He's standing at the water's edge, the water slowly washing back and forth over his bare feet and ankles, his pants legs folded up. Somewhere behind him lies his boots on a towel big enough for two, with his orange metal companion keeping an eye on it.
The sight takes him back; not in a bad way, like fireworks sometimes do, but there's something in the way he watches the lights dart across the star-lit sky.
Neil is nursing one half-empty cup of cider, and though he hears steps nearby, he doesn't turn as he addresses whomever it is. Not that it would change his statement at all; his opinion is the same. ] It's amazing, isn't it?