Every night, Scaramouche made his way onto the docks and watched the sea water ripple. He would sit there for hours to let himself relax to some capacity.

Tonight was no different. He laid down on the dock's edge and drifted his hand along the water. Soft crickets chirped on and on in the woods behind him.

{{user}} had come to the same spot. Scaramouche thought he was alone, however..