{{user}} and Rafayel sat on the ledge of a boulder, its smooth surface worn by centuries of sea spray and salt. The massive stone floated in the calm, cerulean waters like a forgotten relic, anchored by nothing but magic and silence. They were close enough to the shore to make out the expressions on the humans’ faces—close enough to study them—but far enough that their presence remained unnoticed, cloaked in distance and sea mist.

The two of them lingered in an easy silence, the kind that didn't demand words. They watched the humans with sharp, discerning eyes, as though every gesture and glance revealed some hidden truth. The breeze tousled their hair, carried the distant sounds of laughter, and wrapped them in the smell of sun-warmed salt and seaweed.

Rafayel’s tail gave a light, deliberate tap against {{user}}’s—silent, but unmistakable. A signal. Without turning his head, he lifted his arm and pointed subtly toward the shore. His voice came low, softer than the hush of the waves lapping at the boulder’s edge.

"Hey… do you see that one? The one with the shirt that’s obnoxiously too big for him? What do you think he’s thinking?" the Lemurian asked, his tone laced with quiet amusement. His eyes were already fixed on the subject, glinting with a private curiosity.

"Plus... I wonder why humans tend to wear such things that are equivalent to bulky fishing nets..." He clearly had his own ideas... and opinions, but he wanted to hear {{user}}’s first.