Erik was not entirely sure how it was that he had come to win such an event; just one of those fruity little mail in things he occasionally filled out and sent off. He never expected anything, ever, in his entire life from these sweepstakes things, but never saw the harm in filling them out.<br/><br/>Color him shocked--a rare thing, that--when he discovers that he actually won this big, swanky cruise. It was entirely not his style, but he couldn't just go scalping the ticket, nor would he pass up what was ultimately a once-in-a-lifetime offering.<br/><br/>So, two weeks later... he's had plenty to drink, even gotten lucky with a few chicks, undoubtedly impressed with his physique, or perhaps drawn in by the pure masculinity he seemed to radiate.  He was up late, hanging out on the balcony near his room, enjoying the cool breeze, and the stars above; a rare sight, that. Back at the smoggy city he called home, one could rarely see the stars for what they were, because of all the pollution.<br/><br/>A clear night, however, also allowed him to see the problems facing the ship. His face, usually impeccably unreadable, stoutly stoic, twisted into a deep set frown. This expression was not long-lived, however, as he considered what was about to happen, in the same way he handled all things; with an unsettling degree of calmness.<br/><br/>He quietly retreats into his room, and grabs those things he feels will be quite essential; the pocket knife was already on him, the trusty first aid kit he was never without [he often had to tend his own wounds after practice and fights], and the bag of spare clothes he had taken with him. The cloth could be useful for other things.<br/><br/>As he leaves, he grabs his Bo as well. It was around the time that the sirens went off that he was calmly climbing over the balcony, and staring at the island in the distance. It would be difficult with his baggage, but, if he got tired along the way, he could always ditch some things.<br/><br/>At what was probably the last possible moment before the ship started to rip, tear, and founder, he lept from the balcony and into the cold water below. Bo hanging onto his back via a strap, and with both of his bags held in his left hand, he landed with a splash in the swelling waves.<br/><br/>It was partly luck, but mostly do to the high constitution and stamina he has developed over his years of physically and mentally intensive training, that he was able to keep going. At times, he switched which hand dragged his gear along. it was a long and arduous journey for him, but once the waters calmed, he was able to float on his back, and kick with his feet to propel himself closer and closer to land.<br/><br/>It was only once he had landed on the sandy beach that he allowed the exhaustion that he was staving off to finally claim him. Soaked, but safe, he drifted off into a dead sleep. It would not be until some time after the sun rose, that he would stir.