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[center][color=Burlywood][h1]Cyrus Saenz[/h1]
[img]http://i.perezhilton.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/this-is-us-jack.gif[/img]
[b]Location:[/b] Flight BAW229; Los Angeles to London and somewhere in the ocean.
[sup][b]Interacting With:[/b] Himself.[/sup][/color][/center]
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Cyrus watched helplessly as the girl slipped from his grasp. Really? Had his palm been sweaty? Or did she simply lack the willpower to live? Or maybe she simply let go, choosing death over facing him after she planted her face in his lap by a welcome accident. The bottom line was that he got down on the floor of the plane in his three-piece suit for nothing. And now it was probably ruined.

Pushing himself up against the force of the plane going down, Cyrus opened up the window shade to see if he couldn't look outside. Blackness. The only thing visible from the flashing lights on the wing of the plane. His eyes glanced towards the emergency exit door he had sat next to... if he could just get it open.

Throwing his weight around, Cyrus eventually made it over. The million stickers on the door with instructions was easy enough to understand, and with quite a bit of strain in his shoulders, eventually popped the door open. The force of gravity, however, ripped the door from it's hinges and flipped away from the plane to land god knew where. Cyrus held onto the back seat of the chair, eyes looking out at the black void beside him.

And then he heard it. Above all of the screaming, creaking and groaning and wind... Cyrus heard water. Wreckage from the plane had reached the Earth before the plane had, and if he could hear it, Cyrus knew that he had only seconds before the plane would make impact.

Well... it was better to jump now and hope for the best rather than fight the pressure of a sinking plane once it hit.

Knuckles white, Cyrus hesitated. This could very well be it - his last hurrah. He said a quick prayer, and then forced hold on the seat to go lax, allowing the outside air to suck him away from the plane.

He was stationary for a moment, simply floating. He couldn't make heads or tails of where he was in relation to the plane, let alone if he was right-side up or not. His body curled reflexively, arms wrapping around himself and simply waited. One way or another, this would be over soon.

Suddenly, the wind got knocked out of him. He couldn't breathe. And when he gasped for breath, water filled his lungs. He coughed, his body trying to get rid of the salt water but it just left his throat and chest stinging. His eyes shut tightly, his hands reaching up to grab at his throat as if that would help the pain. He was going to drown, no doubt about it. It was over. He had failed...

His head hit the surface and Cyrus was greeted with the idea of life. Choking and sputtering, his legs kicked furiously to keep his bobbing head afloat. He was alive.

[color=burlywood]"I've done it!"[/color] he screamed out, his throat tearing from the onslaught of ocean water still remaining inside. His arms flapped around, legs still kicking as his eyes opened. All around him was absolute carnage. A wooden briefcase floated across the water's surface and bumped him on the shoulder. Throwing his arms around it, Cyrus used the now somewhat submerged, mock-flotation device to give his body a rest.

And that was when the cold kicked in.

A shiver rolled down his spine as a chill reached all the way to his bones. He hunched his back, trying to preserve warmth though from where he wasn't entirely sure. No doubt about it now, his suit was completely ruined.

[color=burlywood]"H-Help!"[/color] Cyrus called out, though only half-heartedly. He didn't want to embarrass himself too much, and he wasn't even really sure what he was asking help for. All he knew was that he desperately desired warmth, a long cotton robe, and a tumbler of whiskey. [color=burlywood]"P-please! I- I gotta get out!"[/color]