He knew that voice. His face paled, making his black clothing looked darker and his skin a more ghastly white. Only one woman in his life could reach that decibel level that quickly. Delilah's rage and insults came fast and loud and he was just about as likely to dodge them as he could a bullet. All eyes were on him, it was like their little couple's dispute was the latest episode of reality TV or some shit. Great, not only was his ex blemishing his heavenly Spring Break vacation, she had probably just completely ruined the chances of him getting lucky tonight. He had to try to recover, somehow, if that was even possible...

"Woah, Bombs, I thought we were cool?" his old pet name for her slid off his tongue as easy as the word 'the' or 'I', it was like second nature. He backed up half a step, bumping into Grant in the process. "Stalking you? No way, this was their idea, I only agreed to the place at the promise of an open bar." he tried to smooth over the awkwardness with a smile and a shrug. Without his conscious effort, his eyes briefly scanned her body and the way her jean shorts highlighted her legs that went on for days. Beneath a flyaway gray sweater she wore a bikini that hardly contained her and accented her luscious curves in all the best ways -- a stirring in his loins shocked him back into reality. Woah, noooo, him and her? They were trouble together, it was over and it would remain so. He wasn't sure if it was the residual rage, or if she had noticed his lingering, dumbfounded stare, but the next thing he knew, he had martini clinging to his hair and dripping down his face.

And just like that, she was gone in a flash; leaving him wide-eyed, soaking wet, and standing in front of a large audience of judgemental, drama-hungry eyes. He offered up another awkward smile and lifted his hands open in a defensive position "Okayyyy, I think I need a drink now." he said with a laugh.