Who: Scott Summers, OTA Where: The beach What: Just sitting and processing everything so far When: Early afternoon Warnings: Scott's definitely a pill
The little cooler next to his elbow had run out of drinks. He'd noticed this, and was slightly annoyed by it. For some reason, he thought he'd packed more than just two waters and a can of soda. The cooler wouldn't hold much more than that, so he wasn't sure why he'd been convinced there were more drinks.
This was just one more jarring thing about this world. He had no team, no real responsibility, and no idea what his purpose was. Sure, the fans talked to him (though not always with the glowing approval heaped on other employees), but that didn't seem like the kind of life he wanted to resign himself to, just yet.
He'd made a few attempts to escape, but had found them all to be useless. Which left him here, on the beach with nothing to drink, nothing to do, and no idea why this bothered him so much. If time truly stopped back home, shouldn't he be happy for the time to think about his next steps in more detail? This was an excellent planning session waiting to happen.
Except it was still waiting to happen, and he had no real will to go through with it.