It was the last day in these islands before heading back to that significantly cooler other island. Smart people might have packed up their belongings last night, to leave as much free time as possible in the morning to enjoy the cloud-dotted but sunny sky, the 82-degree air, and the wealth of Howell-sponsored local amenities
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Unfortunately, what he was doing now was pacing around the pool furiously talking to people on the phone - the sad consequence of Peter Wiggin attempting to take 'one quick dip in the pool just this once' before getting interrupted by a minor crisis.
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So, she was mildly annoyed that he wasn't in his villa for once, though finding him after she'd made her way to the pool proved easy. Pacing and talking were not hard to spot.
"Peter."
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"Yes," he said, "Yes-- well, just execute the plan we just talked about-- no, I'm not going to argue the details again, you'll find when you review it that it is sound--"
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It was really not going to last for long, though. Seeing as she didn't actually require all of his attention for the simple task of handing back a memory stick.
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He ended the call without waiting for a response. "Natalie," he said, sounding relaxed. "How can I help you?"
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You know, before she got bitched at for taking documents to Seattle.
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He'd had to temporarily take down his workload for this trip. Sigh.
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Hey, he'd said his piece already. He wasn't going to set himself up for more of a beating when he could use that energy to manage the current crisis.
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That said, she turned to go. She had about as little need for a match as he did.
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