Trail Snacks.

[The Honeless Beard]

((From here))

He'd removed his pants for this part, and he saved a smug smirk for the poor editor that needed to monitor his junk closely, in case something popped free requiring pixels and blurring - he just had had enough of chafed legs from denim today. Especially when four-of-six was seen walking the jetties far away from his white flag job, alone, separated from the rest of the pack.

James had picked up the pace drastically a few hundred feet away as Ivan watched from a derelict dinghy, clothing down to a pair of bright blue boxers and the white-rapidly-yellow tank top. James made his way towards a pair of talkers, started speaking with hands and body, and Ivan squinted his good eye into the glare of the sun, leaning left and right to get a better look-

Female form. Bacchia or Verity, and he needed to make sure.

He moved closer, hopping from small boat to small boat, closing in on the patrol boat until he saw their silhouettes against the still-high sun. He only had a glass shiv to his name, but that was fine. He didn't need armor where he was going at the end of all of this, anyways.

Bacchia was holding a sword.

Ivan began to practice.