[Blaise] The Crack of Noon (Revised) (open tag)
The surf pounded the beach with monotonous regularity to the east. All around Blaise people were talking or shouting or working noisily on chores. To the west, Blaise heard the calls of various birds and other jungle critters. To judge by the warmth and brightness, and the nearly non-existent shadows when he glanced out of his shelter, it was about noon. Blaise couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so late.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd awakened naturally, for that matter. Life in the military--or at least in the SGC--had consisted of an endless series of rude awakenings. If it wasn't his alarm clock going off at oh-dark-thirty it was someone shaking him out of a cat nap to take the watch or go to chow or to brief or debrief or climb into (or out of) a plane, train or automobile. His daddy had always said that you could spot a real soldier by his ability to sleep anywhere and anytime. He'd been right; Blaise just hadn't realized that that was because sleep was in chronically short supply.
Blaise lay contentedly in his shelter for a few minutes, luxuriating in his ability to laze about. He dozed a bit, not quite asleep again but definitely not awake. Soon, though, he began to get restless, changing his position with increasing frequency. When his feet were all but dancing, Blaise gave in to the inevitable and sat up. He reached out to touch the P90, reassuring himself that it was still where it belonged.
He blinked at the brilliance of the noontime sun on the white sand just outside. The pair of sunglasses tucked in side pocket of his pack reduced the glare to something more tolerable. Glancing at the sea, he decided that he was going to have to make a little time to go swimming...as soon as he found someone trustworthy to babysit his firearm.
Blaise grabbed the P90 and prepared to step out into the open air--then he noticed the coconut carefully propped up in a mound of sand just inside the door of his shelter. When he reached for it, the top came off, revealing liquid. Blaise picked it up and sniffed at the liquid. It smelled like...tea. Weak tea, and not very warm. But tea nonetheless.
(Caffeine!) Blaise thought. He drained the makeshift cup quickly and set it down. That's when he noticed the other gift. He picked that up. Was it--? He sniffed at it and smiled. It was. He wondered where the hell it had come from, and who had left it for him. Didn't matter, he decided. He tucked the joint into a small pocket on his backpack for later.
Slinging the P90 over one shoulder, Blaise grabbed his coconut teacup and stepped out of the shelter. He dug some of the flesh of the coconut out and ate it. It had an...interesting taste, but it was food and there was none to waste these days. He eyed the crowd, looking for someone he could park the P90 with at least briefly.