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"Take my hand! No! You can!" he screamed, the salt spray filling his vision, dousing his face. Gillian strained to reach him, but knew that deep down she truly desired his death, due to that unfortunate incident with the cheese whiz in India. Her apology only incensed him further, strangely enough. Why was it that every damn concerto was full of screaming, whining violins! Fuck! He stopped screaming, and vainly tried to cover his ears.
Ginger smiled as she knew her plan was flawless. She felt herself molt into the personality of Ginger, lithe, sexy, Ginger. "Fancy a cocktail?" she purred, then a wave swamped the dinghy and she was torn from the fantasy, a small cry escaping the box she held tightly to her chest. Maybe she would take his hand after all. She hadn't added to her collection in a while. And then another wave swept over her vision. She saw her hair washed over her eyes but in that last moment she saw the way Gilligan lunged for the Captain, and the way they clung together! How could she have been such a dizzy floozy!
