#masters.trip

mardra probably should have been excited about being in hawaii for the first time, but given everything that happened the night before, she couldn’t help but feel incredibly frustrated. everything that happened seemed to annoy her, from her seat on the plane to the two-hour drive on the way to the resort. not to mention the way people kept looking at her, as if she wanted their sympathy. walking down the hallway on her way to the hotel bar, mardra’s face was permanently in a scowl and and nearly ran headfirst into someone, “ jesus christ ! watch where you’re going, damn. some people are trying to walk here. ”

𝐒𝐎. airsickness was a thing, and it’s latest victim was one very annoyed and cranky daisy moretti. she’d been fine the first couple hours on the flight -- excited even, with her trusty most notable white house press conference moments three hour playlist to watch and episodes of west wing and project runway to binge, but then the movement got to her after a while, and now she lay slumped in one of the hotel’s fancy lobby chairs as everyone (also presumably cranky and hot) waited to collect their room keys. she’d sent clem to fetch her a ginger ale, one arm thrown over her tired eyes as she waited for her to return. when she felt the presence of a person near her, daisy stuck her free arm out in their direction, asking, “ did you find one that’s cold ? ‘cause i’ll use the last of my energy reserves to kill you if it’s lukewarm. ”

andrea knew that she had a meeting in a couple hours, but the beach waited for for no woman––and really being covered in sand and sunscreen was hardly the worst shape she’d shown up to work in. “people who don’t believe in the patriarchy clearly haven’t ever prepped for the beach,” she hummed, tossing her hair over her shoulder and smirking slightly. “seriously, brazilians are the worst thing societal expectations have put womenkind through.” she glanced at the innocent person standing next to her and dangled the bottle of sunscreen in front of them. “get my back? i’ve put my skin through enough without burning it.”

“It is beautiful, non?” he spoke up after a moment’s silence, leaning against the railing, looking out at the ocean. Listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the beach made him feel at home again. If it weren’t for the heat, he could almost close his eyes and picture himself in Marseille. Turning to Lindsey, he gave her a small smile. “I would offer to trade rooms with you so that you could stay with Jude, but I am not sure that that is allowed.”