With a sigh, Tea stood up and swept out the door. She made deliberately sure to leave a trail of calmness and serenity in her wake, a placid acceptance that nothing strange had just happened in the minds of her joyous worshipers. George clearly didn't need more attention, in the middle of an admittedly amusing monotheistic existential crisis.
Tea caught up with him in a few steps and trotted over to where he sat, her skirts lifted up slightly to avoid dragging sand. He looked incredibly dejected like that, staring out into the sea like a man utterly without direction.
"May I sit?" She did so anyway, primly smoothing her skirts around her.