A long day preceded Carter's decision to make his way over to some neutral territory, in desperate need of some way to ease his troubled mind. As stupid as he felt doing so, it didn't appear that any of his usual companions would be interested in spending a large amount of time with their mentally unstable friend. So it was with a heavy heart and a loneliness in his chest that the blonde trod slowly in the direction of the local beach, a sandpit by the name of Gibson that tended to be deserted during the present time of day. When the sun began to set and dusk settled over the Hamptons, a majority of the population, including both its younger and older members, confined themselves to their high-towering homes to prepare for whatever events the evening was set to hold; however, with his recent hospital release and general confusion about where he stood with most of his friends, Carter was finally choosing to spend a night sober and, as it appeared, alone. Sand worked its way in between his bare toes the moment they made contact with the endless sea of grains that laid within his view and beyond, past the borders of his sight. Though he assumed he would be the solitary soul on the beach, taking into consideration the otherwise bustling town that surrounded the area, three or four other figures dotted the beach, all but one a pair in some way, shape or form. That wasn't unusual, and therefore didn't stray from his intended path--that was, until he noticed the sole other form that stood a stark black against the blazing reds and yellows of the setting sun, a new detail that suddenly claimed his entire attention. Puffs of smoke drifted away from the shape, evaporating into the dying light of the evening as soon as they appeared. It intrigued Carter for a reason undetermined by the boy himself; perhaps it was the oddity of someone else in the group of born-and-raised socialites actually seeming to gain enjoyment out of stealing a moment alone, away from the otherwise-busy summer life of the young and reckless.
A few stray strands of hair outlined themselves against the light of the sunset, peeking out of what appeared to be a beanie that clothed the figure's head. More details about the stranger made themselves clear as Carter trudged his way closer, no intent in mind other than bumming a cigarette off the other. It looked as though the boy--or so he was collecting from the person's build--maintained a height that could possibly challenge his own, depending of the severity of his slouch, and, taking from his bodily positioning, he was possibly as unhappy and upset as Carter himself. When a mere few feet separated the two, he cleared his throat ostentatiously in order to make his presence known, slowing his pace a tad to allow the opposite a moment to collect his thoughts in the case that his to-be companion was interrupting any deep concentration. Grunting softly, the blonde used his entire weight to settled onto the sand next to whoever he was choosing to join in solidarity. "Care to pity a guy with a smoke?" he inquired softly, nudging the now-obvious brunette with his elbow. Despite the cream thermal shirt that rustled and brushed against his skin, the ocean wind that brushed back his bleached hair and bit his cheeks a strawberry pink cut through the fabric and sent a rippling shiver down his spine. For a moment, Carter chose to focus his line of sight on the waves that crashed along the shore, bashing the sand before retreating back into their original mass; however, curiosity soon got the best of him, and his eyes dragged across the repetitive scenery to graze over the face that belonged to the boy adjacent to him. A flicker of recognition lit his cerulean irises, but he decided it best not to react upon the fact that the individual seated to his left was, beyond any doubt, a Kendrick. "Damon, right?" he offered, one eyebrow cocking itself expectantly. "I'm Carter, we've talked once or twice." It was a fraction awkward, he felt, taking into mind the considerably threatening attitude he had used towards the other boy in their past conversations. Today, though, he wasn't in the mood to fight with anyone. All that weighed on his psyche was a desire to escape from all the pressures of the Legacies, his past mistakes, and everything else that bit at his thoughts like pesky mosquitoes. If spending an irrelevant amount of time with a forbidden companion allowed him that, he didn't contain the willpower to protest.
