(Untitled)

[notplaying]

Toby stood frowning at the ocean. This was, to be straightforward, a rather Ziegler thing to do. The sun was setting slowly and beautifully and the evening was relatively cool, and he stood with his hands in his pockets and frowned.

He'd had a strange dream.

Be poetsHe scratched the back of his neck. His empty coffee cup and a nearly-filled

Comments

[playingsmart]

It was a pretty Ziegler thing to do; just as it was a pretty Seaborn thing to do to find said Ziegler when he was in this sort of mood. So there Sam was, pulling up a strip of sand a few feet away, wrapping his arms around his knees. "Gotten any inspiration lately?" he asked with a wry face.

[notplaying]

"From the Boring Non-Declaration of Rules?" he said, glancing sideways at Sam for a moment. "Nothing constructive.

"You?"

[playingsmart]

Sam shook his head. "Nah. I was gonna bounce the ball up against the wall, but..." he held out both hands, palms up. "No wall."

[notplaying]

"No ball, either," Toby pointed out.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," he said, after a moment.