[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/250916/4b0b2598027d81ba3f4af3bb1c920ba1.png[/img][/center]

The only thing Sky hated more than being sentenced to community service, was that bloody jumpsuit jumpsuit. It didn’t fit well, and it was a shade of traffic cone orange Sky normally wouldn’t be caught dead in. He’d spent a solid fifteen minutes in the bathroom mirror trying to make it look decent. He cuffed the sleeves and popped the collar. The result was… passable. Barely. He left it unbuttoned, showing off the hot pink tank top underneath.

Sky strutted in to the harbor after the speech. [color=pink]“Sorry I’m late,”[/color] he said, tugging at his jumpsuit like he was adjusting a red carpet gown. [color=pink]“Fashion emergency. This shade of orange is an act of violence.”[/color]

He didn’t slow down or offer a hint of shame, instead strutting up to the lineup like he hadn’t just gotten there late. His eyes flicked over the crowd. Some unfamiliar faces, some interesting ones, but then he stopped short when he spotted a familiar figure.

[color=pink]“Henry?”[/color] he said, his brows raising up. [color=pink]“Well well well, if it isn’t my favorite bartender-slash-therapist. Did the drinks finally catch up with you?”[/color]

Then, without missing a beat, he clapped his hands once and turned to the group at large.

[color=pink]“Six months of picking up litter with a bunch of misfits? I feel like I just got cast in Love Island: convict edition. What a time to be alive.”[/color]