One of us has to bring this boat home.” They slowed near a patch of turquoise, where the reef rose unseen beneath the surface. Marcus pulled his gear into place, tightening straps and checking gauges with practiced ease. His camera hung ready in his grip, the instrument that turned his dives into something more than memory.
“You’re really going solo on this one?” Aaron asked, scratching a note into his logbook. “Better coverage this way,” Marcus replied. “Besides, you hate diving.” Aaron snorted. “I don’t hate diving. I hate sharks. Big difference.” He waved him on. “Go on then, Christmas boy. Bring me back something worth writing down.”