Ethan releases a breath when his phone beeps, distracting him from tanning on the deck of a yacht. He grunts and, after lifting his hand to swat disinterestedly at it, ultimately chooses to ignore it, returning to his half dozing state after rolling over onto his stomach. It had become easier over the years to ignore the inane chatter of the other 1%ers, those who never understood his interest in the wrestling business or why someone with his funds, his looks, and everything else at his disposal would ever risk their health on such a thankless endeavor. So, while he comes along to these things to keep old 'friends' from nagging at him, he would ordinarily spend the afternoons napping or tanning or, like now, both. If not for his social status, he wouldn't bother, much prefering to swim at his aunt's house, but these are the sacrifices that have to be made, if only to keep the other socialites from gossiping and embarrassing Aunt D or the family name.
He feels when the yacht is turned around, heading back to shore, and he releases a relieved sigh as the wind against his back leaves him with a chill. Sitting up, he rubs at his eyes and grabs for his shirt, pulling it back on just before a group of women join him, gossiping loudly and giggling shrilly. The men that follow are about as annoying, their snobby speech doing little for him. He ignores them while collecting his things, absently noticing that his phone is flashing to remind him of the earlier ignored text, but there's no time to see what it is as they dock and the group of them begin to disembark.
"See you next time, Ethan!" one of the women calls after him and he nods, raising a hand in an absentminded farewell before continuing on, not even bothering to turn around and see which one had just addressed him. He'd grown past the trustfund brats who were content to live off of old money and not do anything to better themselves years ago, not that he'd ever admit that aloud.
Getting in his car, he drums his thumbs against the steering wheel before remembering his phone alerts. Pulling the device out of his pocket, he's not that surprised to find a couple of texts from his aunt about TNA business, but of course the first one that had woke him up initially had been a tweet alert from Spud. His eyebrows lift as he reads it a couple of times, lips twitching in disbelief. A Disney quote about how friends make one feel ten feet tall, Spud then adding in a simple thank you, sir at the end of it. He laughs softly, wondering what the group of snobs back at the yacht would've thought of such a tweet... just to realize that he doesn't care.
Starting the car up, he drives off towards his aunt's house. It's a short drive, thankfully, and the phone remains quiet the entire time. He hums absently to himself while waiting for the gate to raise once he's put in the security code- another measure that Dixie had put in after Bully Ray's nonsense. After parking, he walks into the house and looks around, not surprised to find that it's quiet and peaceful inside, especially after being around the noisy marina for so long. There is a light on in the living room, though, so he peeks inside and smiles slightly, finding Spud sitting on the couch with a comic book in hand, various TNA folders scattered next to him, forgotten about. He'd clearly decided to take advantage of the quiet and took a break from work, which is fine, but when Ethan enters the room and scoops all of the folders up so he can sit down next to Spud, the Chief of Staff looks like he's about to have a heart attack.
"Sir!" he cries out, scrambling around to hide the comic and grab a folder and a pen all at once so he succeeds at none of it, only managing to look utterly horrified and frazzled instead.
Ethan rolls his eyes and tugs the folder from his loose grip, adding it to the rest before dropping them down on the side table. "Yeaaah. Before all of that, Spud," he says with a teasing smirk, "what were you reading?"
"Uhh," he releases a weak breath as Ethan stares down at the comic. "Do you want to read one, sir?" he offers, casting an uncertain glance over at the small pile of books laying on a nearby table.
"Nah," Ethan dismisses this easily. As Spud's face falls, he settles in next to him and peers down at the one in Spud's hands. "I'll just read this one with you."
"O-oh, ok," he stammers, holding it lower so they can both see it easily. "That's fine, sir. Whatever you want."
They sit for a few minutes, Spud waiting patiently for Ethan to finish reading each page before turning to the next, when Ethan clears his throat. "You're welcome, Spudsy." It's the only acknowledgement he makes of the tweet and totally worth it as he peers out of the corner of his eye at the flush on the other man's face.