Dior propped up his legs, resting his forehead on his knees. Did he even enjoy talking to Kenneth? "I was eleven and a half," he said flatly.

Kenneth's brow furrowed. Eleven? For the first time, he considered whether Dior had a home and family, prompting him to want to ask more. However, he decided against probing it further—Dior's personal life might be a sensitive topic.

Kenneth stood and walked down the slope to the gloomy violet waves. Despite being wet and shivering, Halo kicked miniature waves—she appeared to be lost in a daydream. Pulling off his ragged shoes and socks, and rolling up the pant legs of his jeans, Kenneth strolled into the shallow waves.

The water appeared darker than it actually was due to the black sand below. Its frigid temperature bit at Kenneth's skin and his demeanor matched the cold mood. His mind replayed the less-than-meaningful conversation with Dior, though somehow still incorporating it into the fantasies constantly telling themselves to him.

Possibly...the young man escaping the zombie apocalypse was no longer alone, accompanied by an older, grim, and distrustful fellow. The two struggled to agree in discussions and when the young man attempted conversation, the older didn't cooperate.

Maybe his mind used these stereotypical but familiar scenarios as a coping mechanism, however Kenneth found little pleasure.

As always, he struggled to focus on one story, and he quickly was world-building a planet for his astronaut character to be stranded on.

Halo's shriek jolted Kenneth out of his head; he spun around, expecting something to be terribly wrong, but Halo was only stumbling on her skirt and falling back over into the waves, laughing hysterically throughout.

"A little assistance?" she asked Kenneth, giggling. Kenneth smiled at her, and held out his hand. He pulled her to her feet once she had a hold.

"We don't have any towels," he said pointedly.

Halo pulled a strand of white hair out of her mouth. "It's fine...Nightfall is soon, we should get going anyway," she said as scooped her shoes from the sand. She walked toward and up the slope. Kenneth followed behind her, retrieving his shoes in the process.

"Di, it'll be dark soon," Halo said as she knelt beside her friend, clearly asleep with his head between his propped up knees.

Halo gave Dior a hard nudge and he jolted upward, heaving a breath as if suddenly brought back from the dead. "The universes—are ya trying to give me a premature death?"

Halo's head tilted, the particular look of finding someone silly or overdramatic.

Kenneth found himself surprised that it was already sunset. They hadn't been in the Bishop shelter that long. Possibly he and Halo had slept into the late morning or early afternoon when Dior found them?

Dior looked up at the dim and ashy sky. "Welp... I'm sure Rygel ain't gonna mind if we crash at his place," he said, seemingly fully awake and back to his normal personality. He stood and the three of them exited the beach.

"Do you make a habit of 'crashing' at his place?" Kenneth asked as he followed Dior and Halo, hands in the pockets of his new jacket.

Dior's eyebrows rose. "And what if I did?"

Kenneth couldn't withhold from glaring this time—though he had to ask himself why he found himself so often irritated with Dior. He'd only asked out of curiosity, and Dior had acted as if it was an accusation.

~
"Coffee?" Dior suggested, holding out a mug of steaming black coffee to Kenneth.

They'd crashed in the attic at Rygel's shop, and had found themselves exhausted beyond all reasoning, causing them to sleep in until near noon. Now they ate their late brunch.

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