Charlie had the fish in the cooler, waiting for their turn in the fire. He’d managed to see Tony heading for the beach, but he didn’t bother calling to him. He found that the amount of talking he’d done since being on the island was held to the bare minimum. He was still a bit of a conversationalist, enjoying the bullshit sessions the guys had with their alcohol, but he’d learned the value of simply not saying anything while in his current surroundings. He felt more alive as a result…more connected somehow.<br/><br/>Even though he still felt guilt over the accident, he felt very strongly about being here. Like it was just what he’d needed, and who knows? It just might have been. The storm he saw while in the water had came even closer now…he was hoping it would stay out on the water, but no such luck. He simply picked the cooler back up and went to the more-or-less communal hut. Hopefully it would protect them until then were ready to eat. Once that was done, he wandered over to the beach to get a better look, seeing Desmond and Tony as he approached.<br/>