"This weather sucks." Satoru murmured under his breath, the sun peeking through light passing clouds in the horizon. The sky would get clear in some hours, he predicted, it was still early morning.

He leaned over the edge of his yacht, running a hand through damp, wet white bangs, his sunglasses threatening to fall off his sharp nose once he looked down towards the sea from the cream-colored ship.

It was nice, something he'd bought from the recomendations of one of his friends over a year ago just for Monaco; two stories, with two rooms conected to the front, and a pretty kitchen which he barely used.