The Beach | Monday Afternoon

[notgetkilled]

It was another hot day.

They seemed to go on and on here. Where he'd come from, it'd been warm at times but never this kind of humidity and heat. They'd been able to wear jackets comfortably enough even on warm days. Here, it was just hot.

With most of his stuff (his one whole bag) situated in his apartment, he'd walked himself down to the beach today. It was still weird to be somewhere without his gun but he didn't want to get hassled by some of the overbearing people that lived around here. Between Wash and Clarke, he had enough people trying to make sure he didn't fuck up.

Once on the beach, Bellamy tugged off his boots and let his feet sink into the warm sand. His shirt came next and joined the pile of clothes. Pants got discarded and then he was just in his shorts which seemed good enough to go into the water with.

He stayed there for awhile before emerging, dripping wet but cooler finally.

[Open beach!]

Comments

[seveninchmotto]

Isabelle only had a few days left on the island before she'd take off for New York again. Permanently. And there were some things she thought she might miss.

The beach was one of those things. That was why she turned up here today, in a long, flowy dress suitable for covering up a bathing suit on the walk over from the dorms.

She wasn't entirely surprised to see this particular stretch was already occupied. "You're still here."

[notgetkilled]

"Not by choice," Bellamy said, walking his way up to his pile of clothes and shaking his hair out as he did. "But I can't leave. I've tried."

He gave her a once over before shrugging. "Maybe tomorrow'll be the day."

[seveninchmotto]

Isabelle shrugged back at him. "Maybe. But considering this island, it's probably best to assume it'll take much longer than that."

She kicked her shoes off and picked them up to carry them while she walked along the sand.

[notgetkilled]

"What a fantastic pep talk," Bellamy said dryly, dropping down onto the sand and stretching his legs out in front of him. "Should do that for a living."

[seveninchmotto]

"I already have a job," Isabelle told him idly. She wandered a little closer to the water. "It's a little more important than reassuring random people."

[notgetkilled]

"Don't you work at the candy store?" Bellamy asked, watching her walk and staying where he was. "How's that more important than anything?"

[seveninchmotto]

Snort. "I did work at the candy store – and ooh, you've been keeping tabs on me – but no, that's not the job I was talking about."

She dropped her shoes on the sand

"Not by a long shot."

[notgetkilled]

"I've listened to the radio," Bellamy told her, rolling his eyes. "You're not that special."

Hot yes, special no.

"What's the job?"

[seveninchmotto]

Excuse you, she was hot and special.

Also nonchalantely unzipping her dress so she could pull it off.

"Protecting people."

[notgetkilled]

Nonchalantly. Of course. And Bellamy was just going to watch her. Nonchalantly. He was allowed.

"What, you're a guard?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at that.

[seveninchmotto]

Oh, Isabelle was counting on that. She wasn't looking to see whether he was watching but please, she knew people. She was decently sure he was.

Not that that made a difference in the way she let the dress slip off her shoulders and down her body. By her standards, the bikini underneath was almost plain.

And all her scars were hidden under a glamour.

"More like a guardian."

[notgetkilled]

"Uh huh." She didn't look like any guardian he knew. Bellamy ran his tongue along his teeth and tilted his head. "Sounds fun for you. Do you get a cute little uniform and a baton?"

[seveninchmotto]

"What would I need a baton for?"

Give her something with a blade instead.

She shook her hair out.

[notgetkilled]

"Isn't that what they give most trainees these days?" Bellamy asked, bringing his knees up so he could loops his arms around then.

[seveninchmotto]

Isabelle padded into the water, wet sand getting between her toes.

"Most trainees for what?"

[notgetkilled]

"Are you deaf or intentionally being dense?" Bellamy had to wonder. "Guard trainees. A baton for a weapon."

[seveninchmotto]

"I think you're the one who's being dense." She glanced back at him over her shoulder. Shook her head for good measure. "I'm not from wherever you're from."

[notgetkilled]

"Then how about you say that instead of repeating stupid questions?" Bellamy suggested dryly. "Because now I think you're an idiot."

[seveninchmotto]

"You've been here for at least a month," Isabelle retorted, clearly amused by his frankly erroneous assessment. "You should know better than to assume anyone is from where you're from."

[notgetkilled]

"Should I?" Bellamy asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "Gonna tell me other things I should know better about? Enlighten me, oh wise one."

[seveninchmotto]

"Not part of my job, sorry." She wasn't sorry. She was splashing further into the water, instead. "You'll learn at your own pace, I'm sure."

[notgetkilled]

"Whatever," Bellamy said, not that concerned with it. Instead, he lowered himself down onto his back and closed his eyes. He didn't care that much about how hot she was at this point.

[seveninchmotto]

Which was very. And don't you forget it.

Not that she much cared whether he cared, either. She was wading into the water instead. Enjoying a feeling that she wouldn't be encountering very often in the near future.

She'd never been a beach person before. She wasn't really one now, either. But it was one of those Fandom things, she supposed.

[notgetkilled]

Bellamy was fine with her enjoying the water as long as she didn't bother him. The sand was sticking to his wet body and the sun was making him drowsy.

She could have her water and her beach.

[seveninchmotto]

It wasn't really in her character to go kicking sand at people she barely knew.

As long as he didn't bother her, either, they could probably coexist peacefully enough.