ISLA
Isla is thoroughly disappointed with herself, and secretly pleased that he doesn't tease her too badly (he's liable to have a handful of shells stuffed down the back of his pants if that's the case). Then Varus steps up to the line again, and he does just as well as she did badly for a second time. Pouting, Isla folds her arms across her chest and considers what she's doing wrong. It can't just be that she's bad at it, right?
Grumbling, she nods and moves to trade her shells for his rocks, rolling her shoulders for good measure like that's going to make a difference. "Alright, let's see..." Scrunching her nose as she takes aim, Isla tries with one of the rocks, throws, and fuck yeah - it lands on the very edge of the inner ring, a whiskey away from the bullseye.
"It was the shells!" She grins, clearly delighted by the fact that she doesn't entirely suck at sand darts.
Grumbling, she nods and moves to trade her shells for his rocks, rolling her shoulders for good measure like that's going to make a difference. "Alright, let's see..." Scrunching her nose as she takes aim, Isla tries with one of the rocks, throws, and fuck yeah - it lands on the very edge of the inner ring, a whiskey away from the bullseye.
"It was the shells!" She grins, clearly delighted by the fact that she doesn't entirely suck at sand darts.
she's a runner
rebel, and a stunner
rebel, and a stunner
