There was something very weird going on with the weather. Before the island, I'd spent most of my life in Southern California, so I definitely wasn't any kind of expert, but when you live in a place for three years, you notice when something is different
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With fairly little notion of where he was heading, he'd started following the shoreline, pausing only once when anyone came into view. He'd passed a few people so far, but none who were immediately familiar. He knew Shari kept a boat somewhere around here, as they'd had a conversation near it some time ago (nearer to the beginning of his island tenure, if he remembered correctly), but he'd forgotten exactly where it was. It was a welcome sight when he spotted it again, more so when he saw that its owner was there, too.
"Everything ship-shape?" he asked once he was closer, glancing about the boat.
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"What brings you out here?" I felt compelled to ask, like he couldn't have just been walking along the lagoon for no reason at all. I liked Pete. A lot, in fact. Probably too much, if you wanted to get technical about it, especially since Peter had shown up (And don't think I wasn't aware of the potential headache the shared name could cause). So sue me if I thought that maybe, just maybe, he was out there to see me.
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"Besides," he added, in a lighter tone. "I'm allowed to be out here, aren't I?" Stepping out onto the dock, he raised a hand to his forehead, shading his eyes as he looked out to sea. He didn't know what to look for, to be honest, but maybe - just maybe - he'd see something that would definitively be a sign to either get the hell back inside or stay outside. (And maybe it'd seem like he had a better idea of what he was doing.)
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"I'd offer to take you out, but I'm a little worried the weather is going to take a turn for the worse with the way the waves are looking," I added with a motion to the boat. "Hence battening the hatches and all that."
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