[center][h1]What happens in the Lagoon... (Part 1) - Greenleaf Day 2[/h1][/center]


[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/5M2xGq0.jpeg[/img]                                       [img]https://i.imgur.com/pg6Bb2R.png[/img][/center]

JP/collab from [@Xandrya] and [@Wanderingwolf]
[h3]Retcon Day 2 afternoon/evening[/h3]

Cal knocked against the infirmary door opening. Looking inside, he could see Alana was lost in thought or busying herself with some such work that required her full attention. It’d been a while since they’d addressed his “I O U” for her pool game winnings back on New Melbourne, so he conjured now was just the time, what with the sun warming the planet and the cool breeze that blew into the valley. Sam had let him know that the beach was only an hour drive by mule, so Captain Strand took it upon himself to pack some sundries from the galley in a pack he had slung over his shoulder. 

“Hey Doc,” he said, moseying into the med bay. “How’d things go with Abigail and her stitches?” Cal leaned against the counter where Alana sat on a stool.

The reports she was preparing for the sake of recordkeeping were just about done. Alana had some [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpOSxM0rNPM]background music[/url] playing, that which was set at a reasonable volume as to not be distracting. But even then, the knock that caught her attention was distraction enough. Cal stood at the entrance for a brief moment before stepping inside, drawing a smile from her. 

“Abby did just fine and dandy, you know that girl is stronger than a given number of men out there.” Her hands rested on her lap as she went on talking about one of her favorite people. “The type of stitches I used on her are a new grade, which is really helpful given she’s not the type to sit still...” Alana smirked, getting up to put the paperwork on the counter before turning back to him. "Busy with work too?” She motioned towards the bulk hanging from his shoulder.

Strand chuckled, Doc told it true. Abigail was proving her worth to be more than many men, and shoulder to shoulder with previous crew on the China Doll, he wouldn’t hesitate to put her in charge. “No, that girl don’t sit still,” [i]does Doc know just how restless her patient can get?[/i], he wondered, “I’m sure she’s thankin’ you up and sideways for that.”

“Oh this?” He asked, thumbing the strap of his satchel. There was a gleam in his eye, “Why, this is your comeuppance, Ms. Lysanger. Food, drink; a picnic to be enjoyed on the finest jungle beach Greenleaf has to offer, on authority of the locals, way I hear.” He offered her a debonair smile, “What do you say?”

“A picnic, you say...” Alana pretended to be disinterested in the notion, putting away some things like the paperwork that would get addressed at a later time. “I suppose I can squeeze you in given there’s food and drinks involved,” she went on, turning to face Cal to stare him up and down, “and good company by the looks of it.” 

Rather than show her enthusiasm for their date, Alana had decided to keep up the charade. “Allow me a few minutes to get out of my work clothes and we can be on our way. Make yourself comfortable if you’d like, I won’t be long."

Cal noted the even tone with which she spoke, and when she departed, a light frown appeared on his face. Slinging his pack down onto the sitting table outside the infirmary, Cal seated himself. Tapping his thumbs to his knee, he wondered if he’d misread the good doctor, second guessing that sun lotion he’d picked up with Penelope their first day land-side. Rather than stew, the Captain picked up the closest reading material to leaf through, which happened to be some kind of scientific journal about the species of plants on Greenleaf. 

Back in her room, Alana changed into the [url=https://i.etsystatic.com/7991287/r/il/89348b/3157253832/il_794xN.3157253832_6dl7.jpg]dress[/url] she’d purchased before for an occasion such as this one. It was cream-colored and it was accompanied by a brown belt cinching at the waist. She wiggled into the garment, letting it fall her length until the hem nearly touched the deck. Alana then reached for the belt, looking down to set a comfortable fit. Not too tight, not too loose, but just right to accentuate her figure. She had decided to wear her hair down parted to one side, hoping there was a breeze to bring out some waves in her otherwise straight hair. Slipping into her simple pair of sandals, Alana fanned out her hair as she stared at herself in the small mirror. She was satisfied by what she saw, and she decided she wasn’t going to keep Cal waiting any longer as she made her way back up to meet him in the med bay.

[i]‘The species Psychotria elata or labios de puta, are plentiful in the dense rainforests of Greenleaf, clinging to the transitional belt of sandy soil to forest loam. It is most notable for its distinctly shaped red bracts and is consequently nicknamed “[url=https://worldoffloweringplants.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/Psychotria-elata4-702x527.jpg]Hot Lips[/url]”.’[/i] Cal looked up from his reading just in time to watch Alana descend the steel stairs into the common area toward the medbay. His eyes widened as he reconsidered his reconsidering, chucking the book onto the end table. As he stood, he tipped his hat back to make sure he could take it all in. “Well ain’t that somethin’,” he commented under his breath. The linen dress she wore tied into curling bows at her shoulders, cascading downward with each stair step until her sandaled feet touched the cold steel of the cargo bay. “Doc, you clean real up nice,” he ran a smoothing hand over his own hair.

Catching his expression as she neared the med bay, Alana smiled slightly at his comment. "Oh, this old thing?" She played off his compliment in hopes to conceal her warming cheeks, though such was obvious against her light, creamy skin. "Thought I might dress a little for the occasion, you know? Getting to pretend we're on an exotic vacation or the like." 

Looking past him momentarily to assure herself nothing else needed her attention, Alana sidestepped to allow Cal some room. "I'm ready if you are. Dying to know what goodies you’re keeping packed in there, aside from your sense of humor that is.”

Alana glanced over his frame as he made to step out, a content expression not betraying her otherwise impure thoughts.

Captain Strand gave a wink as he lashed the pack to the back of the ‘Mule’, a quad vehicle with a single seat inline. Their journey ahead would measure about an hour with him in the driver seat, the Doctor perched behind him, if Sam’s calculations were correct. He tucked his hat into place before mounting the Mule. “Hop on and hold tight, Doc,” he said, patting the seat behind him.

Walking up to the quad, Alana inched her dress up to be able to climb on. Once she had settled, the hem of the garment resting on her thighs, she wrapped her arms around Cal's midsection, heeding his advice before the two finally set off on the way to their adventure.

Roughly an hour had passed when Cal and Alana arrived at their destination. The gusts of wind coupled with the high humidity that accompanied them through the trip had turned Alana's hair a little more wilder than before, something she was unaware of. The doctor got off the quad to stretch, taking in the colorful sights surrounding them. "Wow, if this isn't paradise then I don't know what is."

Cal took the opportunity to glance at his accomplice. The wind-swept look really worked for her, he surmised, brows arched in agreement. “You said it. You know, I had no idea losin’ a bet over a pool game in some backwater town on New Melbourne might land me in a tropical picnic alongside the likes of you. Can’t say I’m a sore loser.” The Doc had been giving him all the signals of someone genuinely interested since she’d bested him fair and square. He gave her a sidelong glance, still not sure if he’d applied a little too much charm too quickly, or if she were thinking of sticking around at all. 

"You? A sore loser?" Alana cocked her head to the side slightly as she eyed him with a smirk, a response she typically fashioned after exaggerated claims. “If this is your way of making up for a lost bet, then you need to do less winning more often,” she went on matter-of-factly. Feeling the need to make herself useful instead of standing like a statue watching him work up a sweat, Alana helped Cal unpack to set up their picnic. The fact that they were isolated and only accompanied by the sound of pure tropical bliss made her look forward to this time alone with him even more. 

The picnic was replete with blanket on the sandy lagoon whose cool green and blue waters stretched out all around them. She’d hit the nail on the head: it was gorgeous. The way the water coyly covered the land in folding intervals; the majestic curves of the mountainous hills as they knelt to meet the lagoon itself. Penelope had steered him right, indeed.