[If Charles should've spent more time enjoying the sun, then Chara should've spent less: every inch of them around their t-shirt and shorts has the tell-tale pink of a will-be-awful-later sunburn. Apparently unbothered by this (or unaware of it), they keep right on with what they're doing: carrying a heavy bucket away from the surf.]
[Water sloshes over the rim with every step, and Chara can barely spare a glance around. Yeah, here's about good. More water spills as they ease it onto the sand, but finally it's down, and they happen to have planted some dozen feet away from a certain adult and umbrella. He hardly gets a cursory glance.]
[It's hard to blame Chara: a bucket full of disgruntled, cookie-sized crabs is infinitely more interesting than some old man with a few books. Chara plunks down on the sand right, still completely absorbed: little legs are already tapping up the bucket's walls.]
[Beach]
[Water sloshes over the rim with every step, and Chara can barely spare a glance around. Yeah, here's about good. More water spills as they ease it onto the sand, but finally it's down, and they happen to have planted some dozen feet away from a certain adult and umbrella. He hardly gets a cursory glance.]
[It's hard to blame Chara: a bucket full of disgruntled, cookie-sized crabs is infinitely more interesting than some old man with a few books. Chara plunks down on the sand right, still completely absorbed: little legs are already tapping up the bucket's walls.]