[Good god this hair. How does it look so soft and inviting, even when it must be wet with sea water? It's getting harder by the second to blame all this stuff on distance, on light. Is he dreaming? Did he trip somewhere, hit his head on a rock, and now he's passed out on the sand?

Oh. The beautiful man is talking again.]

You're right, I- I thought it. It'd be quiet. [Is there any point in pretending he's not staring at this stage?] But I was only here to, er, get away for awhile, I suppose. I truly don't mind some company.