Choo-choo pajamas since discarded (replaced by the far more sophisticated oversized t-shirt and boxers), teeth decidedly greater in number, even just the thought of those fat little guys waddle-gliding through their castle was enough to bring a smile to his face. Of course, he probably didn't have the right to laugh at their expense anymore: he was eating their distant cousins on a daily basis now.
That was beside the point. The point, to be completely and disconcertingly blatant, was that Boone was stuck on an unknown, decidedly frightening island and his biggest worry was that somebody had forgotten to take care of his fish.
It was not necessarily the reaction he might have predicted had someone asked him prior to the crash. He might have said he'd worry about his job, his friends, the fact that everyone might think he was dead or stuck in the middle of some treacherous mountain pulling an "Alive. Instead, he was almost relieved. It was the most relaxed he'd been in months, and it scared the crap out of him.
He didn't like to think about it. Instead, he helped. If there was a cave-in and they needed to pull someone out, he helped. Mysterious at tacker in the middle of the night, he helped search the perimeter. Charlie and Claire go missing after said attack, with said attacker named, he helped.
He was an idiot sometimes.
Shannon could have told him that but, of course, it wouldn't have made a difference at the time. Disparaging remarks made by younger siblings could be scientifically proven to be the single purest mode of motivation in the universe.
Ah, well. He was stuck there anyway, and bitching was not going to get him anywhere he wanted to be. After this little escapade though, he was going to start a serious daily exercise regimen. He'd never thought himself to be in bad shape until he'd attempted to follow a crazy guy thirty years his senior up a mountain.
"Boone. Coming?" Locke paused just long enough to look back over his shoulder, and Boone could have sworn the man was hiding a smile. Barely hiding a smile. Not really.
"Ah, yeah." Damn...the search had better be over soon. He was staring to get a little distraught, and he seriously doubted the old man would go down in a smack-down. In fact, Boone suspected that his ass would not be merely kicked, but booted with such amazing force that his rear achieved the status of being inverted. "Wait up."
For lack of a high-powered jet pack or any brighter ideas, Boone picked up his pace. It was going to be a long night.
..I know this sucks, but it's my first. Feel free to review, or kick my ass off the site for fear that my next story will be horrendous enough to scorch and permanantly scar your retinas, not to mention psychologically damage you to such a deep extent that you'd require prolonged psychotherapy and shock treatment.