"You're impossible," Ray muttered, before turning to collect her luggage from where they had left it against the ship's nearest exterior wall. The girl had packed light, as per usual. She might have packed a bit more, had Vincent not thrown a fit when she attempted to bring her tool bag. "What could you possibly need a hammer for?" he had asked her warily. When she had begun to rattle off a sizable list of reasons, the man had interjected, stating simply that they should probably limit their luggage to one bag per person. As such, the girl had scooped her belongings out of the half-packed suitcase, and crammed them into her worn leather sack, atop her precious tools. The look she had given him had been pure venom, just challenging him to deny her again. Vincent had surrendered, recognizing a deadly situation for what it was. Hell hath no fury, he had reminded himself as he had walked, nay, ran out of the room.

Vincent reflected on this as Rayleigh returned, her own bag slung over her shoulder, his nowhere in sight. She gave him a pointed look as she brushed by, and when he looked past her, he saw his sitting where he had left it. "So that's how it's going to be," he called after her, smiling despite herself.

The mechanic slowed, and when she turned back to him, she wore a grin that dazzled like the sequins on the gold bikini. "You should have asked me to grab your luggage too, dear."

An hour later, the pair moved through the crowded streets of the tropical island. The paradise was free of smog, considering the ban on all large machines. The air was also lacking the thud of engines backfiring, and the great whirr of technology at work. Despite her Alerian upbringing, and love of all things mechanical, Rayleigh found herself quite fond of the change. The clean breeze carried the aroma of salty waves, and the sound of cheerful reggae from somewhere nearby.

Vincent slowed, and motioned to a shopfront. It was stunning, covered nearly entirely by garments of varying shapes and styles. And the colors, so unlike the dull grays and browns she was accustomed too. She was still apprehensive, but the first traces of excitement lit her eyes, and warmed her cheeks as she gazed upon the outfits.

"The place is a bit touristy," the man informed her, seemingly oblivious to her mounting enthusiasm. "But it should still work alright for what we need."

"Only tourists wear outfits like this?" came her hesitant question. "What do the locals wear?"

She knew so little about the workings of the world. Vince fought back a sigh, and almost moved to explain, but quickly thought better of it. Flicking his wrist, he easily swept the question aside. "Oh, don't worry about it. I stashed a small bag of coins in your things. The island has its own currency, but because of how many people vacation here, they should take our coin as well."

Rayleigh nodded. "I won't be long," she assured him, but her fingers were already delicately tracing the thin fabric of a dress that hung in the doorway. She disappeared inside a moment later.

Content to let her browse, Vincent settled himself on a nearby bench. Though Ray could be a pain in the ass, there was something so pure about her. He, having seen most of Althanas, had nearly forgotten the beauty of simple discovery. When was the last time that he had been so enchanted by bright colors, or the feel of fabric? Briefly, he wondered if he ever had been. Perhaps that was what he liked about her. Or, rather, one of the many things.

True to her word, the woman emerged only fifteen minutes later. Gone were her familiar breeches, boots, and tunic. In their place, a dress of rich, vivid colors fell to her knees. It clung loosely to her body, billowing on the small breeze, as she moved toward him. As she drew nearer, he could make out the outline of a one-piece swimsuit beneath the sheer, floral fabric.

He was staring, and he knew it, but he found it difficult to draw his eyes away. It was not just that she was beautiful, though she was. It was that she was different. He had never seen her in such an outfit, or in the strappy sandals that wrapped their way around her ankles. The girl he had found on the streets of Ettermire had been rigid, distant, and unsure. The girl who slowed to a stop before him, shyly adjusting the large red flower tucked behind her ear, seemed to flow like the wind across the waves, bow like the leaves of the palm trees.

This place suits you. "I don't think I've ever seen you in floral," Vince commented, giving her an approving nod.

Ray shook her head, giving a short laugh, and answering, "I don't think I've ever worn it in my life. The owner of the shop picked it out for me."

"Remind me to thank her later." If his comment had confused his companion, Vincent gave her no time to ask. Instead, he extended his arm. "Let us find our hotel."