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By 4 A.M., Timothy wakes up without so much as a groan of discontent, puts on gym clothes, consumes a protein shake for breakfast, and arrives to the gym by 5 A.M. on the dot. Monday through Friday involves a rotation schedule he knows better than the back of his hand while the weekends are all out full body workout days for his freestyle pleasure. After forty-five minutes of working out, Tim jogs from the gym to a close, small beachfront, when he watches the sun rise anywhere from 6 A.M. to 7 A.M. depending on the time of the year. While on the beach, his headphones play a chapter from whichever textbook he is pre-reading in anticipation for his return to school while he picks up litter and scavenges for seashells and sand dollars to add to his ever-expansive collection. At 8 A.M., Tim returns home to shower and decently get ready for his Monday through Friday work day or Saturday through Sunday party day. Today, however, was a work day--the last work day of the week to be exact, and for that, Tim went with a casual Friday look. He placed his locks in a ponytail, dressing in a seasonal salmon elbow-length button up, breezy black pants, turquoise suspenders, and a black fedora with a similar turquoise ribbon designed across it. With a brief look in the mirror for final touch-ups, Tim leaves the house by 8:45 and arrives to work at the Conservation Oceanside Research Active Laboratory (CORAL for short) at exactly 9 A.M. Tim's philosophy of "a productive morning leads to a productive day" has yet to fail him.

"Good morning, sir," He spoke formally to the security guard, an older gentleman known simply as Dan by others in the building. Dan gave a quiet nod to the awfully chipper and active Tim, unlocking the door and allowing him inside. Once inside the blue tinted building, Tim places his fedora and an unnecessary blazer coat he keeps with him at all times on the employee coat hanger and gets to work. In such a relaxing work environment--and particularly on a Friday, most of Tim's coworkers don't arrive until 9:30, but being the overachiever he was, Tim had to constantly be on the ball. His current position was Manager of Social Platforms and Public Announcements, making him directly responsible for a locally popular Twitter account, among other things. He sets up Facebook livestreams of ocean cameras, posts photosets of animals the laboratory saves from polluted environments or beaching incidents, and makes PSAs both digitally or physically for whenever a suspected flood is underway. It was a lot of responsibility, and yet being the youngest in the lab, it was a perfect job for him all while looking good on a resume. His current project involved making a shark PSA, warning people of local shark activity while also stressing the fact that sharks are not inherently evil beings from the depths of some dark ocean abyss seeking human blood. It was a difficult project, one that is often not discussed enough in their small town, leading to over twenty shark deaths and two human injuries each year, a large number for their small area. What was supposed to be a small system update became Tim's passion project, to the point where he is entrusting his best friend for help.

Maxwell Thompson had been Timothy Cousteau's best friend for as long as he could remember. Both grew up as such high energy boys that even all four of their parents together couldn't catch up with their antics. While they have obviously butted heads, Tim would trust no one with his life more than he did Max. This was why Tim is currently trusting Max to host a huge party tonight, to first of all kick off the summer, and to spread out his shark PSA. Tim darted at the time on his computer screen. It was currently 9:10 A.M. Unsure of last night's moon, he decided to send a text to Max in hopes he woke up early to catch the last few high tides. "Hey man, need anything for the party tonight?" With a quick tap, the message was sent. Now all he had to do was wait and hope a response came soon.

♒ xxxLike clockwork, the slow morning began to pick up speed. Calls poured into Tim's desk far faster than even he could handle. With the assistance of John to delegate phone calls, things slowly became easier. No matter the influx, Tim managed to remain composed.

"Yes sir...no sir...I promise you sir that it will be safe...." Most of the calls came from fishermen and local bait shops, upset with the local push for shark conservation. Shark meat was an expensive delicacy that often brought in quite a bit of revenue, so for the Cousteau kid to say something against shark hunting was badly hurting the business. The young man exuded poise nonetheless throughout each phone call, especially as CORAL director Benjamin Jergen kept his eye on the office floor. Just as the situation seemed to calm down around lunch break, Timothy stretched and began to pull out a homemade meal from his mother when--

"Mr. Cousteau, a word in my office please." Quickly, the young man rose from his chair and adjusted himself before following the older man into his office. He remained standing as Jergens began to take several folders from his desk. It was eerily silent for a solid minute, save the paper shuffling, before finally Jergens spoke up.

"Tim, when I first hired you two years ago, I honestly tried my best to keep my expectations low. You are a Cousteau, but I didn't want that to cloud my basic judgement. I looked up to your grandfather and his children, so to hear that a Cousteau wanted to work in my lab...well..." A chuckled escaped the older man's lips. "It was like a fever dream. You've not only excelled in your work, you completely changed the town's perception of us. Us old folk, we just--we just don't get all that social media, and sometimes it feels like the world is leaving us behind. You helped not only make our name common enough for the younger folk to know, but you also made those younger folk inspired enough to pursue a future in conservation and biology."

Tim remained quiet at his boss spoke, feeling vaguely bashful at the compliments.

"You're not your grandpa, kid. You're Timothy Cousteau." With this, Jergens revealed Tim's employee observation records, showing none other than consistently good scores. "I know you're leaving us come the end of the summer for school. Nothing's going to change that. But with your record...I want to give you an opportunity not generally granted to high school graduates. I see the way you look at the marine biologists that come around...how would you feel like becoming one?"

Immediately, Tim beamed up in excitement. "Sir, this is the opportunity of lifetime." Jergens chuckled yet again, his low growl of a voice echoing in the office.

"Now, now. I want you to be working in the biological research and conservation department. The entire department will be yours alone for the summer. I'm sure you know what the job entail," Jergens lifted his brow, and with utmost poise, Tim began to answer.

"Yes sir. It is the department's job to collect and observe dna from local marine life and to determine the need for life conservation," He spoke eloquently with a smile on his face, bringing yet another laugh to his boss' voice.

"Very well. You will begin your duties tomorrow. Here's the key to your lab, now off you go eat," Jergens commanded as he placed a key into Tim's hand and gently shooing him out.

"Thank you so much, sir," Timothy departed, closing the door behind him. Looking around to make sure he's alone, Tim did a small dance in excitement on his way back to the desk. Grabbing his items and looking at his phone. One missed phone call from Maxwell Thompson and one voicemail, presumably from Max as well. With a huge grin on his face, Tim listened to his voicemail.

"You're being a butt. Anyway, tonight's party is going to be a hit. We got the Erickson girls coming. And they know how to have some fun. You better be fun tonight no stick in the mud old man personalities allowed around here. All party poopers get thrown in the pool. See ya!" Tim shook his head, still grinning as Max's words added more reassurance to a great day. The Erickson sisters definitely had their own reputations, all vastly different from each other. Nonetheless, if all three were to come, then perhaps the stars truly are aligning. Quickly, Tim grabbed his coat and hat from the rack and headed outside for lunch, ringing back Max.xxx ♒


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