Alexander Wyatt (usedtobewy) wrote in undeadsiegeic, @ 2015-05-21 22:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | kendall, wyatt |
WHO: Wyatt and Kendall
WHEN: [Back-dated] July 15, 2013; afternoon
WHERE: One of the resorts boats.
WHAT: Kendall crashes a boat tour.
CHALLENGE: #4 - Flasback.
Middle of the day was Wyatt’s least favorite time to do the resorts scenic boat tours. The sun was always beating down and reflecting off the water making sweat drip down his back in uncomfortable ways. They were usually the most heavily populated tours also, for some reason. It usually wasn’t the fun tourists either, the ones that were drunk before noon and could have given a damn what the names of things were. No, the afternoon tours were usually groups of middle-aged women. Wyatt swore the booking people at the hotel did shit like that on purpose just to see how him and Jere would handle it.
Wyatt liked to think he handled it a hell of a lot more gracefully than Jere, but if you asked anyone else they’d probably give it to Jere.
In an act of rebellion -because it was so damn hot- Wyatt had shucked off his resort approved uniform shirt in favor of just his undershirt. It wasn’t stained or anything, so he still looked presentable enough to be pointing and driving a boat around. A damn sight better than the tourists in their Bermuda shorts and printed button downs.
There was still another five minutes before he could pull up anchor and get going; every so often he did a headcount of the passengers. Itinerary for that tour said he should have fifteen on the boat, headcount only came up with 13 so far. Probably waiting on some honeymoon couple or something, if he had to take a guess. The minutes kept ticking past and Wyatt had started to school himself into that easy southern attitude that worked best for these things; one of the women -single if her left hand was an indication- kept coming back ‘round to him and asking questions. She was pretty damn unsubtle with her flirting too, but that he could deal with; there was no real interest on his end, she wasn’t his type, but if it meant a decent tip at the end he could answer her questions, smile a little, do the bare minimum of flirting back.
His last two passengers rushed up onto the boat, some excuse on their lips and he just rattled off the same assurance that it was fine, was just about to pull up anchor when a sixteenth person boarded. That was fine, the boat could take more passengers than they had.
“Alright folks, we’re going to get going,” Wyatt announced and went through the usual spiel that he could recite in his sleep, and he wondered not for the first time why they hadn’t set a recording for that so they weren’t required to recite it every damn time.