If there was one thing he knew she would get right—it was the fact that there would be the literally annoying issue of getting sand all over the place. It sucked all the more when the porous mineral crept into the joints of his prosthetics—exactly one of the many reasons why he disliked and absolutely avoided going to the beach as much as possible.

Could you blame the guy if two of his four functioning limbs were made of metal and no longer fully flesh-and-blood?

“Why. The hell. Are you in the sky?!” he grumbled, squinting up at the heavens to take a glare at the sun—it really pissed him off so much that it was so hot, yet it was only supposed to be spring time! What the hell was whack with this region’s seasons, anyway?

He was actually thankful there was no winter to be had, otherwise he’d also have another hell of a time trying to get around and just… trying not to freeze his nuts off. Ugh.

And why does she want to meet down at the beach? This is so frickin’ stupid… he thought crossly, fanning himself with his right hand as he tried to beat the heat away—to no avail.

“Don’t. Wanna. Take my shirt off,” he grumbled again, kicking up as much sand as he could with his right foot. He’d come out wearing a pair of pants and a light shirt, because no way in hell was he going to risk wearing a pair of board shorts out on the sand.

“Do you know. How hard. It is. To remove all the sand from my joints?!” he exclaimed as he approached the equal shrimp, looming in front of her and serving to block out the sun—she was lying down on the sand anyway, what with her nice and fully human legs and arms and—