A car was parked near the side of the road, ways ahead, dirty and colorful and easily recognizable. But while the car itself could, in a way, almost blend in in the middle of the setting, the young man leaning against it was a little harder to ignore. Deep blue jacket and bright red hair, Party Poison kept his out on the horizon. Who knows what he's thinking about; many would argue that the sun had fried his brains out a long time ago.

He turns his head when he hears the motorbike, right on time. With one last, long drag, he flicks his cigarette out onto the sand and pushes himself off the vehicle's side. He knocks his hand twice on the window, without turning, giving the crewmate inside it a signal, though they don't seem to do much but turn their attention towards Amos as well.

Party sniffs and walks up to the road, stopping right before he steps on the asphalt. His face is as unfriendly as ever - a trademark of his, as well known as his name.