Slade was never an easy person to wake up, like most men, he would rather stay in bed than face a productive day. But sleeping in tents was a different story, he hadn't slept all night, tossed and turned and basically irritated himself all night, what with the musky air inside the tent and the heated sun in the morning. Sweat beads were rolling from his skin, and by the time he heard Ella emerge from the girls' tent, Slade was quick to join her outside. Since the man had no patience and no shame, he unzipped the tent and slipped out, standing only in his boxers, his skin glistening. He wasn't going to carry himself around only in his undies, so he pulled the only clothing from the tent he currently carried with him; a white wifebeater, blue jeans, and a red baseball hat, that's all of the festivity he will show.

The man sat in the opening of the tent, pulling on his pants, haphazardly, once he had them buttoned and set, her leaned in, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his face to wipe away the sleep.

“I’m hungry,” Riley complained, which naturally pulled on Slade's nerves.

"Get over it," He muttered, having lost some of his passion he usually held in his words in the restless sleep. When PJ came back into the picture, it was cue for the rolling up of tents, a clean up and an exit towards the Port. Pulling himself to his feet, the tall fucker haphazardly kicked the wood sticks from the ground that held the tent in place, he wasn't about to go neat on the thing.