There swift sounds of fabric against fabric could be noted as Tristan laid with his back against the floor of his cabin doing sets of complicated sit-ups in nothing but a pair of worn black jeans. Hands laced behind his head as he touched alternate elbows to opposite knees, his legs bending and extending without ever touching the ground. Beads of sweat began accumulating on his forehead and his shirtless body was now slick with perspiration as he finally collapsed against the floor. He let out a few heavy breaths then adroitly rolled his weight back to his shoulders and raised his legs allowing him to use his hands and the shift of gravity to springboard himself up to his feet. He landed like a gymnast with his arms out at his sides and laughed when he came to the realization, reaching over to his bed he picked up his white shirt and fiddled with it until it was right-side out. He had a taut physique, well toned chest muscles and deep valleys between his tightly packed abdominals but the shirt he slipped on was loose fitting and barely did anything for his athletic build. Tristan finished unrolling the lower hem of his shirt down his stomach and sighed in relief as the coolness of the fabric felt rejuvenating against his warm skin.<br/><br/>"It's time to gear up I guess.. we should be hitting the island soon"<br/><br/>The man spoke to himself as he buckled a large knife around his waist, the knife was holstered in a worn leather case that was snapped to a heavy leather belt by a series of metal buttons. Reaching down he grabbed the strap of a bulky duffel bag that he left sitting in the middle of the floor and slung it on over his body. Shouldering his bag he emerged from his cabin and briskly made his way on deck in a light jog. As the high sun beamed down on him his features were more noticeable, he had a deep island tan, short coal-black hair with pointed bangs that almost reached his electric blue eyes. He was broad shouldered and clean shaven, his face seemed to have an ageless quality, he could be well into his thirties and still look like he was maybe early twenties. Tristan gave a roguish grin as he stepped over to the balustrade of the ship, gripping the rail with two hands and leaning forward slightly he could see the familiar Island looming in the distance. Isla Sorna had a mystical presence, even in the distance one could see the lush green foliage that covered the terrain as the landscape of the island tapered up to a few mountainous peaks, flocks of birds silhouetted against the hard blue sky above the landmass and a nearly translucent mist rose from the water around the isle. There was another man on deck who seemed as if he wasn't enjoying the scenery nearly as much but when Tristan turned to introduce himself the man looked like he was already making his way back to his cabin so instead he just turned his sights back towards their fast approaching destination.