"Flavors?" Coop blinked. "Geez, I hadn't thought about that. I guess I just assumed they would have chocolate-chip cookie sandwiches, or frozen Snickers. Stuff like that." He sighed. Great.<em>Never miss a chance to look like a hayseed, do you?</em>That rumination was interrupted when Sarah's comment about her least favorite flavor sunk in.<br/><br/>"Wait, Christmas pudding flavor?" He grimaced and shook his head. "Naw, hell naw. That's just wrong. Whatever they've got, I promise you won't have to face that stuff."<br/><br/>Much to Cooper's surprise, the boutiques and cafes along the way remained stubbornly toney. The people passing by in the street - and more to the point, also headed shoreward - were fit-looking hipsters dressed in stylish holiday wear, not the collection of stringbeans, grizzly bears and leathery old men he was used to seeing on the docks. All became clear when the couple sauntered around the corner of one more low stucco building and the sea finally hove in view. This was no industrial waterfront, and those weren't cargo haulers and fishing boats. The docks as far as the eye could see were taken up with small yachts and cigarette boats, the sort that tanned heirs to old fortunes piloted out to picnics on their personal Greek islands.<br/><br/>"Whoa..." He blinked. "Now that's a lot of fancy boating, right there."<br/><br/>Not far away was a sandwich board in the sidewalk, a sure sign of a newsstand. Cooper nodded toward it. "I think that's what we're after."<br/><br/>He led the way, eyes still half on the boats moored across the wide street. Or to be more precise, on one small booth that stood at the head of one pier. The germ of an idea bobbed to the surface of his mind, and he gave a low, pensive hum as they made their way inside.