach and she'd long ago memorized the way. Idly, she wondered if he was already there, but considering what she'd learned of him through the network, part of her doubted it. Though he would be far from popular in her timeline, in his, she sensed he was the 'cat's meow' or something. Quinn perceived Greg as one of the popular guys and considering what she knew of the popular male, it didn't include punctuality or manners. Still, Greg was not from her time and ti was blatantly obvious. From history class, Quinn was aware that some point in history guys did possesses those characteristics, but she was pretty sure he was close to the time when it stopped being a fad. The seventies, right?
Stepping tentatively on to the beach, Quinn paused, tugging off her shoes. A smile formed on her lips at the feel of the warm grains between her toes. What she wouldn't give for a pedicure right now. Though she'd managed to book herself one before coming here, under the circumstance, it wore off quick. She wouldn't call her feet 'gross', but they were definitely in need of some care. Maybe the goddesses would take pity on her and she'd wake up one day with smooth, sexy feet again. They did give her a hair brush, tooth brush, and tooth paste and while that was a far cry from pedicure status, it did give her a spark of hope that one could potentially be on the horizon. The sound of splashing pulled Quinn from her thoughts and she looked up, scanning the waves for the source. Surprisingly, it was the young man she'd spoke to on the network. He was swimming, with rather nice arms too, through cool water. His curly hair matted down from the water, but it didn't take away from his looks. In her time, he would have been considered a '10'.
He shifted to his back, floating, and Quinn approached the water's edge, stopping close enough to allow the waves to wash upon her tanned toes. "Hey!" she called out, offering up a playful, coy smile so very key to the Quinn Fabray way. Back in high school, it had caught her more than a few longing stares from guys, popular and way further down the food chain line. She was beautiful, blond, in a cheer leading uniform, and toned. If you weren't in love with her after one glimpse, there was something very much wrong with you. Though she was a lot less full of herself now, this island and strange scenario had her breaking into the sixteen year old girl again. She couldn't help herself, especially when she sensed she might just have herself a man wrapped around her perfect pink finger. "You going to keep me waiting or what?" It was tease, an attempt at flirting, and Quinn took a few steps back, propping her hands on her small hips.