the weather in thailand is perfect for a day at white lotus resort. a scorching light colored ball of fire pokes out from behind the pale altostratus clouds, and the sky is painted a washed out blue. the air is hot, and humid. the sweat that runs down the faces of the resort guests is enough to incentivize them to jump head first into the cold —albeit crowded— swimming pools, or to go up to a bartender in order to snag a cold-to-the-touch brown bottle that contains a bitter, but addicting liquid.

in the sea of unethically rich families, and people who have nothing better to do with their money swims lochlan ratliff. he sits comfortably by the pool's edge while nursing a beverage, and resting his chin on his knee. lochlan has one leg deep in the chlorine infested water, and the other is propped up on the damp concrete. he runs a hand through his chocolate curls of hair, and sighs. his eyes scan his surroundings boredly, trying to come up with any ideas to get his mind off of other complicated matters. when his gaze finally lands upon someone, he is surprised to see said someone approaching him.