sox
فلسطين حرة
At Kris' comments, a swell of nostalgia arose in Devon's gut. His friend wouldn't be in the country much longer, and while the same could be said for himself, a flight to Canada was nowhere as expensive as a flight to Thailand. With a furrowed brow, he put an arm around Kris' shoulder and ruffled the Thai man's hair. "Ah, so glum, for what?! Carpe diem, bruv--- let's fuck shit up now, and we can mourn our losses in the fall, yeah?"
With a grin and little salsa dance in place, Devon picked up packs of shooters and San Pellegrino's from the bar and led them outside, poking at the various pompous decorations adorning the beachside mansion. There seemed to be a steady flow of kids heading out to the ocean while it was still bright out, which was perfectly alright with the tipsy thrill-seeker. If a couple of the shooters mysteriously went missing along the way, that was his concern and no one else's.
The sun had yet to set fully, casting a beautiful orange glow over the water as Devon dropped the alcohol onto an unclaimed stretch of sand. He allowed himself approximately thirty seconds of basking in the warmth before sitting down to prepare the drinks. A can of blood-orange San Pellegrino with an Absolut shooter flipped upside down and wedged into the opening---the mixers were one of his favorites, having tried them at a bar in Ontario, and he'd been making them ever since. "Come get your booze, ladies and gents!" he called to anyone who was lingering within hearing range, namely Savannah and Jo. "That especially means you, ladies!"
Once he finishing prepping the cans, Devon cracked his neck, downed three of them in one go, and sprinted directly into the waves, tossing himself underwater to cool his warm face. He was no stranger to saltwater, and he had dearly missed it during his time in the chilly streets of Toronto. Coming back up for oxygen, Devon ran his hands through wet hair to get it out of his face and waved back to Kris, urging him to join in the fun.
