9.19.98
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The Peirpont Hotel, Kerth.

It was warm out here, with the sun hanging in an all-but-cloudless sky. Beej sighed softly, enjoying the heat as it soaked into him. They'd just spent two weeks in the dreary, rain-drenched wilds of Morthok, it felt absolutely -wonderful- to be basking in the sunshine. It also didn't hurt that it was their day off and he didn't have to do anything he didn't particularly want to...

The trader uncrossed his ankles, recrossing them so that his left foot was reciving most of the benefit of the solar energy, keeping his eyes closed behind his sunglasses. Yes, it was a glorious day, and it'd be better if- Oh. Never mind... Only allowing a fraction of the grin that threatens to show on his face, one hand crawled down from its place behind his head and casually, quickly begins undoing the buttons of the loose shirt he wears.

All but the last two freed from their buttonholes, Beej sits up slightly and moves more than he has in the three and a half hours he'd been lying there, pushing the collar of the shirt back and tugging on the sleeves to keep it open. Feeling it suitably arranged, he folds his hands together behind his head once more, drawing one leg up to put his foot parallel to his knee. This had the effect of causing the fabric of his shorts to fall down, exposing more of his thigh than was really necessary... And it's not as if the shorts themselves are incredibly modest, either, though they -do- leave most things up to one's imagination. Give him -some- credit... {#Ahem#}

Thus positioned, he glances around the perimeter of the pool, pausing now and then to let his disguised gaze linger here and there. Blackwater's slightly smug smile increases fractionally at the appreciative looks he happens to notice, but he's not making anything remotely resembling blatant overtures to anyone.

Catching a flicker of shyness and apprehension from the direction of the smoked-glass doors leading back into the hotel, the man stretches lazily and slowly turns over, until he's stretched out on his right side. His shirtcollar gets another deliberate rearrangement as he looks towards the door, ignoring two teenaged girls with their heads together, one of whom seems to be gesturing in his direction.

The feelings are replaced by a flickering of several conflicting emotions, a minor facet of which is jealousy. That prompts a smirk and a bit of -encouragement- from the man on the hotel's chaise longue, who's watching the doorway intently, now. When the one of the doors opens, he lifts his head; once he's certain of just who was egressing, he pushes himself up with one arm and tugs his glasses down a bit, so he can look over the top of them.

If Beej had entertained any thoughts of flirting, they'd have been dispelled by the sight of the young man that was hesitantly picking his way across the sun-warmed concrete of the pool deck towards him. Since he hadn't, the only thing he can (and promptly does) forget is the rest of the people that had been observing his little display.

Neets, more than a little self-conscious, still can't quite contain a smirk at the man lounging about before him.