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.. and Ambrose had managed to make the poor girl cry. Beautiful day. Just perfect.

"Hopefully I will see you around again, Chana... and I'm sory again. I do hope that you have a happy Hannukah." He gave her a weak wave and plopped back down in the sand again.

He looked across the winter sun reflected on the ocean that seemed to stretch forever. Somehow... that sight wasn't as comfoting as it was earlier in his residency here. He would have to bring Angelina to the beach sometime soon however...

But for the moment, he would stay away from some of the others... it only seemed to be resuting in him upsetting people today... or being pulled into other problems. He picked up the block of wood, glanced around, and pulled a few pieces of driftwood closer to him before sitting down to carve. It was... relaxing. Focused his attention away from the problems, and let him do something for the others.

RP END

The beach was not completely unoccupied today, which was no surprise given the fairly decent weather. Jamal was down closer to the water, sitting in the sand in a slightly hunched manner, clad fully in jeans and a tight white tank. Today he was without his headwrap, but doubly clad in bling, thanks to Moreau's giftbox.

From his fingers dangled a recently lit joint that emitted a faint trail of smoke from the tip. Oh yes...he was definately getting good use of his new Christmas presents, it seemed. He reeked of pot, yet he wasn't yet stoned or hadn't been recently. Probably remains of his last smoke earlier that morning.

Now that she was closer, she could probably see that he currently had headphones in, just the tiny earbud type, so it was probably a wise idea to tap him on the shoulder like she did, or he'd probably have never known she was there.

Jamal made a face of mild annoyance, having had one of his favorite songs interrupted, and flicked the pause switch on his mp3 player before turning around partially to see who was bothering his peace. Dammit, all he wanted was some alone time to sulk and vent to the open sky. If it was Ambrose, so help him....

Instead he was met with a woman...and a highly tattooed one at that. This was enough to make him do a double-take of sorts; he'd yet to see ANY women on this godforsaken place have any sort of ink. That and she wasn't half-bad in a bikini either.

"Yeah?" he said with a slightly confused quality to his voice, wondering if she needed something OR if she was going to tell him to put out his smoke. That would be his luck...can't even get high in peace around here.

Well, since he was sitting on the ground, he had a fairly good view of her "assets" and being as he was, he certainly wasn't going to not notice her lack of modesty. He didn't mind in the least if anything. That and the fact that he was certain she just -asked- where to get some pot didn't hurt first impressions.

"Well," he drawled, deciding to play it smooth, a brow arching up towards his meticulously braided hairline. "I ain't sure nobody else gonna have any 'cept me..." His voice was casual, yet his eyes too glinted in that same impish air that hers did as he took a nice, long drag on the blunt between his fingers. After holding it for a few moments, he exhaled lazily, then gave her a half-grin before letting that hand fall back to his knee where it dangled a few inches from the sandy ground.

Jamal was inwardly pleased when she took the inititive to settle on the sand with him, completely forgetting that Awen would probably have a fit if she walked up at this moment. His only defense at this moment would probably be that he was a man and this is how he rolled. Besides, this was completely innocent...at least, for now.

He gave her an appraising look as she got settled and threw him her little line, that half-grin still plastered on his face as he put on a facade mental debate with himself. Again he took a puff, then after a moment of more mock consideration to draw out his decision, turned it so she could get it easily from his grasp.

"I 'spose I kin share a lil' bit wit' a lady such as yo'self," he practically purred, starting to feel the effects of the drug finally settle pleasantly over his mind. As she traced a finger across a bit of his tribal pattern, he grinned fully, enjoying the attention, and puffed up a bit like a proud peacock. "Yeah, I thought they came out real nice maself...had a kickass guy back home who been doin' work like this fo' a long a** time and figgered he was worth hittin' up for some tat work." He paused as he looked at her sleeve work, appreciating the detail near the shoulder and chest...and a few other things while he was at it.

Jamal watched her take two excessively long drags off his joint with mixed emotions. The stuff -was- pretty damn good, but...it was his! The one thing that stopped him from saying anything was the fact that there was more. Lots more. Hell, she might as well just keep that and he could start a new one.

"Yeah...this s**t's betta' then what I started out wit', dat's fo' damn sure," he commented, stretching his legs out straight so he could dig in his pocket. He produced a tattered bandana fragment after a bit of clumsy exploration and unwrapped a series of five or six pristine, neatly rolled joints. He plucked one of those up to take the vacant spot between his fingers, then deftly rerolled the fabric piece, and replaced the package back into his pocket. "I was all out fo' awhile now...but someone dropped this s**t by my duplex yesterday. Glad someone wanna help a brotha out on dis goddamn island."

At the mention of her being a tattoo artist, he gave her a look of mild surprise. She did inkwork? Hmm...
"Well, I would, if ah could, but he be knowin' he onna da best in Detriot, so...he prolly 'preciate it though."

Jamal snorted some and dug in his waistband, producing a golden gun without much trouble. "If ya herr long 'nough, ya might get someone droppin' it off if they knows you like it." He didn't care to elaborate on that statement because he didn't really want to think about being trapped here OR the circumstances with it.

He lifted the joint to the gun's barrel and pulled the trigger, sending a tongue of flame from the barrel to light his new smoke as Anthony inquired of his name. It was then tossed unceremoniously back on the sand, caring little if it got grit in the mechanism. Surely he could just get another.

"Da name's Jamal," he replied after taking a drag, then exhaling the smoke through his nose like some sort of chinese dragon. The air above them was growing steadily more and more smokey even though they were out in open air.