[Well, it doesn't seem like she picked up Hank's little attempt to tell her the stars aren't his problem. Which is sort of what he was hoping for, wasn't it, asking her about motion sickness and fucking boats and shit. That is called burying the lead, and he damn well knows it, and he did it on goddamn purpose. And that's- fine. He tries to give her a friendly smile, which - well, it does maybe end up looking like a smile, sort of. That's also fine.]

Well it's, uh, it's nice, if you ever have the time to go. The ocean. But uh- maybe less than it used to be, I guess. It's nicer when you're not, uh- [He clears his throat, trying to clear away the phantom-sensation of water crowding down it every time he tries to breathe. He'd die before he went to another place like Akvos, he thinks savagely, impotently. Astoria can send them wherever she fucking wants. He clears his throat again.] It's nicer when you're not in it. The beach, you know.