[ She's uncharacteristically patient as he pours and libates, content just to watch. Well, not content — resigned, maybe. All his ritualistic religious stuff suddenly seems nostalgic, like she's already missing it.

His comment gets a quick laugh, quiet and a little subdued. ]

Right on the beach, yeah, in the fucking storm. God, there's a good memory. [ She wipes a hasty hand under one of her eyes, staving off tears that haven't quite gotten around to falling yet. ] But come on — I was more than just a flea to a dog to you. I almost kicked your ass that first time!