Yeah, that just gets... Childermass moving his attention from the puppies to Reira, at whom he just stares for a second or two before resettling the sunglasses properly on his nose and taking an obnoxiously loud sip of whatever overly fruity tropical drink he has. In reality, he would absolutely never order something this terrible, but it's a beach dream, okay?

That done and Reira still clearly still here, he supposes he'll actually need to talk to a person. That makes no sense. This beach is only for watching Bakers play. A beachful of Bakers. Yet, here's a child.

"That implies what I usually wear isn't," he can't help but point out. "Clothing isn't an emotion, Ms. Akaba."

Wearing happy things, yet still sounding so very much like he's hosting a funeral.