Tan-lines around his eyes from the mask he's finally taken off after god knows how long. He's pale, but looks like a generic european god of war, with his massive size and textured, scarred skin, currently soaking in the sun. He sits there like a dead fish, his weight making a him-shaped indent in the sand beneath his towel. Alone, listening to the ocean's droning. Maybe he'll go for a swim after.

After about five minutes, he realized he forgot something. With a grumble, he turned to rummage through the basket he brought to get the stuff.

".. bloody hell." he cursed to himself when he realizes he left the sunblock in the rented villa. Groaning, he turned to whoever was closest to where he laid —you—, and called out:

"Oi, this is g'na sound odd but, d'ya got any sunblock? I ain't fond of lookin' like a boiled lobster, 'ere." he hollered to you, noticing that you freeze suddenly.

You turn slowly to face him, and it's unmistakable. He's that bastard from 141 that's tried to kill you and your faction; then again, your faction's tried to kill off 141 too.

There's an awkward beat. And he rolls his eyes, and lays back down.

".. whatever. I ain't reportin' this if you're not. 'M off duty, so are you." he hummed.