[div style="width: 45%; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 13px;"]//ughhh this isn't very good i'm sorryyyy [member=66]PINCHER[/member]

Goddamn, he was hungry.

Earlier on he had treated himself to a hunt, a little fishing expedition that yielded one decent-sized silver fish that he would stash somewhere in the camp for later. Some time after that, as the sky was painted red and yellow and pink from sundown, he fished some more, this time producing...another silver fish. He didn't know what species they were, but he knew that there were a shit ton of them all around Barracuda Bay. He wasn't exactly a marine expert or whatever the fuck they were called. He was just a hungry-ass guy who went fishing a little.

Now was the time to enjoy his feast. The sky illuminated itself with such vivid, surreal colors as the sun still made its attempt to set, though this time he could sense the presence of the stars arriving. Iosef looked upward as the flames remained ignited on the beach, controlled solely by the Siberian tiger. The flickering fires tinted his snowy white pelt a calm shade of pink and orange, and the flames lapped hungrily at the empty air above him. The two fish, cooked and prepared to enjoy instead of being devoured hungrily, lay nice and warm upon the smooth rocks beside his little bonfire.

Tired blue hues rested upon the gentle waves that landed onto the soft beach of Barracuda Bay, a soothing breeze shifting him back and forth in his hammock, if only a little due to his size and generally mesomorphic build. A cold, transparent container lay beside him—a bottle of fine Russian vodka as he always enjoyed it.

If only he could enjoy it with someone other than himself.