[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/GBy9zFt.png[/img][h2][color=ff80aa]Mateo Galović[/color][/h2][/center][hr][center][h3]~3PM | OCEAN SPRINGS | MILO’S POINT[/h3][/center][hr]
The crisp sea air was a welcome respite from the afternoon heat, especially a few hundred feet above the shore, where a boy stood invisibly to the world with his feet planted firmly upon thin air. He stood in silent vigil over the town as the parameters of his mission were chattered helpfully from the star-shaped sticker affixed childishly upon his right cheek. Why did he have to be part of Team Boring Old People? Did they just need [i]someone[/i] that wasn't woefully out of place in a vacation town? Well, Mateo wouldn't exactly call anywhere in Missisippi a true vacation town, but the little place seemed lively enough, judging by the figures scurrying about far below his feet. Unfortunately, their first stop seemed to be a lame ass art museum of all places, which probably explained why old man Pluto got invited - he dressed like he belonged in one half the time.

Looking out across the town, none of the buildings struck him as particularly museum-y. In fact, he was pretty sure most of the big buildings were either churches or grocery stores. It looked like he'd have to stoop to street-level investigations. With the living. Which meant he needed a cover story for his curiosity, and that'd be hard to do if he knew absolutely nothing about this Dakotah person. Maybe he could pass himself off as a reporter or something. Ugh, someone smarter could come up with an alibi for him - and speaking of, the pink-haired teen realized he probably needed to regroup with his team. He was too high up to peruse signs for a museum anyway.

The solidity beneath Mateo's feet disappeared the moment he willed for his descent, sending him into a brief freefall that slowed to a gentle glide as he neared the sand below. A moment too late, he realized his landing would definitely cause a scene, and upon touching the ground, the boy's head swiveled rapidly to check for anyone that happened to notice the phantom skidmarks he'd just gouged into the sand. 

[color=ff80aa]"Oops..."[/color] Mateo murmured, his cheeks reddening slightly in response to the astounded shouting of a nearby beachgoer trying to get his oblivious friend's attention. Unable to walk away without leaving more footprints and thus more evidence of his passage, Mateo opted to simply bound off to sail toward the nearest sidewalk in embarrassment.

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