Re: Island Adventure: Abe & Sasha
"He's correcting you. He's 61 percent water. How thoughtful." That guy had better be happy Sasha didn't grab a rock and fling it full force at his smug stupid face. He was going to wind up drowning on his own, anyway. Probably when he dove underwater and inhaled seawater through his snorkel. That thought shouldn't make Sasha as pleased as it did. However, as pleased as that thought made her, it was overshadowed by the smile Abe gave her after he took the cherry. She booped his nose with the end of the straw and beamed a toothy grin, before resuming her jabbing search in the drink for a maraschino treasure of her own, "90 percent? How many does that equate to in 'getting silly' levels? Four cherries? 'Cause there's about thirty in here." Not an exaggeration.
Oh, it was absolutely bad small talk. Sasha didn't mind. She fully appreciated how frank he was, even if what he said could tug the strings of every single one of her neuroses. Abe wasn't trying to shelter her, or sugar coat anything, he just said what he thought. Which she wondered if it was because he had the ability to so easily hear what others thought and so he offered his freely, or if that was simply who he was. Either way, she didn't mind. She liked hearing what he had to say, no matter what. "Can you blame them? It's hard to go back to the mundane after paradise." She took a pointed drink from her obnoxious pineapple, smirking at him while rum swirled curly loops up through her straw. A little less smiley, a little more serious, a lot more personal, "Sometimes people don't realize the prison of their lives until they actually escape the monotony. It can be terrifying to go back."
She reached out to tug at his wrist and Sasha ducked them into a small gap between a couple of the boulders, the path covered in water and servant of the tide. Right now, the gin-clear water came up to her knees, but without her boots on she was a full six inches shorter than usual, barely breaking the five foot mark. Give it a few hours and the cramped passage would be mostly flooded. This wasn't where the tourists would go. The people that came back here came with purpose. Treasure hunters. Voodoo practitioners. The occasional beach rat looking for a place to get stoned. "It's going to get dark until the path opens up again." Tone implying for him to stay close.