[Her beachwear is as ridiculous as her usual style. Big floppy hat, designer swimsuit and gauzy cover-up robe that uses far too much fabric to be wearing at the beach. She's thrown her hair back in a quick braid that would have them getting stopped by children for looking too much like a Disney Princess if they didn't have the seclusion. The sequins and embroidery on the robe probably wouldn't help in that department. Somehow it's all in the same black-and-teal colour scheme as her usual dress and it is entirely too believable this was all already in her closet.
She pays for the drinks with more cash than necessary, probably because she didn't bother to look at the prices before paying.]
I'm glad you texted. I'd been hoping we could spend some time in friendlier surroundings.
[ Flint's beachwear is, predictably, significantly less elaborate. A pair of swim shorts, in his signature green. Complete with stripes. He did spend a while trying out poses in front of a mirror, however, making sure he looks good in them. That's debatable, but he is pretty sure he looks like a big beast of a man, and that is the same thing if you ask him.
He gets a thrill from watching her pay like an aristocrat ("how much could one drink cost, Flint? $10?"). He's a plutomaniac and isn't shy about it. ]
Sometimes, a guy has just gotta do what he feels like. Otherwise, what's the point?
[ The bartender (cabanatender?) seems to know Flint and thus doesn't bat an eye when he pulls off a sand trick- specifically, the steep cliff the cabana is on suddenly isn't so steep, the sand on the otherwise inaccessible patch of beach crawling up the cliff face to form a spiral staircase. That's where the privacy comes in. He comes here often. It's a good place to think.
He takes a sip of his fruity drink (with an umbrella, this is mandatory) before stepping on the stairs and offering an arm to help her down them. As if she needs it. ]
And I felt like gettin' friendly a whole bunch, babe.
I do hope that's a promise. [She takes his arm and makes like the arm candy she's dressed as, pressing herself as close as possible without restricting any mobility.
Evidently, she likes the shorts- or at least how he looks in them, since her hand wanders down to grope his backside with a possessive grip for a brief moment once they're at the cabana. At least she waited until they were on solid ground that wasn't of his making.]
[ The second his bare feet make contact with the ground floor, the staircase spins its way back into the beach, spreading out like it never happened. It's quite a beautiful place, hidden under the cliff with a build-up of rock on either side. You could probably swim out there, but it'd take a lot of effort.
Also the second (or at least it feels so) he get his ass grabbed. There's plenty to grab- as the kids say, Flint is Dummy Thicc. Say what you will about his appearance, but he sure does fill out whatever he wears. ]
Woah-ho ho! [ It's a sound that starts as pure surprise and becomes a pleasant surprise pretty quickly. ] Keep that up and it's gonna be written in stone, babe.
[ He decides to be bold himself, placing one of those huge hands of his on her chin to go for a quick, heavy kiss. Just to show he's not a dead fish. ]
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no subject
She pays for the drinks with more cash than necessary, probably because she didn't bother to look at the prices before paying.]
I'm glad you texted. I'd been hoping we could spend some time in friendlier surroundings.
no subject
He gets a thrill from watching her pay like an aristocrat ("how much could one drink cost, Flint? $10?"). He's a plutomaniac and isn't shy about it. ]
Sometimes, a guy has just gotta do what he feels like. Otherwise, what's the point?
[ The bartender (cabanatender?) seems to know Flint and thus doesn't bat an eye when he pulls off a sand trick- specifically, the steep cliff the cabana is on suddenly isn't so steep, the sand on the otherwise inaccessible patch of beach crawling up the cliff face to form a spiral staircase. That's where the privacy comes in. He comes here often. It's a good place to think.
He takes a sip of his fruity drink (with an umbrella, this is mandatory) before stepping on the stairs and offering an arm to help her down them. As if she needs it. ]
And I felt like gettin' friendly a whole bunch, babe.
no subject
Evidently, she likes the shorts- or at least how he looks in them, since her hand wanders down to grope his backside with a possessive grip for a brief moment once they're at the cabana. At least she waited until they were on solid ground that wasn't of his making.]
no subject
Also the second (or at least it feels so) he get his ass grabbed. There's plenty to grab- as the kids say, Flint is Dummy Thicc. Say what you will about his appearance, but he sure does fill out whatever he wears. ]
Woah-ho ho! [ It's a sound that starts as pure surprise and becomes a pleasant surprise pretty quickly. ] Keep that up and it's gonna be written in stone, babe.
[ He decides to be bold himself, placing one of those huge hands of his on her chin to go for a quick, heavy kiss. Just to show he's not a dead fish. ]