All Things

Where the Ocean Meets the Sky

The moment the elevator doors slide open, sunlight floods in like liquid gold. The air smells faintly of salt and sunscreen, and somewhere close by, laughter ripples through the breeze. The Sun Deck stretches before you in a bright expanse of blue and white, with pools shimmering like gemstones, rows of loungers dressed in crisp towels, and palm-fringed cabanas offering shade and secrets.

The ocean sparkles just beyond the glass railings, so close it feels you could reach out and touch it. A steel band plays an easy rhythm that drifts through the warm air, blending with the clink of ice in tall glasses. The swim-up bar glows beneath its canopy, bartenders sliding colorful drinks across the marble counter in hues of teal, coral, and sunset pink, each one crowned with fruit and paper umbrellas.

Someone calls out from the pool, another dives with a splash, and a few guests stretch lazily beneath the sun’s embrace. Others lean against the railing, watching the endless horizon while gulls circle overhead and the ship hums softly beneath their feet.

As the day unfolds, everything feels a little too perfect. Warm skin, salt air, and laughter that carries far beyond the deck. When evening comes, the water catches fire with sunset light, the golden glow spilling across faces, glassware, and hearts that seem a little lighter than before.

Welcome to the Sun Deck, where worries drift away like the tide and every hour feels like the start of summer.

Find a seat, order something cold, or step into the pool. Your story begins here.

She had already claimed her lounge chair on the Sun Deck well before the new passengers had started to arrive. Now, as people started to abandon the lounge and their rooms, she was poised in the water ready to catch the eye of a tourist or two who were up for some fun. The first day was the only day she ever felt confident hanging out on the sun deck. After tonight, it would be harder for her to mill about on the public decks as she could be recognized.

Neriah Blossom, her adopted stage name, performed in two shows on the regal Caribbean cruise line. A music performance where she played the role of one of the headliners that paid tribute to some of the legendary singers that have managed to stay relevant in popular culture. Then, once she was done singing on the grand stage of the Sapphire Theatre, she lost the ballgown and exchanged it for something more risqué and danced for her dime in the VIP suit only events. What she did was private and she liked to keep it that way. She wasn’t a prostitute by any means. If she slept with someone it was because she wanted to, not because they paid her. Which was the reason she was sunning herself on the deck with the normal people. Rich people annoyed her. She would much rather catch a normal Joe or Joann and have a few days of lustful play than deal with the snobs who she performed for but never offered more than a dance.

For now, she had her spot in the pool where her body could be seen, and where her caramel skin could absorb the vitamin D. Behind her dark sunglasses, she admired the possibilities that were venturing onto the pool deck. Was she a sure thing? Only if you caught her attention.

It had been a long time since Amicia had allowed herself to take a vacation. Between courtrooms, conferences, and the occasional tumble with an Italian or French lover, Amicia had rarely taken the time to get her nails done, let alone a cruise. However, upon boarding, at about the time Amicia was thinking of flying to Paris again, she ran into a rather interesting woman. A very beautiful woman, such as herself, but with an entirely different energy.

Amicia had a very cold, almost razor sharp essence, like she calculated destruction sixteen steps ahead before she ever set foot in a room. The woman she had run into, Neriah, had the exact opposite aura, and despite herself, Amicia found herself drawn into her warmth. The two talked, and eventually, Neriah convinced her to stay aboard the vessel, and maybe even have some fun. The dark side of her bristled at the idea of ‘fun’ as fun usually meant ‘people’, but she did eventually agree to at least give it a try. The drinks they collected along the way certainly helped.

Now, looser, and dressed in a wicked blue swimsuit, she made her way onto the deck, her long black hair loose and just a little damp. Just enough to give it that delectable ‘wet’ look. She had wandered the ship some, getting a feel of it before making her way back. As she walked towards Neriah, she muttered, “It was never mentioned I’d have to wait for all the damn people to leave before getting my nails done.” She sighed to herself, but managed to produce a look of content as she laid herself in the chair next to her friend. “So, have you spotted anything worthy of ruining our eyeliner yet?”

Neriah had been staring off, looking almost down into the water. A poise that made her look pensive and approachable. When her friend, co-worker, and roommate arrived Neriah looked up and admired the color nail polish Cece had selected. “Sick color nails, lady,” she said as she pushed her sunglasses back into place and looked away from her friend. When they were fishing, they always tried to look like they were together but not actively engaged in conversation, that way no one was scared off.

Neriah sighed, “That depends on what you’re craving this trip.” Neriah nodded towards the bar, “You have the typical bros gathering to start chugging beer and doing shots like they’re free. And the middle-aged guys who are trying to act like they aren’t married but are really just waiting for the wifey to get the kids settled.”

Neriah had caught a few smiles but hadn’t sincerely returned one yet. “I want either a bad boy or a real hunk who can throw me around and manhandle me a little.” Neriah giggled softly to her friend. “I haven’t had anyone who knew how to have rough sex correctly in ages.” She glanced at Cece, “What are you hoping for? Another techy guy?” Neriah sat up a little and nudged Cece, “What about another doctor? He seemed to be very good at bringing the naughty into the bedroom.” She laughed at the memory of walking into the room only to have a stethoscope thrown at her. Neriah gave Cece a knowing smirk and moved back into her position of looking available for attention.

John adjusted the cuff of his swim trunks, the movement casual enough to look unintentional. The sun caught on the water and reflected up at him, dappling across his skin, and he took a moment to breathe in the salt air. The cruise was supposed to be a break—a rare chance to loosen the grip of boardrooms, contracts, and his father’s voice echoing in the back of his head. So far, it was working. Almost.

He noticed the two women by the pool: one sleek, sharp as glass with a gaze that could cut through steel; the other radiating a kind of warmth that drew people in without trying. Beautiful, both of them. But John had learned long ago that staring only made people uncomfortable—or worse, made him look like every other entitled man who assumed his attention was a gift. So instead, he offered a polite nod if either of them happened to glance his way, keeping his focus on the horizon as he adjusted his towel on the nearby chair.

Sliding into his seat, half-damp from his earlier swim, he reached for his drink. The condensation beaded against his fingers, and he let the quiet hum of the deck fill the silence. He wasn’t here to chase anyone. Not today. If conversation happened, it would be because it felt natural—not forced, not performative. He had enough of that back home. For now, he was content to sit, relax, and maybe—just maybe—feel like a regular man for once.

Amicia—Cece, as Neriah called her when they were “off duty”—shifted her weight on the chair’s edge, the sunlight glinting off the faint shimmer beneath her skin. It wasn’t magic, not right now; it was just sunscreen mixed with the faint trace of her otherworldly nature she could never quite hide. Her nails, a deep violet fading to silver tips caught the light when she reached for her drink.

“‘Sick color nails,’ huh?” She teased, flashing Neriah a sly smile. “Thanks. Figured if I couldn’t blind ‘em with my personality, I might as well dazzle ‘em with chrome.” Cece leaned back on her elbows, pretending to admire the horizon but clearly eyeing the crowd the same way Neriah was. “You know me. I’m not here for another techy. Last one tried to debug my mood swings. Nearly lost him a finger.”

Her grin was crooked, more feral than friendly. “And doctors? Please. I’ve had my fill of men who think they can diagnose what’s wrong with me.” She tilted her head, dark eyes glinting mischievously. “Spoiler—it’s not curable.” After a sip of her drink, she exhaled slowly, letting the sea breeze tangle her dark hair. “I’m thinking… something different. Someone who won’t flinch when things get a little messy. Maybe a man who likes the bite as much as the kiss.”

Her gaze slid back to Neriah, amused and conspiratorial. “So yeah. You go find your rough sex specialist, and I’ll take the one who looks like he’s hiding a little danger under that polite smile.” As she said it, those dark eyes moved their way over to the guy that had just slipped into their orbit. As she let her eyes wander him, she added: “Hopefully find a little more than the polite smile. Or the danger.”

Neriah sat up and swatted Cece’s leg playfully, slinging water out of the pool towards her. “You are so grumpy, Cece. I thought the tech guy was hot in that bookish kind of way and the doctor. C’mon, babe.” She cocked her head as Cece described what she wanted in her next conquest. “Jesus, Cece. You’re picking a hook up, not a husband.” Neriah dipped her hand back into the water and leaned back to catch as much of the sun as possible. “Think less with your brain and more with your lady bits. You’ll thank yourself after you get the tension banged out of you.”

As the two women bickered in their playfully judgy manor a guy showed up on desk looking like he just stepped off the cover of a magazine. Neriah lifted her hand out of the water to swat Cece on the leg again and nod towards the pretty boy. “Fresh meat,” Neriah said playfully as she positioned herself with her breasts up, one leg bent at the knee, and her head back as the tips of her hair brushed the surface of the water. “He looks like the kind of guy you just described Cece. He looks like he knows just how to make a good mess.” She bit her corner of her lower lip. “And then roll around in it for another go.”

Neriah breathed in and jutted out her lower lip. She smelled money on him. Not like physical cash, but there were certain scents that wealthy people carried that other people didn’t. She was always hesitant to give herself to someone who could afford her company in the after-hour suite. However, if Cece wasn’t interested and there was no one else around that sparked her interest, she could make an exception about the whole money thing.

Just to see if he was in the market, Neriah lifted one of her hands out of the water and waved sweetly in his direction. “You single, stud?” A conversation couldn’t hurt, right?

The first thing Lake noticed wasn’t the pool, or even the ocean glittering beyond it. It was the people. The way bodies moved when they thought no one was watching, the shift of a hip, a lingering touch of laughter, a stolen glance. The Sun Deck was his kind of chaos: curated, warm, and pulsing with opportunity.

He had stepped aboard less than an hour ago, fresh from a call with a client who couldn’t stop trending for all the wrong reasons. Now, with his phone tucked away and the mainland behind him, he let the sunlight do what it would. The crisp linen shirt he had boarded in was gone, replaced by a pair of tailored black swim shorts that fit as if they had been made for him. The sharp edges of his usual image softened under the golden light, though the quiet confidence in his movements gave him away instantly.

Lake leaned against the railing for a moment, watching the water shimmer below before finding an open lounge chair near the pool. The ocean breeze carried a trace of salt and sunscreen, and he let the rhythm of conversation, laughter, and splashing wash over him. He looked like a man relaxing, but he was studying everyone, their tells, their patterns, the stories that hadn’t yet been told.

Then he saw them. Two women by the pool, both stunning, both aware of the attention they drew. One had a warmth that caught the light; the other, a coolness that dared you to look twice. They weren’t amateurs; he could tell by the way they played their parts, deliberate yet effortless.

He smirked faintly, lifted his drink in their general direction, and then turned his gaze back to the horizon as though his interest had drifted elsewhere.

It hadn’t.

As Neriah waited for Cece to react and the stud to respond, she made a point to use her arms to move the water a little, ensuring her presence wasn’t lost as the deck started to kill with people. She made slow, exaggerated movements with her arms to stir the water around her. She had taken a short dip when she first got down to the pool, but it had been a while since then and the sun was causing the water to evaporate off her skin. She was starting to get warm and was about to lower herself into the cool water again when he walked onto the deck.

Neriah reached up and took her glasses by the arm and lowered them down to the tip of her nose. “Holy UPS,” she said in awe as her mouth opened to hang open a little. She glanced over her shoulder at Cece and gave her one of her looks. Abs. Pecs. Package. Neriah scooted to the edge of the stairs and stepped down into the shallow end. She lowered herself under the water and stretched out until her feet met the wall. She then backed herself up until her knees were bent so she could push her body away from the wall. She cut through the water before breaking the surface and using her arms in a freestyle stroke.

When she reached the edge, she placed her hands on the side of the pool and lifted herself out of the water. She came out of the water right in front of Mr. Package’s chair. She put on a show for him. She lifted her arms over her head and wrung out her long, wet locks. She stretched her body out in front of him, letting the water run over her curves and contours. She looked down at the drink in his hand and asked flirtatiously, “Would you mind getting one of those for me?” She had removed her sunglasses so her large brown eyes could make contact with his.

@Neriah

John’s mouth curved into an easy smile as he turned toward her, water still clinging to his skin from his earlier swim. The sunlight caught the faint lines of muscle across his chest and the thin chain resting against his collarbone—nothing showy, just enough to hint at the work he put in outside an office. His swim trunks hung low on his hips, towel draped carelessly over one knee, giving him that effortless mix of composed and undone.

“Guilty,” he said with a quiet chuckle, voice carrying a smooth warmth. “Single—and dangerously close to enjoying it.”

He leaned back in his chair, the sunlight glinting off the droplets that hadn’t quite dried, a hint of teasing in his eyes. “Though, if someone like you’s doing the asking,” he added, “I might start reconsidering my stance on that.” His gaze lingered just long enough to make the compliment land—steady, unhurried—before he finished, “You always this forward, or did I just catch you in a bold mood?”

Cece let out a small hiss as the cool splash from Neriah’s playful swat hit her leg. “Grumpy? Grumpy?” She echoed, lowering her sunglasses to give her friend a look that teetered between mock offense and amused challenge. “I’m not grumpy, sunshine. I’m discerning. There’s a difference. One gets you dinner and a ride home; the other gets you a week of mysterious bruises and regret texts.” She smirked, raising her drink before taking a slow sip. “And for the record, the tech guy had great fingers, but I swear he talked to my body like it was a system update. And the doctor—” Cece tilted her head, laughing low in her throat, “—was a control freak with a god complex. I don’t play well with men who think they can fix me.”

When Neriah told her to think less with her brain, Cece leaned over and gave her a soft shove with one toe under the water. “Sweetheart, my lady bits have led me to more disasters than my brain ever did. If they had GPS, they’d still find the nearest emotional car crash.” The two dissolved into another round of lazy laughter, the rare kind that was light, sun-soaked, and just a little wicked when Neriah’s sudden shift in tone pulled Cece’s attention. She followed her friend’s gaze to the man on the dock. And oh.

Oh, he was trouble.

Cece’s lips parted just slightly as she looked him over. Broad shoulders, clean lines, that casual confidence that said he knew eyes followed him wherever he went. He even moved like he was used to admiration. She caught herself smiling in half amusement, half intrigue. “Fresh meat, huh?” She murmured, the tone slipping into something softer, and lower. “Looks more like dessert.”

When Neriah nudged her about him fitting the description, Cece hummed in mock thought. “Mmm. You’re right. He does look like he knows how to make a good mess.” He had the kind of presence that made people look twice without knowing why. Confident but not loud. Relaxed but calculated. He leaned against the railing like the sun itself had made room for him, and when his gaze swept the deck, it lingered—just for a second—before moving on. He didn’t approach right away, which made her like him more. The way he lifted his drink in her direction, that casual acknowledgment, said enough. He wasn’t chasing; he was watching.

Cece tilted her head, taking her time to look back. No hurry, no invitation. Just quiet confidence. Then, with deliberate ease, she let her legs stretch out, crossed at the ankle, one fingertip idly tracing a ripple through the water. The sunlight bent across her skin, soft and liquid gold. She waited until Neriah had her mermaid moment, still debating whether to have her own, when she looked at him again. Briefly, her attention was moved to the other male as she realized he was speaking, but when she realized he wasn't speaking to her, her dark gaze turned back to Lake. Her voice carried easily when she finally spoke. “If you’re gonna look,” She called, tone smooth as silk, “Then you might as well say hello.” A slow, playful smile curved her mouth. “Or are you one of those strong, silent types who likes to make a girl do all the work?”

Cece watched him over the rim of her sunglasses, her grin a flash of teeth and tease. Vacation made her reckless, but she liked that. This wasn’t the world of rules or reputations; it was sunlight, salt, and temptation. She lifted her drink again in a lazy salute, her eyes shifting back and forth lightly between Neriah and the handsome stranger, curious what he would do.

When Neriah surfaced in front of him, the water gliding over her curves as she wrung out her hair, Lake’s smirk deepened. He watched her with a steady gaze, neither gawking nor shy, and when her eyes met his, he lifted his glass slightly in acknowledgment.

“You ask like a woman who’s used to getting what she wants,” he said, his voice smooth and unhurried. “That could be dangerous.”

Setting his glass down, he gestured toward the bar with a faint tilt of his head. “But I suppose a little danger never hurt anyone. What are you having?”

Before she could answer, Cece’s voice carried over, her teasing tone as sharp as it was inviting. Lake’s gaze shifted to her, that same spark of humor flickering in his green eyes.

“I don’t mind letting a woman work for it,” he replied, “but I’ve been told I clean up well when I decide to move.”

He rose from his chair, unfolding to his full height, the sunlight tracing the contours of his chest. As he stepped forward, he gave a small, easy nod toward the other man nearby. Just a silent, respectful acknowledgment before his attention returned to the women.

“So, consider this me saying hello,” he added, a slow smirk curving his mouth. “Now, which one of you’s buying the next round?”

He delivered the line with the relaxed humor of someone confident enough to let them take it however they wished — flirt, challenge, or tease back. Not rude, not cheap. Just Lake, testing the current before diving in.

@ Everyone

Mermaid moment accomplished, and stunningly so. The weather conditions were absolutely perfect as she stood poised on the deck as the water cascaded down her body following the natural curves. The sun shone down on her tanned skin, making the water droplets sparkle like gems on her body and warming her just right from the cool water. The breeze blew the moment Neriah lifted her arms to her hair, causing her body to chill just enough to raise goosebumps and cause her nipples to harden; the buds showing through the taut black top.

Mr. Package offered the drink and then was distracted by Cece, who gained Neriah's attention as well. She moved to Mr. Package's side as she winked at Cece. Neriah addressed Mr. Package sensually, "Get me whatever suits your fancy. A screaming orgasm, sex on the beach, blow job shot." Neriah actually wasn't much of a drinker, she enjoyed a clear head so every moment of pleasure could be savored. But the kind of drink he got her would speak to his nature.

While Mr. Package was off getting drinks, the Stud had decided to respond to her. She gave him a wickedly flirty look as he proclaimed he was dangerously single but she might make him reconsider. Neriah laughed playfully but with a serious edge. "Falling in love on a cruise is unwise. Didn't you ever see An Affair to Remember?" She gave him another once over, sizing him up. "If it's a relationship is what your looking for, Stud, there are tons of girls that would love nothing more. I'm here for the conquest and the fun."

When Mr. Package returned with the drinks he asked about who was buying the next round. Neriah pouted flirtatiously and looked up at him from under her long lashes. "The currency I planned on using was reserved for more private places. Unless you'd like me to offer my talents to the bartender."

John’s grin tugged a little wider as Neriah tossed out her movie warning, the sunlight flashing off the water and catching in his eyes. “An Affair to Remember?” he echoed, his voice carrying a lazy warmth. “If I remember right, they both swore they wouldn’t fall—and did anyway.”

He leaned back in his chair, hand running through his damp hair before resting behind his neck. The slow movement showed the easy lines of muscle, all confidence without effort. His gaze lingered on Neriah a heartbeat too long before sliding briefly to Cece, the kind of glance that said he’d noticed her just as much. “Lucky for both of you, I’m not out here chasing forever. Just a little fun that’s worth the trouble.”

When Mr. Package came back and Neriah teased about her currency, John’s low laugh joined the sound of the surf. “Careful,” he said, voice dipping smooth as silk. “You start making offers like that, and you’ll have half the ship fighting to buy the next round.”

He raised his glass toward them both, eyes flicking between the two with playful ease. “Here’s to bad ideas,” he murmured, grin deepening, “and to the women who make them look like genius moves.”

So the stud got the movie reference? She was surprised. He didn't seem like the kind of guy who watched the Turner Classic movie channel. She offered the stud and smirk as she said, "Quite right. However, I have no plans to get hit by a car. Trust me, the loss on my legs would be catastrophic." She emphasized her words so the true meaning was clear. She also made a point to broadcast her intentions so she wouldn't be misunderstood for anything less than a sex kitten on the prowl.

Neriah smiled her enticingly wicked smile. "If half the ship lined up to buy my next drink," she licked her lips like she was starved, "I would have quite the buffet to chose from." She noticed his calm demeanor and wondered how far he would go to keep her attention. "You might want to pray my currency is not as popular as you suggest. My head could be turned."

Neriah shook out her hair, running her fingers through it to help it dry in the rays of the sun. She adjusted her tight black bikini to ensure she wasn't showing off any part of herself that needed to be earned. She raised an eyebrow towards the stud when he mentioned that girls wanting to have fun and casual sex were bad decisions disguised as genius moves. She wasn't sure what to think about that statement. "If pursuing a strong, independent, and sexually confident woman is a bad idea. I can't fault you for your opinion."

She sat down in the lounge chair next to Mr. Package. She laid the chair down so she was only at a slight angle of sitting up. She raised her arms over her head, letting her arms drape over the top of the chair. Her legs, luscious and toned, were bent as she settled in the chair.

John leaned back in his chair, letting the sun hit his face as his eyes slowly roamed over her. A crooked, teasing smile tugged at one corner of his lips as he tilted his head slightly, letting her see the gleam of mischief in his gaze. “Girls chasing bad boys… sometimes those ‘genius moves’ turn out to be pretty bad decisions,” he said with a wink, his voice low and teasing, like he was sharing a secret only she could hear.

He drummed his fingers lazily on the armrest, then flexed subtly, letting the motion draw attention without saying a word. When she adjusted her bikini, his eyes followed deliberately, lingering just long enough to make it clear he appreciated every inch. He shifted slightly closer, the movement slow, controlled, confident, and his gaze locked on hers, daring her to respond. Every subtle gesture, from the curl of his lips to the way he leaned in, whispered the same thing: he was very aware of what kind of fun he wanted—and he hoped she was, too.

The drink he’d chosen for her still sat untouched on the table between them, condensation pooling beneath the glass. When Neriah sank into the lounge chair beside him, her proximity said everything. His gaze followed hers only long enough to catch the direction of her attention.

The other man’s comment, John if he’d caught the name right, wasn’t unwelcome, just misplaced. It happened sometimes in the kind of open, sun-drenched chaos where every glance could be mistaken for an invitation. Lake’s expression didn’t change, but there was an unmistakable glint of amusement in his green eyes as he lifted his glass slightly in John’s direction. A simple nod. A gesture that carried no edge, only quiet acknowledgment.

“She’s good at drawing attention,” he said easily, the corners of his mouth lifting. “Hard not to be when she looks like that.” He turned his head toward Neriah, his tone softening into something smoother, deliberately closer. “But I’ll admit, I didn’t think I’d have competition before the first drink even landed.”

He took a slow sip, letting the silence stretch just long enough for the words to hang between them like a challenge veiled in charm.

“Still,” he added, his eyes finding Neriah’s again, “I’ve always believed good things are worth a little noise.”

Lake’s gaze drifted briefly toward Cece, who had been watching the entire exchange with a knowing smile, before returning to the woman beside him. His voice dropped, rich and amused.

“So, what do you think, beautiful? Should I start fighting the crowd already, or trust that the lady who wanted danger can handle a little competition?”

He leaned back, that faint smirk returning as the sunlight caught the faint shimmer of the sea in his eyes. Confident. Calm. And now unmistakably clear about where his attention truly was.

Neriah wasn't aware she was sitting close enough to the stud for him to whisper or lean closer to her. She thought she had positioned herself by Mr. Package. The stud could flex all the muscles he had, it wasn't doing anything to help his case, it was his words that were turning her off. From next to Mr. Package, her voice carried over the growing crowd. "Since you seem to be both pursuing me and warning me at the same time, I will heed your warning and turn my attention elsewhere." The stud probably thought he was being cheeky but she saw it as him being judgemental.

She lifted her head from her lounge chair and looked over at Mr. Package as he returned with her drink. She offered him an alluring smile as she accepted the drink. She might look naive and overly trusting as she placed the straw between her lips, but she would know if anything had been slipped into it. "You picked a yummy option Mister...?" The name exchange, the first act of solidifying her 'Good Time Charlie' for the next few days.

The two men vollied back and forth over Neriah's attention. Neriah's dark eyes stayed on Mr. Package's as her enticing grin grew gentler. "No competition, Romeo. The world will have to get behind you."

John’s smile didn’t falter, though the shift in her tone was clear enough. He nodded once, a quiet acknowledgment that he’d misstepped. “Fair enough,” he said, voice even and warm. “Didn’t mean to sound like I was warning you off — guess I got a little too clever for my own good.”

He rose from his seat, taking his time, brushing a bit of sun-warmed water from his arm. “For what it’s worth,” he added, meeting her gaze with that same easy calm, “I’m not in the business of judging. Just appreciating.” A brief pause, a flicker of a grin. “Maybe I’ll earn a second chance to do that right — one day.”

With that, he gave a small, courteous lift of his glass toward Neriah, then another toward Cece — a silent farewell that carried more charm than regret.

“Enjoy the sun, ladies.”

He turned and walked off at an unhurried pace, towel slung over his shoulder, disappearing up the deck stairs. The sunlight caught on the faint shimmer of seawater across his back as he headed toward the quiet luxury of his cabin — a quick shower, then the spa. A clean reset. No hard feelings, no chase. Just a man who knew when to step away while still leaving a shadow behind.

He heads to the Spa.