(Untitled)

[a_drowning_man]

A new arrival making a solid effort to beat the nerves eating away at him. Steven Mallory had not found a comfortable frame of mind in his twenty conscious years of life. For now he was sitting on the beach, hunched over the bony knees that were drawn up to his chest like some wounded vulture. God (if there was one) knew he had tried to shape his

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[keepitupkoops]

Well, apparently Koops picked a bad time for walking on the beach.

He disappears into his shell when the sand starts flying, so if Steven didn't notice the human-sized turtle before, he probably won't notice the large-ish, bright green shell now.

[a_drowning_man]

He wasn't exactly sure if he had seen what his eyes perceived. It wasn't unusual given his lifestyle and imagination that dared to emerge from time to time. He stood still a moment longer until he was sure he saw the bright green shell. He took a step closer to it, careful and mindful of his footing.

A few steps shy of the large shell he stopped and laughed to himself. Finally, placing a palm over his face he shook his head.

"Congratulations, Steven, you've officially lost your commission and your mind. Really damn brilliant."

[keepitupkoops]

Koops is less concerned with Steven's sanity and more concerned with his projectiles.

"Are you done throwing things?" he asks with a somewhat muffled voice.

[a_drowning_man]

The hand slowly dripped away from his face. "Uh-- yeah. For now."

By then he had amassed the courage to reach out his hand and touch the shell, knocking on it gently at first. Once he felt the thick exterior he let his palms rest on it as if he were inspecting some fine piece of craftsmanship.

[keepitupkoops]

"For now?"

Koops probably sounds kind of nervous. This is a combination of future projectiles + shell knocking + TOUCHING ME.