Floyd had started to ache ages ago. He hadn’t done anything to fix or to change that… he’d stuck his head in the sand. The stallion made his way across the grounds of the Lagoon with roving eyes and an unsettled mind. The southern gentleman was bold and brave, what more could you ask for? He’s a smart one too, or at least… he tries. He tries to lead with his head and not his heart, and that can get him into trouble. It can get him into tight spots… so he tries to quell the burning in his heart. No, Floyd won’t give into it. Not this time. He can’t. It’s wrong.

He does. He gives in hard and fast, and it sweeps him away. Floyd can’t control what he wants and how he feels. There’s something about the fall that makes stallions more aggressive, and he feels it. It hits the southern gentleman like a ton of bricks, makes his sides ache and his head spin. No, he has to give in. The General makes his way across the ground and stares at the edge of the sea for a simple moment before plunging himself into it. He does so at a dead run, the kind that’s not likely to turn back for anything. He doesn’t realize that Milo is watching him fight away at the choppy surf with worry in his eyes. He doesn’t realize so much.

Instead, he’s headed for the Paradise. There’s something about his mind that just turns off as he swims. It’s comforting, really. He doesn’t really know how to think or what to feel, so he keeps going. Floyd’s eyes have nearly glassed over, lost in his own little world by the time he finally pulls ashore. The Paradise doesn’t look like much, especially after the shining days he’s spent in the Lagoon. This place is far too quiet for his liking. Tipping his head back, Floyd simply yells. “Rade, get down here!” There’s a sharpness, but not quite a demand. Beneath it all is the ache of a father… he’ll attend to the violence in his chest first, though.