i feel the salty waves come in; i feel them crash against my skin

[majorhellstrom]

Hellstrom's growing restless; there's no denying that. The rain didn't help that. After spending the large portion of the first day of it inside, he found he couldn't do it any longer, and as a result spent most of the rest of what he supposed was rain season soaked to the bone. Now that it's clear, the time he spends wandering has gone back to

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[patriotqueen]

The beach had never before smelled as good as during the rainy season. Sand, wet with rain water, bare feet fresh as they tread the harsh but malleable surface. Now it was all back to sand and sun and colonial tans. Guy almost missed the rain.

It was most uncharacteristic of him, but when a woman like Vanessa Bell asks one to 'be a dear and walk the dogs', one sighed and complied. As dogs went they weren't too bad. And he would take them back to her, hopefully still wet and wanting to shake off the water inside her hut. One could hope.

The dogs faithfully followed some distance behind him, and he hadn't once looked back, when he met the German, Dieter.

"The rain didn't wet you enough?" He remarked with a smile.

[majorhellstrom]

"Not quite," Dieter replied, Guy's smile mirrored on his face. Running a hand back through his hair in some attempt to make it acceptable, he cocked head head to an angle, looking first at Guy and then at the dogs.

"I didn't know you kept dogs," he added, tone of voice suggesting that he didn't think it entirely characteristic.

[patriotqueen]

"They're not mine," Guy replied, though it seemed to be unnecessary to do so. The dogs ran to the water, then back again to the sand, then back to the water and back to the sand in a wholly pointless game. "Keats and Pitti, they belong to Vanessa Bell, she asked me to walk them." He took a cigarette and lit it with the remaining end of the one he was smoking. "Thought I might as well."

[majorhellstrom]

"Kind of you."

His eyes fix on the cigarette for a moment (he hasn't smoked since running out of his own cigarettes), but his gaze doesn't linger long enough to warrant any real question. The almost loudness in his head incurred by their sudden absence from his diet is almost welcome.

"How have you been?"

[patriotqueen]

Cigarettes were shared. It was simply bad form to light one and not offer ones conversational partner one as well. Even if the man was German, and thouth Guy did not have too many prejudices against Germans, he was German.

The question was wordless, as he offered the an untidy row of untidily rolled cigarettes in a very fine and neat silver case.

"I've been enjoying those few days of English weather we had. Not the torrential rains, but the drizzle. I've missed my nation's beloved dreary weather. And yourself? Settling it, finding something to do?"