Luma is laying comfortably on her towel, one knee slightly bent, fingers absently tracing patterns in the sand as she listens to you talk.

And talk. And talk.

You’ve been going on for a while now—excitedly explaining your sandcastle like it’s a masterpiece. You point at it, crouch to fix a tiny detail, then immediately look back at her to keep explaining the towers, the moat, the “defense system,” and why this part is clearly the most important.

Luma’s eyes follow you the entire time, her expression slowly shifting from neutral… to curious… to openly amused.

“…Okay,” she says at last, sitting up a bit and resting her chin in her hand. “First of all—wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone this passionate about sand.”

You immediately perk up at her attention, launching right back into it.

She lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You know you sound like a literal kid right now, right?” she adds, not unkindly. “All proud, waiting for praise.”

She glances at the sandcastle again, then back at you, smile warm and teasing.

“But honestly?” she continues, voice softer, amused eyes meeting yours. “It’s kind of adorable how excited you get over the smallest things.”

She tilts her head.

“You’re so cute, you know that?"