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[hr][color=00FF7F][b]Interacting With:[/b][/color][@2plus2isnot5]
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Josh groaned whilst groping for his phone as the alarm trilled throughout his bungalow for the third time. He sat up groggily and dragged himself to the shower block swiping his wash bag and towel on the way out of his abode. He no longer bothered changing first thing, knowing everyone on the island well meant that you weren’t bothered about rushing barefoot to the shower block in nothing but your boxers. 

He enjoyed a longer shower than usual, glad of the others not having used up all the thermal tank. Before heading back to his cabana to change. He was NOT a morning person and was glad they were fully staffed and he wasn’t responsible for any early rounds. Yet he hadn’t a lie-in today as he needed to make some video calls that were time zone sensitive, including one with a class of primary school students who were studying the ocean, to talk about the work they did on the island. 

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He grabbed his glasses before making his way to breakfast. Where he normally got to eat alone, catch up on global news, plan his daily schedule and then do the washing up. 
Today he was going to be anything BUT alone…

He slipped in the doorway and momentarily froze at the audience, a few of whom turned to look at his arrival. He smiled nervously before moving to put some porridge and milk in a bowl to give him a chance to scan the room. His boss and Seirye were absent, presumably on their rounds. Naomi and Beau had obviously been in the middle of breakfast, oatmeal and apple half eaten, the former also holding back an agitated Duke. That drew his attention to Max, who despite her professional exterior was obviously bristling from the fire in her eyes directed at the strangers. They were two beefcakes of private security, uncomfortably stifling in their suits along with a greasy, briefcase clutching rodent-like man. Josh couldn’t help but judge people on appearance, it was human nature. He just always made sure he was open to letting them inform a truthful opinion. However, he doubted this man would be doing anything to change his mind as he padded his forehead dripping with perspiration from both humidity and nerves, with an already sodden handkerchief. 

As his eyes turned to the last figure, the presence of the previous three made perfect sense. It was the daughter of one of his idols. He’d met Miriam Camwell at a Geographical Society event when he was only a child and that had spurred his interest in sustainability and the environment. At her daughter’s glamourous presence he turned back to his breakfast and stabbed the buttons on the microwave. Amongst his network of academics and sustainability experts, he had heard that their generous benefactor was not necessarily all sweetness and light as her PR team made her appear. Yet no one could ever find any solid evidence to the contrary. Any blame for possible fossil fuel developments linked to her company always landed on a politician or partnering firm. He grabbed a banana that he absentmindedly peeled as he sidled up to Sam by the sink eyebrows raised. He whispered out of the corner of his mouth to his fellow Soton alumnus, [b][color=00FF7F] “What's Miranda Priestley doing here, Sam?” [/color][/b] tilting his banana toward the designer-clad CEO.