Amy smiled with caution as the handsome man from the beach sat down on the barstool next to her.
"Fancy meeting you here." He said with a warm smile.
"Small world." She said, taking a sip of her drink and looking away.
"That it is." He agreed. He checked the menu before looking to Brint. "I'll have what she's having." He instructed, handing over a pen almost identical to Amy's. It materialised in front of him. "Are you enjoying your holiday, then?"
"Yeah..." She pondered what to tell him; best not to go into too much detail, he didn't need to know about spending three days locked in her room. "It's alright. Nice sand. I like the sand."
"Who doesn't?" He told her. Holding up his glass, he motioned for her to clink it with his. She did so. "To the sand." He said with a chuckle, and she smiled.
"To the Sand." She agreed. She took a sip of her drink, and he did the same.
"Where are you from, Amy?" He asked. "Where's home?"
"Oh, far away, very far away." She told him vaguely.
"What's the accent?" He asked abruptly.
"You ask a lot of questions for a man who hasn't even told me his name." She retorted.
"Sinden." He told her, extending a hand for her to shake. She took it politely, pleasantly surprised that this Earth tradition had held on for all this time. "I'm Sinden."
"Nice to meet you, Sinden." She said, taking a sip of her drink. "The accent is Scottish."
"You're from Scotland?" He said in surprise. "I've never met anyone from there."
"Really?" She asked. "Where are you from?"
"Isle of White." He told her. "Just off of the Mirelinum belt."
"Of course." She replied, nodding and pretending to know exactly where he was talking about. She finished her drink and ordered another.
Guess who's really beginning to enjoy writing this fan fic? I think you guys might like the next chapter, twas a hell of a lot of fun to write - and imagine.