#coolcatwhitby

"Do you get really hot in the summer? ....B-because Summer is hot, and-- why would I even ask that? Of course everyone gets hot in the summer. THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR THE SILK! This is splendid, absolutely lovely, you're just great!!" West laughs nervously as well, cracked, high pitched, and full of suicidal consideration. 

To spend it with loved ones, meaning his new family! Just to sit around and tell stories, and talk about anything but the island and survival.

Sadness; Warrick is prone to a quiet sadness. He doesn't sulk, but he will sigh often when sad.

☁ - ideal holiday

I’m going to take ‘holiday’ in meaning vacation because I can. I think Westcott would like to go to the beach, hot sun, warm breeze, cool water. Not to mention all the fine men and women walking about in their bathing suits.

☂ - sadness

He is not graceful when he is sad, especially not when he cries. All the things he’s bottled up spills out and he’s a bubbling mess. He doesn’t get upset(only annoyed) by little things but when it’s that kind of sadness that eats away at your soul is when he is the most destroyed.

❈ - ideal birthday

Lightning strikes the ground as rain pours, turning even the most serene meadows into terrifying marshlands. A body appears from the lightning strike, a tall, bulky man with horns like a devil. As the roaring sounds of thunder fade, this man is forced to come to terms with his current situation; he had just died.

Growling and snarling of wind and creatures could be heard in the distance, but in a state of panic, Winters found himself unable to move. Was this hell? Just a few hours ago, he had been resting in a beautiful meadow before that thing appeared and tore him limb from limb. Looking at his hands, the confused man moved them slowly. Frostbite was begining to set in. He had to move, now.

Winters limped towards the nearest tree and took shelter under its foliage. He had no camp, no supplies, and no idea where he was. His backpack must be back with that monster, but lord knows he wasn't eager to head back.

The sounds grew louder. Winters pressed a hand to his forehead, it felt like he was going mad. Maybe he was going mad! Maybe this was all a dream! The barking among the cacophony of sounds hit his ears, and at that moment he didnt really care if this was a dream because now it was time to leave.

He started walking, then jogging, then sprinting as one of those nasty furballs came into his field of view. "No, nonono, not again! Not again!!!"