[The beach does not call, at least not to this Victorian boy. Unless it's calling about a murder that's been committed on Her Majesty's soil. He's got enough decorum not to shove the bag off his lap, plus, curiosity. There better not be any polka dots in here.]
Absolutely not. I have plenty enough to do here, we [as in he and Sebastian] can't afford to be traipsing about the sand like some mindless socialite. [Ciel declares all this as if he's not sitting there, being a useless lump already.]