Stupid bloody skirt. They're a thing Tegan usually avoids like the plague, and since the stupid bloody plane came down and turfed them all into the water, she's managed to lose pretty much every part of the most expensive and useful gear she's ever owned. Tegan mutters a curse under her breath, swiftly echoing it with another as her booted foot squashes down on a bug. Vile thing.

Leaving the plane had been done on her own terms, as much as possible. She'd fastened as many of her belongings to herself as possible when it became apparent they were going down permanently, and struck out for the dim horizon of land she'd spotted. She'd lost the heels pretty quick, but replaced them when on the beach with her own steel-toe capped boots. Hot, yes, but great for hiking. This, at least, wasn't the first time Tegan had found herself stranded. It is, however, the first time she's ever been stranded without a gun.

So buried in her own thoughts is she that she nearly falls over the man before she sees him. What a dejected image he represents, Tegan thinks, and then nearly ruins any chance of making a sensible first impression by laughing in his face. She doesn't, but it's a tough call. She probably doesn't look that great either; a bedraggled air hostess with a shaved head and army boots. She resists the urge to salute; she is not the military rescue party here.

"Alright," she says. What else is there to say?