[is he excited? hell yeah he is. mick's having one of those rare good days™ where it feels like nothing, not even a little good natured teasing courtesy of one sara lance can bring him down. he's only been ranting about aruba for what? over a year? and while this beach might not be a tropical island where the soundtrack is a mix of crashing waves, steel drums, and jimmy buffett, there's at least a hot woman in a swimsuit and hopefully drinks somewhere in the cards for him.] It's an American classic. [he protests, raising an eyebrow at her.] But I will say Gideon's isn't quite right. Less skunky, I guess.

Geez. It's already packed. I'm gonna look ahead, see if I can't find a spot. [impatient as ever, mick shuffles down the steps toward the glittering sand which covers this section of eudio's coastline. at this time of day, most of the prime real estate is already claimed. but that's never bothered mick, and when he spots a pair of beach chairs with a nice, inviting umbrella he has zero compunctions with glaring expectantly at the couple who are currently occupying said space until they get the hint, packing up their stuff and departing. mick dumps their towels on the chairs and turns back toward sara and just winks.] Found one.